It all starts one day, a few pints (John Watson/James Moriarty)

John leaned heavily on the counter, resting his elbows on it, he was still in shock, he felt surrounded by pain. "Six months, since we met," he whimpered, and buried his head in his hands.

Of course Sherlock knew, he could read anyone like a book, he was no different.

"God, he had me fooled, completely... completely, Sherlock," he added, he refused to cry, he was a man for God's sake, as much as it burned, it hurt.

Sherlock hummed. He knew what John was going through. Well, at least he knew the symptoms. Sweaty hands, shaky knees. The tendency to look to the ground or the ceiling. Hardly any blinking. He did not really know what John felt. Poor John. he thought. And, now he's in distress, I cannot help him. I cannot reward him for everything he did for me, because I don't know.

At a loss, Sherlock moved his hands and held John's tightly in his own. He tried to make eye-contact. Not knowing what to say.

John looked up, surprised, Sherlock was close, very close, and his hands were on his. He had never thought the detective would try to comfort him, it felt rather surreal, but he was also touched.

"I feel like an idiot," he admitted, trying to smile at himself, he only looked more miserable though. "I had no idea he was cheating on me... I wonder when it all started... with Molly," he whispered, he didn't even want to think about the persona Jim had showed today, nothing to do with the laid back man he knew. "He even left you his phone number! Right in front of me!"

He felt his phone vibrate, but at the moment, he couldn't be bothered to check who it was.

"Hmm... yes." Sherlock picked up the phone number and briefly looked at it. What should he do with it? John already had Jim's phone number. One time, in Baker Street, John had left his phone home when he was getting the groceries. This particular number, with no name or picture, had called him at least 4 times in that hour.
"Why haven't you told me?" Sherlock looked into John's eyes. He thought they were friends. Did friends not share those kind of things?

He heard John's phone vibrate. It was Jim of course. He ignored it.

"Do you love him?"
Sherlock had to ask him. He was so inexperienced with being romantically involved with someone. He wanted to know what it was like.

John had never felt so stupid in his whole life, he had always trusted his feelings when it came to people, but he had given his trust to a complete douche. He couldn't believe it.
"You didn't ask," he said simply, painfully blue eyes moved to meet Sherlock's pair. "I knew you knew anyway...you could deduce it... I thought you didn't care..."

The question hurt, it went deep into his heart like a knife. He nodded, honest, even though he could not say the words, he could not understand why he still did.
"I really thought we had something special," he whimpered, his voice failing him. "I've never even suspected he had someone else..."

"Hmm... you are right on the first thing, of course I knew. I knew it would be a matter of time until I knew who it was. But you are totally wrong on the last..." Sherlock turned his face away and removed his hands. He cleared his throat and shuffled on his seat.

He gave a dry laugh at what John said. Nonsense. I would have deduced within seconds that he was cheating. But was cheating the right word?
"But was he cheating on you? I thought you did not have a... relationship!" He scowled at the last word. "You met on a regular basis, yes. But do you call that a relationship?"

Nobody would own John. His John. The possessiveness surprised him, but he felt... something unknown about Jim and John together. The unknown feeling made him nervous.

John frowned when he realized he had somehow offended Sherlock, he took his wrist before he could go too far, pulling him back to look at him.
"I know you care," he reformulated, "I didn't know you wanted to talk about my personal life, you never asked me about the girls I dated before, I didn't think it would be different just because this time it was a guy," he admitted, trying to ignore the throbbing of his heart.

The rest of the words took him by surprise, and he hung his head miserably. "You're probably right..." he muttered, his free hand rubbing his frown. "I did ask him out, I thought he was my boyfriend... it started as just sex, but I thought it was a relationship now..." he sighed sullen, "I am such an idiot! Of course it was not like that for him! He told me he owned a company! I don't even know his last name! And now it seems he was the computer guy! I can't believe he fucked me over completely."

"You always told me." They were close. John had pulled Sherlock closer than before. He didn't mind. What he did mind, was John not telling him anything. "With the girls, you tell me 'I'm going on a date with Janette' or something alike. You always told me with who you were dating and when you'd be gone. In Jim's case, you just disappeared with an excuse not worth mentioning." Sherlock's eyes pierced into John's.

To destract John from his posessivenes and out of the inability to say something appropriate, he remembered the phone. "What did he text?"

Sherlock's words made John think, it was true, he had behaved differently and hardly realized.
"I don't know, Sherlock," he whispered, looking at his hands. "It isn't the first time I go out with a guy, but I did feel embarrassed about the fact it was just sex at the beginning," he admitted, blushing just slightly. "I couldn't just say 'hey, I am off to have sex with Jim because it was an awful day for me, bye,' now, could I?"
Now he felt guilty, he had never meant to keep things from his best friend. "I am truly sorry, Sherlock... I just thought I would bore you with things like this, relationships and all.."

He took the phone, wondered if it was really Jim who had texted him.
He scoffed when he read it: "Says we need to talk," he muttered bitterly, his hand clenching around the phone, he wished he could throw it against the wall and forget about all this.

His fingers moved to reply though.

-Text to James-
Piss off. JW

James laid on his bed, still trying to figure what the best option was. He could tell John the truth about his obsession with Sherlock, about his plan to destroy this man completely. But he'd lose John at the first sentence. John did everything for this man. His john... wasn't his anymore.

How on earth could he explain this all? His phone buzzed. He didn't even expect a text back. Hesitatingly he opened the new message. Well what could he say? He didn't got his hopes up high, John's face was burned on his eyes. The heartbreaking look he granted James. But he needed John to just listen to him. He wanted to make things up. He'd fix things between them. He wrapped up a reply before tossing his phone on the bed next to him.

-text to John.-
Please, I can explain.

JM.

"And why not? You know direct honesty is my style of acting. And you don't bore me. Not even in the slightest..." Did he just say something weird? John shouldn't know that he, Sherlock, had watched him in their home. That he had watched him, how he moved around the house. But he just said the opposite, that he should be honest.
Sherlock was touched by John's guilt. However, he couldn't imagine John having sex with Jim. The thought made him shiver. Stop feeling like this, Sherlock! Sex doesn't alarm me. he thought, a bit forceful. He shook his head. I should give no attention to this.
"I don't care whether you sleep with men or women. At. All. I thought we cleared that on our first case. I know it's fine." He remembered their first 'dinner', when John claimed so tenacious that he was not his date. He recalled the slightly uncomfortable conversation about Sherlock being involved with men (n)or women.

At he vibrating of the phone, Sherlock made a decision. "He'll say that he can explain. But let's get home and have a cup of tea first. We must not forget that we have a case to solve within 6 hours." Sherlock rose up from his chair, grabbed the trainers, put them in a plastic bag and was on his way to the peg on which his coat and scarf was hung. He looked at John and nodded in the direction of the door.

John shook his head, he would have never been able to say that, not to Sherlock, even though he had no idea why.
Why was it a problem if he had a relationship with a guy? Why couldn't he speak about it to Sherlock?
"I know it's fine," he whispered, remembering that first day at Angelo. He had known from the start that Sherlock was not interested in relationships.

"If you wanted to know, you could have asked," he pointed out eventually, and groaned when he heard his phone again.

Sherlock was right, Jim was telling him he could explain.

He typed his answer angrily.
Your actions were rather self-explanatory. Leaving Sherlock your number, really? JW

"Yes, you are right. We have more important things to do than deal with-..." his voice failed him, he took his jacket and shook his head, following Sherlock out of the door.
He couldn't really say just how much this hurt.


((You can have them arrive at home if you want, no need to explain the taxi ride ^^))

James was desperate. His desire to destroy Sherlock wasn't as strong as it were only an hour ago. John was all he could think of. Most likely Sherlock was only telling him how he shouldn't go back and how love is a disadvantage and God knows what else. Stupid Sherlock, ruining everything. He'll get his chance, but right now, he felt the need to put all his plans away. Cancel everything.

Determined to get John back, he gets out his phone. Before he answered John, he made a few phone calls. And than he picked up the device connecting him to the woman who was strapped to his bombs. "Call Sherlock." he demanded her, and within a few seconds she picked up the phone and called the number connected to the pink phone.

The device spelled out every word James said. "Plans have changed, sexy. The game is off.... For now." He listened close, sniper pointed to the woman instead she wouldn't say the words he ordered her to say.

Sherlock and John didn't speak the whole taxi-ride. Sherlock did not know what to say exactly and slipped into his Mind Palace and thought about the Carl Powers case. He had little awareness of John sighing beside him.

When they got home, Sherlock did something unusual. He made tea. He never did, but now John was incapable of anything except being sad, he made tea. He placed the mug between the papers of the Carl Powers case before John who sat at the kitchen table. He was about to sit, when his phone rang, he picked up and put the speakers on.

Sherlock frowned. Why did the plans change all of a sudden? "But... why?" he muttered at the phone. Why on earth would Moriarty cancel the plan? What had gone wrong?

James smiled weakly when Sherlock asked why. Because me and my boyfriend who happens to be your flatmate are having a fight. He thought to himself. But the woman said something completely different instead. "You already know why." Than a silence fell and Moriarty commanded his snipers to leave. "Help me." The woman started to plead on the other side of the phone.

With a sigh he picked up his own phone again, scrolling through the conversations he and John used to had. His hands gripped around it more tight, thumps moving to answer.

-text to John-
I'll explain. But not over the phone. Please come.
JM.

Sherlock fell silent. His fingers loosened the grip of the phone, which fell with a clatter on the table. He had to think right now. He hoped John would call Lesrade. Unwary of the the woman in need, he picked up his violin. Pacing up and down the living room, he plucked the strings of the violin and he thought. Somewhere in my Mind Palace, the key to this mystery is hidden. All I have to do is THINK. "Think, think, THINK" he muttered occasionally.

John didn't know what to think, he had to ignore Jim's text when they received the new call, his nerves pulsing and adrenaline rushing in his veins.
He knew he could not just sulk about his broken heart, they had to save the lady.

He gasped when Sherlock let go of the phone, grabbing it and pushing it to his ear. "Hello? Are you alright? Tell me where you are!" he said, confident, trying to think about the case, about saving this person and not his heart.

With his phone he was calling Lestrade, giving him instructions.

It was only when everything was arranged for the victim to be rescued that he let himself sit on the sofa and look at Sherlock.

"Are you alright?" he asked, wondering if the game was really off.

He took his phone, and frowned at it. He felt so tired, and hurt, and angry.

You don't have to tell me it's over. I know already. JW

James felt rage boiling up in his chest. Why did John had to be so stubborn? Things weren't over between them. And if they were, he was not just going to let it happen like this. With a deep sigh he got of his bed and changed in to normal clothes again. Clothes John knew he would wear... If he was wearing any clothes at all when they met. He smirked.

Once outside his house he called out to a taxi. "221B Baker Street." He said confident. If John wasn't coming to him, he was going to visit them. For once in his life he was nervous to face someone. His plan had to work, he had made up a full story but he needed to sound as convincing as possible. Especially with Sherlock around. or perhaps he should ask for some privacy? Ha.. No Sherlock would never allow that.

As the taxi slowed down his heart jumped. Nerves tearing at the strings in his chest. Just crossing that street looked like a mile to him. His eyes closed for a second before he inhaled deep and started to walk. How easily he could break in to this house, he though to himself. But he had to fight off this impulse. His finger stretched to ring the bell. And then he waited...

John heard the doorbell, but he didn't budge, he knew if Lestrade needed anything he would have called instead, and he was staring at his phone, wondering miserably if this was indeed the end of his relationship.

To think that earlier that day he had been thinking about celebrating the fact they were together, he had wanted to do something special for Jim.
How was he to expect Jim was hiding a different life?


"Hello there," Mrs Hudson said, smiling at the stranger man. "You look like someone who is looking for Sherlock Holmes," she commented, looking him up and down and noticing how distressed he looked.

"Please follow me," she said and guided him up the stairs, opening the door to her favorite boys' living room.

James tried to look confident when he faced Mrs. Hudson, but knowing she was used to Sherlock he knew there wasn't much of his mask covering up the actual nerves he felt. "Yes." He mumbled, not mentioned he was actually here to see John, she'd only start asking inconvenient questions. With a friendly nod he followed her upstairs, on the way up complimenting the neat state of this place. Even though his plans were on hold now, gaining the trust of this woman could only lead in his own advantage.

Once Mrs Hudson opened up the door she straight away left. She by now must have been used to Sherlock having visitors over all of the time. His eyes straight away locked on John who hung on the sofa like a pile of misery. James heart ached, what had he done?

"Hey..." He murmured awkwardly nervous.

John's head snapped towards the door when he heard the familiar voice, he couldn't believe his eyes, and his expression was edging on the side of shocked.

"Jim!" he exclaimed, standing up, this was his Jim! The right clothes, the posture, the soft gaze, he had no idea how a person could change so drastically.
The pain in his chest seemed to spike, and he grimaced for all the things he still wanted from the other man.

He looked at his phone, no messages. This didn't make sense.
"How did you know...?" he looked at Sherlock. "You are here... for him?" he asked, looking at the detective.

Sherlock plucked the strings of his violin even harder when John asked the question. "There must be a relation between the happenings of today and the case. It MUST!" He shouted those words in anger and irritation. A very sane thought came in his mind after that. He didn't want to upset John more. "I'm sorry... ermm.. no, I am not fine."
There must be a relation, but WHAT?

The doorbell rang, but Sherlock had no interest in a visitor. He had something else to preoccupy his mind. Why. Did. Moriarty. Blow. This. Off? Something happened today that changed everything. He ran down the list of happenings this day had had. His eyes widened at the incident at Bart's. There must be something...

His train of thought was interrupted by a familiar voice. It was Jim. The bastard for hurting his John. But then, he realised.
"Oh."

"Yes, John. I think our friend Jim here came for me... didn't you?" he pierced through Jim's eyes, looking for the evidence.

((is it ok for Sherlock to 'get it'?))

John looked at Sherlock then, his face was unreadable, he knew there had to be something he was missing.
But was Jim truly after Sherlock? And what for? A date? It seemed all so surreal.

The doctor didn't know what to think, but he wished the floor could open up and swallow him whole.
He couldn't deal with this.


((It is okay for Sherlock to suspect it, because it does make sense, but I think he will wait a bit before accusing Jim, to check his theory. Also because he is not sure what Moriarty is up to to begin with, and it does make little sense that Moriarty would want to stop things for John, so he is definitely suspicious, but we aren't uncovering our cards yet, if that's okay with you? He can investigate though, trying to make Jim uncover himself... I was just thinking to keep John in the shadows about Jim being Moriarty for a bit more))

James eyes danced between John and Sherlock and for a few seconds he didn't know what to say. He could feel Sherlock's suspicions, of course he'd consider every possible option on why the whole game got cancelled. Eventually he kept his eyes still on John and with a shaking voice he started talking; "I..eh.. No.. I'm actually here to see you. To talk to you." His feet shuffled awkwardly and he tried to pull on a weak smile, but soon let it fade.

John felt the tension in the room rise, it was like electricity, and only Jim's words directed towards him made it slightly better.

"You are here to talk to me?" he asked, he couldn't believe the man would come all the way here to break up with him, not when he had told him he knew things were over, so there had to be something else, another reason.

But what could he say to repair what he had done?

He looked at Sherlock, and then his eyes traveled back to Jim, drawn to him, fixing on him.
He didn't know what to say.