Want to bet on it? (John/Moriarty)

Sherlock jumped off at the sound of his phone. John's name appeared on the screen and his heart was racing like hell. His finger slid over the screen and he moved the phone towards his ear quickly.

"John!" he exclaimed. "Finally. God. John are you alright?" He asked worried.

Sherlock's worry made his heart clench in his chest, it was painful, it was like his world was crumbling all over again.
"Sherlock," he whispered, almost a pleading even though he had no idea what to ask.

"I am fine, I... I am going to be fine... but... I am going away," he said, moving his eyes to a indefinite point of the wall.

"I need to say goodbye... I called to say goodbye..."

With the first tone of John's voice, Sherlock knew something was up. He could tell by the way John had just whispered his name. Goosebumps and a shiver ran through his whole body.

"What's.." wrong? he wanted to ask but John had already started talking again. He listened closely to every word his best friend was saying, shaking his head more and more with every new word.

"It's him, isn't it? Moriarty?" He said, his voice in a sort of panic. "John don't do what he asks. He strapped me to a bomb, but I'm alright now. John, listen to me. You're not going anywhere, okay? Where are you? Tell me where you are. Lestrade's on this. Please." He pleaded.

"I know, I saw you.. strapped to-" he trailed off, his voice shaking and he had to take in a deep breath. "He did it..." he said and looked down, he knew that if he told Sherlock where he was things would just escalate in a circle of violence and Jim would probably end up killing him.

"I am sorry, Sherlock, I can't tell you anything... I have to do this... I have to go with him..." he whispered, his hand gripping the phone tightly. "I don't want you to fight any more... please, Sherlock..."

Sherlock had already assumed John might have seen him strapped to that bomb, though he had hoped that for once, his mind was mistaken. At first he felt anger when John mentioned Moriarty had done all of this. He just wanted to kill that sick psychopath, or at least mentally and physically hurt him as bad as he could.

His heart throbbed painfully in his chest and throat as he listened to John's words. "John. No, you have to tell me where you are." He pleaded. "Do it in subtext, a riddle, I'll figure it out." He added, his voice begging for his friend to say anything at all.

"Fi..fight?" Sherlock repeated. "John, no. Don't do what he asks. You're not going anywhere. Just stay calm and stay where you are. I.. I.. I " Sherlock stammered. "John I can't be without you." He eventually blurred out, in the corner of his eye a tear fell down.

"I can't, Sherlock, I really can't," he whispered, and felt his heart clench in his chest. "I need to end this, it is my responsibility, and people... people protect friends," he added, his lower lips shaking slightly.

"It's all my fault. He has done everything just to get me back," he explained, trying not to cry at Sherlock's words. He shook his head, even though his friend couldn't see him. He needed to believe that things were not like that. "I am sorry Sherlock, you have... you have to promise me you will get over me... you will try to be happy... you have to promise me, Sherlock," he stammered.

Sherlock's hand rolled up in a fist. He couldn't believe John was saying his goodbye. Not like this, not right now. His heart broke, more and more with every word his best friend spoke. Tears dripped down from his pale chin, onto the purple shirt he was wearing.

"It's not your fault. You're forced to do this." He whimpered. Sherlock knew that if he wanted to survive this, he needed to turn his own heart into stone. Something he'd always been able to, but for some reason he couldn't barely stand that idea at this very moment.

"I can't promise, but I'll try." He whispered. He knew that now he had gave in, John would soon be ending the conversation. Sherlock needed to hear his voice. "Say my name, John. Say it like you mean it." His voice sounding higher because of the crying. He'd cherish this moment, he'd store it in his mind so that he'd never forget what John's voice sounded like when he spoke his name.

Though, Sherlock wouldn't rest. He'd do anything, everything to find John again. Moriarty wasn't going to get away with this, not as long as Sherlock was alive.

"Sherlock," he said, his voice breaking, tears crawling down his face, he couldn't help it. "I am sorry, Sherlock," he added, his back moving back and forth.

"Sherlock," he repeated, and every time it was filled with more and more feelings. "I love you, Sherlock," he whispered very softly. "I really do," he added, closing his eyes.

"But I love him too... I can't... have you... fight..." he took in a deep breath. "I can't have you hurt..."

"Forget about me, Sherlock... I will remember for the both of us..." he pleaded, his hand shaking, knowing he had to say goodbye.

Sherlock sat down on his sofa, crying like he had never cried before. Every mention of his name he took a mental note of, storing it inside what he called his hard drive.

"John, I love you too. I've never loved anyone else in the world."

Moriarty was probably forcing John to say the words that he loved him. Sherlock could hardly believe them.

"I'll never forget you, do you understand? Never!" He exclaimed.

John felt himself grow colder in dread, his eyes filled with tears he could not stop, "God, Sherlock, don't say that," he whispered, his hand shaking as he covered his mouth not to whimper like a baby.

"You need to find someone, someone else to love, promise me you will try," he pleaded, his knuckles becoming white for how hard he gripped his phone.

"I need to know you are going to be okay, or I'll never be... Sherlock, I... I don't want to leave you," he confessed, bending his head, "But I have to."

Sherlock couldn't stop the new stream of tears that fell down his cheeks. He knew that he needed to get this together if he wanted to make things more bearable for John. He could lie, if it helped. He inhaled very deep, one steady breath to stop himself from sniffing and block new tears.

"I'll be okay, John." He said brave. Inside he knew he wouldn't be, but John needed to believe he would. Just until Sherlock had found out where Moriarty had taken him to.

"I mean it. I'll be fine eventually." He forced any kind of emotion out of his voice, his heart still aching though.

"I know you don't want to leave but if it's the only option then I'll live with it. However, I can not assure you I will be able to ever forget you." He said.

"But I guess this is goodbye."

John knew they were all lies, he knew Sherlock was not going to be okay, he knew it in his guts, his own pain was deep and sharp and he knew it was always going to be there, even if Jim succeded in making him happy.

He had waited 15 years with that same pain, for Jim, and now that he was finally going back to Jim, another wound cut deep into his heart, destined to create a new scar.

He wanted to plead, he wanted to postpone the moment he'd have to hang up, but he knew he couldn't, he had to do this properly.
"It is," he stammered, taking in a deep breath, "Sherlock, I owe you a lot... You will always be my only friend... Thank you... For helping me... For... Understanding me..." He whispered.

"Goodbye Sherlock," he whimpered, his hand flying to his mouth as he tried not to sob.

Sherlock nodded, even if he knew John couldn't see him. He wasn't sure how longer he could keep this facade up, but if John carried on like that, it could crack any time now. Sherlock's heart got struck by the most painful thing he'd ever heard. John saying goodbye to him. No longer he could block out tears, he was hurting, aching, dying.

"Goodbye, John."

John closed his eyes, "Goodbye," he whispered, before he moved his phone off his ear and pressed the end button.

It was the end.

He looked at his phone for long, but he didn't see it, the tears were in the way.
He couldn't believe it was happening.
He couldn't believe he was never going to hear Sherlock's voice again, he couldn't believe he was not going home to Baker street tonight.
It was the end.

The phone fell from his fingers, he didn't need it any more and he did not care.

For a moment right there, John wished the floor could open up and swallow him whole, he had no will to live, and he would go without a fight.
He deserved it, because he had just hurt his best friend irrevocably.

I love you, John.

Sherlock closed his eyes as the long, dull beep indicated the phone call had ended. He couldn't believe it was over. He couldn't imagine John not walking through that door anymore. It felt worse then dying, much worse. He couldn't just sit around here and wait for something to happen. No he had to do something, he had to find John.

Sherlock hopped from the sofa, his eyes burning red from all of the crying. His phone still in his hand, he moved it back to his ear and phones Lestrade. Sherlock ordered him to track John's number immediately and explained briefly what happened to Lestrade. "I'm there in 10 minutes." Sherlock said as he grabbed his coat and scarf and ran down the stairs.

--

Jim had listened to John's words and he couldn't deny, he was touched by them. He felt a little bit guilty for what he had put his ex boyfriend through, but he then reminded himself it was the only way.

"John." He whispered quiet, slowly shuffling closer. His arms stretched and wrapped around John's shoulders, embracing him. "I'm so sorry." He whispered. And he meant it.

"We need to go now. Our plane leaved in 2 and a half hours." He said formally. He knew Sherlock would do anything to find them and tracking a phone would be too easy. "Come on." He said, tugging at John's sleeve to make him move.

John jumped at Jim's touch, for a moment he had forgotten he was not alone in the room, and his heart jumped in his throat.
"Don't- touch me!" he snapped, pushing him away, he couldn't believe Jim's words, not when it had all been his fault.

Sherlock was going to look for him regardless of what he had told him, Sherlock wasn't one to give up, he knew they had to go.
"Fine," he hissed, standing up, trying to rub away the few tears that just wouldn't stop.
He had no idea where they were going, what was going to happen, but he had to go, at least to make sure Sherlock would not get harmed.

Jim kept moving until they got at the car waiting for them outside. "You get in, I'll be right back." He ordered John before running back inside. On a piece of paper he scrabbled a few words before putting it in an envelope and writing Sherlock's name on it.

He then skipped back to the car and got in next to John, demanding the driver to get them to the airport as fast as he could.

"John?" He asked, looking at him. "I am sorry." He said once more.

--

Sherlock rushed into Lestrade's office. "Where is he?" He demanded. Lestrade gave him the approximate area of where John's phone signal had been picked up.

"That's John's old town." He said, placing his hands against his temples and picturing a mental map of that town.

"John's phone can only be located in a circle of 10 miles away from that mast. I tried to call him, phone's still on and it still pick up from there. Lestrade we need to check every house in a distance of 10 miles around the telephone mast. Close down the area and let no one in or out." He ordered. Lestrade raised his eye brow, telling Sherlock he was insane, they had no right to do so. Sherlock moved closer to the DI. "Look, John's life is in danger. This man strapped me to a bomb and is now kidnapping my best friend. If you don't do as I ask, I'll dig up some of the dirtiest secrets Scotland Yard is holding back. And that includes the huge amount of money you payed yourself as an award one time." He hissed.

Within a minute Lestrade had contacted everyone and teams were on their way. Sherlock hopped in a police car, his feet tapping up and down as he was impatiently waiting for them to get there. As he arrived, the area had just been closed down and people's houses were being investigated. Sherlock wandered the streets himself trying to look for any possible sign of John.

After about 15 minutes his phone beeped. Lestrade's number showed up and Sherlock eagerly answered. "You found him?" He exclaimed, his heart already filling with hope. "No, Sherlock. But there's something you might want to see." And Sherlock's hope turned unto fear by hearing those words. After Lestrade told him the house, he ran over there.

He had only just been inside and he could already tell why they called him in. On the small cupboard in the living room, a letter was left. "SHERL☺CK" was, clearly in a hurry written down on it. Left handed person, John's not left handed. Moriarty...

Carefully he opened the letters and the words on there were making him boil on the inside.

"You're too late.
I win.
Game over."

3 simple lines Sherlock couldn't stop looking at. His heart had never hurt more in his whole life. He felt tears coming up but forced them away. He couldn't cry, not here, not now. What did he had to do now? Where was John go to? They couldn't be far, but they could have gone anywhere. "Sherlock." Lestrade said soft, holding out John's phone. "Sign him. All over the country, I want every person living in England to look out for them. /Both/ of them." He said, taking John's phone and carefully putting it in his pocket.

"It takes at least 2 hours to do so, Sherlock. We need pictures, details, everything." The DI said, but he wasn't declining the idea. Just a few moments later Sherlock was, quietly, back on his way to Scotland Yard...

John felt numb, his whole body was insensitive to what was happening and he wasn't even looking back when they drove away.
Reality had never been gloomier.
John felt he could never be happy again.
"I'm never going to forgive you for this," he heard himself say when Jim apologized again.

He knew he was being over-dramatic, something that hardly suited him, but he couldn't help the despair in his heart, it was eating at him, it was making him want to drink until he would forget everything.
"Where are we going?" he hissed then, even though he didn't care that much, he just hated the silence that was making his emotional wounds hurt much more.

"I'll give you time to process all of it." Jim said softly, looking at John even though he knew those eyes weren't meeting him back.

"We are going to New York." He replied. "I have everything arranged there. Once there we'll sort out clothes and everything. I have different papers for you as well." He explained. "We're going with my private jet, leaving from heathrow." His eyes desperately stayed focused on the back of John's head.

"We'll be fine John. You'll be fine" he whispered.

John looked outside the window, watching as the city turned into countryside. He took in the information and nodded, he had never been to New York.
"Do you have a place there?" he wondered, even though his voice was cold, distant, uninterested.

The hurt and pain were vivid in his chest.
"It's all my fault isn't it?" he blurted then. "I made you like this..." he thought out loud, crushed by the guilt of his past.

"I indeed have, yes." Jim said. Wondering where in the world he didn't have a place to stay. Jim had often visited there, an important part of his organisation had been build up around it. Jim's eyes kept on John, still feeling bad for what he had put him through. He didn't like seeing John sad.

"Things might have been different if you didn't walk away that night." He said a bit softer. "But the past can't be changed. The future however, can." Jim moved closer towards John, now sitting in the middle seat. He knew things like this needed time, but he was impatient and he just wanted to skip everything to the part where John finally started to see things differently.

John finally looked to the side, blue eyes looking at Jim, seeing him move closer, he could tell the other was desperate to be close to him. He could understand, he had felt like that a few weeks before. Now though, he felt like something had broken inside his chest and his feelings were all askew, he didn't know what he was feeling any more.

"You really waited for me for all this time?" he asked, and bit on his lower lip, his heart starting to beat faster.

Jim felt his heart beating faster when John finally stared back at him. For some reason it felt as an achievement, something accomplished leading in the right direction.

He was a bit surprised by John's question. No anger nor despite or sadness detectable when those words came out. However the monotone was undeniable.

"Yes. 15 long years. I... Thought about you every single day." Jim confessed, still looking at John.

"Weren't you angry at me for leaving? How could you love me after that?" He asked, still unable to wrap his head around the idea. It seemed impossible that one love could last that long and still be so bloody strong.

"Have you had anyone else?" He asked, curiosity and jealously mixing in his chest. "Have you not had other boyfriends? Anyone else you loved?"

"I was devastated." Jim started to explain. "I felt broken and alone. But at first I thought you would come back soon after. But when I fould out you left, I had never felt more alone. My family fell apart due to the business and I was sent away." jim's voice sounded more honest then it ever had before. "I went looking for you, John. All over the world. I had people everywhere." He confessed. "It took my 15 years to find you again, so I was head over heels when I did. I never stopped loving you."

Jim thought back. There never had been another boyfriend but John. "There was Seb." He said. "You surely remember him, right?" How could John forget that name. "He's still close to me. We had something casual when one of us needed it. But there never had been another love after you. I couldn't possibly give my heart to anyone else." Jim felt his cheeks running red when he confessed everything. He had never ever shared these feelings. Not even with Sebastian.