Want to bet on it? (John/Moriarty)

John was shocked, speechless for a long moment. "Jesus," he exclaimed then, shaking his head. "You looked for me for so long, why? I am nothing special, Jim, you would know if you had let yourself try someone else.."

John remembered Sebastian, he remembered that time very well. "I didn't know he was into guys," he said, and wondered how it was possible that Jim never loved anyone else. It was true for him as well, until he met Sherlock, but still, at least he had tried! "You can't be saying that you haven't had sex with anyone other than me and Sebastian, surely?"

"Because I couldn't forget you. I missed you." Jim said. There hadn't been much more. He just never felt like he could let go of his old love.

"Seb's into everything though." Jim smiled slightly. He hadn't seen Sebastian for a good while since he was busy chasing John.

"No John. No one. I tried, but your face always came to mind and then I just couldn't go on." Jim went on, thinking about the few times he actually had tried to love someone else. It mostly ended up in torturing or killing those brave people.

John looked back outside the window, his throat felt dry and itchy and once again he wanted to cry. It felt like everything was unfair in this world, and he wished he could go back and change what had happened 15 years ago.

"You think we would still be together? If I didn't walk away that night, do you think we would still be together?" he asked, swallowing hard. Would he have met Sherlock? Would he have loved him? What kind of person would he be? And most of all, would Jim still be the most dangerous criminal in London?

"I don't know, John. I think we would. But God knows what might have happened." Jim said. How was he supposed to know? Of course he had always pictured his life with John, growing old happily.

"What are you thinking, John?" Jim asked. He couldn't lay a finger on John's thoughts. He seemed calmer, yet he still felt so distant.

John sighed at the question: "I am thinking that it is my fault that such a criminal as yourself was born," he muttered, biting nervously on his lower lip. "And as much as I didn't want to leave back then, the responsability is mine," he explained.

"So maybe I deserve this," he muttered, and his eye flicked darkly. "I should have never let Sherlock close..."

" Criminal." Jim repeated. For some reason it sounded good coming from john's lips. "But there's no point regretting the past. Why don't you start focusing on our future." Jim said, indicating John and him will be never be apart again.

" Soon you'll see Sherlock was nothing compared to what I am able to give you." He whispered, fighting off the impulse to take John's hand.

"My future is not truly mine any more, is it," he muttered thoughtful. "I can't think about it when I am not given the possibility to choose... you will keep me with you whatever happens, even if I don't want to, or maybe until you are tired of me, I am really not sure of what I should look forwards to," he muttered sarcastic.

He sighed at the rest of the words. "I have never tried to compare the two of you... but I guess Sherlock did remind me of you at first... you two are... quite similar," he muttered and bit on his lower lip. "You seem to think you can be better than him..." he muttered, shaking his head.

" There's so many things the future holds, John." Jim said, throwing him a reassuring look. "And I won't get tired of you. That's impossible." He shrugged, looking out of the window for a second, they almost got to the airport now.

"Are we?" Jim said, raising his eyebrow. He didn't like the idea of John comparing him to Sherlock, and the nodding when he said he thought to be better. He was better!

"Don't nod. You have no idea how much better I can be." He snapped, clearly offended by John's action. However he quickly corrected himself, clearing his throat. "Sorry. I mean. I can give you so much more." He said softly.

"How ironic would it be, Jim," he commented with a bitter laugh. "If after all this, you would get tired of me in a few weeks," he said, and one part of him did expect that to happen. One thing was to wait for the perfect man for 15 years, but when that man was there, well, he stopped being perfect.

John couldn't help but laugh at Jim getting worked up over this. "Better at what, Jim?" he teased him, and then shook his head. "And what can you give me really? Money? Or is the head of the people I hate that you are offering?" he muttered sarcastic.

Jim glared at John, he knew very well the man was only trying to trigger his nerves some more, probably looking for some kind of silent revenge. "Better at anything. Especially at keeping you." Jim added, just trying to keep John silent for now.

"I can offer you love, John. True love." He said vicious, not liking how John was trying to play with his mind now.

The car slowed down and stopped eventually. The driver opening up Jim's door first before walking over to John's.

"At keeping me?" he repeated with a scoff. "I would have never left Sherlock if it wasn't for this," he commented, and bit on his lower lip angrily. "You are better at being evil, and at being bloody jealous," he commented, frowning as the car door opened.

He walked outside, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light.
"You seem to think that Sherlock didn't love me," he muttered and took in a deep breath. "Love is also letting go, it's not selfishly taking anything you want."

Jim just ignored all that John said. He couldn't stand the way he spoke Sherlock's name. And he didn't like the idea of John trying to turn this game around.

"Here." He muttered, pushing some papers into John's hand. His new identity, at least for now. Jim knew he had to be quick, police could sign him any time now.

John could tell Jim didn't approve of his words, his expression stricken as he refused to reply. It made him want to say more, it made him want to be hurtful and cruel, just as much as he felt he had the right to be.

He fell silent though, looking at the papers and his new documents. His heart started beating faster in his chest. It was all becoming more real now.
It wasn't a nightmare he could wake up from, he was leaving London, he was leaving Sherlock.

His lips pursed into a thin line and he put his new passport in his jacket, straightening his shoulders.
"Let's go."

The next hour was spent passing customs and checking in to their private airplane. Not much words were exchanged and Jim just silently observed John. He just wish they could pass all of this, just to the point where John would forgive him. If it would ever happen.

Once taken their seats on the plane Jim finally felt the need for conversation again. After all they had to spend the next 10 hours next to each other and he wouldn't be able to do it in silence.

"Do you want anything? Tea? Something to eat?" He asked hesitatingly.

John was clearly unhappy, his thoughts going back to Sherlock's goodbye, his voice haunting him, and he knew it was going to take a long time before he could think back to it without his heart clenching hard in his chest.

Jim's words startled him, and he looked at him with an arched eyebrow.
"No, I'm fine," he said dryly, before he could stop himself.

"What is going to happen now? When we get there? Am I supposed to stay in the apartment you will bring me to and wait for you to come home and fuck me every night?" he asked, finally moving his gaze to meet Jim's.

Jim frowned at the bitterness of John's words. He clearly hadn't calm down yet and Jim figured it would take longer the he had initially thought.

" I won't lock you up." He protested. "You can have a job inside my organisation, anything you want." He added. "Although I do like the idea of fucking you every night." He joked, knowing it wasn't appropriate at the time.

"A job inside your organization? Like what? Killing people?" he asked sarcastic, he really couldn't imagine himself doing that, and for a fleeting moment he wondered if he should just kill himself.
His expression darkened at the thought, the choices were given, now he had to live them, or just not live. But did he want that?

"Of course you would, isn't that what you did this for?" he said, memories of their time together coming back to haunt him in that moment. "I've had several sexual partners, Jim, I am not the blushing teenager you used to fuck."

"No. No of course not killing people." Jim replied a bit annoyed. "There's so much more. You're being too judgmental now." Jim accused him.

His face wrinkled in annoyance at John's words. "You should hear yourself. If this was all about sex I'd keep you somewhere in a dark basement, tied to a bed without any piece of clothing covering up that fit body of yours." Said Jim, with a smile on the thought. "I don't care whether you had sex with others or not." He shrugged, liking the idea of John being more experienced now. "I love you. I want you to be with me. I need you to be with me."

"Oh right sorry, would you prefer I help stealing? Or maybe dealing weapons?" He said sarcastic, rolling his eyes at the other's remark. "How can I /not/ be judgemental when you are a criminal mastermind?"

His cheeks burned red, but he refused to let himself feel touched by the other's words. "Well, maybe you should worry about being up to my standards..." He said with a fake smirk, just wanting to aggravate him. How could Jim be so bloody calm?

Jim just rolled his eyes at all the stupidly sarcastic comments John was making. "You're only making this harder on yourself." He shrugged a bit.

Jim would never use John as a sniper or dealer for his organization. It took some skills and hard training to achieve these kind of things. Something he didn't want to put John through. He was more thinking of a leading function. Head of one of his quarters, organizing anything.

As the plane took off Jim ordered himself and John some food, not caring that he said he didn't need anything.

Their conversation on the plane was stiff and uninteresting.
It was the first of many similar conversations.

At the beginning, as they moved into the apartment together, it was all they had.

John was like a ghost, pining over his lost friend and hardly adjusting to a life of luxury.
He felt guilty every time he used Jim's money, but he was too proud and self-conscious to ever thank him.
He felt torn every time he saw Jim, because he knew what they were supposed to be, but he felt neither of them deserved it.

The first month was a long one.
Filled with awkward moments and little cruelties on John's part.

Life was ordinary though.
John got used to it.
And after a while he realized life was good as well.

Jim was coming home to him every night, something that would have made him sell his soul to the devil to obtain it a few years back.

So he softened.

He spoke to him.
He considered finding himself a job.
He asked him about his day at work.
He waited for him to have dinner together.
He texted him.

It didn't take him long to fall in love all over again, really.
As scary as that was.
But he didn't admit it to himself until the night where he stared at the clock around 9 o'clock and realized Jim was late.

He checked Jim's last text and frowned.
Will be home by 8. Should we have Japanese?

John hadn't really thought about it, lazily watching TV, but now he realized painfully that something was wrong.

"How ironic if he walked out on me," he told himself, thinking about the fact that their relationship still wasn't normal and Jim would have every right to leave him if he wanted to.

When the idea that Jim might still be at work crossed his mind, he started panicking.
What if he was hurt?
What if Sherlock had found him?

His heart beating fast in his chest, he started pacing, trying to remember what kind of mission Jim had talked about.
Something easy, he always said, even if he limped a bit the day after.

"God, just come back..." he whispered, staring at the clock as it slowly moved.
10 o'clock.
11 o'clock.
John was going insane.

In the next couple of months Jim had tried his best to be patient with John. He knew he needed time and Jim couldn't do much more then give him that. But he often felt as if everything had been in vain, as if John would never be able to forgive him.

The bed always stayed empty on John's side, he preferred the sofa.
John turned Jim down every time he asked him out.

And we go to dinner, but you won't hold my hand
We sit at the same table, but we don't play with our feet
Yeah, we still go to dinner sometimes, but we don't sneak a kiss
When the waitress turns around.

Though after a fair amount of time Jim started to see some changes in John's behaviour. He couldn't tell whether he was just adjusting to the situation, or whether John was actually starting to feel something again.

That night Jim was out on a mission. "Something simple." He had told John.
But it was more complicated than it seemed. Jim was meeting up with the head of an a rival criminal organisation. However, things went differently and Jim got caught.

After being tortured for hours, he had given them the information they wanted and was released again. Jim made his way over to their penthouse in New York.

As he opened the door, he immediately fell down on the floor.
His face bruised and covered in blood; A black eye and a broken nose. His lip swollen a little bit.

His whole body bruised and some parts got covered in small, not deep enough to damage, cuts.
He whimpered as he tried to get himself back up. failing at it.

John jumped to his feet as soon as he heard the door open, the sounds coming from it were far from reassuring and he found himself running before he could really think or imagine what was going on.

What his eyes met made his heart clench in his chest.
"Jim!" he exclaimed, anger and despair mixing in his chest. Who did this to him? How dare they touch him?

He knelt by his side.
"Jim, tell me you are conscious," he whispered, his hand running along his side, checking for injuries, no visible blood loss, no broken bones except maybe the nasal sect, but it seemed his lover had been tortured.

"Come on," he muttered, wrapping his arm around his waist, pulling him up and closing the door. "You can lie on the bed while I take care of you," he continued, his voice low and soft, worried and upset.

Jim's eyes shot back open when he heard John's voice calling out his name. Even in his state of mind he could notice the anger mixed up with concern. For that moment, it make a warm feeling run through his broken body. "I'm home." He said, his voice hoarse even though he tried not to show in how much pain he was at this moment.

Jim whimpered painfully when John picked him up, the other's hand just on one of his cuts. "You will take care of me?" He whispered, moving his own hand to look for support on John. They limped into the bedroom and Jim fell down onto the bed, panting a bit.

John was being so concerned, so thoughtful and sweet and for a moment the fact that John had finally started loving him again crossed his mind.

"Of course I will take care of you, I can't possibly leave you like this!" he exclaimed, and watched him worriedly as he stumbled off the bed. "You forget I am a doctor."

He couldn't voice how relieved he was that Jim was responding to him, a sign that he wasn't as bad as he looked.
"Can you take your clothes off while I get the First Aid kit?" he muttered softly, running his hand through Jim's hair as he waited for a reply.