Sherlock one shots

Alice and the Mad Hatter - Jim Moriarty/Diana Taylor

The sun hadn't rose yet, when he crawled his way to the bathroom. Every single receptor of pain in his body seemed to be into full activity, and yet he very seldom had felt so much alive, before. He stumbled from the wall he was leaning on to the sink. The cold water stung his hands, forcing him to a moan of relief as the blood was slowly washed away. He rubbed his face, looking up in the mirror and curiously observing his own satisfied smirk. There was a sense of joyful despair, violent life, a destructive hurricane of feelings that excited him and terrified him at the same time.
He spotted a long, red scratch crossing his cheek.
Damn't. He had a meeting, today.
A soft, devious chuckle flourished from his chest and shook his body, then he walked back to the bedroom. He observed her from a distance and slowly moved closer: she was so pale and was sleeping so still, that she seemed to be dead.
Her fair skin, constellated with his vicious marks of possession, made him feel like leaving a few more, just to make sure it was real.
He leaned on her, pinning her arms above her head and biting her lobe:
"I had said, not on my face." he whispered in her ear, loud enough to bring her back to life.
Diana shivered, a smile covering her lips before she could fix her blue eyes in the dark pools of lust he was laying upon her. She lifted her hips, instinctively searching for the warmth of his body: "And I had said, let me go." she purred.
Jim blinked, staring at her for a few moments longer, his heart beginning to harshly pound in his chest once again. How did she do that? How could she clear the fog that had kept him from feeling himself or the world for his whole life?
He pressed on her, hungrily biting her neck: "never."