Sherlock Imagines

Smooth Criminal (Johniarty)

Day Three of SHIPPING HELL!
Ship suggester: Anon (because I can't remember who it was)

A freaking drug den. Not just any drug den, a beaten down, mess of a building, crumbling trash-bin of a den. John entered, his tire iron hidden, and pregnant wife in the car. In the absolute worst part of town, and he was going in to get a druggie. Out of all the druggies that were probably holed up there, he had come to get a youth that he barely knew. Why? He wasn't sure what motivated him to just go. It wasn't like he was emotionally invested, not this time. It was more... the risk that always drew him in, and this was no exception... chuck he was a terrible person, but he was excited to get back out there.
It probably wasn't the best idea to leave Mary alone, but he wanted, no- needed this adventure. After all, Sherlock hadn't contacted him in months, and he was beginning to think he'd straight been replaced. That, even though Sherlock had ended up being alive, he was distancing himself until he could leave him completely.
It was like Jim all over again.
No, he couldn't think about that man- not like he was, not like he had been. How he always managed to fall for the bad ones, he'd never know. First was that criminal genius, with his sexy grin and the way his lashes flitted when he was amused. Those little things that drove John mad, to the point he wanted to just pin the man to the wall and shove his tongue down his throat. Okay, so maybe it wasn't a healthy obsession, but the least he knew was that it had been reciprocated. He never expected Jim to take things as far as he did. To not only want Sherlock gone, but to be willing to kill himself in the process.
And when Sherlock came back, with no sign of Jim... John freaked. His friend, his best friend, and he still chose that madman over him. He threw a few punches... bloodied him up a bit, before he realized how stupid he was being. He had Mary, and he loved her- a lot better than Jim! ...right? After all, she was his wife- the mother of his unborn daughter. But just like Jim, she hadn't been on the side of the angels. It was like, without mistake, he only could truly love the people who harmed more than they helped. With broken pasts and twisted heads...
That didn't matter, not anymore, anyways. Jim was dead, whether John liked it or not, and he'd forever be stuck with that gaping hole in his heart. Stupid Jim... stupid Reichenbach... stupid promise... stupid heart.
He was heading upstairs, he couldn't quite remember what happened, but that silly little pest of a druggie had tried to stop him, that's all he could remember.
"I think you broke my arm!" He cried, the accusation twisting through the air, "You're insane!" Jim was insane- STOP IT! John cursed his own thoughts.
"Nope, just used to a better class of criminal." He said without a second's pause, beginning to trudge up the stairs towards his neighbor's boy. That's why he was here, after all... not at all because he was missing "the battle field," obviously not.
That's when a thick Irish accent sliced through the air, befalling John's ears, and immediately gaining his attention, "How about a smooth criminal, Johnny Boy?" Jim straightened his tie, sass spilling from the simple gesture. His grin was twisted deep into his face, eyes sparkling with boisterous confidence, not a fear in the world. Not for the ONLY consulting criminal.
For a moment, John didn't have words, he just stared his ex lover in the eyes, trying to get it through his head how Jim could be alive. He'd seen Jim's body- mourned his death for years, unable to move on without thinking of him, over and over and over again. That's all he ever really thought about... what Jim would be doing, had he been alive. And here he was, standing in front of him, awaiting an answer to his unspoken proposal.
The silence caused Jim to shift, it had never been comfortable for him, that much John knew. His grin was beginning to fall, but the gleam in his eyes was steadfast. He was confident, no matter what any other variable of his person said, that gleam was the truth. Jim knew John would come running back to him, he knew it.
And he did. In a heartbeat's time, John had crushed the slightly taller man in a bone-shattering hug. Jim grimaced, knowing his Westwood wouldn't be as neat as t had been... but he couldn't resist.
"Never leave me like that, again- you utter arsehole!" John sniffed to try and cover up his shaky, pained voice. A soft smile pulled to Jim's lips, ready to agree. He immediately pulled John closer, letting the gesture hold for a few precious moments before adjusting in his arms to kiss him.
"Never again- I swear it." He leaned in... closer, and right when John flicked his eyes shut, expectantly awaiting the taste of Irish whisky and mint against his lips...

He woke up.