Sherlock Holmes sat on his broken down couch, contemplating the last few situations he'd been in with Jim Moriarty. He needed more. He wanted to be close to Moriarty just once more, like they were when they were crouched on the rooftop, on that cold winter day. He thought back to that fateful time. He could feel Moriarty's warm peppermint scented breath gently hitting him, as their faces were just inches away. God, how he wanted to caress his perfect face, and feel his incredible lips on his. He thought about this way too often. And it was so hard to hide these innapropriate thoughts from John Watson, who has been head over heels in love with Sherlock since the day they met. It was always humourous to Sherlock, because it was as if John didn't think Sherlock was aware of his feelings. Sherlock knew everything. Like always, his thoughts were crowding his brain. All he wanted was to think of Moriarty. He tried to switch gears, and thought about the last conversation they'd had. After Sherlock faked his own death by seemingly jumping off of a building right in front of John, he'd spoken to Jim one last time. In that short moment, Moriarty calmly and proudly confessed his love for Sherlock. He wanted that mere second to last forever, but right after, Moriarty ran off without another word. Sherlock didn't even get to explain how madly he returned those feelings. It killed him to this day. It had been 6 months since he'd seen Moriarty, and he was positive that he was either dead, or half way across the world. With that thought, he began thinking about how perfect it would be if he with with Moriarty, wherever he was. Dead or alive. He just needed to be close to him. He longed to feel his touch just one more time, and to see his deep brown eyes staring right through him. It was always as if he was reading every single thought he'd ever had. Sherlock loved the fact that Moriarty was just as smart as him, and just as cunning. He made Sherlock feel weak. It was so strange, because at one point, he was positive he was incapable of loving anyone or anything. He never expected to fall in love with anyone. Let alone a man. But, Sherlock wasn't ashamed of his feelings. He enjoyed them, actually. He loved the little pitter-patter his heart did every time he thought of Jim. He loved everything about him. From the way he walked, which he remembered perfectly, to his adorable little smirk he did when he knew he was right about something. It was all so incredible, and all so sexy. Moriarty was Sherlock's world, and he never even got the chance to share that with him. He knew he would get that chance one day though, and he needed that day to come soon.
