Sherlock oneshots

Sheriarty~ dinner?

This one starts off pretty slow, but it heats up nearer the end so ;)

They stood, inches separating their faces. Their cold expressions matted on their faces as their stared each other down.

Until Moriarty broke into a fit of laughter.

"Your face really is stupid when you stare like that!" He giggled, his thick accent making Sherlock scoff.

Moriarty wiped his eyes with his coat sleeve and returned to his spot inches from the great detective. The same silence fell between the two, except now the psychopaths face was contorted in humour.

"So what'd you want to do now?" Sherlock asked, looking away from the stand off and pulling his phone out of his pocket. Moriarty squinted in confusion. "What?"

"Well we're done here aren't we?"
"I guess so?"
"So what now? What do you wanna do?"

Moriarty was still staring the sociopath down in suspicion as he shrugged. Sherlock put his phone away and sighed, looking down at the shorter man.

Jim smiled and shrugged, making Sherlock grunt. "Fine I'll choose, shall we have dinner?" He asked. Jim's stomach answered for him with a low growl.

Sherlock grinned and took Jim's hand, swiftly pulling him down the row of stairs and onto the streets.

Now that Jim had caught up to Sherlock's fast pase, their hands were just hanging limply between them, still attached.

"You can let go of my hand if you want now, Sherly, people will talk." He said quietly. "People do little else." Sherlock scoffed, almost tightening his grip of Jim's hand.

They arrived at the chosen restaurant, a pretty fancy one aswell. Moriarty shook Sherlock off his hand and entered first.

"Table for two please, I made a reservation." Jim said to the greeter, who nodded fast and gestured upstairs. "This way gentlemen." He said, almost timidly, as the two men walked past him.

"How did you make a reservation if you didn't know we were coming?" Sherlock hissed, making Jim chuckle. "Oh please, you think I actually made a reservation? I'm Jim Moriarty, I don't need a reservation." Sherlock shrugged and followed the shorter man up the stairs.

They sat down on Jim's chosen table and began looking at the menus.

Jim placed his menu down in front of him and lent his head on his hand, a sinister smile lining his face as he stared at Sherlock. Sherlock glanced up, then looked back at his own menu.

"What're you looking at?"
"Nothing, just you silly."
"Then you are looking at-"
"What're you having Sherly?"

Sherlock placed his menu down and waved his hand for a waiter. One rushed to their table, despite looking like she was already occupied with another tables orders.

"What can I get you gentlemen?" She asked, her voice almost trembling as she looked over to Moriarty. The two men made their requests, which the waitress scribbled down on her small notepad before shuffling away.

"So, why'd you want to go to dinner?" Jim asked, taking a sip of his wine. "Because you were hungry." Sherlock replayed, swirling his own wine around in the glass. Jim sighed out his nose and swallowed what was in his mouth.