Nicotine (Sheriarty)

30

-A Week Later-

"So this is domestic bliss?" Jim asked whilst pushing a carrot around his plate.

"Yep." Sherlock replied taking a bite out of his sausage.

"I hate it. It's too relaxing. Too calm... How about we go and blow up an orphanage?"

"Jim."

"Or I could carve 'I love you' into Mount Rushmore? Creative and romantic."

"Jim..."

"Aw come on. I thought you'd love that one."

Sherlock looked up from his plate and smirked at the man in front of him.

"You know, I always thought it'd be John." Moriarty said, casually stabbing the carrot.

"John?" Sherlock replied dropping his fork dramatically.

"Mmm..." Jim began, "I never believed that 'not gay' act for a second"

Now it was Sherlock's turn to 'mmm'.

~

Once they'd finished their dinner, Sherlock stood up and took their plates over to the sink. Jim took this opportunity to check his phone again. Still no more messages from SM.

The message had been irritating Jim all week. He couldn't focus on anything without wondering how he was back. How could he be back?

He couldn't help feeling like he was lying to Sherlock. He was keeping the message from him. He didn't need to know. It was probably nothing... Wasn't it?

"Sherl..." Jim announced suddenly, "we need to talk."

Sherlock turned around to look at his husband. He was avoiding eye contact. Playing with his hands. Tapping his foot. Nervous. So it was bad news then.

Holmes paced back and forth.

"Sherl, sit down. It's just a talk."

The detective sat down opposite the criminal and rested his arms on the table. Sherlock tapped his fingers as Jim struggled to find the right words. He wanted his lover to still love him when he was finished.

Jim swallowed hard before finally settling on, "He's back."

Sherlock's face dropped almost instantaneously. He stopped tapping the table and looked Jim straight in the eye.

His voice crackly slightly as he whispered, "Who's he?"

Of course, being Sherlock he knew exactly who 'he' was.

Moriarty sighed and looked down at the table.

"Sebastian." He muttered.

"You said he was dead." Sherlock said, raising his voice.

"It seems faking your death is quite popular nowadays..." Jim mumbled.

An uncomfortable silence led to Sherlock tapping his fingers again.

"How do you know?" The detective asked finally.

Jim didn't reply. He reached for his phone and slid it across the table for Sherlock to read.

"Okay," Jim said, finally looking up at Sherlock, "I'm sure you have questions and I'm sure I can find answers."

Holmes paused for a while, "Just one actually."

"And that is?"

"Are you happy that he's back?"

Jim let out a slightly sad chuckle. He raised his eyebrows at Sherlock as if to say 'are you serious'.

"Sherlock. You can't be serious. Of course I'm not happy! I'm terrified! You see, Moran is bad enough when he works for you but when he has no... No boss, he'll kill anyone and the first person on his hit list will be me. Me, Sherlock! And it'll all be because I've moved on. Because I don't love him anymore. Because I love you."

"So you're saying it's my fault?"

Jim shook his head and looked down at his lap. He swallowed hard before standing up and heading towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked almost protectively.

"Sherlock, relax. I'm just going for a walk. I just need some time to think it through. I'll be back later."

Holmes nodded to show he understood and Jim left the flat.

~

Jim walked through London with his hands it his pockets. It wasn't exactly a warm day but it wasn't raining either which was a first.

The criminal tried to clear his head but he couldn't. His brain was bombarded with questions.

There were barely any people on the streets. Jim didn't think it was unusual because it was getting quite late.

He sat on a nearby bench and tried to organise his thoughts.

He felt the presence of someone behind him. Jim felt a sharp pain in his neck. The next thing he felt was the fabric slipping over his head and leaving him paralysed in the darkness.

~

When Jim awoke, he tried to wipe his eyes with his hands. He couldn't move them.

He could feel something metal holding his hands in place. Handcuffs. Great.

Jim decided to look around at his surroundings.

He was sat on a small wooden chair in the centre of a prison-like room. Where was he?

The loud bang of the door snapped him out of his daydream. A tall, slender figure appeared in front of his carrying a briefcase.

Once the figure had turned around, Moriarty knew exactly who that man was. Sebastian.

"Hello Jim." The man said with no emotion in his voice.

"Moran." Jim replied in the same monotonous tone.

"You used to call me Seb."

"I used to call you tiger."

Sebastian opened up the case and pulled out a gun. Jim could tell exactly which one it was just by the way he was holding it.

"That's the one I got you. Your first gun." Jim said.

"You remember?"

"Of course I remember Sebby." Moriarty let himself extend the words in a sing-song way.

With that, Moran turned and aimed the gun at Jim's forehead.

"Easy tiger." He muttered.

"You left me." Sebastian argued.

"You died." Jim argued back.

"You chose Sherlock Holmes over me."

Jim rolled his eyes, "Seb, might I remind you that you died."

"No, I didn't."

"Well, you did to me."

Jim knew struggling was pointless. He also knew that Moran wasn't going to shoot him.

That meant he had only one intention.

And Jim wasn't exactly looking forward to it.

Moriarty braced himself for what was going to happen and took a deep breath. He felt a sharp pain in his head and everything went black.

A/N

Oh the innuendos at the beginning. Oh the argument between Jimmy and Sherly. Oh the conversation between Jimmy and Sebby. Oh this chapter.

Thank you guys for 4.6K reads!

- A