Nicotine (Sheriarty)

35

Moriarty
"Do you ever have flashbacks?" Sherlock asked suddenly, his face sinking into his pillow.

Jim turned to look at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

He knew exactly what he meant.

"I mean," Holmes began, "do you ever remember before we met?"

Moriarty thought for a while. Of course he did. Of course he remembered taking the lives of innocent people. How could he forget?

The men, who were both fully dressed, now led facing each other on their bed. Jim thought through his response for what felt like hours until he finally settled on silence.

"What's the date today?" Jim asked.

"November 5th." Sherlock said, checking his phone, "Why?"

"Time?"

"Twenty to six."

Jim pushed himself off the bed and dragged Sherlock up with him. He began directing the detective towards the door.

"Come on." Jim said, passing him his coat.

"Where are we going?"

"Out."

~

Once the men had reached the park, Sherlock began asking his questions.

"What are we doing here?"

"Oh. Lestrade asked us to do a... Thing. There's a murderer running riot or something." Jim lied.

Sherlock looked around the park sceptically. There seemed to be a fairground. The rides were populated with hundreds of people of all ages. The speakers were reciting a playlist of songs neither of the men had heard of before. The music flowed out of the speakers and into the ground, which was jumping in time to the song. There was a large group of men in the far corner of the park. They had boxes full of what, from a distance, looked like bombs. As they got closer, Sherlock noticed that they were fireworks.

Jim looked up at Holmes, willing him to believe him. Take the bait, he thought to himself. Take the bait.

Eventually Sherlock gave in. Jim let out a slight sigh of relief. How long could they chase an invisible criminal for?

After a while of looking, Sherlock pulled Jim into the line for the Ferris wheel.
"What are you doing?" Jim asked, ironing out his suit with his hands.

Sherlock smirked, "We need to get to higher ground. Might help us find the 'murderer'."

Moriarty crossed his arms and looked down at the floor. His stomach was turning whilst his head was filled with a thousand thoughts, none of which made any sense.

"You're scared of heights." Sherlock deducted.

"No, I'm not." Jim argued unconvincingly, kicking the ground with his foot.

Holmes sighed and lifted his husband's head with his thumb. Jim reluctantly looked into Sherlock's eyes. They were a beautiful shade of green - no blue. Brown? He couldn't tell.

"It's okay to be scared of things, Jim." Sherlock whispered so only Jim could hear, "I'll look after you."

As the men stumbled into the seats, Jim grabbed Sherlock's hand tightly. It was as if he was clinging on for dear life.

"So, what happened to 'fallings just like flying'?" The detective asked as the ride jolted into action.

Jim sighed before finally saying, "You fell."