Nicotine (Sheriarty)

38

A/N

Hey guys. I'm going to add a trigger warning here just incase. Ily guys.

- A

~

Moriarty

Once Jim was about half way home, he saw the first flash of lightning quickly followed by the clash of thunder. As the man exhaled, he could see his breath against the wind and rain. Most normal people wouldn't be out in this weather which just left Jim.

Moriarty stood on an empty bridge and peered over the edge. It was further down than Jim thought. He stared into the empty water. It seemed to drag him in to the dark abyss.

Thousands of thoughts flew around Jim's head but only one of them made sense. There was a voice screaming one word and one word only:

Jump.

The man clutched the necklace in his hand as he stood up on the ledge. His heart was beating faster than usual and he felt lightheaded all of a sudden.

Just one step. That's all it would take. One step and all of this pain would vanish as if it was never there in the first place. One step and Jim would have nothing to worry about anymore. Just one step then an endless rest. Just a peaceful, relaxing, endless rest.

That was the problem. What happened after death? Would he be brave enough to venture into the unknown? The unfamiliarity of the afterlife, if there even was an afterlife. Could he risk it?

Jim couldn't form any thoughts that made sense. It was just:

Jump...

Jump...

Jump...

JUMP...

Jim was about to give in and listen to his head when he heard a familiar buzzing noise coming from his pocket. At first, he chose to ignore it. Nothing would stop him. He was ready. He would jump.

He would jump. He was going to jump. He was about to jump.

Buzz.

After a few more buzzes, Jim gave up and checked his messages.

3 new messages

From: Sherlock
Hey, Sherlock wants you.

From: Sherlock
This is John, by the way.

From: Sherlock
Where are you?

Sherlock! Jim had forgotten Sherlock. With that, he immediately stepped down from the ledge and ran towards the hospital.

Jim ignored all that had just happened and focused on the one thing that kept him going:

Sherlock.

~

Jim found the room in which his husband was lying and burst through the door, looking similar to a drowned rat. Sherlock smiled when he saw Jim which made his stomach clench.

"Have you been crying?" Sherlock asked calmly.

Moriarty looked at his reflection on his phone and noticed his puffy red eyes. There was no way he could convince the detective that it was just rain.

The former criminal stared into Holmes' bright, caring eyes and felt his legs give up as he crumpled to the floor in a fit of tears. He was crying and shaking uncontrollably as he hit the floor with his clenched fists.

Sherlock slid off the bed and onto the floor next to Jim. He wrapped his arms around Moriarty tightly as Jim's punches became weaker.

"I'm a... I'm a mess. I'm a fucking mess." Jim choked, "Why am I feeling like this? I cut it off. I thought I cut off emotions. I'm not supposed to be like this."

After a few more minutes of screaming to no one in particular, Jim was exhausted. He collapsed onto Sherlock's chest and cried as his husband rocked him back and forth.

Once Jim had calmed himself down slightly, he whispered, "I feel it, Sherl."

"Feel what?"

"All the lives I've taken. All the people I've killed. I feel everyone of them."

Moriarty felt Sherlock run his fingers through his short, black hair.

"Is this what feelings feel like?"

"I believe it's called being human." Sherlock whispered.

"Is that what we've done to each other? Made each other human?" Jim sniffed.

"Apparently so."

~

A few hours later, once Jim had explained what happened (only leaving out the fact that he almost dived off a bridge), the men had calmed down. Sherlock was now led back in his bed with Jim perched on the end.

"You don't have to be here." Sherlock croaked.

"Don't I? Well, now that I know that I might as well move to Switzerland."

"Switzerland?"

Jim laughed and held Sherlock's hand, "I'm joking. People do that sometimes. Of course I wouldn't leave you."

"You're still drunk aren't you?"

"Sherlock, I'm not drunk." Moriarty stopped but after a long pause added, "Why is it so hard for you to understand that I love you?"

The former criminal lifted the detectives hand to his mouth and kissed it gently.

"I love you, Jim." Sherlock whispered.

"I know." Jim smiled.