Coping

Chapter 10

Not twenty minutes after Sherlock had left he was back, bursting in and interrupting John's reading. 

"So what did he say, Sherlock?" John asked nonchalantly, in the much the same way someone might ask about the weather.

Sherlock paced around the room, thinking of what he could possibly do to get himself into Moriarty's head. "He acts entirely differently that I'm used to!" He finally said in frustration. "He is no doubt the same inside, but he slinks around with that boy and... writes poetry apparently? -- And I don't know what I'm supposed to do!"

Utterly bewildered, John stared. He had somehow gotten an answer from his friend -- his, whatever you would call Sherlock -- which is more than he could have hoped for, but he now felt even more in the dark.

Blinking a few times, John took a deep breath. "Okay... why don't you, er, sit down, and explain this, whatever this is, explain it. Please."

"No, you wouldn't understand, you're much to dull," Sherlock snapped. The short conversation had leapt drastically downhill and Sherlock decided it best to leave it now. "It doesn't matter, does it? I'm going... out. Redbeard," the dog lifted his head alertly, "come."

"No, Sherlock, wait," John stood up and blocked the door, holding his arm out so that Sherlock would not run into him. "What happened? Who are you even talking about?"

"Moriarty, obviously. Ugh, please, you won't understand, just leave me alone, John," Sherlock said heatedly. John pulled Sherlock (with some necessary force) down onto the edge of his bed and told him to stop being difficult and to just speak. With a half-roll of his eyes, Sherlock did so. 

"Jim Moriarty used to be my best friend and then we developed asinine feelings toward one another and the day I moved to England from Ireland I kissed him and then his father did something to him that I haven't quite figured out yet but nevertheless Moriarty has changed and now is out to get me or something and is slinking around with Sebastian Moran and Moran is sending poetic text messages stuffed with crime metaphors to my brother," Sherlock said in a monotone and very much in one straight sentence. John blinked a couple of times and tried to connect the gears in his head. 

"So," John started, and then stopped for a moment. "So you're gay? You?" Was all that he could take from the situation.

Sherlock was silent too for a moment before, "Oh, for God's sake, John, is that the only part of my whole explanation that spoke to you? How telling. Now, excuse me while I take a walk --"

"No! I'm sorry, I do have real questions. Jim Moriarty is "out to get" you? Because of his father? And now his weird and sleazy boyfriend is sending poetry?" He shook his head for a moment. "This all seems a little bit too... dramatic, don't you think, even for Moriarty? I mean I know he's sort of a weirdo but I don't think he would be committing crimes. He's, what is he, fifteen or sixteen? Seventeen, maybe?"

When no reply came, John realized that Sherlock actually may have been taking his comment into consideration. Finally, cautiously, he answered. "Jim Moriarty is ridiculous. He has always been showy and ludicrous. He has more than just a crime planned, I can tell. It's just that I have absolutely no clue what's going on. I hate to admit it and if you tell Mycroft I will, in fact, murder you, but I don't know at all what Moriarty's got planned. I know, though, I know he is evil."

"Ask him." John said simply, picking up his book.

Sherlock shook his head, "excuse me?"

"I said ask him. Ask him what's going on. He might just tell you."

Sherlock was dumbfounded. "John, he'll lie. It's not that simple, you can't just ask him --"

"Why not, though? What was that you told me once, something like "the frailty of genius is that it craves an audience" or something of the sort? I'm trying to say that even if he does lie, which he is likely to, there will be some grain of truth to his words because if you're right and he is planning something, then he wants you to solve his mystery, doesn't he? That's what this is all about: you. And him. So ask him."