Short fill: IOU (I like the prompter's title)
Sherlock/John
Not beta-ed, and I'm not sorry it came out cracky
'Staying Alive' playing loudly in the background, Jim Moriarty sat quietly as he waited for Sherlock to arrive. This was the day of their final confrontation and to say that he was upset would have been an understatement. Sherlock Holmes, the biggest, most interesting distraction in his boring life, would die today as the consequence of losing their intricate final problem. Just thinking about the dull days that awaited made him cringe. What do villains do for fun when their heroes die anyway?
From the corner of his eyes, Jim noted someone in black coming through the rooftop door. Finally.
"Well, here we are at last," he greeted without turning, "You and me, Sherlock."
The person approached him with careful steps.
"And our problem... the final problem." Always a villain with flair, Jim raised his phone with a hand, emphasizing the song, "Staying ali---what the fuck!"
"Look, Jim, I don't want any trouble. Sherlock doesn't know I'm here."
Standing before him at the moment was definitely not the world's only consulting detective. It was the 'live-in'. What the bloody fuck. Jim looked down at his fallen phone forlornly.
"Ah," he quickly composed himself, "Who would have known? It's the blogger! How's the landlady doing?"
"She's alright. Of course she's alright. She texted me right after I walked out the door. This isn't the first time he tried to get rid of me before confronting you alone, you know. Also I learned how to read his texts through the movement of his fingers some time ago. That's how I know where you're going to meet." John took a whiff, his dominant hand making repeated gripping gestures on his side which gave away his tenseness despite his neutral expression.
Jim frowned, confused. He hated not knowing things, such as, what John Watson was planning to do at the moment. All of his scenarios and backup scenarios had two actors, himself and Sherlock Holmes. Ad-libbing. Ugh. So gauche.
"I know you came to our flat some time ago. Found your message. You know, on the apple. I'm sure Sherlock didn't intend to show it to me, but he was too far inside his mind palace when I cleaned it up," John started again, licking his lips, "I guess what I'm trying to say is... I found out about your 'intention' towards Sherlock."
"Oh really?" Jim threw him a grin that didn't reach his eyes. I Owe You. What sort of conclusion the ordinary might have come up with? He couldn't possibly understand.
"Yes, yes, you've made it pretty clear, I guess," John replied without missing a beat, "Look, I'm not saying that I know about Sherlock Holmes. Well, at least not when it comes to that 'area'. I've seen so little of it, despite the incident the 'the woman'... okay here's what I know. Sherlock considers himself married to his work. And before you ask, no, I was not flirting with him at the time. He completely misunderstood. I was just making small talk, trying to get to know each other because we were going to share a flat. For the love of God, I'm not actually gay."
Jim snorted, impatient. The blogger was babbling. He was fucking babbling. Wasting their time. Where the hell was Sherlock anyway? He should have arrived a long time ago.
"Okay, Johnny boy, it was nice talking to you. But this game is between Sherlock and I, so if you could please leave and let the adults sort things out."
Fill for Prompt: IOU (1/2)
Sherlock/John
Not beta-ed, and I'm not sorry it came out cracky
'Staying Alive' playing loudly in the background, Jim Moriarty sat quietly as he waited for Sherlock to arrive. This was the day of their final confrontation and to say that he was upset would have been an understatement. Sherlock Holmes, the biggest, most interesting distraction in his boring life, would die today as the consequence of losing their intricate final problem. Just thinking about the dull days that awaited made him cringe. What do villains do for fun when their heroes die anyway?
From the corner of his eyes, Jim noted someone in black coming through the rooftop door. Finally.
"Well, here we are at last," he greeted without turning, "You and me, Sherlock."
The person approached him with careful steps.
"And our problem... the final problem." Always a villain with flair, Jim raised his phone with a hand, emphasizing the song, "Staying ali---what the fuck!"
"Look, Jim, I don't want any trouble. Sherlock doesn't know I'm here."
Standing before him at the moment was definitely not the world's only consulting detective. It was the 'live-in'. What the bloody fuck. Jim looked down at his fallen phone forlornly.
"Ah," he quickly composed himself, "Who would have known? It's the blogger! How's the landlady doing?"
"She's alright. Of course she's alright. She texted me right after I walked out the door. This isn't the first time he tried to get rid of me before confronting you alone, you know. Also I learned how to read his texts through the movement of his fingers some time ago. That's how I know where you're going to meet." John took a whiff, his dominant hand making repeated gripping gestures on his side which gave away his tenseness despite his neutral expression.
Jim frowned, confused. He hated not knowing things, such as, what John Watson was planning to do at the moment. All of his scenarios and backup scenarios had two actors, himself and Sherlock Holmes. Ad-libbing. Ugh. So gauche.
"I know you came to our flat some time ago. Found your message. You know, on the apple. I'm sure Sherlock didn't intend to show it to me, but he was too far inside his mind palace when I cleaned it up," John started again, licking his lips, "I guess what I'm trying to say is... I found out about your 'intention' towards Sherlock."
"Oh really?" Jim threw him a grin that didn't reach his eyes. I Owe You. What sort of conclusion the ordinary might have come up with? He couldn't possibly understand.
"Yes, yes, you've made it pretty clear, I guess," John replied without missing a beat, "Look, I'm not saying that I know about Sherlock Holmes. Well, at least not when it comes to that 'area'. I've seen so little of it, despite the incident the 'the woman'... okay here's what I know. Sherlock considers himself married to his work. And before you ask, no, I was not flirting with him at the time. He completely misunderstood. I was just making small talk, trying to get to know each other because we were going to share a flat. For the love of God, I'm not actually gay."
Jim snorted, impatient. The blogger was babbling. He was fucking babbling. Wasting their time. Where the hell was Sherlock anyway? He should have arrived a long time ago.
"Okay, Johnny boy, it was nice talking to you. But this game is between Sherlock and I, so if you could please leave and let the adults sort things out."
Continued in part 2