really really love her
All I could think was, “You don’t get to 3 dragons without making a few enemies.”
casual boyfriends fightI can see Moran and John meeting up for coffee and trying to outdo each other with how insanely annoying their respective geniuses are.
He does this thing with his coat collar that drives me up the wall.
You want up the wall? Try having to share a bed with a man who sings opera in his sleep.
Least you share a bloody bed with yours. Mine never comes to fucking bed.
[fic time]
[pre-Great Game]
“Long time, no see,” John said, standing up to greet the man who walked in the door of Speedy’s Café.
“It has indeed,” Sebastian Moran said, shaking out his umbrella in a specific spot. “Captain.”
“Colonel.” The two sat down and someone quickly came by to give them some coffee.
“So, how’ve things been?” Sebastian asked, taking a sip of the coffee.
“Hectic,” John admitted. “Yourself?”
“The same.” The two took sips of their drinks simultaneously and John coughed awkwardly.
“I’ve got a, well, boyfriend,” they say in unison.
“Wait, you do?” John was incredulous.
“You too?”
“Well, actually, mine’s actually been driving me mental lately. H decides to look all mysterious with his cheekbones and turning his collar up. Drives me nuts.” Sebastian leaned forward.
“Mine sings in his sleep.”
“Well that’s not bad.”
“Opera music, John. Opera.” John grimaced. He took another sip of coffee.
“At least yours sleeps.” Sebastian’s eyes widened.
“Yours doesn’t sleep?”
“Hardly ever. He’s always off doing something ridiculous. He hardly eats, hardly sleeps- sometimes I wonder if he’s actually human.” The two shook their heads.
“Mine has this thing with his eyebrows… and he is a bloody genius. Drives me up the wall.”
“Hah! Mine’s a right proper genius as well—only, he doesn’t enjoy explaining things to me, and he just assumes I know what he’s talking about.” Sebastian sighed.
“I feel your pain, John.” He chuckled. “Is there anything that you do like about him?”
“Obviously. When he wants to be, he can actually be affectionate… he includes me in his work, he hardly complains about me… Makes me feel sort of guilty for complaining about his violin playing, experiments, other quirks… He reads my blog too.” Sebastian grinned.
“Well, mine certainly knows how to have a good time. He understands me, and he’s a fantastic flirt.” John gave a wide smile, and Sebastian copied it with one of his own. John’s phone buzzed suddenly, and he looked at the text message.
“Looks like I’ll have to be off.”
“Your boyfriend?”
“Who else would send me a text message ordering me to come back to the flat when they know I’m meeting up with an old friend?” Sebastian stood up with John and walked with him to the door.
“I’ll see you later, John.”
“And you, Sebastian.”
Reblogging again for the amazing ficlet :D
And, because I want to see the other side, I shall add on a Sherlock and Moriarty one. This is probably set during sometime between the Great Game and a Scandal in Belgravia.
—
John was working late again tonight. Although Sherlock knew this and acted as aloof as possible, it did bother him that the two of them spent so little time together. He supposed it was better, though, to have John working. He did feel almost guilty, sweeping John into all sorts of dangerous situations. He crossed the room and was about to pick up his violin when he heard his phone buzz.
Perhaps it was John.
Sherlock quickly picked it up and looked down at the text.
Speedy’s. Ten minutes. Let’s have dinner. -JM
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. He didn’t particularly want to talk to the man who had only recently threatened to blow John up. However, he didn’t have much else to do and he was horribly bored. He didn’t bother to send a reply, simply slipping his coat and scarf on and walking out of the apartment and toward Speedy’s.
After about fifteen minutes of waiting, he heard a silky voice behind him.
“You actually came. That’s a surprise.”
Sherlock turned to find the international psychopath standing behind him, dressed casually in jeans and an old tee shirt. It was quite different from the immaculate Westwood suit he was wearing at the pool.
“I was bored,” Sherlock replied, sweeping past the man and into Speedy’s, sitting at a different table this time. There was no way in hell that he would let Moriarty sit in the place that he usually reserved for John and himself.
Moriarty followed him in and sat across from him.
“What did you want?”
“Oh, nothing really. I was bored, too, and you were available.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes and glanced at the other customers in the restaurant.
“So, how’s Johnny boy? We had such a good mood going on back in the pool. I’m surprised you didn’t notice. I should meet up with him again.” Moriarty said after a moment, watching Sherlock intently.
Sherlock balled his hands up into fists unconsciously, his knuckles whitening. Moriarty let out a small laugh. “My, my, someone’s getting jealous.”
“Stay away from him,” Sherlock growled.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Moriarty said, dismissing the very idea with a flip of his hand. “I’ve got my own now.”
“Have you, now.”
“I do. And he’s far better than your army doctor.”
Sherlock leaned forward, his interest slightly piqued now. “In what respect.”
“Well, he’s much more manly. And such a good shot.”
“Mine shot a man across two rooms, through a glass door, and managed to hit right on target. I doubt whatever idiot you have with you now could beat that,” Sherlock said before he could stop himself.
Moriarty leered. “Mine managed to shoot a man moving at roughly ninety kilmeters per hour through an opening in a window of a car going the opposite direction at around the same speed. And got him in one shot.”
“No glass, though.”
“Ninety kilometers an hour.”
“Mine does the groceries.”
“Mine can cook. And look damn sexy doing it.”
“Mine doesn’t mind the heads in the refrigerator.”
“Mine gave me a human heart as a one month anniversary present. It’s still in our freezer.”
“Mine…” Sherlock said after a moment, but couldn’t say anything. He wasn’t about to tell this to Moriarty. If anyone was going to hear it, it was John. Nobody else.
Moriarty’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing. “Go on.”
“Never mind. Is this all you wanted to see me for?”
The criminal mastermind’s lips pulled back over his pointed teeth into an almost inhuman grin. “Yes, I think I’ve got enough information now. I’ll be seeing you soon, Sherlock. Guard your heart. Because it will be burnt.”
With that, James Moriarty got up and left the restaurant, leaving Sherlock staring at the place he had just vacated.
He always had been in the bad habit of speaking too much far too quickly.
