Work Text:
The coldness in his bed kept him awake. He could hear the rushing cars on the street, the faint noises from the TV-Show John was watching, and yet he could hear nothing. His mind was working too fast, he had a hard time catching his thoughts. Sherlock sighed loudly and tried to sort out the images that were rushing through his mind. They found the twelfth body today, and Holmes was wondering exactly why Moriarty was doing this. All of the bodies had a letter engraved into their skin.
Sherlock already figured out that if you reorganized the letters, a sentence would come out. (And he also knew, Moriarty knew that he had figured the cryptic puzzle out. Meeting at Midnight. The pool.) Besides the carved letters, Sherlock would always find a piece of paper with a poem in their hands. No one else would understand it, but the detective felt flattered. He felt like Moriarty did this just for him, and perhaps he was right. Maybe all the poems about love and loss and sadness were meant for him – but what did it mean? Sherlock got frustrated.
Moriarty was his arch-enemy, his nemesis, yet Sherlock couldn’t help but be interested in him. “Can you see the stars? I don’t see them any longer. They were taken, and I can’t reach them. The deep blue of your eyes keep them captured, and I’m afraid to fall.” This wasn’t really a poem and yet it had a deep meaning behind it. Sherlock shivered slightly, he grabbed his coat and scarf before heading out. He didn’t say goodbye to John even if he didn’t know for sure that he would have the chance to come back. Moriarty was … possessive. The criminal didn’t like to share and he made that pretty clear to the detective.
"If you stay or if you leave, it’s your decision to make. But whatever you decide to do, it will be forever.“ The snow was falling onto his dark curls, placing itself on his eyelashes like diamonds. Sherlock felt surprisingly warm, but wasn’t quite sure if that was due to his coat or the fact that the man he longed for the most was stalking behind him. He could feel him with every nerve in his being. However, he kept going to the place where it all had started. Where they had started.
~**~
“Here we are again, Sherlock.” The detective could feel the shorter man behind him. It felt like his body was exploding.. it was a calming feeling. “Did you miss me?” God, yes, Sherlock wanted to shout. He wanted to tell Jim how boring the last two years had been. He wanted to tell him what crazy cases he had since that day on the rooftop, but how no case in the world could compare to Jim’s. Sherlock wanted to look into the other man’s eyes and tell him that he knew Jim was alive all along.
Because if he really had shot himself that day, Sherlock would’ve died with him. He confessed to Jim all of the above, in his mind… In reality, he remained silent until his fast breath finally calmed down, and allowed him to talk to the criminal. “He was caught with his twisted heart tainted by his voice, his touch, his promises caught in his fangs that shredded his soul apart.” Sherlock’s gaze met Jim’s and he could swear that he saw stars in the dark eyes of his nemesis. Those stars captivated him and wouldn’t let him go anymore.
“You liked it?” “I did. But you could’ve just sent me a postcard.” James laugh echoed through the pool. “Where would the fun be in that?” They were close to each other now. So close. Their lips were almost touching and there was that smile on Jim’s face that drove Sherlock crazy. The detective could feel the criminal’s hand in his curls. “Yes.”
That was the only thing that needed to be said. Their lips met with a softness that neither of them knew until this moment, and it felt like thousands of shooting stars were falling from the sky.