Chapter Text
The Game
Sherlock, Oxford classroom
I shouldn’t have come. That’s the first thought I have when I see him already there - leaning against the same desk, like he belongs here, like this has become our place.
James Moriarty.
It has only been a few weeks since we’ve met. Here at Oxford everything is boring and predictable, completely different than prison. People here are pretending to be much smarter than they actually are. But then I met James and I knew he is truly full of intellect. Just like me, you could say.
Finally, someone matching my genius. Although, that’s not quite everything there is to say. It’s not the only reason I find him appealing and enjoy his company. Unfortunately.
I don’t call out his name; there’s something holding me back.
“You’re early”, I say instead.
James
He came back. Of course he did. But knowing it and seeing it are entirely different pleasures.
Sherlock Holmes, who pretends the world runs on logic alone, standing exactly where I knew he would be, acting like this isn’t exactly what he wanted. What I wanted.
“Why did you want to meet me? You think I have time for this, James?”, Sherlock says.
God, I love it when he calls me by my name. It just sounds so… right.
“What could be more important than this, Sherlock? Don’t act like you aren’t enjoying my companionship!”
He scoffs.
“Actually, you’re wrong. I like working alone. No one who interrupts my thoughts.”
Now it’s my turn to smile.
“You mean no one to distract you from your thoughts”
Sherlock responds differently than I would have guessed.
“Is that what you dream about nightly? Didn’t know my brilliance would have such an effect on you”, smirking now.
Oh. He’s learning.
That’s the most dangerous part.
Sherlock isn’t just reacting anymore - he’s playing back.
And I love it.
I really, really shouldn’t.
But I do.
Sherlock
I shouldn’t have said that. It’s his thing.
The teasing.
It shouldn’t become mine.
He steps closer to me.
Somehow it doesn’t irritate me, like it normally should.
“Stop pretending this is all just a game, James. Grow Up. We’re here for a reason”
“Who said I was pretending?” He’s quick with it.
Too quick.
I don’t know what to say, so I step back and start stating facts about our case.
Or the case, the missing strolls they we’re accused of having stolen.
I really shouldn’t say our case, what was I thinking?
He notices my distraction and starts getting up.
“How about, we both interrogate some people around the campus and meet up again tomorrow?”
This catches me off guard. “You want to leave already?”
He smiles. It’s all I see and I nearly miss his next sentence.
“Aww, miss me already, huh? Well, try not to think about me too much then”
And before I can react to that, he’s gone.
Just like that.
James
The problem with cases involving Sherlock is that they stop being about the case.
I noticed it immediately.
When we met, I couldn’t believe he wasn’t a student here.
He’s brilliant, it’s distracting.
The first person I met with whom playing truly makes fun.
But that’s not everything. I hardly care about solving the theft of the scrolls.
Sherlock, on the other hand, is invested.
I thought he might be obsessive about it.
But then I realized, it’s also just a game for him.
He can’t without it, he loves the thrill, the patterns, and most importantly, he loves being the hero, the genius.
Somehow, I started having fun compelling with him.
Being faster at solving mysteries.
Which turned out to be an actual competition. The best thing is, Sherlock doesn’t notice that.
“We should focus”, are the first words that leave his mouth when we meet again later.
“Oh, yeah, we totally should”, I agree.
But we don’t move for a second too long.
The silence stretches.
Then-
“James”
“What?”, I ask.
“You’re thinking too loudly”
“I’m not- “
“You are”. His voice drops. “And it’s not about the case”
I open my mouth to argue.
I don’t.
Because he’s right.
Again. Infuriating.
Sherlock
The new case is irritating.
Not because it’s difficult - it isn’t - but because it requires something deeply inefficient.
Working together.
Which I usually hate.
But with James it’s been… quite refreshing.
“Wow, this will be the mansion I own and you clean one day”, James is joking right now.
He is amused, but not wrong.
The mansion is quite something. I doubt James will end up here, tho.
I’ve met too many men like him in prison.
But then again, no one’s exactly like him.
So here we are, a private gathering hosted by a minor aristocrat with questionable finances and even more questionable acquaintances. We believe he stole the strolls.
I don’t ask how James got the invitations. Maybe we don’t even have them.
“You don’t wanna know what I had to do to get the invitations”, he smiles.
He’s reading my thoughts again and I don’t like it.
But I’m smiling as well.
James
This is going to be fun.
A crowded room. Music. Too many eyes. Too little space.
I can tell that Sherlock hates being here. Too loud.
Guess we’re not so similar after all, I love it here.
Pretty women; with one of them I already had a very delightful encounter.
I like the music too, and especially the drinks.
But we must focus, we’re on a mission.
“Moriarty”, Edie says, clearly tipsy. “And - oh! I didn’t realize you’d brought company”
“I rarely attend alone”, I smile.
“And you are?”, her gaze shifts to Sherlock.
Before he can respond I answer smoothly.
“Sherlock, he’s with me”
I can feel Sherlock tightening, ready to argue.
Maybe I seemed too possessive.
Good.
Sherlock
I wish James would stop and concentrate on why we’re here. Looking for the strolls.
But then again, it wouldn’t be James without that charming smile and quick tongue.
I try to look around the dining hall, find a way to the library.
But James is already following me.
“Let me go alone, we’re too obvious together”, I claim.
“Oh, what, and let you have all the fun looking for clues?”
There it is again, not used to Teamwork.
“Can’t you just, I don’t know, distract the others?”
“Right, cause you already know how distracting I can be, Sherlock?”
There it is again. His smile.
I hate when he uses my name in conversations.
It’s unnecessary, costs time.
Something we don’t have.
After a slight pause he agrees and stays.
I move upstairs, being as quiet as possible whilst moving into the library.
Remember when I said this case was simple?
Cause there they are, the strolls. But when I open it, I understand why I had the feeling that the case is too simple. These are not the stolen strolls. They are written in Chinese, tho, which makes me think that the thief wanted us to believe he was successful.
But he can’t foul us. Me, I mean. I remind myself that James isn’t here and there is no us.
James
Sherlock is in a rush when he comes back down, which suggests that he found what we are looking for.
Before I can say my goodbyes to these lovely ladies, he grabs me by my hand and drags me to the nearest carriage.
I don’t remind him to let go of me, and he doesn’t realize until we’re already moving, on the way to our dorms.
“I found what we came looking for”, he’s proud.
“Well good job, riddle boy. But you could’ve taken a bit longer, I was just making a pleasing connection with Lady Edie.”
“Even better we got out so quickly”, he says quietly, almost like it isn’t supposed to be heard.
“What…? You jealous, Sherlock? Don’t worry, you’ll always be my favourite partner in crime”
He doesn’t look convinced.
“Don’t promise things you can’t keep, James’
“Ahh, won’t you stop already!?”
“What?”, he looks shocked.
Maybe I was too loud.
Everything is blurry all of a sudden.
I move closer.
And now he’s watching me.
Closely
Too closely.
“Don’t”, I repeat.
I can’t help it, but my eyes keep glancing to his mouth.
“Don’t what?”
Either he still doesn’t get it, or he wants me to say it.
But Sherlock is anything but dumb so it’s probably second.
“Don’t say my name like that and pretend it means nothing”.
I talk to fast and my voice is softer than usual; did I really just say that out loud?
I immediately look away, already regretting the whole thing.
Sherlock
I can tell he’s drunk.
Typical, you leave him alone for a few minutes and then this.
Drunk James could’ve been enjoyable, but he chooses to be honest for once.
“You started this”, I say, childishly.
As if it would change anything.
The silence gets insufferable, but I keep his eye contact.
James’s eyes are nearly black, especially in the dark.
It’s impossible to tell if his pupils are dilated. I hate that I care.
“And you didn’t stop me”, he’s smiling again.
Neither of us moves.
The air feels too tight again.
Familiar now, but still dangerous.
“At least I don’t deny being distracted by you”, he breaks the silence.
“Stop being honest, James, it doesn’t suit you”
I said his name again; it wasn’t even intentionally this time.
It just felt natural. I feel close to saying that, being honest, too, for once.
“Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock, you’re not a very good liar, you know that?”
“Touché, but at least I’m not unbearably honest”
James smiles, drunkenly.
It’s hard to look away.
But I must, cause I’m not strong enough and I don’t fully understand what’s going on.
It’s not something I have felt before, not even with any of my girlfriends. And I had many, believe me.
“I’m tired”, I say instead, “let’s continue the case tomorrow, shall we?”
“Yeah, the case, that’s what this is all about, right?”
He’s saying, jokingly. But I know he means it.
James, Oxford library, next day
I just couldn’t resist these drinks yesterday.
And knowing that Sherlock realized what I said were drunk thoughts, doesn’t make me feel any better.
But something in my head keeps asking me if they really were just drunk thoughts.
It felt so right, saying it. Did I mean it?
I try to leave everything behind, deciding that last night’s over.
But when Sherlock turns up behind the bookshelves, I can’t help but feel it all again.
The same question. The same moment.
Different context. Worse context.
Because now I’m sober and we’re supposed to be working.
“Sherlock, you’re late. What’s up?” He stills.
That’s new. Saying his name, teasing, it affects him.
I file that away Later.
Not now.
“Well, whilst you were probably fighting an unpleasant hangover, I’ve already started investigating in the early hours.”, he’s in a good mood, I can tell.
“Hah. Don’t jump to assumptions, actually, I’m feeling quite well, thank you very much”
It’s not true but I don’t know what else to say. And I don’t want him to win this.
“So, are we going to talk about your little talk in the carriage, or…”
Oh.
Guess it’s not done.
I didn’t expect him to address this, and for a moment I think about lying, saying I don’t remember anything.
But I do remember everything.
Sherlock
He hesitates.
That’s unexpected
James Moriarty-
Hesitating.
Because of me.
That realization does something.
He opens his mouth, but I don’t let him answer.
Instead, I keep talking about the case, like nothing ever happened.
“So, I’ve been thinking, why act like the strolls were stolen? Why make a copy to foul us? See the broken window over there. Isn’t it too small?”
“Too small?”, James smiles, “To what?”
“Too small for anyone to fit through the window with the strolls on the back? So, what if the strolls were never stolen?”
James is slightly amused.
He loves this, I can tell.
Or he’s relieved that we’re talking about the case.
And not about us.
“Very well, Sherlock, you only missed one thing. The where? You think the strolls are still in the library. Here, with us?”
“It might be an option. There is only find out, we should start looking”
“We?”, James smiles that half-way smile; you can just tell he loves that word.
I scoff.
“James Moriarty, will you search the library with me. Pleased?”
“With you, Sherlock, always”
He gets up from his seat and suddenly he’s standing directly in front of me.
I am already leaning against the desk, and I have nowhere to back off.
Not that I want to.
But James is unpredictably, and taller than me. Quite a bit taller, actually.
Which makes him kind of intimidating.
And dangerous.
He doesn’t look tired from yesterday.
He just looks sharper, more relaxed, even more confident.
I look at him and say “You’re enjoying this”
His expression shifts slightly. “Yes”
I move closer without meaning to.
My eyes glance to his mouth again.
He notices this time.
“Tell me to go away”, he sounds like he’s trying to be harsh. Cruel.
But I know how badly he wants me to stay. I can feel it.
“Go away James, this is… a mistake”, I whisper weakly, hardly convincing.
He moves closer.
“Tell me like you mean it. Like you don’t… want this. Like you don’t like this”
I open my mouth.
His voice got lower, I can feel his breath on my face now.
He’s close. Too close.
“Why do you always have to be so goddamn honest, James?”
He grins, like a child on its birthday.
“Gosh, I love it when you call me that”
“Well, it’s your name, isn’t it”
I’m getting nervous, I realize.
It shouldn’t happen but it does.
I notice because I’m all out of comebacks.
I’m praying he’ll say something because the silence is getting unbearable.
“Tell me a reason why I should leave, please”.
That also doesn’t help.
And what’s worse is, I can’t think of one.
Even though I know this is wrong.
But why does it feel so right then?
James
This is where I should stop.
There is a clear exit point in every scenario like this.
But he hasn’t given me a reason yet.
I put my hands on the desk behind him, locking him from leaving.
I shouldn’t.
I know it.
But I’m not done looking at those eyes.
He doesn’t look scared, but he seems frightened when he suddenly moves closer to my face.
As if it’s against his own will, a reaction merely based on reflex.
I notice my breath is getting louder, faster.
I can’t help it.
I should be in control, but I just can’t focus.
Sherlock
This is a mistake.
I can see it clearly now.
I should retract it. Reframe it. Reassert control over the narrative.
I don’t.
James is too close and yet not close enough.
My feelings terrify me.
They’re not like usual, not following the order, the rules, the logic.
James
I can see him shifting away.
Fighting with himself.
And before I let his thoughts win, I close the gap between us.
My lips find his faster than expected.
And everything explodes for a moment.
I’m thinking too much at once.
How much smaller he is than me.
How soft his lips brush mine, just a light touch of affection.
Not hungry, but gentle.
And how much I am waiting for him to draw away.
But he doesn’t. Why doesn’t he?
Instead, to my complete surprise, he returns it.
I can feel his whole body trembling over the decision.
But he gets up, and as we move backwards, his kisses start getting hungry.
Like he has been waiting for this.
But there is no way he has, he always found a way to reject me.
Until now, I guess.
My body slams against a bookshelf and several books hit the ground with a loud wake-up-call.
Sherlock moves back. Suddenly. He looks uncertain.
Like he can’t believe what happened and I don’t blame him. We’re just blinking at each other.
Then he bows down to pick up one of the books.
And while he’s getting up and his cloths accidently rub on mine, he looks me deep in my eyes and I feel like I’m getting electric shots. I hope he doesn’t notice how hard it is to keep control over my body.
I’m thinking about what to say now.
But I don’t have to, because before I get the chance to do anything,
Sherlock is already gone.
Sherlock, evening, in his dorm
I’m pacing around my room.
James was right, I am distracted.
How is he all I can think about when we should work?
People have been murdered.
But still, nothing feels as important as this; Or as real.
Was I wrong for leaving like this?
What would have happened if I didn’t?
For once in my life, I don’t know what to do.
This is beyond logic. It doesn’t have a pattern I can analyse.
I’ve tried, believe me.
It’s not that I didn’t want him to continue.
But it’s way too sudden and unpredictable.
When I am with him, I feel trapped by my own feelings.
It’s not like that with the girls.
I am not the one in control this time.
It’s not only my own decision anymore.
I try to calm myself down, it was his decision, right?
But I know I was the one who crossed a line that we can’t go back now.
And that feels frightening.
This doesn’t change everything, I tell myself.
Be rational, we’re working on a case.
We need to continue the investigation.
No matter what this is.
Or worse: what it could be.