Better Than I Know Myself Adam Lambert

Request from @XxGothgrlxX

Just wanted to say that I honestly believe this song fits Sherlock and Jim. Especially if it's from Jim's POV. Anyway, on with the one shot.

-

Sherlock hadn't been expecting this. All their meetings, all the games, were usually planned. Despite the fact that they were potentially out to kill each other, they'd still arranged to meet most of the time - with the exception of the incidents with 'Riche Brooke'.

That was another reason that Sherlock knew his supposed enemy wasn't expecting this either. His first reason for knowing was the look on Moriarty's face, a mix of anger, worry and surprise. The surprise and worry were expected but the anger made Sherlock frown in confusion n

Sherlock flexes his fingers, ready to turn from the handsome criminal and run back down the snow covered alleyway should the need arise. Although, as far as he could tell, Moriarty was unarmed and alone.

The Irishman was the first to speak.

"Well. I can honestly say I hadn't expected to see you here, Sherlock" As he spoke, his eyebrows raise.

"Likewise" Sherlock nods.

He'd just decided to take a walk to have some time away from the babbling of his over talkative landlady. Sherlock loved the woman dearly but sometimes she really didn't know how to shut up. Besides, he didn't want to hear any more of that 'oh, he hasn't done anything? maybe that video was a fake and he really is dead' stuff anymore.

Moriarty hums and glances behind him subtly. But Sherlock sees what he was thinking. Dead end, no escape.

It's the perfect chance, really. Sherlock could easily restrain the unarmed man and speed dial Lestrade to come arrest the Consultant Criminal. Sherlock was about to move forward and put that plan in actions when he stopped. It was too easy. He wanted a glorified win over this man, not an easy catch that happened by chance. It's not like Lestrade would find out. Everyone had assumed the video of Moriarty that saved Sherlock from certain death was a fake.

Apparently, his thoughts were clear on his face because Moriarty sneered at him.

"Too disappointing, is it, Sherlock? To see me so defenceless..."

Sherlock hadn't thought of it that way but he supposed it was an accurate deduction despite the fact he hadn't saw it that way. Bit more focused on refining in the happiness he felt at seeing Moriarty alive and breathing.

"Honestly, yes." Sherlock replies with a smirk, relaxing his tense posture.

Within seconds of the words leaving Sherlock's mouth, Moriarty has him pinned to the alleyway wall, his teeth gritted and all his anger pouring from his glare. He looks like a rabid dog, Sherlock muses for a moment.

"Do you have any idea how hard is it to please you time and time again without your getting bored?" Moriarty asks, voice dripping with emotion and sarcasm.

"I do" Sherlock winks and then frowns, wondering why the hell he just winked and made an innuendo (sort of) in the presence of James Moriarty.

But it does get Moriarty to pause for a moment and release his iron grip on Sherlock's upper arms for just a few seconds. Then he's pushed into the wall with more force, one of Moriarty's legs slotting between Sherlock's own so he could lean on the detective and use his body weight to keep him pinned there.

Sherlock begins to panic slightly when he tugs on his wrist to find he's unable to budge from the position. As much as he had dreamt of this, he didn't think Moriarty would appreciate having Sherlock's arousal press against him when the detective's imagination drifted to the kind of thing he dreams about - dark alleyway, Moriarty panting and pressing against him.

"Let me go!" Sherlock growls the words, trying to push the slightly shorter man away from him and keep his mind on the fact he should want this man dead.

Moriarty laughed."Oh, no, it's not that simple Sherlock. I have you right where I want you."

Sherlock continues to struggle for nearly a minute before he gives up and slumps, allowing Moriarty to keep his grip on his sore wrists. He'd just have to rein in his thoughts and hope that Moriarty didn't choose to use this chance as an easy kill.

Sherlock lifted his eyes and meet the other gaze. Those dark, anger eyes shouldn't have made him feel good at all but they did. Moriarty's eyes seem to darken more then, and not from anger.

"I.." Sherlock couldn't form words.

Suddenly, the vice like hold disappeared and Moriarty took three large steps backwards. Sherlock tried to pretend that didn't affect him at all.

The snow was starting to get heavier now but only a small fraction of it fell into the alleyway where they stood. Still, in the time Sherlock was stood, staring into the eyes of the man stood across from him, he had gathered a thin layer of white powdery snow on the shoulders of his coat.

Moriarty had seen the same thing in his own eyes, no doubt. The attraction. The... feelings.

Sherlock opens his mouth but before he can say anything, Moriarty holds up a hand to stop him. The Irishman takes a step forward, one step closer to Sherlock. Automatically, Sherlock swallows and bow his head in a short nod of consent.

The next two steps are taken quicker than the first and they find themselves standing close together, chests almost touching as they continue their unofficial staring contest.

Then Sherlock is leaning forward, his eyes closing and his lips coming into contact with the other man's. It was a slow kiss, reflecting the feelings rather than the attraction between them.

They kiss for sometime, taking short breaks to breath here and there. Sherlock doesn't know how much time passes, nor does he really care.

Their kisses slowly heat up and before long, Sherlock finds himself in a cab back to his flat with the Consultant Criminal by his side.

*

In the morning, Sherlock woke to find the space that Moriarty had slept on empty. There was no sign of the man in the flat either. Instead of feeling sorry for himself or overreacting, Sherlock picked up his phone and sent a message to the man he'd shared the previous night with.

Left without saying so much as Goodbye. How rude. -SH

What followed wasn't what Sherlock had expected. The other man had always seemed so calm and collect but it seemed that last night had somehow opened the floodgates to Moriarty's anger at Sherlock.

It wasn't long before the man himself turned up at Sherlock's flat and they found themselves wrestling around the living room, which somehow turned into a heated snog session which turned into them once again moving to Sherlock's bedroom.

From there, things went like that.

Jim - Sherlock had made the mistake of calling him Moriarty to his face and made note not to make that error ever again - would come round, be angry at Sherlock for some reason (usually how Sherlock seemed so difficult to please) and they'd somehow end up kissing a whole lot or stumbling into the bedroom.

The title of 'boyfriend' was somewhat forced on Sherlock, even though he'd had accepted it anyway. Sherlock knew Jim could read him and knew he wanted this relationship as much as he did, so he didn't care that Jim hadn't properly asked him to be his.

Jim said a lot of horrid things too, when he got angry. Sherlock just made sure that he wouldn't let any of it get to him.

Jim obviously wanted to be here so Sherlock would put up with the rest and be there for Jim because it was clear that the unstable man needed him. If that meant Sherlock was often pinned to walls and got angry words spat at him, so be it.

*

A dark chuckles escapes Sherlock's lips as he's shoved backwards against the wall in his living room, his head colliding with his glass picture of a skull. His lips curl further, oddly proud of himself.

In front of Sherlock stands Jim Moriarty - Sherlock's boyfriend of three months. The man's chest is moving rapidly as he gulps down the air around, desperately trying to calm himself down. His cheeks are flushed in anger, his fists at his sides turning white as he clenches them tighter and tighter and tighter.

His dark, furious eyes glare at Sherlock, just making the detective's lips curl more.

Sherlock had known from the start that Jim had a temper less stable than a toddlers, bursts of anger leaving him at the slightly provocation. It didn't stop Sherlock from messing with him though, finding after some time that he actually kind of liked the way he could make Jim feel such raw emotion.

Their relationship was odd. Twisted, even.

But Sherlock didn't dare admit to himself or Jim that a small (ish) part of him did want a more functional relationship - one full of cuddles, kisses and sweet nothings being whispered. Instead, he spent their days making Jim's temper flare and making him claim he was leaving him.

Jim always came back. He always would. At least, Sherlock thinks that Jim wouldn't truly leave him.

His boyfriend was hardly the type to stick around if he honestly didn't want to be around. He'd much sooner tell Sherlock to bugger off and jump off a building for real before he spent more time with Sherlock than he truly wanted to.

If Jim wanted to leave, he would have left by now.

Sherlock finds himself smiling again and he pushes off the wall, standing right in front of Jim and staring into his eyes.

It wasn't really a loving gaze.. It was more of a challenging look.

When Jim doesn't move or say a word, Sherlock leans closer and covers Jim's lips with his own. He gets a response immediately. It doesn't take Sherlock long to lose himself in the kiss and everything else that was his beautiful boyfriend, Jim Moriarty.