Fic: Triangles [Sherlock]
Aug. 17th, 2010 07:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trillianastraTitle: Triangles
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC, 2010)
Characters/Pairings: Jim Moriarty/John Watson/Sherlock Holmes
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 807
Disclaimer: The new series belongs to Messrs. Moffat and Gatiss. Characters are the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle. No profit being made, no copyright infringement intended.
Summary: Everyone warned John to stay away from Sherlock, saying he was dangerous to be around. Then Jim Moriarty showed up, and it all got a bit more complicated...
~~
When John first met Sherlock, everyone – his sister, his therapist, and what felt like the entire Metropolitan police force – had warned him to stay away, telling him that Sherlock was either 'dangerous' (his therapist), 'bad news' (Harry) or just a 'freak' (the police). But despite all that he'd stayed at 221b and stayed with Sherlock and he'd been pulled into that crazy, faintly improbable world that the detective seemed to live in.
It wasn't so bad, actually, once you got past the kidnappings and the bombs and having every police detective in London assume you're gay. He wasn't about to admit it to anyone, but to be honest, he was quite enjoying it. It beat sitting in his old flat feeling sorry for himself.
Then there had been Moriarty. At first it had been just a case, racing against the clock to save the man's hostages. Then there'd been the pool, and things had changed a bit after that.
For one thing, he couldn't exactly complain about everyone assuming he and Sherlock were a couple any more, because after the pool things had got a bit... frenzied, and feelings had been very incoherently mentioned, and somehow they'd ended up in bed. He'd thought it might be a one-time thing. It wasn't. They hadn't quite managed to talk about it yet, and every time John tried to, Sherlock was either playing the violin or doing one of his experiments or absorbed in the latest case. Eventually, he gave up and just accepted that whatever the Thing between them was, it wasn't going to get any more defined any time soon.
Then, Moriarty contacted him. Not Sherlock, just him. (The text had included very specific instructions telling him not to tell his roommate under any circumstances.)
John debated going for a long time. In the end he went, and found himself in a rather unexpected hotel suite. Where Moriarty (“Call me Jim, please,” he insisted) was waiting with a table set for two and a waiter with a trolley loaded with food.
“You bought me dinner?” John said incredulously.
“Yeah. Hungry?”
John looked from Moriarty to the food and back, and said, “You know what, I'm starving...”
He had expected the dinner to be a one-time thing as well, and in hindsight he probably should have known better. It wasn't. There were more texts, each one directing him to a different place – hotels, restaurants, art galleries. Each text ended with a simple Don't tell him, and John didn't.
So John found himself living an even stranger life than before... running around London chasing the bad guys with Sherlock during the day (and sharing the odd Chinese takeaway), and being taken out to London's finest restaurants with Jim a couple of evenings a week. It was fun, really, and he was certainly eating better.
It couldn't have lasted, of course, and it wasn't long before people started making comments. Mrs Hudson absent-mindedly mentioned that he looked like he was putting on weight, and Molly from the coroner's office said he was 'looking well'. Sherlock, naturally, didn't seem to have noticed anything... until one evening when John had gone out to that evening's meeting, accidentally leaving his mobile in the flat. He'd told Sherlock that he was going out for dinner with Sarah, which ordinarily wouldn't have caused a problem. But then Sarah called his mobile, wondering why she hadn't seen him for weeks, and Sherlock answered the phone. What happened after that was not fun at all, but it had involved a panicked Sherlock (something no-one should have to see) making Lestrade even more stressed-out than usual. John knew the second that Sherlock burst into the hotel room that he should have been more honest with him, whatever Jim said.
And that was a sore point between them as well. Sherlock seemed to have decided that Moriarty was his new arch-enemy, and he didn't appreciate what he considered to be John's fraternisation, even though John had tried to tell him that nothing had happened, that they just met and ate food and talked. It hadn't helped.
He was just wondering how the situation was going to get repaired when, quite unexpectedly, it all sorted itself out. Sherlock had walked into the living room, sat down, and said,
“The next time he texts you, let me know.”
John blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Moriarty. Let me know, the next time he contacts you.”
“Why?”
“Oh, we've spoken. It's sorted out now, you don't need to worry.”
John looked at him, baffled, and wondered exactly what they'd said to each other.
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC, 2010)
Characters/Pairings: Jim Moriarty/John Watson/Sherlock Holmes
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 807
Disclaimer: The new series belongs to Messrs. Moffat and Gatiss. Characters are the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle. No profit being made, no copyright infringement intended.
Summary: Everyone warned John to stay away from Sherlock, saying he was dangerous to be around. Then Jim Moriarty showed up, and it all got a bit more complicated...
~~
When John first met Sherlock, everyone – his sister, his therapist, and what felt like the entire Metropolitan police force – had warned him to stay away, telling him that Sherlock was either 'dangerous' (his therapist), 'bad news' (Harry) or just a 'freak' (the police). But despite all that he'd stayed at 221b and stayed with Sherlock and he'd been pulled into that crazy, faintly improbable world that the detective seemed to live in.
It wasn't so bad, actually, once you got past the kidnappings and the bombs and having every police detective in London assume you're gay. He wasn't about to admit it to anyone, but to be honest, he was quite enjoying it. It beat sitting in his old flat feeling sorry for himself.
Then there had been Moriarty. At first it had been just a case, racing against the clock to save the man's hostages. Then there'd been the pool, and things had changed a bit after that.
For one thing, he couldn't exactly complain about everyone assuming he and Sherlock were a couple any more, because after the pool things had got a bit... frenzied, and feelings had been very incoherently mentioned, and somehow they'd ended up in bed. He'd thought it might be a one-time thing. It wasn't. They hadn't quite managed to talk about it yet, and every time John tried to, Sherlock was either playing the violin or doing one of his experiments or absorbed in the latest case. Eventually, he gave up and just accepted that whatever the Thing between them was, it wasn't going to get any more defined any time soon.
Then, Moriarty contacted him. Not Sherlock, just him. (The text had included very specific instructions telling him not to tell his roommate under any circumstances.)
John debated going for a long time. In the end he went, and found himself in a rather unexpected hotel suite. Where Moriarty (“Call me Jim, please,” he insisted) was waiting with a table set for two and a waiter with a trolley loaded with food.
“You bought me dinner?” John said incredulously.
“Yeah. Hungry?”
John looked from Moriarty to the food and back, and said, “You know what, I'm starving...”
He had expected the dinner to be a one-time thing as well, and in hindsight he probably should have known better. It wasn't. There were more texts, each one directing him to a different place – hotels, restaurants, art galleries. Each text ended with a simple Don't tell him, and John didn't.
So John found himself living an even stranger life than before... running around London chasing the bad guys with Sherlock during the day (and sharing the odd Chinese takeaway), and being taken out to London's finest restaurants with Jim a couple of evenings a week. It was fun, really, and he was certainly eating better.
It couldn't have lasted, of course, and it wasn't long before people started making comments. Mrs Hudson absent-mindedly mentioned that he looked like he was putting on weight, and Molly from the coroner's office said he was 'looking well'. Sherlock, naturally, didn't seem to have noticed anything... until one evening when John had gone out to that evening's meeting, accidentally leaving his mobile in the flat. He'd told Sherlock that he was going out for dinner with Sarah, which ordinarily wouldn't have caused a problem. But then Sarah called his mobile, wondering why she hadn't seen him for weeks, and Sherlock answered the phone. What happened after that was not fun at all, but it had involved a panicked Sherlock (something no-one should have to see) making Lestrade even more stressed-out than usual. John knew the second that Sherlock burst into the hotel room that he should have been more honest with him, whatever Jim said.
And that was a sore point between them as well. Sherlock seemed to have decided that Moriarty was his new arch-enemy, and he didn't appreciate what he considered to be John's fraternisation, even though John had tried to tell him that nothing had happened, that they just met and ate food and talked. It hadn't helped.
He was just wondering how the situation was going to get repaired when, quite unexpectedly, it all sorted itself out. Sherlock had walked into the living room, sat down, and said,
“The next time he texts you, let me know.”
John blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Moriarty. Let me know, the next time he contacts you.”
“Why?”
“Oh, we've spoken. It's sorted out now, you don't need to worry.”
John looked at him, baffled, and wondered exactly what they'd said to each other.
