Disclaimer: So not mine, but a fangirl can dream can't she?
He stumbled down the alleyway having just barely gotten away.
Even though he was bleeding and had been drugged he felt more embarrassed than anything else. He was The Master Criminal! He wasn't supposed to get ambushed while out for a stroll- he had people ambushed!
He was also having trouble keeping his eyes open now, and putting one foot in front of the other was becoming a chore.
If he had been more aware of his surroundings then he might have noticed that he was being watched, and that the watcher had been staring for some time now.
John had spotted the criminal several minutes before and, although he was cautious, he was still inclined to help the man in need- no matter how much he didn't want to.
As the Consulting Criminal stumbled once more he rushed forward and caught the man before he could fall.
Pulling the syringe from the brunette's shoulder he pulled an arm around his neck and steered them down a side street.
"Come on Jim, let's get you patched up." He muttered in resignation, he really hated being the good guy sometimes.
If the Criminal Mastermind had been at all aware of his surroundings at this point he would have been shocked that the 'pet' would willingly help him.
He came to slowly and hesitantly.
He remembered being jumped and drugged, but he didn't remember being taken anywhere.
Cautiously opening his eyes he quickly noted that he wasn't tied down, and he wasn't in a hospital. Trying to sit up he groaned as unexpected pain shot through him.
What had happened? He didn't remember getting hurt, only drugged.
Laying back down and pretending to still sleep when he heard footsteps approaching, he waited to find out just who held him.
A door opened and closed, footsteps drew closer to the bed, a quiet sigh escaped a pair of lips; but Jim stayed still.
"I know you're awake, so please stop pretending." Eyes flying open at the familiar voice Jim took in the sight before him.
"Johnny! What are you doing here?" He winced even as he asked.
Whatever he had been given must have been very strong to still be muddling his mind, he was thinking as slow as one of those horrible 'regular' people that seemed to infest the world.
"The real question is: what are you doing here Jim? That is what you should be asking. This is my bed you're laying in- and I still don't know why I brought you here in the first place." Stepping away from the bedside a moment, John grabbed some fresh bandages.
Sitting up with the good doctor's help Jim allowed his bandages to be changed, and he took the opportunity to check over the damage himself.
A deep stab wound to his side and several shallow ones across his chest. He remembered the knife fight he had before the drug had taken effect- and he remembered just what he did to finish off the loser- but he still didn't remember getting wounded himself.
About to ask how he had come to be in John's caring hands, he was interrupted as the blue-eyed man started talking of his own volition.
"When I first spotted you I thought it was some sort of trap." He stated as he taped down the new gauze pad over the deepest wound.
"But then I noticed how heavily you were bleeding, and that you had a syringe sticking out of your shoulder." Covering the rest of the wounds, some of which had very neat stitches in them, John finally looked up into Jim's eyes.
"You've been unconscious for three days and Sherlock is due back any time now. I was getting worried that you wouldn't wake up before he returned." And Jim noted that the blonde man seemed honestly concerned.
"I would rather keep you for observation a while longer, but you should go before you're caught." Giving a sigh John began to repack his medical supplies.
Looking over the doctor, the best friend of his arch-nemesis, Jim- though his mind had cleared of most of the haze from when he had first woken up- still couldn't wrap his mind around one fact.
"Why did you help me?" He finally asked, and was surprised when John looked shocked.
"You were hurt. I couldn't just leave you." Standing once more, the ex-soldier made to leave the room.
"You're well enough to travel- if you're careful, though I'd suggest checking in with your regular doctor soon- you're phone is on the nightstand, feel free to borrow a shirt or something to wear from my closet as I had to cut yours off. I'm going to the market, goodbye Jim."
"Bye Johnny!" As the doctor slipped out the door the consultant grabbed his phone and called a car to come pick him up.
He had a lot of work to do: finding out who had gotten the jump on him, making sure they knew what a BIG mistake that had been, finding a way to properly repay the good doctor...
Slowly moving to the closet he pulled out a fluffy jumper, he would look ridiculous, but at least he would be warmly dressed.
The driver- Sebastian himself had come, which was no surprise considering how relieved the sniper had been to hear from him- helped him into the car and they drove away from 221b.
Pulling the overly fluffy material of the jumper closer to his face he breathed in John's sent and relaxed muscles he hadn't know were tense, and began to think.
Now what would be a good enough 'thank you' for good old Johnny boy...
It had been three weeks and Sherlock still wasn't speaking to him.
The detective had come in, put up his coat, taken a long look at John and the flat and gaped.
John's only relief was that the man hadn't called in Mycroft over the situation.
John had tried to explain, but nothing he said got any reaction from the irritating detective. Even at crime scenes he was ignored- at least he was until he tried to leave, then it was demands for objects that only he had on him. It was all becoming very annoying.
When he had been called into work that night had been happy to go and get away from the silent detective who had been systematically dismantling his bedroom, presumably looking for clues; but most likely just trying to be annoying.
Hailing a taxi on a whim, he gave the address of the clinic and them spaced out- he didn't realize he had been gassed until he woke up an hour later.
He was laying in a large bed, in what looked like a high-end hotel room, fully clothed and deeply confused.
A noise in the next room drew his attention, and he slowly made his way to the closed door to investigate.
"Come on out, Johnny! Daddy has dinner waiting!" Cold dread, mixed with understanding and confusion, flooded through John: he had been kidnapped by Jim Moriarty- again.
And was about to have dinner with him?
Stepping out of the dubious safety of the bedroom he was taken aback by what he saw.
Hundreds of roses, dozens of lit candles- the only illumination in the room- and masses of boxed of chocolates covered every available surface.
And in he middle of it all was Jim Moriarty, wearing the fluffy jumper he had taken when he left, standing next to a laden table of all of John's favorite foods.
"Umm..." He didn't even know where to begin.
With an overdramatic pout, the consultant walked over to invade the doctor's personal space.
"Come now Johnny boy, don't tell me you weren't expecting something like this." Looking over the room his eyes were finally drawn back to the criminal standing far to close to him.
"I was expecting a thank you card or a text, not something like this. It's just... too... so... um..."
"Romantic?" Relieved that he wasn't the one to say it he nodded.
"Yeah. You know I'm not gay, right?" Out of all the reactions he could get laughter was the least expected.
"Labels have nothing to do with this. Gay, straight, bi- non of it really means anything anymore. Their all just convenient labels that society uses to distract us from the fun we can have." Giving John a long once over with his eyes, he smirked and leaned closer.
"And besides, I wanted you here for one reason and one reason only." He said in a darkly seductive tone.
"And what it that?" John asked a bit nervously while trying not to back away, or admit to how arousing being cornered by Jim was. Damn his lust for danger!
"Your jumper has lost its smell." The brunette answered quietly.
The shock hit fast, but was quickly replaced by laughter.
The world's only Consulting Criminal had kidnapped him just for a smell- it was just too much!
"Oh Jim, what am I going to do with you?" The doctor asked when he had finally gasped enough air into his lungs to breathe.
"Anything you'd like, doctor." And John couldn't tell if he was joking or not.
Moving further into the room, he took a seat at the table and began to dish himself up.
"So, what have you been up to?" He asked.
He might as well play along, right? It wasn't as if Sherlock had been providing much conversation lately. What harm could one dinner do anyway?
As they wore the night away with amiable chatter, John had one clear thought by the end: maybe labels really shouldn't be taken into consideration.
He knew he wasn't gay- he had never been attracted to men before, or even experimented in uni for that matter- but maybe an exception could be made for one very sexy brunette sitting in front of him...