I own no characters. Not even my own shoes.
"Seb?" the man in question gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the softly spoken man across the room. Jim had been in an infuriating mood for the past three hours and it had taken all his willpower to keep his eyes fixed on the computer screen and not punch the Irishman.
"Sebby? Ohhh, Sebastiannnnnn…" James Moriarty trilled, swinging his legs around so he was now sitting upright in the chair, instead of sprawled across it, a crown perched on his head. Sebastian watched the consulting criminal's reflection in the glass of the computer screen as Moriarty proceeded to try and sneak up on him.
He seemed to conveniently forget that Sebastian Moran was not only a trained assassin; he was a heartless and cruel one at that. However, that seemed to draw Moriarty in and make him far more desirable to the consulting detective.
Sebastian spun around slowly on his computer chair, grinning wolfishly as Jim slumped against the side of the desk and tipping his crown back over his pale forehead, his dark eyes skimming over the computer without any interest.
"Yes?" Sebastian smirked back, not being able to resist the mastermind any longer. His eyes lingered on the crown. It hadn't taken much bribing and emotional blackmail to bypass all the security back at the Tower of London and replace the real Crown jewels with convincing fake crystal versions, and Moriarty had been so insistent that Moran had to see the accessory on top of his head.
He had to admit it.
Moriarty did suit a crown.
"I'm bored," Moriarty sighed, checking his phone for any new messages. Ever since the show down at the swimming pool, Moriarty had kept this fascination up with Sherlock Holmes for an obscenely long time. It might've just been the mind of the consulting detective that had kept him interested.
Or the fact that he, despite all of the games he had been playing, was still alive and thriving in London.
The one that got away.
"You know, we could always go incognito and go out for a meal together," Sebastian smiled, already knowing the consulting criminal's answer. Jim Moriarty never did anything normal by any degrees, and asking him out for something simple like dinner was almost insulting.
"How thrilling. A bland meal in a busy restaurant surrounded by people who consider themselves superior to me," Moriarty drawled, shutting his phone with a snap and grinning cockily at Sebastian. "Plus, if I did that, I couldn't wear my crown." He perched on the desk.
"We wouldn't go somewhere boring if you didn't want to." It had been four days and Sebastian hadn't left their townhouse they shared together, so cabin fever was setting in. Bringing up a new window on his computer, he started listing all the restaurants within walking distance.
"Everything's boring without Sherlock," Moriarty muttered darkly, but his eyes raked over the page. He jabbed at one name, turning back towards Sebastian with a smirk.
"There," Sebastian frowned as he moved the mouse over the allocated restaurant.
"Burger King? But… That's a fast food restaurant".
"Time is money Sebastian. Something I don't lack, but something I do not wish to lose. Hurry up".
"Sebastian, what exactly is in a Whopper?" Moriarty peered up at the food board, wrinkling his nose as he scanned over the different choices.
"Different types of cardboard with a bad substitute of meat, probably," Sebastian muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Don't be mean. This is probably delicious nutritious food and you're just slating it. Why would you DO that to these lovely people?" At this specific point in time, Moriarty was pointing towards a greasy-haired youth, whose yellow shirt and orange baseball cap made the angry spots on his neck stand out more.
"What can I get for you?" he asked, boredom ringing through his voice as he stared blankly at Moriarty. The mastermind leant forward, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers under his chin, smiling sweetly at the cashier.
"I'm Jim Moriarty. Hi!" he trilled, beaming at the cashier.
The boy started slightly, frowning at the overly-enthusiastic man who seemed to be almost flirting at him. Sebastian had to fight the urge to smirk. Even now, with Sebastian positioned next to him, a loaded revolver in his pocket, Moriarty would probably have snipers in the nearby buildings, watching and waiting for any signal that the consulting criminal was uncomfortable.
The youngster was inches away from death and he didn't realize it.
"Uh… Hey. What can I get you?" he repeated the question, fiddling with the stack of ketchup that lay beside him.
Moriarty plucked a napkin off from the pile nearby and gently dabbed at the boy's chin, who by this time had frozen in shock.
"Mustard," Moriarty explained, his dark eyes travelling down the boy's face and ending up staring broodingly at his lips.
Sebastian knew that Moriarty loved to play with his victims and acting interested in the boy was just a regular occurrence to make the youngster feel incredibly vulnerable.
But… It still gave Sebastian that little flicker of jealously in his stomach. The knowledge that Moriarty was purposefully trying to fool the boy with little glances and softly-spoken sentences was enough to make the assassin wrap his arm around Moriarty's waist, anchoring the mastermind to his hip. Moriarty looked up, amusement glittering in his eyes as he tenderly wrapped his arm around Sebastian's waist.
"Just a game," Moriarty whispered, smiling as Sebastian nodded briefly. That was enough to go by. James Moriarty was a psychopath, with virtually no empathy or guilt concerning murder or acts of torture. But when it came to all-consuming passionate fiery love, Moriarty only felt this for one man.
Sebastian Moran returned this love with no questions asked.
"We'll have a large cheeseburger meal and a child's menu," Sebastian ordered, tightening his grip on Moriarty, feeling as though the man would somehow flit away.
"Child's menu?" Moriarty frowned at his partner.
"Take it as revenge," Sebastian smiled back, squeezing Moriarty's waist hard.
"And drinks?" The boy didn't bother looking up at them now, but from the flushed cheeks and lowered eyes, Sebastian could tell he was incredibly embarrassed about being tricked.
But it was true. How could a fantastic powerful man like James Moriarty simply fall in love with a waiter? The consulting criminal's presence reeked of danger, but mixed with desire it became an intoxicating potion.
"Two large lemonades," Moriarty chirped in, and wriggling slightly out of Sebastian's grip he lightly grabbed the chin of the cashier, his voice low now.
"Can I have one of those crowns?" Sebastian rolled his eyes. Of course. Moriarty never meant to flirt and tease the boy without some sort of prize at the end. Behind the desk was a collection of tacky paper crowns embossed with the Burger King logo.
"...T-the crowns?" the boy turned away from Moriarty's grip, grabbing a paper crown.
"Yes... Because, honey -" Sebastian loved the purr that crept into Moriarty's voice at this time. "- You should see me in a crown," he drawled, and he quickly snatched the crown from the boy's hand, shoving it on his head before weaving his way through the tables towards the back, cackling as he went.
The boy was left with his mouth visibly wide open as Sebastian paid, the assassin walking off to where Moriarty was now sitting.
"You're a cruel man, Jim Moriarty," Sebastian snarled as he sat down next to the mastermind, attempting to get as close as he possibly could, not caring that his vulnerability was showing now. Jim leant forward and plucked a fry off the tray, smiling as he chewed it.
"You've only just worked that out?" he sounded shocked, but in a comforting and very un-Moriarty move, he casually took hold of Sebastian's hand underneath the table, squeezing it reassuringly.
Sebastian smiled briefly before pulling open the packet of fries, inhaling in the rich scent of the deep-fried goodies. As an assassin, Sebastian had to try and keep himself in a good physical condition and food like this was always held out of reach from him.
Yet today, a day that he had somehow performed the miracle of actually getting Moriarty to act actually relatively human for once, he picked up the burger, feeling the grease on his fingers.
He closed his eyes, ready to take the bite, when he heard Moriarty laugh lightly beside him.
"Sherlock," he whispered.
And there he was, almost as if he had summoned him. The tall detective was standing by the doorway, an impressive figure in the light with his billowing coat making him seem as powerful as his name gave off.
Moriarty was still, a comical grin on his face as he locked eyes with the consulting detectives, ice-blue meeting pitch black. Sherlock's own mouth twisted up in a slight smile and with a dramatic sweep of his coat, he walked forward eagerly. He never once looked at Sebastian, but then again why should he? Sherlock had always been fascinated with the lead mastermind, not the puppet who followed beside him.
"James Moriarty," he greeted Moriarty with a cock of his head, finally scanning Sebastian with a level of interest. Sebastian found him trying to turn away from the intense stare, feeling uncomfortable with that amount of interest on himself.
"Sherlock Holmes," the purr was back in his voice, but with a dangerous turn now.
"Fancy seeing you here." Sherlock began to step slowly around the table, his eyes never leaving Moriarty's as he dragged back the metal chair from the other side of the table.
"Well... We can't always be on the job. Gets suspicious if you leave dead bodies around," Moriarty retorted back, his eyes glinting as he moved forward on the table, chewing on a new fry. He seemed to have forgotten all about Sebastian now, always coming second best to Sherlock.
"Yes, and it makes my job a lot harder." Sherlock picked up a chip from Moriarty plate, eating it quickly. Sebastian sighed, placing his burger on the tray. What's the point in those two having a relatively decent meal together when the threat of Sherlock looms up on them?
"Why are you in this chain-restaurant anyway, Sherlock?" Moriarty questioned, reaching inside his box meal to pull out a container of ketchup.
"John and I were hungry for some processed garbage," Sherlock answered icily, reaching out to pinch another one of the chips.
"And how is the lovely Dr. Watson? Recovered after the semtex incident?" Sebastian groaned quietly. That was classic Moriarty, constantly asking awkward questions and bringing up explosives over the dinner table. Sebastian had to live with the man who would ask opinions of C4 over soup when they were at home.
"John's fine, and I would hardly call strapping my fiancé to an explosive-covered coat 'an incident'," Sherlock responded coolly, his eyes flicking over to where John had stilled by the bathroom door, his eyes wide as he took in Moriarty's appearance sitting across from Sherlock.
"Fiancé? Well, isn't that a cause for celebration?" Moriarty pushed a fry into the sauce completely, drawing out the now-ruined potato snack with relish.
"Thank you," Sherlock answered stiffly, turning to where John was now approaching them, carrying a tray laden down with food. His gaze shifted uneasily between Moriarty and Sebastian, fear naked in his eyes.
"I would offer you champagne, but I doubt it if they serve such a beverage in this establishment." Moriarty offered him Sebastian's lemonade as a compromise, but Sherlock shook his head in denial.
Sherlock reached out and grabbed the tray from his now shaking fiancé and placed it on the table, ripping open the cardboard box and pulling John to sit beside him.
"Ah, John. Isn't this a pleasure. I don't think you've met MY significant other. Sebastian, darling, this is the legendary John Watson." Moriarty yanked Sebastian closer, wrapping his arm around his neck, the whole time still grinning maliciously at Sherlock.
"Hello," Sebastian held out his hand, his voice muffled as Moriarty held him closer.
John hesitantly took the outstretched hand, briefly squeezing it before Moriarty pulled Sebastian away.
The two arch enemies turned back towards each other, not saying anything as they watched one another over their food, leaving their two partners smiling uncomfortably.
"I've read your blog," Sebastian announced, making Moriarty turn in surprise to watch him. He had never thought Sebastian would be the one to effectively betray him, joining with the enemy. He had always thought that he was so loyal, but even the best could crack under the pressure.
"Really? And what did you think of it?" It was Sherlock's turn to stare at John in bemusement now. Didn't the doctor realize he was striking up conversation with a deadly assassin, who by the look of it when Sherlock entered the fast-food chain, had at least three different handguns secreted about his person, including an obvious Colt pistol in his inner pocket.
"Funny. That Mrs Hudson seems quite sweet." Moriarty couldn't believe it. It had taken him over five dates with that idiotic Molly Cooper to get him to meet Sherlock Holmes in the flesh and here his partner was, talking freely to Dr John Watson, medical extraordinaire. He didn't know if he should be extremely proud of the innovative way that Sebastian had taken the case on by himself, or furious.
But something stopped him considering this. Something made him stop and stare into Sherlock's food container. The prize was there. The one thing he wanted now
"She's lovely, although we do tease her a bit about being our sort-of live in slave".
Sherlock could see it now. The hunger in Moriarty's eyes. He usually associated it with the thrill of torture and the chase of a subject. He followed the mastermind's line of sight, frowning as he caught sight of what he was craving.
"I can imagine Sherlock can be a handful to live with." Moriarty was barely concentrating on Sebastian's words anymore. He knew Sherlock had seen what he desired, and from the gleam in Sherlock's eyes he knew he wasn't going to give up without some sort of battle. That was always something that had always intrigued Moriarty to Sherlock Holmes: his utter refusal to ever let Moriarty win.
"That's a little bit like calling having your arm ripped off a 'minor incident'." John's laugh was always like music to Sherlock's ears, but right now he was preoccupied. He could see Moriarty's hand moving slightly towards him, seeking out its prize. Did he really think the consulting detective hadn't noticed the yearning look the mastermind was giving it? Sherlock flexed his fingers, ready for the counter-attack.
"Yes, mine's just like that as well." Mine. What possession Sebastian had over Moriarty always made his respect for the other man grow. But his fingers sought another need. He almost had his hand clamped around it, when he felt the cool fingers of the detective wrap around his wrist.
"That's. Mine. Moriarty."
"I'll fight you for it then."
Suddenly the two men were locked together, their faces alarmingly close. They shook the table as they stood up, their hands clutching onto something that they had lifted from the table. The tray of food fell on the floor, the drinks flying and hitting the walls. Sebastian and John nearly fell out of their respective seats as they watched their usually so sophisticated better half's battle.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" They yelled together, the shock of the two sidekicks working together made the two other men glance up from where they were practically wrestling on the table, their faces flushed with annoyance.
"Sebastian! Sherlock has Blossom, which would make up my collection and he WON'T GIVE IT TO ME-"
"-WHY SHOULD I? I got the meal, I paid for the toy and it's mine! You can't have it!"
"BUT THEN I'LL HAVE THE WHOLE COLLECTION! DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT'S TAKEN ME TO FIND THIS?"
John glanced at Sebastian, both of them dumb-founded at the argument that was still raging between the two men.
Sebastian put his hands up in protest. "So… Hold on. You're fighting over a PowerPuff girl?"
The two men, with their incredibly complex and brilliant minds looked back at him with 'Isn't-that-obvious?' expressions on their faces as they continued to fight over the plastic toy.
John glanced at Sebastian and looked back towards the door. The rest of the restaurant was staring open-mouthed at the spectacle, with some mothers rushing out, clutching their children, most likely believing they were in the presence of madmen.