E.V.O.L [Sheriarty]

Granted, it might not have been the best time to get tipsy with a consulting criminal. No, scratch that, the consulting criminal. Sherlock probably should have thought about that before he lifted the cup to his mouth and started to drink.

It's pouring down rain outside. John is away with his girlfriend- Rachel? Quinn? He can't be bothered to remember. Besides, there's a major distraction sitting right in front of him.

"Don't forget about me, Sherlock," Moriarty tells him in a mocking tone, fingers wrapping around the bottle of mind-numbing alcohol to pour it into a glass of his own. He presses the rim to his lips and waits for it to fall into his mouth before setting it back down and smiling at Sherlock.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asks with an accidental slurring in his voice from the prior liquor. He hiccups. It sends Moriarty into a fit of giggles.

"Aren't you cute when you're drunk! A cute drunk, Sherlock Holmes. Who would have guessed it?" he leans forward to touch his hand, but he immediately pulls it away.

With half-lidded eyes, Sherlock argues, "Sssshut up. I am not 'cute.'"

Moriarty laughs. "I didn't say that, you know."

"What-everrr."

The pair both take a few more drinks in silence.

"How is life with the pet?" Moriarty suddenly says, his brown eyes flashing upward. Sherlock frowns.

"John? We are NOT dating." a cough forces its way through his throat.

"Again, not what I said, darling." he laughs. "But if you were, that would be quite disappointing now, wouldn't it?"

The consulting detective cocks his head with an eye wider than the other. "Wha-? Whhhy is that."

"You're not that dense, are you, Sherlock? As if you wouldn't know why." Moriarty shakes his head. "You're smarter than this."

Sherlock, in turn, only makes a grumbling noise and glares at Moriarty. "Maybe yoooou're the... stupid... one..." he nearly drifts off to sleep, but Moriarty makes sure to clap his hands together as loudly as possible in his face.

"COOOOME OOOON!"

"Cccould you come back later? I'm feeling a bit under the weatherrr." he hiccups.

"No, you idiot! Come on now, you can do this!"

Why is he so eager? Sherlock can't even think straight for longer than a minute right now, yet here he is, being demanded an answer or some educated guess from Moriarty.

"...Nah," Sherlock shakes his head.

Moriarty fumes. "Here's a hint, you moron! I'm about to kiss you!"

He leans over the table impatiently and yanks Sherlock's shirt collar into his hands, drawing him extremely close- even for a person devoid of all sense of personal space- to force his lips to the other man's. He breathes in Sherlock's scent of pine and coffee like it's expensive perfume, reaching for his tousled raven curls. The kiss isn't empty at all, oh, no, it means something to Moriarty. It means a whole damn lot, in fact, and he's angry that he doesn't know why. He has no idea as to why this peculiar being called "Sherlock" by his loved ones, his family, is attracting him at all. He refuses to understand any emotions that come with Sherlock Holmes; neither positive nor negative ones. Just a painful confusion.

"God, Sherlock, you really are the virgin," he growls into the kiss, "live a little."

And with that, Sherlock steps around the table to push back with equal force. It's sloppy, it's drunken, but it's full of want and desire and it's hot. Moriarty doesn't mind. He's grabbing at everything he can take hold of: Sherlock's hair, his shirt front, his hands. Sherlock evidently doesn't like that. He shoves Moriarty into a wall, forcing his tongue through the consulting criminal's lips. Although Moriarty could have reassured his dominance throughout all that, it's much less boring this way. Sherlock is certainly more interesting like this. 

Sherlock gets noticeably sleepier, though. That's no fun. So Moriarty switches places with his detective insanely quickly. He closes the gap between them once more, this time with Sherlock using a lot less power. Moriarty moves down to his neck. He bites down, which is something Serlock is definitely not used to, and makes sure he leaves a mark. Sherlock lets out a groan. Moriarty is about to laugh, but he hears something from downstairs. John?

This time, Moriarty groans. He sounds like a child who had to leave their friend's house early. Sherlock does find it funny that he looks so utterly disappointed about John coming back before he planned. Well, he hadn't really planned anything out, but he sure had hoped for some more time alone with that insufferable virgin.

As John's footsteps echo throughout the stairwell, Moriarty steps back, "Sorry to cut the fun so soon, Sherly, but I do believe your boyfriend is home."

Sherlock sighs grumpily. "Not my boyfrrred!"

"Oh, that's right, love," Moriarty says as if he forgot something, "I am now."

Moriarty exits just as John enters, a horrified expression plastered to his face.

"See you!"

The door shuts.

John says nothing. He doesn't move.

"...He called me 'love,'" Sherlock is on the floor with a blanket draped around his shoulders now, his voice weak and full of cracks.

John shakes it off.

Stranger things have happened.

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A/N: first sheriarty fic! inspired by E.V.O.L by marina and the diamonds.

dedicated to one of my bestest friends ever, allison (allikatt323). ilu bae.

anyway this won't be a series but i had fun writing it.