As it Should Be (Johnlock/Teenlock)

Chapter Ten

John's P.O.V.

I suppressed a gasp of surprise as I opened the door and saw Jim Moriarty sitting on Sherlock's desk chair, reading through the files. I stood, speechless, watching the sight in front of me. I'd sworn I'd locked the door before I left...

Ping!

The door of the lift opened, and almost instantaneously my companion was by my side, his face shadowy.

"Moriarty." Despite his furious expression, his voice was cool and calm.

"Hello, Sherlock! I was just looking through your case files, I hope you don't mind!" He giggled. I stood in the same shocked state as before, I was pretty sure my eyes were popping out of their sockets as I took in the scene in front of me, until it was blocked by Sherlock's tall form striding forwards. He snatched the files out of Moriarty's hands, and looked him in the eyes. His steady gaze said: get out.

Moriarty didn't flinch, although even from across the room, I felt a nervous shiver creeping up on me. Instead he giggled again, leaning back in the chair, crossing his arms.

"Aw, Sherlooock. Aren't you pleased to see me again?"

"Delighted." For once I could see the resemblance between the Holmes brothers, because from the dripping sarcasm, to the twisting of the mouth, he was very similar to Mycroft in that moment.

"Well, I suppose I'd better leave you boys to your...buisiness." He winked at me and stood up. "See you around, Sherlock, John." He swept out of the door, blowing us both a kiss as he went. I shut the door behind me, and turned to face Sherlock. To my surprise, his eyes showed none of the cool, calculating, thoughtful look they usually held, they were blank apart from stress and confusion.

"Sherlock..?" I tried to look him in the eyes.

"What did he DO?" He shouted to himself.

"I'm sorry?" I frowned.

"Whatdidhedowhatdidhedowhatdidhedo?" Sherlock muttered incoherently, throwing things on his desk around, paper flying everywhere.

"Are you okay?" I began to collect the paper off of the ground.

"Think, John, think!" I looked at him expectantly.

"If Moriarty wanted to come snooping around, he wouldn't have got caught. He ensured that we'd find him here for a reason, so he must have done something that he wanted us to know, otherwise we wouldn't be looking for anything!"

I nodded in understanding and began to helphim search, before spotting a small note taped to his bed.

"Sherlock..." I pointed to it hesitantly. He spun around quickly, following my gaze to the note. He snatched it up, scanned his eyes over it, and put it in his pocket.

"I'm going out." He began to leave.

"You want me to-" I started.

"No." He slammed the door.

I considered the note. It said: The Game is On.

Sherlock's P.O.V.

My monumental mind struggled to understand Moriarty's intentions. To put it simply: I was confused. Leaving a note in my room, breaking in, what did it all mean? It crossed my mind that Moriarty was the murderer in my case, he was slippery and evil enough, but weren't we all evil in some sense? I had contemplated this theory for a while, before I remembered my rule: It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has all of the data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts.

I continued down the street, the afternoon sun blindingly bright to my light eyes, the air whistling around me, a glacial breeze of depression. Once I had begun to calm my raging nerves, I settled beneath a small tree, pulling that same blue covered book out of my jacket pocket. I tried to concentrate on the story I had read thousands of times since the day John arrived, but now, all I could think of was the way it matched his eyes. Part of me knew I'd been harsh with my refusal of company, but I only felt a twinge of regret. Little did I know that as the afternoon continued, that regret would spark into a flame of shame that could only be extinguished by the cool blue waters of John's eyes. Maybe if I had, it wouldn't have had a chance to burn me. I could have gone back and a would be well. Instead, I took my coat off for the first time all year, sitting on it and trying my best to be normal, to shut my brain off and enjoy the faltering warmth of the sun, not meaning to fall asleep in the process. When I awoke, it was nighttime and none of the street lamps were lit, nobody ever came down this road, there was no point. I picked myself up quietly, brushing off my coat and putting it back around my shoulders, the cold wind even colder without the bitter heat of the sun. I took my phone from my pocket and found twenty missed calls from John. An alien feeling bubbled in my chest, and adrenaline was pumping through my veins.

Odd. I sent a quick text back to John.

Fell asleep. Be back soon.

-SH

The reply was instant.

You'd better. Your little friend here is dying for your return.

-JM

(A/N)

Yup. I just did that. I'm sorry it's short :'c Aaaaaand I'm probably not going to be able to update for at least another week, I have two French tests to prepare for, and it's going to take me forever because I don't know what I'm doing :c

Yesterday I reached 500 views....Which I honestly never thought would ever ever happen! I think I had around 300 when I posted the previous chapter, which means it was 200 views in a week:o I can't even express how much you guys mean to mee c:

Thank you all for being so supportive, love youuuuuu<3