Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Looking around the room from where he was leaning against the wall, Sherlock once again questioned his choice to attend this event. The case Sebastian Wilkes had offered him some weeks earlier had been quite interesting, but he couldn’t really see how being invited to a New Year’s party was a good way to thank him for solving it. There had been the money of course, which John had been delighted about while Sherlock didn’t really care all that much. He liked his work because it kept him busy, challenged him, gave him something to occupy his every-working brain with. As long as he had something to use his mental capacity on, he didn’t have to use any substances to slow down his mind. 

A group of people to his right suddenly erupted in loud laughter. He really should have declined the invitation. It had seemed like a relatively decent idea when he’d accepted. John was supposed to come with him and his friend had a point that there was a chance they could be hired for more cases if they introduced themselves to the other guests. With his flatmate here, Sherlock would at least have been able to make fun of the woman who desperately tried to get Sebastian’s attention while the man was too busy listening to the sound of his own voice as he recounted his trip to Japan for the second time this evening. Unfortunately John had left to visit his sister two days prior after she’d called and asked for help since she’d broken her leg. Sherlock had even considered staying home, but he had no case or experiment at the moment and sitting around all night long had sounded even less appealing at the time, so he’d gotten dressed in his best suit and made his way towards the bank. The large windows of the highrise building would give everyone a great view once the fireworks started, but until then he would have to endure the crowd. 

He’d just considered getting himself a second glass of champagne when someone approached him.

“You here?” Turning his head to the left, Sherlock looked straight at Jim Moriarty’s face. The criminal was wearing a smug smile with his Westwood suit and seemed to be rather amused by their meeting.

“Moriarty.” Sherlock couldn’t be sure whether the man had been invited or not. Both were plausible possibilities. Judging by how much people were drinking, it was unlikely anyone would notice the presence of an uninvited guest, but it was also entirely possible that Jim knew one of those people and had received an invitation.

“Bad mood? You don’t look too happy over here.” Moriarty was holding a glass of champagne, but unlike most of the other guests he didn’t seem to have been drinking all night.

“I’m afraid this party isn’t exactly to my taste.” He looked towards where Sebastian was standing with his group of admirers, gesticulating wildly while holding his glass and pouring champagne over the carpet in the process.

“Wanna see something cool?” Sherlock looked at the man next to him with a frown. It was a question he would have expected from a schoolboy who was about to show him a frog or some worms, not something a grown man would say at a supposedly distinguished event. 

“Uh, sure.” Even if Moriarty was about to show him a frog or some worms, it would be the highlight of the evening. Not that he actually expected that to be likely, though with Moriarty one could never really know.

The criminal smiled before turning around and making his way past several groups of people. Nobody seemed to pay them any mind as they walked out of the main room, down a hall and past some doors before entering one of the offices. Moriarty carefully closed the door behind them without turning on any lights. Sherlock immediately noticed one of the computers was turned on as the screen illuminated at least a part of the room. 

“I assume you didn’t bring me in here so we could play Tetris.” He could see the wide grin on the criminal’s face.

“Not initially, but I could make that happen if you want.” The man stepped around the desk to get a look at the computer screen.

“Pitiful security system, really.” Sherlock followed the criminal’s lead and joined him behind the desk. The screen in front of them showed a bunch of different windows. One contained only text that made little sense to Sherlock as he’d never looked into programming all that much, another showed a list of numbers and what seemed to be bank accounts.

“You’re stealing their money?” While he didn’t understand what exactly was going on on the screen in front of him, it was the most plausible deduction.

“It’s a bit more complex than that, but you’re not really wrong.” 

“Why is it cool?”

“In the easiest terms possible: I am introducing an undetectable program into their system that will seemingly randomly transfer large amounts of money from one account to another. By the time they come back to the office next Monday, everything will be in absolute chaos, money missing, clients upset, nobody knows why it is happening– you get the idea.”

“Mhm. And let me guess. Some of that money will never be retrieved from wherever it ended up after this–” He gestured towards the screen.

“Yeees, well maybe. Some of it might also end up in rather interesting places. MI6 might have to get involved, oops.” Moriarty pulled his lips into an apologetic line. 

“So… Chaos. Any actual reason for it all or are you just bored?” A part of him couldn’t even blame Moriarty if boredom was the only reason. He’d created chaos just to get on Mycroft’s nerves many times throughout their childhood. 

“Ah, this is where I stop giving out freebies. You’ll have to investigate if you care enough to find out.” The criminal was smiling again, obviously very proud of his little display.

“And you showed me this much because…”

“Go on…” He suddenly noticed how close Moriarty was. 

“I will have no interest in investigating how the money was transferred now that I know how it happened.”

“Mmh, good. Anything else?” The criminal licked his bottom lip while holding eye contact. Sherlock wondered whether there would ever be a meeting between them during which Moriarty wouldn't flirt with him. A part of him hoped the answer was no.

“Economic crime isn’t my favourite to begin with. I’m not all that interested in people electronically stealing money from someone. And–” There was something else, he tried to focus harder so he wouldn’t have to admit he couldn’t figure it out.

“And..?” Moriarty’s voice so close to his ear was definitely a distraction.

“And– You want me to be impressed.”

“Oooh.” 

“Their security system isn’t bad at all, you just managed to get past it anyway. I’m sure once they find out what caused this mess they will also discern that your program is absolutely brilliant. You’re showing off.”

“And is it working?” Sherlock could have denied it, but lying to Moriarty was a stupid idea. One step closer and the criminal would be able to feel how excited he was about the situation. 

“Yes.” Not wanting to give the other man any advantage, he closed the space between them himself and pressed their lips together. This wasn’t exactly something he usually enjoyed, but in this case it wasn’t just kissing for the sake of trying it. Sliding his tongue between Moriarty’s lips while pushing the man against the wall was just another game they could play. Pushing their bodies against one another to see what it felt like could most definitely be counted as an experiment and making Jim moan as he slid his hand between his legs– Well, not even Sherlock could have an intellectual reason behind every one of his actions. Sometimes things were just fun to do. Feeling Moriarty breathing heavily against his neck while their hips were slowly moving together in an attempt to gain some friction was definitely one of those things. Or kissing the criminal’s neck and pulling at his tie to keep him in place. His thoughts slowly lost their trail of explaining and justifying his actions as he got closer to his climax. All he could really focus on was Jim’s hand and the desperate need for more .

“I–” The criminal immediately pressed their lips together rather than letting him finish his warning. The world around him seemed to disappear completely when he spilled all over Jim’s hand. He was barely conscious enough to squeeze the criminal through his pants until he could feel the man coming apart. 

The first thing he noticed when his brain slowly started to come to again was that people in the other room were yelling and cheering. A quick look out the window and onto the fireworks illuminating the sky was enough to confirm his sluggish deduction. It was midnight. He turned his head back to the consulting criminal he was still pushing against the wall. The blissful smile on the man’s face seemed so genuine that Sherlock was convinced this was the first time the criminal wasn’t hiding behind a facade. 

“Happy new year, Sherlock.”

Chapter Text

When Jim returned home in the early evening of a rainy day in February, he found a box in front of the door to his flat. It was an unassuming looking thing, brown cardboard, nothing unusual. Only Jim couldn’t remember ordering anything and he rarely ever used his actual home address anyway. Then there was the rather suspicious lack of stamps or stickers. He was about to pull out his phone to text Moran about a potential bomb in the building when he saw the message on the side. 

For JM. -SH

Jim scoffed at the small letters. Of course this technically didn’t mean that it couldn’t be a bomb. It would have been rather poetic for Sherlock to kill him in that manner after their little game that had ended at the pool. Still, it seemed rather unlikely that the consulting detective would go that far. A little poison to knock him out for a few hours so Sherlock could have a laugh– maybe. Explosions were messy and Jim liked to think they were past the point of literally wanting to kill each other.

He unlocked the door and carefully picked up the box before entering the flat. Crossing the hallway, he walked straight to the kitchen and placed his present on the counter. How had Sherlock even found out where he lived? Jim couldn’t think of ever having given the detective any hints, but then one could never be sure with Sherlock Holmes. For all he knew, the way he moved his hips when they were fucking had indicated which borough he lived in based on what material the pavement there was made of. Sometimes Jim was convinced that Sherlock just came up with a load of bullshit just to sound clever but truly just googled people or followed them to find out where they were going. Only that wouldn’t be possible for people he’d never met before, so the mystery of Sherlock’s brain remained to be solved. Jim smiled at the box in front of him. It was true that his fascination with the detective hadn’t faltered in the least after they had taken their relationship to a different level. 

The box was sealed with some simple tape, so he quickly grabbed a pair of scissors and slid one of the blades along the sides. Folding back the pieces of cardboard, he immediately noticed that he was looking at a large jar.

“What the-” He hadn’t really had the time to think about what Sherlock could possibly be sending him and it didn’t matter anyway since it could have been almost everything. The detective sure liked to surprise him and was eager to try time and time again. Pulling out the jar, Jim realised that he might have to admit defeat once again. He had not expected a human heart. That’s what he assumed it was anyway. Jim squinted at the heart in the jar that he was holding on eye level to get a better look at it. 

After a few seconds, he placed the jar on the counter next to the box with a sigh and pulled his phone out. He had already unlocked it and opened his chat history with the detective when he checked the box again and found a pink card with red hearts all over it at the bottom. 

Happy Valentine’s Day!

-SH

Jim laughed at the simplicity of the message in contrast to the present itself.

That’s sooooo corny…  -JM xx

It barely took a few seconds until he got a reply.

Isn’t that the point of this holiday? -SH

I suppose -JM

From what I know it’s all about hearts, flowers and chocolate. Two of those are boring, so I went for the third. -SH

Oh, I’m not complaining! Though I’d like to argue that chocolate can be poisoned? Not that boring then… And I wouldn’t complain about some actual chocolate either. -JM

None of that palm oil shit though. The good stuff. -JM

Ah, of course. Nothing under £100 per box will do. -SH

Depends on the size ;) -JM

Is that your way of telling me that the treat I’m giving you doesn’t have to be chocolate? -SH

Can’t a man have both? -JM

Greed is a sin. -SH

Mhm, sure. I can teach you all about one of the other six if you want? Unless you’re busy of course… -JM

I’ll be home in an hour. Which one will you be lecturing on? Pride? Envy? -SH

It’s going to be more of a practical lesson… -JM

Now who’s being corny? -SH

That’s what this holiday is about after all <3 -JM

Alright then, are we going to properly celebrate the silly holiday or are you just coming over for sex? -SH

Do let me know before I spend £140 on this chocolate. -SH

Yes!!! I’ll bring some overpriced champagne and we’ll make it the best Valentine’s Date the world will never know about ;) -JM

Should I bring the heart with me? -JM

? No. It's yours now, you can’t give it back. That would be rude. -SH

Jim could see the logic behind that statement, though it didn’t help him figure out what he was supposed to do with his present. If it was preserved correctly he might be able to put it on display on his bookshelf. Sebastian would piss himself if he saw that next time he visited. 

The heart would have to wait though since Sherlock was apparently planning a date and Jim wasn’t going to miss that in favour of organising his living room decoration.

When he walked into 221B about an hour later, he was surprised to see that the kitchen table was actually free of any beakers, scales and unidentifiable substances in glass bowls for once. Instead, the place actually looked like a normal kitchen with a dining table, perfectly decorated with a candle and two plates.

“Did you kill Moran or something?” He asked before placing the champagne he’d brought on the counter.

“What? No, why?” 

“Because this looks like you made an effort.” Jim was perfectly aware that Sherlock was willing to go to great lengths to achieve his goals, but this was usually applied to his work and not to the preparation of dates.

“You said we’d celebrate the silly holiday so…” He motioned towards the table. “Didn’t have time to get flowers. The candle has been here ever since John wanted to invite– Whatever her name was, for dinner. Food will be here soon.” 

Jim fondly looked at the consulting detective. Valentine’s Day was a silly holiday, but he couldn’t deny that it felt quite flattering to be invited over for a proper dinner. Not to mention the literal heart he’d received. 

“Just one problem with that whole plan…” He made an apologetic face at the detective.

“What?” Sherlock clearly thought he must have forgotten something since he immediately turned to look around the room for some forgotten jar of fingers that ruined the mood.

“You’re being so sweet that I might drag you to bed before dinner even gets here.” He grinned when Sherlock stopped his search and looked at him.

“Seriously? Do you know how difficult it was to tidy up this room within ten minutes?” 

“Yeah, how did you do that?” Last time Jim had been here, every inch of the table had been covered in case notes and experiments. Sherlock shrugged.

“I’m efficient. Don’t go into John’s room.” 

Jim almost dragged Sherlock to the bedroom before dinner arrived. By the time the delivery got there, Sherlock looked slightly dishevelled with his shirt half unbuttoned and no longer tucked into the trousers. If the man who brought their food paid attention he would have seen a bruise on his neck as well. Jim sighed as he pulled his own shirt back into place in an attempt to make himself look presentable for dinner. It wouldn’t do to skip it in favour of more enticing activities since he was usually the one who told Sherlock to be patient. Especially not when the consulting detective had ordered Jim’s favourite fried rice from a restaurant halfway across the city. He sat on his chair at the table and smiled when Sherlock placed a bowl of it in front of him.

“You’re undeniably sexy when you put in this much effort.” He commented while watching as the detective moved around the kitchen and sat down with his own portion of dinner. 

“Am I usually less sexy?” 

“No. You always are, just–” Jim wasn’t going to let himself be tricked into giving lengthy compliments. “Feel free to treat me like a princess more often.”

“You expect to be seduced?” Sherlock’s left eyebrow disappeared behind his curls.

“Why not? I chased you more than enough, it’s your turn.” He smirked at the detective.

“You threatened to kill me and destroy everything I care about so now I have to buy you dinner so we’re even?”

“Yes.” Jim reached for his glass and took a sip of champagne.

“Perhaps you’re right. You do deserve the same treatment.” Sherlock smiled before mirroring him by also taking a sip.

“Weeeell, I didn’t say the same . That would be boring…”

“Oh, I’ll think of something new, don’t you worry.” Sherlock left it at that and Jim was probably more excited about the threat than any sane person should have been. 

When they finished their dinner, Sherlock presented him with the earlier mentioned box of chocolates that they could share once they made themselves comfortable in bed. Dessert got a little delayed when Jim decided it was finally time to get rid of that shirt he’d started unbuttoning earlier, but they came around to it eventually. Despite the lack of flowers and explosions, they agreed that it had been quite the nice date and perhaps, silly holidays had their merit after all.

Chapter Text

Sherlock wasn’t sure whether he was starting to go crazy due to lack of sleep or if he had made a wrong deduction two weeks ago when he had still been in London. Either way he had to admit that he currently found himself in the middle of Osaka with seemingly no lead for his case and no hints as to where it all went wrong. Usually when he realised he’d made a mistake he was at least able to determine when or how it had happened, but in this case he was completely stumped. Everything had seemed like a logical chain of information until he had arrived in Japan two days earlier. At this point he might have to admit defeat and fly back home in order to start his investigation from the beginning. Not that he enjoyed this option in the least, but after two days of aimless wandering he might have no other choice.

“Hellooo.” The familiar voice suddenly came from behind and he turned as quickly as he could, only to look at the face of one very familiar consulting criminal.

“No.” This brought a lot of clarity to this frustrating case, only it wasn’t the kind of resolution Sherlock had been looking for.

“Aww, come on, don’t be mad…” Jim replied nonchalantly and did his best to look innocent although they both knew he was anything but. 

“Why? What was so important that you needed to distract me with a case that brought me all the way here ?!” It wouldn’t be the first time Jim threw a case his way to distract him from another, though usually the distraction was a real case at least and Sherlock would be able to solve it– unlike this one.

“It’s not about that!” The criminal grabbed his sleeve and impatiently dragged him to the next street corner. “There!” He nodded towards something across the street.

“A park.” Sherlock quickly tried to determine whether anything here could be a hint for his case after all, but at first glance it didn’t seem related at all. 

“You are sooo unobservant sometimes… The trees!” Jim was almost looking at him with accusation now. Sherlock turned back to the park across the street and caught a glimpse of the pink blossoms the criminal must have been referring to.

“Cherry blossom trees.” He still couldn’t quite see how this was relevant. From what he knew those trees were quite common in Japan.

“Yes. Come one.” The criminal tugged on his sleeve again and directed them across the street and into the park where it quickly became clear that there were more than just the couple of trees that Sherlock had spotted from across the street. Jim let go of his sleeve after a while and linked their arms instead as they slowed down to a languid pace. 

“Sooo…” Sherlock started after a while, still unsure what exactly they were doing here. It was quite like Jim to suddenly show up with some new idea as to what they could do to keep boredom at bay, but flying halfway across the world was new. Sherlock would not have bat an eyelash if the criminal showed up at his bedside with a board game in the middle of the night and he was quite used to chasing people across London in order to find a location that would turn out to be a spot with a nice view over the city where they could have dinner. 

“Sit. Look.” Jim commanded as he pulled Sherlock down onto a bench with him. Not wanting to actually look like an unobservant idiot, he leaned back and took a moment to observe his surroundings. It seemed quite clear by now that this wasn’t about some case. People were casually strolling along the paths, a few children were chasing each other somewhere further back and a lot of people seemed to be taking pictures. Pictures of the trees.

“You brought me here for the cherry blossoms.” He wasn’t even sure whether he should be upset about the ridiculous eccentricism of setting up a rather complex art-smuggling case only to trick him into travelling all this way or delighted at the way Jim had managed to surprise him.

“London is depressing at this time of the year.” Jim simply stated while enjoying their view.

“That’s why we’re here?” 

“Yes. I figured you should see this.” 

Sherlock’s lips curled into an involuntary smile. It was so typical of Jim to organise some sort of elaborate scheme for a relatively mundane outcome. At some point Sherlock had followed a trail of clues through London for two days only to end up at a restaurant that Jim had booked for a quiet dinner. It irked him that he hadn’t gotten suspicious about his case though, even if he didn’t mind the trip itself.

“They are aesthetically pleasing.” He remarked in an attempt to show Jim that he did appreciate the view.

“They don’t stay like this for long, perhaps two weeks. They’re a reminder of how fleetful life can be. Some people say they symbolise both life and death. Beauty and violence.” Jim mused without looking away from the trees.

“Getting rather poetic, are you about to propose to me?” Sherlock asked jokingly.

“Huh, well there’s a thought.” Jim’s lips turned into a cheeky smile at the idea.

“That wasn’t a suggestion.” 

“Oh, but do go on, would you like to be proposed to right here? Good setting for it, hm?” Jim continued to taunt.

“I think it’s a good setting for you to be quiet.”

“You want to kiss me so badly.” The criminal finally turned his head and looked at Sherlock with a self-satisfied look on his face.

“Quiet is when you stop speaking.” He added as if Jim needed the clarification. Kissing did sound quite nice, especially since he knew how relaxing it would be to melt into Jim’s arms after weeks of working on this pointless case. 

“Sooooo badly…” Jim leaned his head to the side and smirked at him, making it rather difficult for Sherlock not to give in and lean forward.

“I don’t think that would be appropriate here.” 

“Oh, so we’re moving from denial to excuses, I see…” Jim shrugged and looked back towards the trees again. “Don’t worry, I did book a nice hotel suite with a view for us as well. No cherry blossoms, but the city skyline isn’t too bad.”

Sherlock could only imagine what kind of room Jim would have booked for the occasion of a date this time around. Although the criminal had never openly admitted it, he clearly always made an effort to get nothing less than the most luxurious suites for their meetings. Sherlock had been treated to all kinds of soft towels, king size beds, panorama views of London and delicious room service meals. 

“Looking forward to it.” He gently nudged the criminal with his elbow. 

“And about the case… I will get you one once we’re back home. A real one this time.” Jim’s sheepish smile reminded Sherlock that he had initially been angry about finding out that his whole investigation had been nothing but a setup. Unfortunately he couldn’t really stay mad for long when Jim looked at him like that.

Later that night when Sherlock found himself wrapped in a soft hotel bathrobe, he could barely remember the case he’d been working on just earlier that day. It was quite difficult to feel frustrated about the time he’d wasted within the past weeks when he was leaning against Jim and having his neck kissed between little bites of lava cake. 

“I didn’t miss anything, did I?” He asked after hours of being treated as if it was his birthday.

“You? Unlikely.” Jim rested his chin on Sherlock’s shoulder and tightened his arms around him.

“You’re indulging me. Why?” 

“I’m indulging myself, actually.” The criminal seemed to find the slightly suspicious questions rather amusing. “I’m in a fancy hotel room with a great view, delicious food and a handsome consulting detective. I’d say I’m having the time of my life here.”

Sherlock possibly could have come up with a clever comment, but he wasn’t planning to start an argument about this. If Jim’s idea of heaven happened to coincide with Sherlock’s then so be it. 

“So what’s the next step?” He asked before popping a strawberry into his mouth. Behind him, Jim hummed before pushing a hand underneath the collar of Sherlock’s bathrobe and letting it glide across his chest. 

“Weeeell, the night is young so we shall see. But I’m not planning to get dressed or leave this room.” Jim slowly started to lean back, pulling Sherlock along with him until they were both on their backs. They stayed like that for a moment, staring at the ceiling and stretching their backs while absentmindedly letting their hands wander across each other’s skin.

“Cherry blossoms, hm?” It seemed to Sherlock that the past weeks had been nothing but a ploy for Jim to get him completely alone for a few nights. Even if Lestrade happened to call him about an interesting case now, there was no way for him to immediately jump out of bed and get back to London. There were also no flatmates or landladies at the hotel, so it was truly a perfect evening for Jim who had a tendency to roll his eyes whenever someone distracted Sherlock during their meetings in London.

“I do think they’re pretty.” The criminal shrugged. “They smell nice too.”

“So all of this because they’re pretty?” Sherlock lifted an eyebrow and Jim turned his head to look at him. There was a little smile on the criminal’s lips.

“Hmm, it might not have been the only reason. Though to be fair, I think there’s nothing wrong with luring you halfway across the planet only to show you something pretty.” Jim’s lips moved against Sherlock’s jaw and every objective argument that had come to his mind was quickly gone again. As much as he enjoyed the sometimes hectic pace of his work, there was no denying that a quiet night with Jim had its perks.

Chapter Text

Jim realised his career as a consulting criminal would be over within seconds if anyone saw him like this. For almost two hours he’d been walking around deserted paths in the woods and along narrow lanes between fields with Sherlock, who seemed to have a never ending supply of stories about how he spent his time after school during his childhood. Meanwhile Jim had done little apart from walking along, smiling like an idiot and asking a question here and there. The whole trip to the detective’s childhood home had been a bit of a questionable idea if Jim was being honest with himself. It wasn’t as if they were married, he had no business staying in Sherlock’s parents’ house. But he did. The parents weren’t home of course, that would have been stretching things too far. Jim simply hadn’t been able to resist the offer of being shown around when Sherlock had offered. He had been aware of Sherlock’s existence when they were children, but back then he hadn’t had the means to find out much about the boy who claimed there was something suspicious about the death of Carl Powers. The opportunity to be shown where Sherlock had sat while investigating that case was too tempting to say no to and so they had packed some clothes and driven to the detective’s childhood home while his parents were on holiday.

While their first day there had been dedicated to stories in and around the house, the second day was all about the surrounding neighbourhood, including the pond where Sherlock had enjoyed watching frogs when he was younger. Jim couldn’t say that he’d ever given amphibians all that much thought apart from the few poisonous variants that existed in other countries, but Sherlock’s explanation about what he had observed all those years ago was fascinating to listen to. Mostly because it was Sherlock and Jim’s obsession with the man had reached new heights at this point.

“Always wanted to bring a few home but my mother was against it. Don’t know why she was so adamant about it; I was going to keep them in an terrarium in my room. She would not have been involved with it at all. When I asked for a dog she said something about my father being allergic to dogs, but I doubt he had a frog allergy as well. Or snakes. Wasn’t allowed a snake either.” Sherlock went on as they carefully walked around the pond and Jim only smiled. It was ridiculous. Just a story about a young boy who desperately wanted to have a pet, but he couldn’t help but find it rather endearing. Sherlock who usually claimed to be all about logic. The man who referred to his brain as a hard drive; complaining about how his mother didn’t allow him to keep frogs in his bedroom.

“Used to sit under that tree a lot…” Sherlock pointed towards a large tree trunk not too far from a pond. Jim didn’t have a hard time picturing it. Still smiling, he took a few steps forward and gently pulled on the collar of the detective’s shirt until they were close enough to kiss. In London, Jim would not have indulged himself outside the safety of his flat, but he didn’t quite care whether some local dog walkers ended up catching a glimpse of them together. Sherlock was in his element here, remembering stories from his childhood and happily going into great detail about things that most people wouldn’t care about. To Jim it was all fascinating enough to make him want to pull the detective closer right where they were. It felt nice too, being outside for once and not having to worry about running into someone they knew. At least it was nice until he felt something wet on his face.

“What the–” He didn’t get a full sentence out before another droplet of water hit his cheek.

“Oh…” Sherlock said almost in defeat as he looked up into the sky which was visible through the treetops. The clouds looked darker than they had earlier in the day and the falling droplets that were starting to hit the ground around them were a painful reminder of the fact that they were quite a walk away from the house and had no umbrella or rain coats.

“Oh indeed…” Jim agreed while squinting towards the sky. There was no way they would get home dry unless it stopped raining within seconds and by the looks of it that was not going to happen. “Oh well.” He shrugged and leaned back in for the kiss that had been so rudely interrupted. If they were going to get drenched anyway there was no reason to hurry and Sherlock Holmes still looked very kissable. 

By the time they started making their way back, any hope of staying dry was long lost. Sherlock’s shirt was clinging to his chest in the best way imaginable and Jim would have considered pushing him against a nearby tree and having his way with him if it weren’t for the fact that he was starting to feel rather cold now since his own clothes were also soaked in rain.

Being more familiar with the place than him, Sherlock had grabbed Jim’s hand and was leading him across paths and patches of grass in order to get back to the house as quickly as possible. Despite the discomfort that came with walking through the rain when it wasn’t very warm outside, Jim was still in a pretty good mood.

By the time they stumbled through the door of Sherlock’s childhood home, they were both giggling despite the fact that they were freezing and leaving puddles on the floor of the hallway with every step. Although Jim still thought of the detective as handsome, he had to admit that they both looked a bit like wet cats at this point. Behind him, Sherlock had started to pull his shirt off with a slightly disgusted look on his face.

“Should have expected that.” The detective contemplated as he dropped the shirt on the floor with a squelching sound.

“It’s England. You should always expect this…” Jim realised that it would have been easy enough to check the weather report earlier in the day and save themselves the trouble, but that was the issue with spending time together. Priorities shifted and things got overlooked. There could be an assassin hiding in the fireplace now and Jim probably wouldn’t notice because he was busy staring at Sherlock’s chest.

“Jim..?” 

“Hm?” 

“You should probably get out of these wet clothes.” Sherlock had already gotten rid of his shoes and socks at this point.

“You’re so clever, what a brilliant idea.” He fumbled with one of the shirt buttons for a few seconds. “Could you help me? I bet you know some clever tricks to make it go faster.” It took a lot of self control not to grin while saying that.

“Could rip it.” Sherlock replied dryly.

“ Noo , you wouldn’t…” Jim waited while the detective stepped closer and started unbuttoning his shirt. “See! Such a gentleman!” Now he was smiling. Hard not too when Sherlock was right there in front of him with an amused look on his face and barely any clothes on.

“All things considered, I think a hot bath might be the best idea now.” The detective suggested.

“ So clever…” He smiled as Sherlock rolled his eyes and leaned in for a kiss.

Chapter Text

Sherlock sighed as he laid in the grass with his eyes closed. Perhaps leaving the flat for one afternoon hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. It certainly was much nicer outside than it had been a few weeks ago. The ground was dry now and the sun was actually not covered by grey clouds for once, which had automatically resulted in higher temperature during the past couple of days. It had come as a bit of a surprise that Jim Moriarty, of all people, had been the one to drag him out of the house to appreciate the weather. Then again, when had Jim ever been predictable in the first place? The consulting criminal had led him to the park where they had found a somewhat secluded corner where they spread their jackets out in the shade of a tree. At first he had protested a bit and insisted that he couldn’t stay long because he had an experiment to get back to, but he didn’t really feel like hurrying back anymore. There was something nice about being outside and not working for once, although he knew he would get bored eventually. But the same was true for Jim and they would most certainly not lie in the grass for more than a few hours anyway, so there was no reason to complain. He just considered whether he might fall asleep at some point if he kept his eyes closer for long enough, when he felt something move his hair.

“Really?”

Jim leaned his head to the side and smirked as he placed the daisy in a particularly appealing looking curl of the detective’s hair.

“Yes.”

Shamelessly, Jim pulled his phone out and pointed it at him.

“Stop rolling your eyes, just close them and look pretty.”

Sherlock knew that arguing was pointless and that he might as well indulge the criminal.

“Is that why you wanted me to come here?”

He waited a few more seconds so Jim had enough time to take his picture, then opened his eyes again to look at him.

“No, I dragged you here to make sure you get some sunlight. But I do have an appreciation for the arts.”

“The art of taking a photograph with your phone camera?”

“I was referring to your face, not the picture.”

A little laugh escaped Sherlock’s lips as they curved upward.

“Right.”

“Oh, but I mean it!”

Jim crawled over him until he ended up sitting on the detective’s lap and lightly traced a finger along his cheekbone.

“I like looking at you.”

Sherlock was aware enough of his looks to know that people would often describe him as handsome and he was no stranger to being complimented either, but Jim looking straight at him while saying this was something else entirely. He only hoped that he wasn’t actually blushing, because the criminal would have never let him forget it if he did. 

“You’re not too bad yourself…”

They weren’t usually the type of people who would sit around holding hands and gushing about how much they liked each other, but it wasn’t a lie. Jim was good-looking and he might as well say that. Though he wasn’t necessarily going to admit that he found the criminal most appealing when he wasn’t all dressed up in one of his suits. He was handsome enough as Moriarty of course, but in Sherlock’s opinion there was something special about him when he was half asleep on the bed after taking a shower. No product in his hair and no acting, just Jim in one of Sherlock’s old hoodies, seconds away from drifting off to sleep.

“Mmmh are you flirting with me?”

The criminal was leaning dangerously close to Sherlock’s lips now and his grin wasn’t exactly instilling confidence either. Suddenly he was very aware of Jim’s position on his lap and instinctively placed his hands on the criminal's thighs. They didn’t stay there for long though since Jim wrapped his hands around Sherlock’s wrists and pinned them to the ground over his head without breaking eye contact.

“Jim. Very bad idea.”

“Oh but I was just starting to have fun.”

The criminal gave him a textbook version of a devilish smile.

“ Out here? ”

“Urgh, as if.”

Thankfully the teasing ended there and Jim let go of his wrists before anyone could take notice of their position.

“I’m not sharing the sight of you with half of London.”

Jim gestured towards the other park visitors who were sitting in the sun a bit further down the hill.

“Oh, is that your reason?”

The criminal graciously slid off his lap to sit next to him instead and quickly placed a kiss behind his right ear.

“My dear, if I compare you to a piece of art then I consider looking at you to be a privilege. I’m not about to share that with anyone.”

Sherlock hated how much he enjoyed being complimented by Jim. He was supposed to be too clever to be impressed by something as mundane as being called a piece of art. Still, every time Jim made it clear that he desired to be with him and appreciated him in different ways, Sherlock couldn’t help but feel flattered.

“Well, you don’t have to.”

He turned his head to the right to steal a proper kiss from the criminal and got rewarded with a gentle bite to his bottom lip. 

“Good.”

Jim smiled and leaned against him with their arms linked and his head against Sherlock’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, enjoying each other’s company as they looked over the lake and the people walking along its shore. Perhaps they should do this more often if the weather allowed it. If they brought some books to the park they could probably stay for a whole afternoon without getting bored. Sherlock knew it was time to leave when he could feel Jim take a deep breath next to him.

“Back to work?”

“Crime never sleeps.”

“I should get back to my ash.”

Jim smiled and kissed his cheek.

“Are you free tomorrow evening?”

Sherlock shrugged. He couldn’t be entirely sure that he wouldn’t have a case by then.

“Come to my place if you want. I could make you a flower crown and take some more pictures. This time without the clothes.”

Another kiss on his cheek and Jim got up in one smooth motion, picking his jacket up as he went.

Chapter Text

Jim leaned his head back to get a better look at the stars as long as they were still visible. It was barely 4 am, but soon the night would give way to yet another morning as the Sun would rise in the east. It was the shortest night of the year and they had gotten lucky with the weather too. While London was not known for its clear skies, there hadn’t been a cloud in sight tonight. If he didn’t know any better, he might jump to the conclusion that this too had been part of Sherlock’s plan.

After all, the detective had gone through quite a lot of trouble to plan this date. Not a word Jim would usually use for their meetings, but this time there was no denying it. Earlier in the night, he’d been led up the stairs of what seemed to be an office building with a serious lack of decent security systems. He hadn’t bothered to ask how Sherlock had gained access to the keys. They both had their methods of getting what they wanted and there was no need to exchange notes. Sitting on the roof with a nice view over their city would have been a good enough reason to climb up the stairs, but that hadn’t been all. There had been pillows and blankets placed near one side of the wall that surrounded the staircase. A wise decision as it turned out once they’d been up there for a while and had started feeling a bit chilly due to the cool wind. Though even the blankets weren’t near as impressive as the food Sherlock had provided for their date. An assortment of Jim’s favourites from all over the city; including dessert. 

“You definitely put in some effort this time…” Jim smiled, leaning his head to the left until it came to rest on the detective’s shoulder.

“It’s just food.”

“And a comfortable place with a great view.” The concept of dates had never sounded particularly appealing to him. People would often dress and behave in ways that didn’t reflect their personalities at all, only to impress someone else. Now he wasn’t so sure anymore. Perhaps sitting on a roof and watching the stars wasn’t exactly Sherlock’s priority, but it hadn’t come off as performative. As per usual, the detective had enjoyed Jim’s monologue about astronomy and asked a few questions here and there. 

“Bright thing over there?” The detective had pointed at the sky a few hours earlier.

“Venus. Which iiiis..?” He’d looked up at Sherlock with an expectant look on his face since any opportunity was good enough for him to test whether his lectures had finally stuck.

“Second planet from the Sun?”

“Mhm…” Apparently the detective had occasionally paid attention then.

“The first is Mercury.” 

“Now you’re just bragging.” 

“Well, it’s the longest day of the year. You’re into that kind of thing, aren’t you?” Sherlock was trying to play coy, but this definitely gave away that he’d put quite some thought into this. 

“We’re here to celebrate the summer solstice?” 

“Celebrate it, acknowledge it, whichever you want. It’s not raining so we might as well.” Under different circumstances Jim would agree, but this was Sherlock Holmes. They had both taken time out of their usually busy schedules to meet and sit on a rooftop for hours. Since it would be a sleepless night, the following day at work would be particularly unproductive– That was if Jim didn’t decide to cancel all his meetings in the first place. As dawn was nearing, the idea of a nap was starting to sound more appealing by the minute. At some point in the near future he might have to bite the bullet and suggest taking some time off and traveling somewhere together. It would go along with admitting that they did actually enjoy each other’s company, but it would also allow them to stare at the sky all night long without jeopardising their work the next day.

“What would you say is more interesting about this? That it’s the longest day of the year or the shortest night?” Sherlock asked after a while.

“I’m more interested in the shortest night.” The concept of an exceptionally long day did not sound all that appealing at the moment. Perhaps if they had decided to go on a trip and they’d spend all day near a beach and reading books until the sun set close to 11 pm.

“What about winter? The shortest day of the year and the longest night.” 

Jim buried his face in the detective’s shirt for a moment. The blankets were doing a decent job in keeping him warm, but his face felt rather cold.

“Honestly? Fuck winter. It’s not like we get much sunshine here anyway.”

“And is that your professional opinion as a scientist?” He could hear the smile in Sherlock’s voice and shoved him.

“I’m not really a scientist. And yes, it’s my professional opinion that London turns into depression-city once summer is over.”

“You just don’t like the cold.” Sherlock had the decency to pull him closer for warmth at least.

“No, I don’t. Do you?” He’d always assumed he and Sherlock were alike. If it turned out the detective was into the idea of ice baths and skiing, the idea of a trip might be off the table after all. 

“I don’t mind it that much. I have a good coat.” Once again, an audible smile.

“I’m going to steal your damn coat next winter.”

“To see if it can keep you warm or to piss me off? Nevermind, I know which it is.” Sherlock leaned over and pushed him down until his back hit the pillows. 

“Exactly… Though to be fair…” He got slightly distracted by the detective’s lips on his neck. “This sort of works…”

“Hm…” Sherlock looked up at him. “So all I have to do is stay on top of you all winter long?”

“Yes, that sounds like a decent plan.” He grinned at the thought of Sherlock having to cancel all other commitments because he was being used as a human blanket for months.

Perhaps dates weren’t as bad as he’d always thought. 

Chapter Text

“Don’t touch me; too hot.” Jim grumbled from where he was sprawled out on the left side of the bed. Unfortunately for Sherlock and everyone else in the city, Jim was right. Too hot. It had been the detective’s first thought when he’d woken up that morning, but he’d still been hopeful then. One cold shower later he’d felt much better and got dressed to investigate a crime scene in the south of the city despite the lack of call from Lestrade– they’d need him on the case sooner or later anyway. The second he’d stepped outside of the building that thought had been back though. Not a single cloud in the sky, no wind, cars driving past and people trying to stand in what little shade there was in front of Speedy’s as they waited for the bus. The thermometer on the wall of the sandwich shop showed 35 degrees celsius, but considering how it felt it may as well have been 50. 

The crime scene had been less than pleasant to say the least. A body had been found in the parking lot of an abandoned building and he knew it had been there for a while the moment he stepped out of the cab. The way it looked was one thing– Sherlock didn’t really mind how fresh they looked– but the smell had been horrible. Anderson had been there as well, so leaving hadn’t been an option. By the time the detective was done at the scene he’d wanted nothing more than for the day to end, preferably with a nice thunderstorm and some fresh air.

“You’re not too bad either.” Sherlock responded from his spot on the right side of the bed. There hadn’t been a thunderstorm and there was most definitely no fresh air. Despite the late hour it was still so hot outside that they’d decided to keep the windows closed and turn on the fan in the hope it would do something . Still, he got to spend the night with Jim and that was better than nothing. The criminal groaned and shifted in his spot for the first time in ten minutes. Sherlock could feel the mattress move before a hand touched his shoulder and pulled on the sleeve of his t-shirt.

“Maybe touch me a little bit…”

“I thought you said it was too hot.” He could already feel Jim’s knee edging closer, it was only a matter of time until their legs would be intertwined. 

“It iiiis. Disgustingly hot. But it’s not as if I can sleep like this.” Sherlock opened his eyes to look around them. They’d pushed the sheets to the bottom of the mattress in an attempt to cool off and Jim wasn’t even using a pillow to rest his head on. For some reason Sherlock had bothered to put on the t-shirt and silk trousers that he usually slept in while Jim had barely managed to take his clothes off before collapsing on the bed in nothing but his underwear. The fan was humming in the corner of the room, spinning left to right, then back again, making him feel nice and cool whenever the stream of air hit the bed only to leave him feeling even hotter when it moved on.

“What do you want then?”

“ You. Same as every other day of the week.” Sherlock let out a bemused sigh. Despite all their games and conversations during which words were chosen very carefully, Jim could be quite blunt sometimes. While he was aware that some people may have said the same about him, the detective had a tendency to hold back a bit when he was with Jim. Hearing that the criminal wanted him every day of the week made him feel scared and excited at the same time. He could have listened to Jim saying ‘ I want you ’ all day long without getting tired of it, but at the same time it sounded a bit too good to be true. Things were rarely that easy and whenever he started musing about this he came to the conclusion that it wasn’t easy. If they actually sat down to talk about how they wanted to be together every day, they’d have to discuss work, logistics, John . Meeting Jim once or twice a week was fun without commitment, no need to wonder how his friends would feel about it if they knew.

“Not to be rude, but I don’t think that’s going to happen tonight.”

“Don’t be boring. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” He could feel Jim’s lips against his bicep, placing a soft kiss against his skin. Sherlock looked at the man who was cuddled up against his side in the 30 degree heat and sighed. He was hopelessly in love with Jim Moriarty, no doubt about it. There might not be a way to scientifically prove it, but regardless of how much he tried to think about it or not, he always came back to the same conclusion. He rolled himself to the left so he could wrap an arm around the criminal and pull him closer. The soft kisses were being pressed to the front of his neck now and if the world were to be hit by a giant meteor within the next few seconds he would die a happy man. 

“Jim?”

“Mmmh?”

“We could drag the fan closer. Point it right at the bed.”

“High likelihood of causing a sore throat.” Sherlock let his hand ghost over the criminal’s skin along his spine. If Jim was his enemy, then why did their bodies fit together so flawlessly?

“Yes… Probably…” He shifted in his position until they were face to face and he could press a soft kiss against Jim’s lips, making sure to carefully bite his lower lip before pulling back. 

“Oh whatever, wouldn’t be the first time I end up with a sore throat after spending the night with you.” Jim treated him with another kiss before slowly dragging himself out of bed and walking across the room. Sherlock was generally more interested in people’s intellectual abilities, but he had to admit that watching Jim walk away had its appeal. He enjoyed the view as the criminal pulled the fan closer with a dramatic sigh and pushed some buttons on the remote to stop the oscillation mode. A wave of cool air hit him when the fan was pointed directly at the bed. It was an illusion of fresh air since the room around them would remain stiflingly hot for days, but it would have to do for now.

Jim crawled back into bed and into his arms, seemingly content with the temporary solution. The only sound he could hear was the continuous buzzing of the fan that reminded him of the high likelihood that he would wake up feeling a bit sick, but he didn’t care enough to move out of the stream of cold air. He had Jim resting against his side, lazily kissing him as they slowly drifted off to sleep and that was all he really wanted.

Chapter Text

Jim took a deep breath and sighed in relief as he felt the cool air fill his lungs. As much as he hated being cold during the winter months, summer wasn’t all that great either. Weeks of stifling heat, shirts sticking to his skin and every breath feeling as if he was about to suffocate– he’d been tired of it after two days. This week all the news outlets had finally announced that there would be a big thunderstorm and people should make sure to stay home if possible since there would be severe gusts of wind. Jim didn’t really care about falling trees or damaged patio covers.

“This… Is actually really nice.” He smiled as he heard the detective speak up after an extended period of silence. They’d met up at one of Jim’s safe houses earlier in the evening. When Sherlock had arrived with two bags; one containing their dinner and one filled with ice cream from a local shop– it had still been extremely hot outside. Dinner had been served in the kitchen in front of a large fan, but neither of them had had much of an appetite. Jim teased Sherlock about a case he still hadn’t solved after three weeks and they’d had a discussion about the use of cyanide in crime fiction. It had been a rather slow evening overall. Only then there had been a loud noise coming from the blinds outside Jim’s windows. A clear sign of strong wind. Sherlock’s eyes had found his in a matter of seconds and they’d smiled at each other before gathering their things and making their way upstairs. By the time the detective placed the ice cream on one of the bedside tables, Jim had already opened the window. The first raindrops were hitting the tiles of the concrete below and the cool wind was blowing into the room.

A few minutes later, they were comfortably sitting next to each other on the bed, leaning against the headboard and eating the ice cream Sherlock had brought with him.

“It is.” His voice was quiet and soft. It didn’t feel right to speak up when they were sitting in a dark room and it was past midnight. Turning a light on would only lead to attracting a bunch of mosquitoes and Jim felt as if the effect of the rain and the distant thunder was better enjoyed in the dark anyway. He leaned his head against Sherlock’s shoulder after helping himself to a large spoonful of stracciatella. The sound of crashing thunder broke the silence yet again.

“Sure sounds like the end of the world.” The detective remarked casually.

“Mmh, can you imagine?” He realised he sounded a bit more excited by the idea than he probably should.

“How do you think it would happen? Big meteorite?”

“I’d love that. Watching it get closer, knowing there’s absolutely nobody who can do anything about it…” He could have told Sherlock that this scenario was close to impossible; at least during their lifetime, but as much as he liked arguing with the detective, now wasn’t the right time for it. If the world was about to end, he couldn’t imagine a better place to be for it.

“Bit sad, I suppose. Everything ending.” Sherlock didn’t seem to find the thought depressing enough to stop him from enjoying a spoonful of chocolate ice cream.

“Eh. Not like you can miss it or have regrets once you’re dead.”

“No, but since we’re not dead yet… Would be a shame to end it already.” Jim leaned his head back so he could get a better look at the detective’s face.

“What, you mean this?” He gently pressed his lips against the exposed skin above the shirt collar. Sherlock responded with a low hum and Jim was yet again taken aback by how quickly he could lose his mind when it came to the detective. A few minutes ago he had felt rather tired after weeks of excruciating heat and a long day at work. He’d really invited Sherlock to dinner out of habit more than anything else, but now it occurred to him that he would really like a bit more than sitting next to each other and eating dessert. Nothing was ever enough with Sherlock. A quick kiss on the cheek could be a long kiss on the lips. And one kiss could be two. And why should Jim leave after an hour if he could spend the whole night in Sherlock's bed?

“You might have a point. Five minutes left to live wouldn't be enough…”

“Greedy?”

“Maybe a little…” He continued with his gentle assault on Sherlock’s neck. The fresh air finally made physical contact bearable again. Not being able to lie in bed and hug without overheating after half a minute had been one of the most annoying aspects of summer this year.

“Neglecting your ice cream in favour of this? I’ll take that as a compliment.” Jim smiled against the detective’s skin before pulling back a little.

“As you should.” He watched as the corner of Sherlock’s mouth pulled into a little smirk and the detective treated himself to another spoon of ice cream. Jim prided himself on his ability to stay calm and collected even when someone pointed their loaded gun right at him, but in moments like this he could feel himself getting a bit nervous. Sherlock was downright gorgeous and a delight to be around. As long as they met for some hurried kissing and grinding, Jim could pretend that that’s just what it was. A handsome guy to have fun with and someone he could tease about work while they were already at it. Except lately things had started to change and a lot of their meetings were the scary kind where they just talked for hours or fell asleep together without ripping each other’s clothes off first. The worst part was that he liked it. Especially right now when Sherlock put his empty cup to the side and slid an arm around Jim. Curling up in the consulting detective’s arms did wonders for his mood.

Chapter Text

“Are you going to be glued to that thing all week or is there any chance I’ll get you to join me in the pool?” Sherlock looked up when he heard the consulting criminal’s voice. He hadn’t even noticed Jim approaching him, but that wasn’t really surprising. The book on beekeeping he had found in the sizable library of the house they’d rented was awfully fascinating and he hadn’t been able to put it down all morning. Meanwhile Jim had spent his time lounging on an inflatable doughnut in the pool.

“I’ll finish it eventually…” He watched as Jim stepped closer to him and didn’t protest when the criminal carefully removed the book from his hands and placed it on the table.

“You know…” Jim took another step forward until Sherlock’s knees were between his. “I thought going on a trip together was code for staying in bed all week.” The criminal slowly lowered himself until he was properly seated on Sherlock’s lap.

“I was under the impression that that sort of holiday is called a honeymoon and traditionally takes place after a wedding.” He lifted an eyebrow, still holding eye contact with Jim.

“Ah of course. And since we care so much about tradition you thought I couldn’t possibly fly you out to France for something as disreputable as sex before marriage.” The criminal rolled his eyes in the most dramatic way.

“I’m afraid that ship has sailed quite some time ago. But fine, you want my undivided attention?” He placed his hands on Jim’s hips as a way to tell him that he wasn’t so committed to the book that he couldn’t take a break from reading.

“Uhm, yes. I always want that. Haven’t you noticed my tendency to cause an explosion or two every time you don’t give me enough attention?” The criminal bit his lip in a successful attempt to look appealing.

“So that’s what that was all about then. A cry for attention.” He slowly slid his hands over the sides of Jim’s waist and towards his back.

“Cry? More like a boom, don’t you think?” The criminal moved his hips subtly enough that anyone else may have believed he hadn’t done it on purpose, but Sherlock knew him better than that.

“Alright, you have my attention. Did you have anything in mind for this trip apart from the obvious?” He traced Jim’s spine with one finger. The lack of shirt only made the criminal more receptive to the familiar touch.

“Mmh, nothing wrong with the obvious, darling.” Jim leaned forward until their lips met and gently moved against each other. They’d gotten so familiar with each other that they no longer had to put a single thought into these kinds of interaction. Jim carefully scraped his teeth over Sherlock’s bottom lip and the detective quickly retorted by pushing his tongue forward. It had been quite sensible of Jim to rent a house with no direct neighbours.

Although he couldn't quite complain about his current position, there was one intrusive thought that Sherlock couldn't quite shake off.

“I think there are more comfortable places than this chair…” He waited long enough for Jim to smile at him before he quickly pushed himself up, lifting Jim along with him. A little squeal gave him the satisfying confirmation that he'd managed to surprise his favourite criminal. Carrying an adult man wasn't exactly easy work, but Sherlock managed to hold on to Jim while taking a few steps forward. For a second he almost felt bad when he realised how much the criminal was enjoying himself, but he wasn't going to change his mind. He took another step, heard a loud screech and a second later he was submerged in the cool water of the swimming pool, Jim still in his arms.

“You're a fucking traitor!” Was the first thing he heard once he emerged.

“You did want me to join you…” Sherlock knew very well that Jim had been spending his days on a variety of pool floats rather than actually getting into the water. “Besides, I figured you could use some cooling off.”

“Me?! I sat on your lap just now you fucking– Don't you dare!” Jim screamed when Sherlock slowly approached him.

“No hug?” He grinned.

“You want to drown me, that's been you evil, dark plan all along!” Jim quickly lunged towards his floating doughnut in an attempt to get himself to safety.

“Yes, I kissed your neck during the movie last night because I want to drown you.” He managed to get a hold of Jim despite the escape attempt and quickly pulled him closer.

“You're so mean…” The complaint didn't stop Jim from wrapping his legs around Sherlock's waist and holding on to him.

“If I was, I would drop you." He made a point to squeeze Jim's thighs.

“You literally just did! Dropped me in a pool of freezing water so I die from a heart attack!” Anyone else may have thought that Jim was genuinely upset, but Sherlock knew this was just him flirting.

“Didn't drop you technically. I jumped in while holding you. And it's not that cold.”

“Its disgusting. You are–” Jim stopped mid-sentence and bit his lip while looking at him. “Well fine. You're not disgusting…”

Sherlock hummed in acknowledgement.

“Either way. You wanted my attention and now you have it.”

“Yes… And now that I’m starting to think about it, it is important to warm up after a dip in a cold pool, right?” The look in Jim’s eyes could only mean one thing.

“Hot shower?”

“Shower, bath… Hot chocolate in front of the fireplace…”

“It’s over 20°C out here and we have fruit salad in the fridge.” Technically this was their summer holiday. they hadn’t been able to travel in the middle of summer since Jim had been busy with some sort of work that Sherlock hadn’t dared to ask about.

“Live a little. Break the rules. Actually it’s not even a rule that you can’t have hot chocolate when it’s warm outside.” It was the kind of argument that Sherlock wouldn’t be able to win even if he tried.

“I concede. You get your hot chocolate, your fruit salad and everything else you might want which will probably include some time spent in the whirlpool.” For that, Sherlock got rewarded with a big kiss.

“I love when you know I’m right.” Jim smiled and kissed him again.

Chapter Text

“Maybe we should have stayed in bed…” Jim mumbled as yet another gust of wind hit his face. It wasn’t usually like him to admit that he’d been wrong about something, but by now he was seriously questioning why he hadn’t listened to Sherlock. The consulting detective had been clinging to him just hours ago, pulling him close under the crisp white sheets and mumbling something about how they could order room service for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Unfortunately Jim had insisted on going out because “It’s Paris!” and “There’s so much to look at! We can stay in bed when we’re back home!”. Only he hadn’t really checked his weather app.

Although the sun was shining and everything looked quite nice, Jim felt like a walking icicle. The wind only made it worse.

“But there’s so much to look at! There, the Eiffel Tower!” Sherlock pointed at the rusty old tower in the distance as if he was mesmerised by it. Jim knew this was punishment for denying him his day in bed.

“Yes, we’ve seen it twice already. Maybe we can go back now.” He looked to Sherlock who studied him for a few seconds.

“Seriously? We did come here to look at the city, you had a point there.”

“I know, but when I booked the flight I still thought it would be an agreeable 20 degrees.”

“It said 18, not 20. And it’s 15 now.”

“I don’t care for your logic right now. I’m cold and miserable.” The wind gust only proved his point as it messed up Sherlock’s hair.

“Fine Mr Problem-Solver. Let me fix that for you!” Sherlock took his hand and carefully led him along the street and into a small shop. A quick look around revealed that they were in some sort of café which also sold books. He watched on as Sherlock stepped up to the counter and ordered “deux chocolats chauds s'il vous plaît” and although Jim was still cold he couldn’t help but admit that French had never sounded better. Two young women at a nearby table actually had the audacity to openly stare at Sherlock in the hopes that he would notice them and spontaneously decide to join them for a drink and a chat. Jim took great delight in joining Sherlock at the counter and kissing his cheek. Nothing like crashing someone’s dreams on a casual Tuesday afternoon. Besides, the smell of chocolate was starting to fill the room and Jim’s mood was rapidly improving.

“Hope this helps.” Sherlock handed him one of the cups.

“Hot detective giving me an equally hot and sweet beverage? I’d say that helps a lot.” He smirked and leaned in when he felt Sherlock’s arm around his waist. The women at the table had turned back to their own drinks by now.

They had barely stepped outside when another gust of cold wind reminded Jim of why he’d been complaining in the first place. The hot chocolate would help at least.

“Wait!” When he turned around he could see that Sherlock hadn’t stepped away from the café and had placed his cup on one of the empty tables on the pavement. It wasn’t surprising that none of them were occupied today. “Here, take this.”

Sherlock shrugged out of his coat and swiftly draped it over Jim’s shoulders, seemingly unbothered by the fact that this left him with nothing but a shirt and a suit jacket to protect him from the cold. The inside of the coat still felt warm and Jim smiled at the detective.

“You’re such a gentleman sometimes…”

“I know what you’re into. It’s not that difficult.” It almost sounded as matter-of-factly as one of Sherlock’s usual deductions. “And for some reason I like when you’re in a good mood?”

“You like pleasing me?” Jim grinned.

“I didn’t say that.” Sherlock grabbed his cup and they slowly started to continue their walk through the city.

“You don’t need to say it. I’m observant too, you know.” He took a sip from his cup and was delighted to taste what might have been the most delicious hot chocolate he’d ever had in his life.

“You think you’re observant? And what makes you think I want to please you?”

“You’re not serious, right? I mean apart from the drink and the fact that you let me wear your dramatic coat there’s still an endless list.” Sherlock gave no indication that he either agreed or disagreed with that statement. “The way people always say you’re some sort of heartless, selfish arsehole who doesn’t care about anyone else’s needs? But then you get up in the morning and make me a cup of coffee as if it’s always been that way. You text me when you don’t really have to, you make sure I’m comfortable, let me wear your clothes and sit through movies you don’t particularly care about…” He looked over to see if Sherlock was perhaps blushing after receiving the breakdown of all the sweet things he did for Jim.

“That obvious?”

“Oh yes! And that was just a few vague examples.” In all fairness, Sherlock could sit around Jim’s flat with a book all afternoon and Jim would probably still find a reason to call it a sweet gesture.

“I suppose it’s fair to say I take no enjoyment in making you feel truly miserable.” Sherlock admitted before taking a sip from his cup. “Just mildly miserable. Sometimes.”

“Oh I do hope so! After all, that’s half the fun. Mon amour.” He grinned into his cup as he leaned against Sherlock who was pulling a face about the pet name. The coat was doing a decent job at keeping him warm despite the wind so perhaps it wasn’t all that bad if they extended their walk for another hour or so. After that they could get back to the hotel and make sure to keep each other warm for the rest of the night and perhaps the next day Jim wouldn’t protest if Sherlock asked to stay in bed.