John struggled against the shackles that held him to the chair. They were the old fashioned kind, the ones that would break bones if you weren't careful. The doctor didn't care. This was the tenth time in two months that he had been kidnapped and he had had enough. After half an hour of scream, struggling and desperately trying to break free, a frustrated and still very much captured John Watson stopped moving all together. He was sat on a chair, bare footed for some unknown and probably sinister reason, without any chance of escape. He panted heavily but refrained from screaming in pain as the blood tricked down his hands from his torn wrists behind him. At least he knew one thing, this wasn't Mycroft's doing. Though the man was fond of kidnapping him, over three quarters of the times had been caused by him, he wouldn't get goons to force his brothers flatmate into a chair then bind him there. Which could only mean one thing. Sherlock had once again pissed someone off.

John glared at the wall. He would have glared at the door but it was conveniently behind him. He knew that form of torture well. They place you so you can't see people enter the room. This puts the captive completely at the mercy of their captor. Supposedly. John wanted to yell for his kidnappers to come in and face him but that would show his resolve weakening. And usually they did just the opposite. Besides, if he was lucky, Sherlock would find him before he even faced his captor. The door opened behind him and that idea slipped out of the none existent window extremely quickly.

Whoever had entered didn't make a sound apart from the footsteps behind him. John kept staring at wall. A hand was lightly placed on his shoulder and, though he couldn't stop the shiver ripple across his flesh, he somehow managed to stop himself from flinching. He waited in silence for the person behind him to say something. After a few moments he heard the voice which had given him nightmares for the past three months.

'I thought you knew better than to struggle against cuffs. Look at you, Pet, you've made such a mess off my nice clean floor.' John's blood ran cold in his veins as he fought his natural reaction to get as far away from the monster as possible.

'What's this? Are you not going to talk to me? And after I've taken the time out to see you and everything. I don't think you appreciate the effort this has taken.' Jim Moriarty said casually as he strolled round so they were face to face.

'What do you want, Moriarty?' The doctor seethed. Jim smiled.

'Ah, there we go. A question. And a structured question at that, Sherlock must have trained you well!' He answered. John scowled at him but bit his tongue to cut back the remark which would probably have put him a worse position than he was now. Jim stroked the doctors chin.

'You are a bit too quiet. I rather like my captors to scream and cry out. I also like them to have a sharp tongue, especially when I get to cut it out. You are altogether too reserved, sweetie.' He said, bending down so he was face to face with the ex army medic. John held his gaze and clenched his jaw but didn't say anything. Moriarty sighed dramatically.

'Johnny. JohnnyJohnnyJohnny. All I wanted is you to scream. If I can't make you this way, I'm sure I can think of another way.' John squirmed at the suggestive tones in his captors voice and Jim giggled. 'Ah-ha! I've got you now.' John pushed himself back into the chair as Moriarty sat on his knee, leaning against his good shoulder and began to trail patterns on the doctors chest.

'Well, I'll have to get you off this chair first. We'll go somewhere more comfortable, get you cleaned up a bit. Then the real fun will begin.' Jim Moriarty said, pawing the doctors hair.

'And what makes you think I'll let you?' John asked, deciding that at this stage it didn't matter if he broke his silence or not. The man/demon/thing chuckled darkly and fished a mobile out of his pocket. He clicked on to something using his free hand then held the screen up to the soldier.

'You won't refuse.' He said with an evil smile. 'Because you know who pays the price.' John gulped as he watched the screen. It was a live feed to some unknown cell and his flatmate was strapped up-much like himself-only with the added extra of five armed men with their weapons aimed squarely at his head.

'What was that?' Jim asked, tired of waiting. 'I didn't hear you.' The doctor steeled himself and looked at the consulting criminal.

'Let him go.' He said calmly, though his heart was racing. Moriarty raised an eyebrow, gesturing for him to continue. To say the words. John bit his tongue and clenched his jaw. His captor began to type something on the mobile and the doctor snapped.

'I'll do whatever you want just don't hurt him!' He cried out, struggling uselessly. Jim smiled and immediately stopped, tossing the phone behind him so that it smashed against the wall.

'That's what I wanted to hear.' He whispered, reaching behind and uncuffing the doctor. John wanted nothing more than to punch his Irish face into next week but even though he didn't have that phone he wasn't stupid. There was bound to be a camera, or twenty, in the cell watching his every move and he didn't need to give those trigger happy goons a reason to plant bullets in Sherlock's head.

'Oh Johnny Boy, I never realise how clever you actually are!' Jim said patronisingly. 'Well, I'm sure a big strong man like you would have no problem picking me up. I'll give you directions to our room.' Jim whispered in the soldiers ear, allowing the smile to spread as he felt the man tense beneath him.

'I'm sure you haven't lost the mobility in your legs in the last five minutes.' He almost snapped. Moriarty clicked his tongue and John immediately regretted it. He stood up, lifting the Irishman with him, and made his way to the door. The slab of metal opened automatically when he stood in front of it and he stepped through.

It looked as though he was being kept in catacombs. The corridors stretched as far as the eye could see. Jim directed John in the most patronising voice he could muster until they reached their destination. Again, the door was a thick slab of metal which opened by itself to allow the two men inside. John stepped through, a feeling of dread coursing his veins like a racetrack.

'You can put me down now.' Jim said with a smile. John set him on the floor carefully, gritting his teeth and locking away the thoughts of beating the psycho senseless. Moriarty took his Westwood jacket off and dropped it on the floor. His eyes stayed fixed on the doctor the entire time. John gulped as the consulting criminal took a step forward so they were almost touching.

'Hmm.' Jim said in a suddenly deeper voice. 'It seems to me that you are wearing altogether too many clothes.' He grabbed the woollen jumper and the shirt underneath and pulled them off in one swift movement. John hissed in pain as the fabric rubbed against his abused wrists and he fought to keep himself still. It was someone's life he was doing this for. Not just someone's life, Sherlock's life. Jim took a step back to admire the view.

Less than a second later, the soldier was surprised to find himself face up on the bed. The psycho had tackled him without a moments notice, catching him completely off guard. John struggled despite himself and Jim gave him an admonishing look.

'Now Johnny, what would Sherlock say?' He asked. 'Not a lot, I'd say twelve bullets in the brain is enough to silence anybody.' The doctor stilled instantly. 'That's better. Now lets get the rest of these… I suppose you'd call them clothes, off.' Jim said, slipping his hand under the material and trying to slide it down. He raised an eyebrow at his captive who compliantly raised his hips so the fabric would move down. Now completely naked, the cold chill finally seemed to get to the doctor and his skin erupted in Goosebumps. The consulting criminal chuckled again and ran his fingers across the bare skin.

'Oh dear, it seems that you're cold. We'll have to warm you up.' He said, raising a leg over so that he was now straddling the doctor.

Somewhere in John's mind, he was having a very big argument with himself.

Oh for fucks sake, just shag him already.

What? Are you fucking mental? He's a mass murdering psychopath!

And?

What do you mean, 'and?'!

Well, he's not bad looking, good sense of humour and God that accent.

Did you not hear what I just said? You know, the mass murdering part?

Well, nobody's perfect.

Nobody's per- I can't believe I'm having his argument.

Don't then. Just pretend he's some bloke you met at the pub. It's where you were going anyway.

Shut up. I don't go to the pub to get wasted and shag some stranger.

You keep telling yourself that.

I don't. And anyway, that isn't the point! This isn't just some bloke. This is Jim Moriarty!

I know, quite the catch, isn't he?

You're unbelievable.

And you're having an argument with yourself.

…

See, you don't have an answer. Come on, do you really think that if you follow that detective round for long enough he'll one day turn round and carry you to bed?

No…

Hmm… Well, you've got a genius-

-Evil mass murdering genius.

Fine, 'evil mass murdering' genius practically begging. And I bet he's good.

Ew.

Now stop that, you sound like a frigid seventeen year old girl.

Oh Fuck off.

Yes, I think you should.

That's not what I meant and you know it.

He's going to screw you anyway. You might as well enjoy it.

You are a menace.

I am. And you won't admit you want a certain consulting criminal to fuck you into oblivion.

…

And there we have it.

Fortunately for Jim, he could read every sentence from the soldiers face, and it really was quite a show. When John came back to reality, Moriarty was grinning maniacally. John blushed and cleared his throat.

'You don't have to tell me, Johnny Boy, I know your dark little secret. Hmm… I am going to enjoy this.' He purred, sliding up the doctors well toned body. John put his hands on the pressed shirt, on the top button and hesitated. Jim sighed.

'I hope you're not going to be this timid all the way through or I'm going to end up going with my original plan of flipping, fucking then stabbing you in the back as you orgasm.' He drawled. John froze for a second then undid the buttons in a flurry of movement, whether out of fear or arousal he wasn't sure. The pale flesh of his captor seemed to gleam enticingly as the light hit it. John looked at the belt buckle. If he opened it and Jim didn't want him to there would be blood. If he didn't open it and Jim wanted him to there would be a lot of blood. With his options weighed up, the soldier undid the buckle and slipped the belt off. Just as the belt left the fabric, Jim's hands snatched it, pulling it round the doctors wrists in one swift movement. He savoured the deer-caught-in-headlights look on the blonds face as he tightened the belt before attaching it to the bed, leaving his pet completely at his mercy. John whimpered softly and bit his tongue to stop any other sound escaping.

'How does it feel?' Jim asked, tantalisingly removing his trousers. 'To know that you are truly helpless?' The doctor moaned and thrust up slightly. 'How does it feel to be with me not your precious detective ' Moriarty lifted his captives legs over his shoulder. If the soldier thought he was going to be prepared beforehand he was gravely mistaken. Jim wanted his to hurt. 'How does it feel to know that you are powerless?' Then he thrusted forward hard, burying himself to the hilt. The doctors screams filled the room with an eerie echo, his eyes watering as he tried to hold back the sobs.

'Oh, did I hurt you?' Jim asked as though he were talking to a child. 'I am terribly sorry but this is going to hurt so much more.' Without waiting for a response he set a fast pace. The soldier didn't try to hold back his screams, he would have only bitten his tongue and filled his mouth with blood. The noise seemed to spur Moriarty on as he picked up speed again, losing his rhythm as his efforts became more and more desperate. Finally, he pushed himself over the edge, collapsing onto his captive.

John was in ecstasy, he felt awful with himself. This was so wrong. Jim pulled out slightly more softly than the doctor had anticipated. He gave a confused look to the Irishman who smiled and brought the covers up around them.

'I can be nice when I want to be.' Moriarty whispered, brushing away the doctors tears. 'Now you need some rest.' Jim wrapped himself around his willing captive, resting his head on the soldiers good shoulder, and allowed himself to fall into a state of rest. Listening to the steadying beat of the doctors heart was as close to content as the worlds-most-wanted-criminal had ever felt. As for the soldier, he decided that perhaps Jim Moriarty wasn't as bad as he seemed. And anyway, when he was with the madman he could keep an eye on him-as he had with Sherlock-maybe adding a few nudges in the right direction.

John woke up an unknown about of time later with the Irishman using his shoulder as a pillow. He stretched, trying not to wake the other man but Jim raised his head.

'Hello Johnny-Boy.' He said sleepily. From on the floor, Moriarty's phone beeped. He half growled, half moaned as he looked in the general direction of the device. The bed suddenly got colder as the doctor got out and retrieved his captors phone. Jim took his mobile and gave John a puzzled look before pulling him back into the bed to lean against him.

'I'm used to getting Sherlock's phone.' The doctor said with a laugh. Moriarty nodded, understanding, and began clicking the mobile buttons in an annoyed reply.

'Some people can't do anything right.' He growled. He suddenly realised that John's eyes were on him. He flicked his eyes to meet the doctors and raised an eyebrow. John answered the silent question.

'Will you let Sherlock go? I will stay but please let him go.' He said softly. Jim's face set hard. 'Please?' John whispered.

'You will stay?' Jim asked, thumbs skating the phone. 'No matter what?'

'Of course.'

Sherlock woke up from his nightmare, back at Baker Street. Alone in his bed. He ran into the living room and up to John's room. He breathed a sigh of relief as the body of John lay sleeping underneath the covers.

'Sherlock, what the hell do you think you're doing up here? Don't you know about a little thing called personal space?' John walked into the room behind him. The detective stood gob smacked.

'But if you're there than who's in your bed?' He asked. The bed covers slipped down as Moriarty sat up with a wolfish grin on his face.

'Shirley!' He exclaimed. 'Good morning.' John passed the Irishman a cup of tea which he sipped slowly.

'John. What the fuck is going on?' Sherlock asked his flatmate. The soldier looked at him harshly but the consulting criminal answered the question before the doctor could.

'We made an agreement that I would let you go if John stayed mine. Of course, I couldn't just keep him at mine and let you live your life without him. How would you cope without your blogger? Anyway, I've moved in. it was the best solution. I'm sure you understand the logic. Now go downstairs so me and Johnny-Boy can have some…heh, private time. There's a good lad.' Sherlock went downstairs, knowing that Moriarty didn't actually care if he was watching or not. Everything had been turned on its head, a mystery, and the detective couldn't say that he wasn't interested.

An hour later, Sherlock got a call to a crime scene. Jim smiled and got out of bed, getting dressed. The consulting detective glared at him.

'You are not coming with us.' He stated. Moriarty smiled.

'Why not? I think the Yard needs all the help it can get. And anyway, I don't want you jumping on my boy while my backs turned.' John sighed. He could tell this was going to end badly.

Lestrade grimaced as Sherlock entered the large room that was serving as the crime scene, smiled when John appeared behind him but quickly became confused as the doctor was followed by an unknown man with black hair.

'Sherlock.' He chided. 'What have I told you about bringing people to crime scenes. I allow you. John shouldn't be here yet I let it slide but I cannot allow you to keep adding another follower to the mix.' Sherlock glanced at him.

'I did not ask him to come. You can throw him out for me.' He answered before beckoning John. Jim scowled and pulled the doctor towards him. John laughed as the consulting criminals nuzzled his neck.

'Jim, stop it.' He gasped, pushing the other man away. The DI looked at him wide-eyed as realisation struck him. Moriarty smiled wickedly.

'You did that on purpose.' John mumbled which only caused the smiled to widen. Sherlock called the doctor again, clearly getting increasingly annoyed. The soldier put on his best stern face.

'Stay here. I don't want you anywhere near the body.' He ordered in a low voice. Jim giggled manically.

'Just because you don't want me to tell you who, how and why.' He said but stayed where he was, watching his John go to help the detective. Lestrade made his way over to the unknown man.

'So did Sherlock ruin the date?' He asked in jest. Jim smiled-God how stupid can the freaking police force be?-he turned to stare in the direction of the two men.

'No. I asked to come. I didn't want Shirley stealing my man while my back was turned.' He replied with the same joking tone. Lestrade's mouth made an 'O' and he walked to the body again.

Anderson entered the room as Sherlock was just finishing his deductions. He looked at the unknown man then turned his attention to the detective.

'I knew you like bloke freak, but I didn't know you needed a harem.' He sneered. John's blood boiled and he sent a right hook straight into the forensic detectives jaw, flooring him in less than a second. Anderson stared up in horror and the soldier towered over him, eyes glowing with a furied fire.

'Don't you ever speak to or about either of my geniuses again.' He hissed. Jim rested a hand on his shoulder.

'As much as I would love to see you grind this thing into dust, here's not the place. I will not have you arrested because then you wouldn't be with me for the brief amount of time that it would take for me to get you out again.' The criminal said loud enough for anyone in the room to hear. John clenched his hands.

'As much as I hate Jim, I have to agree with him. You can't help me if you're in a cell and you know how much I hate owing Mycroft.' Sherlock said. The doctor let out a steady breath, smiled at the two men, then cast a hard glare at the man on the floor.

'Get up.' He growled. 'And next time I won't be so lenient.' Anderson stared in a mixture of shock and horror. He remained silent until the three men passed the door, after which he managed to find his voice again.

'Assault.' He called. 'Threatening a police officer. He should be arrested. Why isn't he being arrested?'

Jim looked at his doctor and they laughed, Sherlock's own laugh soon adding to the music. After many minutes of jaw aching laughter, they finally managed to regain control of themselves.

'Oh my God, did you see his face?' Jim burst out, wiping the tears from his eyes.

'That was priceless.' the detective added. Sherlock and Moriarty suddenly realised that they had just agreed on something. They both looked vaguely stricken as John smile grew wider.

'Oh shut up.' The geniuses snapped at the same time. The doctor raised his hands up in mock surrender.

'I never said anything.' He replied. Jim pulled him in and attacked his mouth with his own, prising the rough lips apart and slipping his tongue inside. Sherlock waited patiently for the first thirty seconds. After a minute and a half his started tapping his foot in an annoyed fashion. When the timer in his head got to three minutes he coughed loudly, bringing the two men back into reality.

'Not the place.' He stated, hailing a cab.

John and Jim smiled at each other. The cab journey back was bound to be at least twenty minutes, taking into consideration the London traffic. That meant twenty minutes of a very annoyed Sherlock having to put up with a certain consulting criminal completely abusing the fact that he was in a relationship with a certain doctor. John smiled and wrapped his arms around the madman. As far as he was concerned, everything was finally looking up for him. A question suddenly appeared in his mind.

'Why did you kidnap me?' He asked. The criminal froze for a second-it was barely noticeable unless you happened to be hugging him.

'I don't have to answer that.' Moriarty answered. John sniggered.

'You didn't have a reason. You just thought Hmmm, now there's a sexy man and decided to take him. In was only afterwards you found out that I was Sherlock's flatmate and you kidnapped him so you'd have something to barter with.' The doctor said in jest-his Irish accent was absolutely terrible but that didn't stop him using it to mock the man further. Jim scowled.

'I always knew you were Shirley's flatmate.' He sniffed. Now it was John's turn to freeze.

'I was joking.' He said, pulling back to look in the other mans face. Moriarty beamed evilly and the doctor felt his knees go weak. He's got to be joking. He thought. He's having me on. The soldier tried to convince himself. I mean, who would kidnap someone just because they had a crush.

'Jim Moriarty.' Sherlock answered.

'I'm sorry, what?' John asked, he hadn't even realised that the detective was next to them again. They made their way to the cab.

'The answer to your question. The one you asked yourself. The answer is, rather obviously, Jim Moriarty.' The soldier let himself be dragged into the cab. Well damn. He thought to himself as the London city whizzed by outside. But, as strange and creepy as the thought of his partner snatching him off the street for no actual reason was, he just couldn't seem to find the will to care. After all, he had his geniuses flatmate and his geniuses boyfriend, what more could a guy want?

AN- I'm so sorry to those who actually read this. My mind is so disturbed...
As always, Please R&R.

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