[ Oh, and those fingers are tight. When Jim laughs this time, it hardly even surfaces, a strangled gasp combined with a dangerous smile. He hasn't even touched Sherlock yet, hasn't even bothered to try to stop him. ]
"If you get in my way." [ He sneers, rolling his eyes as if the answer is obvious. Sherlock, you're disappointing him. Sherlock, you should never, ever, dwindle to a disappointment. ] But you didn't get in my way, did you?
[ It's for the first time that Jim does move - he leans in, specifically, his hands grabbing desperately for Sherlock's arm and pressing it deeper into the concave of his throat, and with a sharp inhale, he manages to rebut. ] I got into yours.
[His grip is tightened by Jim's hold, and for a moment he doesn't bother to lighten it, he just hangs there, hands locked around his throat. He's feeling him struggle to breathe, feeling his pulse quickening and all it would take was a particularly strong grip to feel it all come to an end, but he loosens his suddenly, pulling back and breaking Jim's hold on him.
And he smiles. It's not a broken one, or an unhinged one, it's a simple, small smile that's real and it helps him pull in a steadying breath.]
[ Why is he stopping? Withdrawing? Why was he pulling away? Jim's eyes widen at the feel of Sherlock's hand loosening from around his throat, the other man's arms jerking free of his own hold. To be fair, Jim's hands fell a bit slack at the sensation. He wasn't expecting such a snap change. ]
[ His lips curl into a carefully sculpted snarl, his eyes flashing with a bit of anger at the mention. You can't bring that up. ] That sad little bulldog of a tag along. [ His voice is acid, his gaze the same. Something about John Watson certainly turns Jim for a loop. The egg he couldn't crack that, by all means, he should have done in spades. ]
However you invest so much stock into that thing is beyond me - and here I thought you wouldn't dare to keep such dim company!
[Anyone in their right mind would be shocked at the sudden change, with that snarl and that absolute hatred etched into the very lines of his face; all Sherlock can do is laugh.
And he's laughing at James, not with him, not even slightly.]
He can't be that dim, now, can he? He's seen through you. He's seen through all of it.
[ He couldn't laugh at him. Nobody laughed at Jim Moriarty. Perhaps not without their fingernails kindly liberated with a pair of needlenose pliers. ]
[ But this can't register on an emotional level. It can't. He doesn't even take a breath as he carefully attempts to settle his moods. ]
ONE MAN!
[ It's not working so well. He barks out the words, impatience and spitfire. ] ONE MAN versus the wealth of a nation, no, oh, NO. Sherlock Holmes' teeny pet? Come to save the day? This is your one last hope?
[ His anger transforms his smile into an entire other beast. ] Assuming he'll speak to you once he sees the dead man.
[It can't register on an emotional level and yet here he is, lashing out with rage absolutely flowing through him - Sherlock feels like he's more in control now, leaning towards him without the threat of violence taking him over.]
That's all it takes. One man.
[His smile doesn't falter, not even with the idea that John won't speak to him once he realises. He's already thought of that.
He thinks he will. He tilts his head thoughtfully, throwing his hands into his pockets as he takes half a step towards him.]
If I have one last hope, then the man you couldn't break is certainly a good bet.
[ How simple it would be to reach out just now, to kill Sherlock Holmes in more ways than he could possibly begin to imagine. Brain damage, crushed larynxes, and punctured lungs. Oh, my. There's a flutter of his eyes as he imagines his fingers pressing tight into that throat, but not strangling him, no, his thumb nails dig under that skin until he can pry out a carotid artery, and he laughs and laughs as his blood paints the walls. ]
[ It's fun, but only for a moment, and what's the fun of fun that's only for a moment? No, he doesn't want to kill Sherlock. Not really. He wants to watch on as he kills himself. ]
[ Jim's mouth cocks into a slow and careful smile - it's less amused than he'd like it to look, and far more predatory. ] No. No, no, I may not have destroyed your little pet. [ His head rolls, his neck pops, because he hasn't been to the chiropractor in some time, because he's tense and angry and because he maybe likes the sound a little. ] But he's most certainly broken. [ At least to some degree. ] And no, Sherlock Holmes, I can't take the credit for that in the slightest.
[But then, it's always easy to kill someone, isn't it? It's never been particularly hard to snap someone's neck and if you know the correct pressure points, it's easy to render someone completely defenceless. Sherlock knows them and he'd be lying if he said he didn't think about killing Moriarty himself; he was mere moments away from it minutes before and the thought still hasn't completely escaped him.
That careful smile is worth watching; he's practically baring his teeth. Predatory. Sherlock recognises the look and he holds his ground, his face forcibly blank. He won't give him the satisfaction, no matter how his heart beats so achingly hard and no matter how much he hates the idea of Moriarty talking about John.]
He'll live, and so will I. That's quite the flaw in your plan.
Only it isn't really living if he doesn't have any reason for it, is it? [ Jim immediately snaps, and hounds in on Sherlock again - he's not hurting him, but he's exceptionally close, one hand planted on his chest as though he's beseeching him. ]
"Oh, please, doc, will you make it better! I can't stop thinking about this smartass who made me feel like I was worth anything, oh, doc! Doc! Maybe I'll just sit here in my ugly jumpers and ROT AWAY for the rest of my life!" [ And he draws up a fist under his eye, turning it in a melodramatic 'boo hoo' sort of gesture. ]
Well, guess what, you can't see him again, not unless you want him dead! They don't stop unless you've tanked it, but, oh, you knew that, didn't you? Trying to find my ace in the hole? Think that'll save little Johnny Boy?
[ He's so disappointed in him. It's easy to shake the foundations of someone who has such a strong weak point. It's too easy to shake Sherlock Holmes, it was and still is, even after Jim's revealed the metaphorical chink in his armor, brandished it in his face with a laugh and a fashionable new vest. ]
Oh, Sherly, and here I thought you were better than this. But even when you're dead you're still trying to keep your little poodle safe. [ He gives Sherlock a small shove backwards, his face drawing up into a sneer with a small, chastising 'tch'. ]
And so the great louse of a detective stays in his shadows until he can find his magic little loophole, but what is it? What've I missed?
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no subject
"If you get in my way." [ He sneers, rolling his eyes as if the answer is obvious. Sherlock, you're disappointing him. Sherlock, you should never, ever, dwindle to a disappointment. ] But you didn't get in my way, did you?
[ It's for the first time that Jim does move - he leans in, specifically, his hands grabbing desperately for Sherlock's arm and pressing it deeper into the concave of his throat, and with a sharp inhale, he manages to rebut. ] I got into yours.
no subject
And he smiles. It's not a broken one, or an unhinged one, it's a simple, small smile that's real and it helps him pull in a steadying breath.]
John doesn't believe any of it.
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[ His lips curl into a carefully sculpted snarl, his eyes flashing with a bit of anger at the mention. You can't bring that up. ] That sad little bulldog of a tag along. [ His voice is acid, his gaze the same. Something about John Watson certainly turns Jim for a loop. The egg he couldn't crack that, by all means, he should have done in spades. ]
However you invest so much stock into that thing is beyond me - and here I thought you wouldn't dare to keep such dim company!
no subject
And he's laughing at James, not with him, not even slightly.]
He can't be that dim, now, can he? He's seen through you. He's seen through all of it.
All I have to do is prove him right.
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[ But this can't register on an emotional level. It can't. He doesn't even take a breath as he carefully attempts to settle his moods. ]
ONE MAN!
[ It's not working so well. He barks out the words, impatience and spitfire. ] ONE MAN versus the wealth of a nation, no, oh, NO. Sherlock Holmes' teeny pet? Come to save the day? This is your one last hope?
[ His anger transforms his smile into an entire other beast. ] Assuming he'll speak to you once he sees the dead man.
no subject
That's all it takes. One man.
[His smile doesn't falter, not even with the idea that John won't speak to him once he realises. He's already thought of that.
He thinks he will. He tilts his head thoughtfully, throwing his hands into his pockets as he takes half a step towards him.]
If I have one last hope, then the man you couldn't break is certainly a good bet.
no subject
[ It's fun, but only for a moment, and what's the fun of fun that's only for a moment? No, he doesn't want to kill Sherlock. Not really. He wants to watch on as he kills himself. ]
[ Jim's mouth cocks into a slow and careful smile - it's less amused than he'd like it to look, and far more predatory. ] No. No, no, I may not have destroyed your little pet. [ His head rolls, his neck pops, because he hasn't been to the chiropractor in some time, because he's tense and angry and because he maybe likes the sound a little. ] But he's most certainly broken. [ At least to some degree. ] And no, Sherlock Holmes, I can't take the credit for that in the slightest.
no subject
That careful smile is worth watching; he's practically baring his teeth. Predatory. Sherlock recognises the look and he holds his ground, his face forcibly blank. He won't give him the satisfaction, no matter how his heart beats so achingly hard and no matter how much he hates the idea of Moriarty talking about John.]
He'll live, and so will I. That's quite the flaw in your plan.
no subject
"Oh, please, doc, will you make it better! I can't stop thinking about this smartass who made me feel like I was worth anything, oh, doc! Doc! Maybe I'll just sit here in my ugly jumpers and ROT AWAY for the rest of my life!" [ And he draws up a fist under his eye, turning it in a melodramatic 'boo hoo' sort of gesture. ]
Well, guess what, you can't see him again, not unless you want him dead! They don't stop unless you've tanked it, but, oh, you knew that, didn't you? Trying to find my ace in the hole? Think that'll save little Johnny Boy?
no subject
He can't hide the small tremor that comes with his little impressions though - even though he's trying so hard to.]
You've made that perfectly clear.
[But there's always a loophole.]
no subject
Oh, Sherly, and here I thought you were better than this. But even when you're dead you're still trying to keep your little poodle safe. [ He gives Sherlock a small shove backwards, his face drawing up into a sneer with a small, chastising 'tch'. ]
And so the great louse of a detective stays in his shadows until he can find his magic little loophole, but what is it? What've I missed?