[hotel verse]

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

It works a lot like last time. He wakes up, still in his suit and tie, with his arm slipped around Jim's waist. The way the used to when they were in school.

The thought occurs to him, the crash of old ideas and new, schoolboy adoration and rooftop loathing.

He draws in a quick breath and stays purposefully, staring down at Moriarty in confusion, taking slow stock of how close they're entwined.

Comments

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

He drops down to sit on the floor, back leant against the door.

"I have no interest in doing this again."

[napoleonofcrime]

"You and me both, darling."

He gestures to the bed.

"But, while we're here..."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"Let's prenegotiate. What do we do this time?"

He doesn't want to get near him just yet.

[napoleonofcrime]

"Same thing as last time? But..."

He flutters his eyelashes.

"-I can be him for you."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"No."

He says, immediately.

"You can't be. I understood him, and he liked being understood. You can't fake that."

[napoleonofcrime]

"I can fake a lot of things!"

He holds his arms out wide.

"I'm sure that's in my repertoire."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"Sorry. Not interested."

Again, with iron in his voice.

[napoleonofcrime]

"Blah, you're so boring."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"You didn't think so when we were younger."

He points out.

"You promised to care for me, even if I was disappointing."

[napoleonofcrime]

He shrugs.

"How do you know which one was me?"

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"I don't care."

He scrubs a hand through his hair.

"All right. Mutual masturbation acceptable?"

[napoleonofcrime]

"I need you."

Soft, helpless, that boy with the drugs who didn't know quite where he was going.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"Oh?"

He answers, slipping his own youth back on, visibly, like one of his scarves. He moves back towards the bed, looking at Jim like he's the centre of Sherlock's world.

[napoleonofcrime]

"I- "

He squeezes his eyes shut, breath hitching. When they open again, they're brimming with tears.

"I shouldn't have made you jump-"

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"I forgive you."

He answers, crawling into bed with him, instantly. He kisses his temple, shuddering.

"I was never angry. Not really. Not at you. I understand why you had to. It was just- the problem."

[napoleonofcrime]

"The final problem."

Hands fisting in Sherlock's lapels, holding him tight.

"I can't stop. I can't ever stop."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"I got in the way, and it was my fault."

He promises, just as ragged.

"Keep going. Do what you have to. Please."

[napoleonofcrime]

"I can't stop."

He repeats softly, leaning up to kiss him.

"There's nothing after you. You were the paramount. People like us, we're not built to outlive one another."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"I know. Jumping was easy. It was a relief."

Kissing him deeply, sliding a hand through his hair, quickly.

[napoleonofcrime]

"I have to die."

Quietly, pulling him closer. His words are eerily true for both of their universes, he thinks- and the thought makes him shiver, so he pushes it away.

"I can't live in a world where there's only one of me. You understand."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"You couldn't have just- lived with me?"

He asks, voice painted with such betrayal, and sorrow.

"What did I do wrong? What was it about me? What was wrong with me?"

[napoleonofcrime]

"I can't stop."

His breath hitches, and he pulls him closer.

"There is no living. That's so stagnant, so boring. I'd have killed myself."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"Maybe I'm less than you, then. Because I was happy. Running around on wet grass, avoiding police officers, flirting awkwardly to get spare ears."

He presses in as close as he can, breath hitching.

"But if it isn't enough for you, then- that's all right. We can die."

[napoleonofcrime]

"I'm wired incorrectly."

Quietly, wrapping a leg around Sherlock's hip.

"You should know that most of all- what it's like. I can't- be. Being is hateful. It's not that you're not enough, it's that I will rot if I'm not moving."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"I understand."

He admits, looking him right in the eyes, the way that used to freeze him. Years ago, now.