#ifyoumoustache

John was young when he first found his place in the world, it wasnt beside his best friend, Sherlock Holmes, or hanging out with Lestrade or Molly Hooper, that was all just so.. boring, to him. The little soldier to be wanted to feel the affect of danger, the adrenaline of putting his life on the line 24/7, and the only one to do that he knew, was the one and only Jim Moriarty.

It was a secret, at first, what he would do for the other, he would break away from his friends early on in the day, and kind of fade out of existence as he went to Moriarty, helping him with his decious crimes that would confuse even the best of detectives, including Sherlock Holmes. The danger and the need for the bloodrush was all so much, it was like a drug, a poison that was an addiction for both Jim and John, and they couldnt stop. Soon enough, the days in which  he would half be with his friends, would become no days with his friends, and all, with Moriarty. Of course, Sherlock had his suspicions, but John, having been taught by Moriarty how to lie, how to cheat and confuse others, merely lied to the detectives face saying he was having “girlfriend” troubles or whatnot, and, as expected, the detective had no idea.

John became Jim’s favourite accessory, it seemed, always taking the soldier in training to his meetings, to his torture sessions, anything and everything, John was following him like a puppy, lost and scared without its owner. But, when Jim had a plan for John to come with him to confront Sherlock on Something, that is when John rejected.

"No?"

"No, Jim. I can’t.. Sherlock still has no idea, It would destroy him."

"And that’s a bad thing?"

"You just dont under-"

The soldier was cut off by a finger being pressed to his lips, and a silence, a silence that he knew that he would be potentially punished if he broke it without permission.

"You. Are coming. With me." The criminal hissed, his darkened eyes  narrowing up at the ice blue ones of his new favourite toy. There was no fighting this one, it seemed. Even though John was stronger, a bit taller, and had more fight in him, Moriarty was clearly the dominant one in this situation. And, in any situation. 

Sighing, John nodded, tongue flicking out a bit to wet his nervously dry lips. “Yes..” He muttered, watching as Jim gave him a still, less pleased glare, his forehead twitching a bit as he leaned forward on his feet, pressing a finger to his ear. “Hmmm? What was that..?” He coaxed, pulling a confused face, his eyes trailing from the floor up to Watson’s face, a smile on his lips that clearly, was not meant for the emotion of happiness. “Yes..Daddy.” John finally sighed out, wetting his lips again as he closed his eyes, a flush of embarrassment and somewhat arousal flooding through his neck and face. “Oh, such a good boy!” Jim praised, taking John roughly by the arm and whisking him away towards the door.