#itsybitsypsychopath

Would any Moriartys be interested in doing an RP with me as dark!John? my idea is that post-Reichenbach John longs so much for familiarity for his old life and becomes depressed; he begs Moriarty (who is living, so obviously AU) for help and Moriarty agrees to take him on as a sniper since he's an excellent shot. Possibly with Johnriarty shipping, possibly not. We can start in any point in that storyline; possibly with a desperate text from John to Jim, maybe. Any takers? 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Lucien hissed in irritation, head shaking several times. “Vampires can’t procreate as much as we love to try and you’re a fucking guy! Unless you have sex organs you’ve forgotten to mention then your theory is absurd.”

“What the? That’s not even fucking funny,” Lucien growled, head shaking not taking the man serious in the slightest. It was beyond impossible of course. “You could have just said hello you know? That would have worked as well.”

"You’re awake." He heard the singsong voice of his boss echo off the walls of the room, smooth and slow like venom dripping from the Boss's mouth. Sebastian 's body tensed when he saw the wickedly curved knife in Jim's hand. Jim slid into the bed and onto Sebastian's bare, panic-stiffened chest. His eyes were black as death. Seb closed his eyes, his palms curled into tight fists as he felt Moriarty's slick hand close tightly around his cock, painfully working it up and down. He bit back a groan as Jim slid down onto his length, already setting a breath-snatchingly rough pace, fighting the urge to move against the other. The blade dragged lazily over his skin, he felt, an intricate pattern of scarlet loops and spirals being carved into his flesh. The knife plunged into his shoulder and he cried out as it twisted, unable to silence himself. The intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure electrified his bones in a way to which he was far too addicted.  "You've been a very naughty tiger lately, Basher~"

[x] You have.

John opened the door of 221b with a bag from Tesco in his hand. He'd gotten tired of arguing with Sherlock over who was to get the milk, and had at last gone out himself; the army doctor unlocked the door, muttering about irritating detectives, and walked up the stairs. "Sherlock?" he called. "You better be grateful, I finally got the - " John stopped dead in the doorway, the bag falling from his hand. "Moriarty."