(Thank you so much for the prompt! Haven’t written Johniarty in ages :D I hope you like it!
Based on: http://watson-and-the-oddly-specific.tumblr.com/post/42917707272/epicluna)
John cautiously looked around the flat. “Sherlock? Sherlock, are you home?”
No answer. He was alone, thank God. John collapsed into his armchair and pulled out his phone, clicking onto the “messages” icon.
Hello. Is this Louisa? It’s John Watson, we met earlier in that cafe across from the theatre. <SEND>
John took a deep, shuddery breath. Louisa From The Cafe had been beautiful - her soft brown eyes had instantly captured John the moment she’d looked up from her take-out latte. Her rosy lips had curved into a bright smile as John fumbled like an idiot with the change the vendor had given him, and then those lips laughed as he spilled his tea all over himself in his haste. John shut his eyes, just thinking.
His phone buzzed. John clicked the little envelope on-screen eagerly, but then he saw the message and his face fell.
Sorry, Johnny boy. It’s Jim from IT. Remember me?
John glared at the screen. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the phone. Suddenly, he wished Sherlock was here - if not to protect him, but to offer some witty responses that he could text That Bastard back.
I get one number wrong and it’s you. Great.
The reply came almost immediately. A stroke of fate, one might call it. I would say the hand of God had some meddling but sadly I had no part in this. -JMxx
John might have laughed at that had he not been so annoyed (and hadn’t been talking to a maniac serial killer). What purpose could fate have? I thought I was texting a girl, thinking I’d be with her tonight.
So it’s sex you’re after, Doctor Watson? That can be arranged.
John felt an odd tingle on his spine. It’s not your business what I’m after, and I’m not arranging anything with you.
It would get quite the rise out of Sherlock, don’t you agree?
You can’t honestly see me agreeing to have sex with you! John did laugh at that. The idea was insane! But then John realised - Jim really was insane. He was fucking crazy. It really wouldn’t be out of character for him to do something like this - to arrange for them to… John hurriedly typed out another text: I like danger, but I’m not stupid.
Are you afraid you might hurt little Sherlie? Nonetheless, it is a proposition, and the offer is ALWAYS open. xxxxx
John felt sick. This has nothing to do with Sherlock, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention him. We’re two separate people. Oh God, what did he just send?! That was practically an invitation!
Then prove it to me, Doctor Watson. Show me you aren’t his little pet.
John could almost hear Moriarty’s drawling accent as he read those words. I am my own person. I don’t need to show you.
I think you forget who holds the bigger gun here, Doctor Watson.
John didn’t like Moriarty calling him that. Still, it was better than “Johnny boy”. He took a deep breath, then typed: Fine. When and where?
Again, John could almost hear the sneer in Moriarty’s reply: There will be a taxi outside your flat. If you tell Sherlock where you are going, he will be dead the second my name leaves your lips.
Downstairs, the front door slammed. John suspected it was one of Moriarty’s minions, but then Sherlock called “John?” and he felt safe again. He looked back at the text and typed out one last reply: I just marred a pleasant evening, didn’t I?
Sherlock was only halfway upstairs when John jogged past him, calling “I’ll be late home!” before disappearing into the night.
Moriarty, sat on his bed, grinned at the screen of his own phone. I look forward to seeing you. Don’t worry… it’ll be everything you want it to be.