Title: "Candy Talk"

Series: Echo AU – Part Two

Status: OneShot; complete

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)

Characters: John Watson, Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes

Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to BBC, Moffat & Co.

Rating: T

Warnings: unbeta'ed, not brit-picked, canon-AU

Note: Plays some undetermined time after "Echo" but can be read as a stand-alone

Feedback: makes me a happier person ;)

Summary: Wherein Sherlock battles monsters, John hides and Moriarty splits melons - or so it seems...

Candy Talk

John managed to keep a straight face but it was a close thing. Instantly, he ducked back into the city archive for cover, neatly stepping between two potted plants with large leafs to avoid both being seen and blocking the entrance.

Mary, the stern faced receptionist, threw him a disapproving look from behind her desk. Having to make hundreds of copies from dusty tomes she had had first to dig out of some mouldy corner had not exactly endeared her to him.

John ignored her in favour of the spectacle outside; watching it through the dirt streaked window. She came to stand behind him and he could see in the reflection how she zeroed in on the source of the racket. She blinked and stared, then snorted unladylike and walked away.

"Poor Sherlock," John muttered to himself; grinning. He was going to enjoy this.

His phone chose that moment to make a noise fit for cheap porn: a nasal groan and drawn out sigh of satisfaction. Pleasant memories rose unbidden, making John forget to be annoyed over the changed ring tone.

He fished his mobile out of his pocket and answered, "Yes?"

"Isn't he cute?" Jim Moriarty drawled lazily into his ear.

John's natural reaction was to do a routine sweep of the street and rooftops, but it was just as likely that Jim had hacked into the CCTV feeds.

"I prefer to call him an acquired flavour," John answered dryly; shifting the heavy folder with the copies to hold it more comfortable under his arm.

Outside, the famous consulting detective was in serious danger of losing his hands to creepy monsters with huge smiles that showed sharp, white teeth. - Or at least one was inclined to think along those lines considering the expression of sheer terror on Sherlock's pale face.

Closer inspection revealed that he was merely trying to fend off a bunch of preschoolers with sticky hands. Though Sherlock being... Sherlock he had to make an art of it, with wild gestures, turns and twists. With a more normal person, it might have been the last line of defence against a particularly aggressive swarm of bees.

The little rascals didn't sting but laughed in delight at the detectives antics.

Jim chuckled. Judging by the noises coming over the phone he was getting up and crossed a hall; his steps echoed. Then something cracked and a man groaned in pain.

"He didn't realize that giving candies to kids is like luring sharks with blood? Seriously? Why would he do that anyway?"

It took John a moment to answer because one little boy had attached himself to Sherlock's right leg and held on for dear life as the detective tried to shake him off none too gently. He wondered idly what the kindergarten teacher was doing instead of supervising the brood.

"It's an experiment," John said with heartfelt condescension, pulling off a nice Sherlock imitation.

Jim's answer was drowned out by a sizzling sound and scream, followed by a pitiful whimper. Someone laughed.

"When in doubt, it's always about an experiment. Lends itself nicely to his 'mysterious' mad genius air," John explained, unimpressed. "Judging by the background noise you're doing some 'social studies' of your own."

Something cracked, loud and wet, like a split melon, and the whimpering turned into a howl.

"I would never want to offend your sensibilities, John." Jim's measured steps came over the phone and then a door fell shut. "Better?"

"Very."

"You don't really mind, do you?"

John snorted, his gaze returning to Sherlock who had dislodged the boy without any visible harm done. The kids laughed even harder and some were crawling around on all fours because the last of the sweets had dropped on the concrete.

What he did to Sherlock, now and every day since their arranged meeting, was much worse than torture, much more elaborate too, one method were the pain would culminate in one moment Jim would enjoy like nothing else.

Did he mind? Maybe the simple fact was that he had met Jim first.

"John!"

"Aw, how cute, Johnny-boy! He's calling for you to rescue him! Go and save the damsel in distress, my knight with the shining Sig Sauer."

"Will do. - But you know you owe me big for this whole babysitting mission, right?"

Jim's chuckle acquired a razor edge. "Of course, my dear. Say – can you swim?"

John moved to the door. "Yes."

"Then I guess the games afoot, my dear Watson."

End