I'm Your Plan B

You could want this
See if it fits for a bit

A breath escaped his lips as he stood in the cold February air, light snow falling from the sky and covering the world in a light powdery white cloth. God, how he hated the snow. It was cold, it was wet and it was no fun when playing hide and seek. Unless you were able to fly and hide in a place where no one had stepped yet, without stepping in the snow. However, he was no child any longer, but he still hated the snow.

And if you don't like it
Then you can go like you have been
And I'll never tell, never tell how I fell for it
I never fell before

Another breath was exhaled and his heart skipped a small beat. It was difficult to stand here, so close and yet to far away. If he looked up he could see the light falling from the windows in 221b. The light fell onto the street illuminating the falling snow in a soft yellow light that made it look just a tad bit warmer, a tad bit more welcoming. But he knew that he was no welcome. Why should he be, right? Shaking his head, causing a few snow flakes to fall from his hazel brown hair, he took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock.

3,

The sound of a car close by had him stop in his tracks and turn a little to see where it would have come from. Somewhere out of eyesight he could conclude. There was nothing to see and the sound soon disappeared. Silence once more fell over the street. Like London had stopped and held it's breath for what was about to happen. He shook it off and rose his hand once more.

2,

This time a small breeze startled him and had him shake his head violently. It had just been a bit of wind. Nothing to be concerned with. Was he getting cold feet? No. He never got cold feet. Not in the figurative sense. Literally his feet were freezing in the dress shoes that did not provide much shelter from the light snow. He gritted his teeth in annoyance with himself, his hand hovering just inches from the surface of the door.

1,

It started out as a small, barely audible note in the air where after it grew into a melody. He froze where he was for the third time startled and this time he knew. He knew because his heart skipped a beat and he almost choked on a breath of excitement. The butterflies in his chest made it difficult to keep his hands steady and his thoughts, that were at once shuffled up and confused and straight and targeted, were telling him to do the one thing that he really did not want to do. A breath and a light biting of his tongue he got the shaking under control and confidently raised his hand.

you get right up and I'm the one done
You never say yes, not quite no
Say just enough to make me not go

The sound of his own knocking on the door made something in his twist and turn in angst and excitement. A small smile from the overwhelming excitement was pulling at the corners of his mouth. Silence fell after the small single knock e placed on the door. He usually would have not bothered to knock at all and simply strolled through the door, however, this was not any other time. This was different, and he knew that this was the right thing to do.

So many times he had hit in perfectly. So many times he had managed to baffle and impress and yet he had always stayed interested in getting to him. A small shaky breath escaped the man in front of the door. It could as well have been the wind, and he hoped that it was so. Manly because he did not want to acknowledge the butterflies or the flipflops of his stomach. The silence that continued to lay thick around the street had the smile fall from his lips and he rose brow, a little annoyed at the ignore.

You choose your words,
Careful voice, in the end I'm not the first choice
You say you want someone just like me

However, it did not last long before a faint sound of footsteps on the stairs had his hopes flutter back up like butterflies and his exhaled heavily and stood a little straighter. He could not wait to see the other's look on his face when he opened the door. When he saw who it was that was standing here in the silence of the street this February night, the fine snow falling around like it was a Christmas wonderland. Those clever eyes for once startled. Like he had startled them before. The small twitch at the corner of the eyes whenever he managed to baffle. It had been far too long.

So then why am I your plan,
Why am I your plan,
Why am I your plan B?

The footsteps hit the bottom of the stairs. They were slow, calculated. It could be no one else. No one else walked quite like he did and there was no doubt that it was him. Had it been that old lady, she would have been calling up the stairs already. She was such a talkative soul. Not healthy. And had it been that dear soldier friend of his, he would have been a little heavier on the stairs and ripped the door open. No it was him and it made his smile spread wider.

The door opened and those blue eyes, the sharp face with the high cheekbones framed in the curly hair looked as surprised as he had wanted. Sherlock Holmes had hopefully just received his biggest scare yet. Jim hoped so at least.

You know, you know you love the way I linger and,
You keep me wrapped right round your finger,

Sherlock stood as frozen in the door like he could not believe what he was seeing. He looked like he had seen a ghost. Had he not seen the little announcement Jim had made for him? To prepare him to see him again? Apparently not. A little disappointed. The two of them had had their fun and Jim had had to admit that toying with the other had been fun. Of course, he still wished he had ended that soldier to John Watson. He had touched a nerve with him since Sherlock practically was about to do anything to save him. It had really hurt, even if the master detective would not believe it.

Sherlock took a moment to compose himself, Jim's smile only wide, his brown eyes full of mischief and hidden plots. The man in the door looked at the man in the snow for a second longer before he said anything. “What are you doing here, Moriarty?”

And you say, you say, just wait a little longer, and
And in time, I could be the right one

Jim's smile grew, and a shiver ran down his spine at the way the detective said his last name. He felt like... like snow. Light and appreciated. Enjoyed. And he liked that feeling. Not even John Watson could take that away from him. No one could. Only one person and he was standing right in front of him. And e had never taken it away from him. Never. “Did you miss me?”

Sherlock seemed to cringe a little at the sound of Jim's voice and Jim knew that it was just because he missed it. Missed his clever playmate. Sherlock had missed him, no doubt. Even if it was just for the moment. And Jim liked the idea of acting on impulse right now. He really liked that idea. So with a deep breath and a last thought of his own stupid obsession with this motionless man, Jim grabbed Sherlock by the neck, breathed in sharply and pressed a desperate kiss to the other's lips. Sherlock flinched a little, and Jim noticed. But it was okay. They would be okay. It was just for the time being. It was just for now. Because in a time like this Jim just needed a second to feel like snow.

Please

“I've missed this... this little game of ours.” Moriarty whispered into Sherlock's ear in a husky voice. He would always have to compete with John Watson.

I'm your B Team