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It was funny, looking back. John Watson had never given a thought to piracy, especially not with his military career. It just sort of, well, fell on him. He'd been on a ship on his way to a fort in the Caribbean, where he would be serving in an administrative capacity, when the vessel was attacked. John was taken hostage after cutting down three men, a hood tossed over his head and his arms bound. Jostled, jabbed, and beaten, he was finally forced to his knees. When the cloth was removed, he found himself looking into a pair of blackened amber eyes that were swollen and bloodshot.

Heal him, _ they demanded. _Fix him. You're a doctor._ It wasn't what John expected. The man he knelt before was shirtless, covered in sweat and blood, an obvious gunshot wound in his side. _He'll live, _ John had informed them, _but I'll need some supplies. Clean water, if you have it, rum if you don't, and something small and metal to take the bullet out. If you've a needle, and some thread, that'd be a tremendous help, thanks._ _The pirates had hurried off, and John found himself alone with the man who was struggling to remain conscious.

Do you know who I am?

_No. _

I'm a king.

John fought hard not to roll his eyes. Of course.

If I make it, you and I will need to have a little chat. The man who saves my life deserves as much.

His men came back with supplies and, with warm and steady hands, John began to remove the bullet. This will hurt, _ he warned the pirate, but the man just chuckled. _I've had worse, doctor._ John nodded and poured rum on the wound, trying to ignore the way the man hissed in pain. Two small knives cut into his skin, fresh blood welling from the wounds. _I have to make it wider to get the lead out, I know what I'm doing._ The three pistols that had been pulled on him were lowered, though it was obviously with reluctance. Using the small spoon-like utensil they gave him, John removed the bullet, before cleaning the wound and sewing it shut. _He'll need rest, at least two weeks off his feet. Nothing stressful, either. No... plundering, or whatever it is you lot do. Now will you take me back to shore?

No,_ the man rasped. _We sail for Tortuga. You're coming with us, doctor.

_ _

---

Tortuga was... interesting. John looked back on that month fondly; there was drinking (entirely too much of it), and surgery, and restocking supplies, and... well, he caught the eye of a few women, being cleaner than most men on the isle. The captain he'd stitched up had quite a few laughs, as the men he sent out to recruit new sailors returned with stories of the doctor's never-empty bed. A few weeks before they shipped out, he was summoned to the captain's cabin for the talk he'd been promised.

What's your name, doctor?

John. John Watson.

Well then, John Watson,_ the Irishman said with a grin. _What would you say if I told you I could make you very rich?

I would say I don't particularly care about wealth.

His response coaxed a cocked eyebrow from the man sitting before him.

Have you been enjoying the fruits of our lifestyle while you've been here?

Yes, sir.

This could be your life, doctor. We need a man of your..._ His dark brown eyes traveled along John's body. _...Particular skillset. You would be provided for, as long as you tended to the wounds of myself and my crew. We eat well, we travel far and wide, and there's no shortage of firefights.

And if I don't want to come with you?

Then you can stay here, on the island, until your meager funds run dry and they hang you to settle your bill.

John had known it wouldn't last forever; he wasn't a very wealthy man to begin with, living off the small funds provided to him for his service in the King's army.

I... Alright. I'll join your crew.

The man clapped his hands, a wicked grin stretching across his features.

Perfect!

... If I may be so bold, sir, I don't even know your name.

Moriarty,_ he replied with a wink. _Jim Moriarty. Welcome aboard, doctor Watson.

---

There were still a few places to fill on the ship, minor crewman that had perished in the attack on the British vessel, so two more weeks passed docked on the island. Eventually the barman stopped taking John's coin, insisting it was covered by a higher hand. It piqued the doctor's interest; the only person who could possibly be covering his costs was Captain Moriarty. He began asking around, mining for information- he started with the woman who had served him that night's dinner.

Moriarty? He's a legend, inn'e? King of the Caribbean, terror of the British Seas? Why, whatchoo askin' 'bout 'im for?

John had tried to pass it off as a quick curiosity. I heard someone say the name with reverence, and I was interested. I've never heard of him before.

Why would ye? He's good, that 'un, 'is ship's one of the fastest, comes up like a shadow an' leaves as quickly. Most wanted man in England, 'e is. Hear 'e's gorgeous, too. Shame I'm not 'is type, I'd like to sail under that man, if ye catch my meanin'.

He chuckled and nodded to the wench, taking his mug of ale from her. Not his type, a pretty woman like you? _ She only chuckled in response. _Thank you, miss. I appreciate the information._ He drank deep, downing the pint before settling into his spiced potatoes. _So he's famous,_ he thought. _The most wanted man in England...

Mind if I join you?

When John looked up to see those hot bourbon eyes looking down at him, he was honestly shocked. Are you sure you're ready to be out and about? No pain, no irregular heartbeat, your stitches aren't strained?

No, doctor, I'm fine. And I'm bored. Which is why I'm here.

Aren't you worried? Not just about your wound, but... you have a reputation.

Jim had chuckled and stolen a bite of John's food. No, no. I never meet with anyone face to face. I use proxies. No one knows who I am... Except for you.

Lucky me,_ _John mumbled.

Yes. Lucky you.

Moriarty held up his hand and beckoned the wench back, ordering a large cup of whisky and his own plate of potatoes. Mind keeping me entertained, Johnny?

How?

... Tell me about yourself.

The next four hours were filled with ale and stories; of his childhood, of his abusive father and neglectful mother, of the relationship with his sister, of the partners he'd had, of his education, of the war, of his need for action... By the time he'd run out of good stories (ending on the time he, while drunk, tried to steal an ass from a local farm), he was thoroughly pissed. Moriarty, however, didn't seem to be. Though he hung on John's every word, smiling and laughing when appropriate, scowling during the more painful stories of John's past, he'd drank about half a bottle with little to no ill effect. His eyes were dilated, full lips wet as his tongue passed over them, and there was a healthy colour to his cheeks, but his words did not slur (unlike John's had) and he did not stumble as he rose.

John.

Yes?

Have you ever lain with a man?

John blinked, surprised even in his state. I... no, not... Not exactly...

Not exactly?

I've kissed, um, men before, and I've... done things, but not...

But not sex.

Um, yeah, not...

You're attracted to men.

John cast his eyes about quickly, but no one was listening to them over the roar of music and drunken games and fights. ...Yeah.

Come with me._ _Jim had taken his hand and led him back to the ship. John stumbled after him, pulled along by the more sober captain. They climbed the wooden ramp and made for the captain's quarters.

Captain, I-_ John didn't get much further before Jim had captured his mouth, pressing him against the wooden door as one hand wrapped around his waist. His lips were as soft as they looked. John could taste the liquor, the spices, and something indescribable- a flavor all his own, something rare and exquisite that coated his tongue like honey. Perhaps it was the ale, perhaps it was the rush, but John wanted him, this pirate everyone spoke of as if he were from a story. He kissed back just as greedily, letting Moriarty lead their embrace. Steady hands tugged at John's clothes, stripping him with practiced ease. The doctor followed suit, whimpering softly as he did the same for Jim. _Scars, so many scars... We're not so different in that regard.

Naked, sweating, their hands sliding over each other's smooth skin, they moved to the bed. Jim pinned the doctor down, grinning as John struggled to take over. No, doctor. Tonight you're_ _ mine. _ _John looked up at him and his need for dominance ebbed- something about Jim demanded reverence, demanded submission, and though he'd spent his life leading...

Mmn, there it is. Good boy, Johnny.

Something about that sent chills down his spine. He loved that, he enjoyed that, he wanted more_ _of that.

Captain...

_Call me Jim. _

I... alright,_ John breathed. _Jim.

Good.

The captain kissed down John's chest, his touches surprisingly gentle. Hands slid along his body, thumbing over every scar, caressing the marks of his past encounters as if he could erase them. John didn't know why he was so moved by Jim's attentions, but... But I am. Oh, god..._ _Jim's soft lips captured the doctor's once more, and as he let himself go, he felt something wet against his parted legs.

What...?

It will make it easier, Johnny. Trust me, darling, I'm a professional. I picked this up on an island far to the east of here. _ __ Tororojiru_, they call it. It's considered shameful for young women to eat it, because of its 'recreational' uses. Funny, isn't it? How shameful sex can be? Even you've been repressed, doctor Watson, despite all your little trysts. All the wenches sing your praises, but you're still to shy to act on your_ _ urges , aren't you? Luckily for you, pretty boy, your captain knows what you need.

And what do I need, sir?

Oh, Johnny. You need a man. A man who can make you scream.

One finger slipped into him, and oh, how John had moaned. He'd thought about it, yes, and he'd fooled about with men before, as a lad, during training, sometimes during the long months at sea, but it had never gone this far. A suck, a tug, sometimes a bit of rubbing, and the kisses... but this was what he'd been craving- someone to submit to, someone to show him what had to be done, a force that rivaled his own.

More,_ _he breathed, beyond desperate. Jim worked a second finger into him and crooked them at the knuckle, watching the doctor's lashes flutter. John pressed his hips down against his hand, moaning as he pressed deeper.

It didn't take him long to beg for a third, and when he began to feel the ache, the need for more, he gripped the captain's wrist. I'm ready.

_Beg. _

_What? _

Beg for me, doctor.

The alcohol in his system took away any reticence he felt. Please, Captain Moriarty. Please, god, I need you. Fuck me. Please!

Such a good, sweet doctor... And so obedient..._ Jim slicked himself and pressed into John's body, a slow, steady slide as the blond gasped and shifted beneath him. The captain squeezed his wrists tighter and leaned down to whisper against his ear. _Tell me when. Tell me when to move. Plead with me. Show me how much you want me, Johnny, how much you need this.

M-move, please! God, please, Captain! Don't make me wait, please, I want you!_ _It was good enough for Jim, who grinned and began to rock. He kept it slow, at first, studying the way the doctor's lips parted, the way he moaned his name, the way his lashes fluttered. John adjusted to his length, easier beneath the haze of liquor, and Jim began to buck a little harder.

Pinned and splayed, John looked into the captain's dark brown eyes. Fuck! P-please, Jim... D-don't be... don't be gentle._ _His own words surprised him. There was a need he'd never felt, the need to submit, the need to be controlled. Something about Jim brought it out in him. Naked against his linen sheets, hazy in his inebriation, John knew he wanted more. More of Jim's pale skin, more of his voice growling in his ear, more of his deft hands and sure hips and absolutely sinful lips.

It was obvious that Jim was more than happy to give the doctor what he wanted. He gripped John by the shoulder with his free hand as he drove into him, hips snapping forward with frantic force. The room was filled with the sound of creaking wood and desperate sighs, with skin sliding against skin and pleasured moans. Jim snarled and growled as he nipped at John's lips, coaxing whimpers from the usually composed doctor. There was no shame, no restraint- there was only them, two men coming together in ecstasy in the dim lantern light.

Do you want to come, Johnny? _ Something about that, the captain calling him by such an innocent name, sent his blood boiling. _Yes,_ John shouted. _Yes, please, Jim! _ One hand lifted from his wrists and gripped his throat. _Good boy,_ Jim snarled. _I can't... _ John was gasping for breath as Jim began to squeeze. _Jim... Jim, I'm..._ _The doctor came with a gasp, his hips jerking forward as he spilled onto his stomach. Jim didn't release him until he followed after, filling John with wet heat. He let go of his throat as he pulled out of him. There was a smug grin on his face.

Come here, Johnny._ _The captain pulled John into his arms. He was too tired, too strung out, too drunk to protest. John folded against him and buried his face in Jim's neck. He was asleep within minutes.

---

That was two months ago. John had woken up, sick to his stomach and very_ hung over, and Jim had kept him in bed for a lazy day. Somehow, the strange pirate had taken a liking to the blond doctor. _After all, your particular skillset is invaluable. We take a lot of bullets, a lot of daggers, a lot of swords. Stay with us, Johnny, and you'll get that danger you so crave. Stay with me, and I'll make you a very powerful man.

Power didn't matter, not to John. All he wanted to do was make a difference. Piracy was... well, it wasn't the most_ _vile path one could take. As he sorted fact from fiction with Jim, he learned that they seemed to work as a sort of smuggling ring, as well as the people you go to when you need a problem to disappear. Moriarty had a cadre of assassins at his disposal, and was not above using them. He also dealt in forgeries, of papers and art, and occasionally jewels. He did not run his fleet like most- instead of being the pillage-and-plunder sort, he ran it like a business. It was still dangerous; the Holmes brothers ensured that. Mycroft, the elder, was a government man, and his younger brother often performed contracts for the East India Company.

Jim had an obsession with humbling the noblemen, and it seemed that only John could talk sense into him where they were concerned. Black fire burned in his dark amber eyes when his thoughts turned to them- he grew moody, violent, and he locked himself in his quarters for days on end. The boys on the ship knew to avoid mentioning their names.

Adjusting wasn't difficult. Already acquainted with ship life, John helped where he could, and stayed out of the way where he couldn't. When he wasn't sewing stabs shut or treating gunpowder burns, he was naked and writhing in Jim's chambers- or helping to clean the clothing and the vessel. Despite the surprisingly high-class state of his endeavors, Jim's men were fairly lazy when it came to keeping the lower decks clean. Since John needed a sanitary place to treat his naval patients, he had no problem volunteering to keep it so.

After the first contract Jim fulfilled, John's bay was filled with sailors- including him. It had been one of the younger Holmes' vessels, carrying a shipment of saltpeter to a recently-established island colony. Canons roared as they pulled up on the brigantine, with the ship firing back readily. They lost six men from the first assault alone. Moriarty's crew had a leg up on them, though, sailing in a vast Man Of War that was more than capable of surviving the other ship's blows.

Planks were dropped and Jim's crew swarmed, shooting and stabbing everything in sight. John knew how it was, in battle. It was kill or be killed. He joined them, joined the mob of sailors rushing the trading vessel, without so much as a second thought. Their month in Tortuga had left him aching for action, for something, anything_ _to happen. This was what he'd been waiting for. With a rifle in hand, he dropped to a crouch and took aim at one of the British soldiers on deck. John pulled the trigger and watched him fall, crimson staining his uniform as blood blossomed from his chest. The acrid scent of smoke filled the air as Moriarty's ship let off another round of cannons, making the merchant vessel shake. As John fought to regain his footing, two soldiers descended upon him, swords shining in the light of the burning ship.

Act fast, _ he thought. _You don't have time to reload. Bayonet's the best you have, you can work with it._ John blocked their blows with the barrel of his mostly-useless gun, grunting as they forced him down to the wood of the ship. He managed one good swing, stabbing one soldier through the calf, but the small victory came at a cost. The second man's sword came down in a thrust, piercing his shoulder. John screamed. The soldier removed his blade and prepared for a more sure strike, one that would end the doctor's life. John collapsed, his rifle clattering against the wood as he pressed a hand to his wound. Around him the sounds of steel on steel, of screams, filled the air. _I will die here.

There was a scream closer to him, one that chilled his blood. Before he could register, what was happening, he was lifted in strong arms and carried back across the planks. Before the doctor fell into unconsciousness, he lifted his head to look at the man carrying him. Jim. _ His eyes were black, his jaw set in a scowl as he walked past the other injured men. _You shouldn't have gone,_ _he said firmly as they crossed into the bowels of the ship. _You should have stayed here. _

N-needed... needed some danger. You, you promised, after all._ _John smiled weakly.

_I didn't peg you for a fool. _

I could handle two on one.

Obviously not, Johnny._ Jim began to clean his wound, wiping away the blood with a damp rag. _Tell me, am I always going to have to come to your aid?

John grimaced as the saltwater burned his raw skin. I can handle myself. I was... overenthusiastic. I'm sorry.

As he stitched John's skin, Jim started to breathe a little easier. Not fatal, lucky for you. If they hadn't have had swords... Not much I can do for a bullet. I'm not you.

_You're... fuck! You, you're doing a, a fine job... _

Well, I learned from the best.

John chuckled quietly. He wasn't the best, not by a long shot, but the compliment did wonders for his ego. You watched. You paid attention. Knocking on death's door, and you wanted to learn how to take care of yourself.

Or my men. Or my doctor.

Sewn and bandaged, John watched as men were carried into the room with varying levels of injury. Despite paying attention and being a fast learner, Jim couldn't handle all of them, and John knew that. Many of the sailors were on their way out as it was- all they could do was ease their passing.

Did we at least get whatever it was they had?

Saltpeter, _ Jim answered with a grin. _It'll slow down their gunpowder production temporarily. We took twenty barrels, and we're sinking the rest._ Sure enough, the canons fired again, rocking the ship slightly. _Successful transaction, I'd say.

John closed his eyes. My first successful plundering. Hooray._ _Jim kissed his hair.

Get some rest. Come tomorrow, I need you back on your feet and helping me treat the men._ _John nodded as sleep took him. He could handle tomorrow, he thought, if it meant helping the sailors. His own wound, though brutal, wasn't close to fatal. It'd hurt, he'd be stiff, but Jim had stitched him well- he'd survive, and there was plenty of laudanum to help with the pain. Jim would make sure of it.

---

No, John Watson had never given a thought to piracy, but the life suited him. Fighting, travel, the cool sea breeze... And Jim, whose order he would follow to the ends of the earth. As he looked out over the bow of the ship, the captain wrapped his arms around John's waist.

"Enjoying the view?"

"Of course. Are you?"

Jim chuckled and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. "I always do, Johnny, where you're concerned."

"Where are we heading?"

"Portugal," Jim answered merrily. "I need to see a man about a shipment of silver."

John leaned back against him with a smile. "Sounds perfect, Captain."

---