please will you fix it for me jim

Mad Love - Request

Requested by @sexy-bookworm-fangirl:  Being Sherlock’s twin sister (basically the kinder and more sassy version of him), and Moriarty falls hard for Reader. Like, his breath is quick, he can’t think, and he stutters around Reader. Reader falls for him, and Sherlock, John, Mycroft, and Lestrade (your boss/bestest friend in the world) get protective of Reader

Pairing: Jim Moriarty x reader

Word count: 1,968

Warnings: First time writing Moriarty (it is indeed a warning).

A/N: Ugh, don’t be so rough on me, I’ve never written him before…

Enjoy!

Originally posted by aphgeneralhux

The Holmes family, a family of six strange individuals with very unique characteristics each. The father, who could be considered the most normal one and a true romantic; the mother, who was a math genius before becoming the mother of four little freaks: Mycroft, Eurus, Sherlock and (Y/N).

Mycroft was a brain just like his mother, and at his adult age he was the British government on his own. Eurus was the psychopath one, presumably dead by then. Sherlock was a scientist, a philosopher even, and the world’s only consultant detective while his twin sister, (Y/N), worked as forensic investigation along with Greg Lestrade.

Sherlock couldn’t be prouder of his twin sister, because “someone needed to show the British police how to do it properly”. Meanwhile, Mycroft was a little reluctant about her choice of career because it was quite dangerous. But the Holmes Twins loved danger and were too stubborn to change their minds once they got an idea inside their heads.

It was known that once they got together, there was not a single case that could be left unsolved – except for the unsolved ones, but they refused fervently to talk about those – and so they got involved in all kinds of trouble together.

She was the only one Sherlock actually gave credit too. Mostly because they were basically the same and denying her cleverness would be equal to denying his own cleverness, but also because she was his best friend, companion, partner in crime, and every other brotherly-term one can come up with.

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Five Reasons Why Writers Need Friends Who Write

Regardless of the popular idea that all writers are introverted hermits who spend their lifetime talking only to fictional people, writing can be a very social activity. Here are five reasons why every writer needs friends who write. 

1) Writers Understand Your Strange Problems

Dishes not done? Haven’t slept properly in a week because you’ve been agonizing over a plot problem? Have skipped several meals because you forgot to eat while you were writing? Have eaten entire contents of fridge because you were writing? Your writer friends will be able to understand why you’re losing sleep over fictional people. What’s even better than the fact that they will understand these problems, is that they’ll save the sage advice and hand you a bag of chips for your next keyboard marathon. 

2) Writers Understand Criticism 

Most writers have felt left down by comments from readers, whether that reader was a stranger or a best friend. Writers understand that when you ask someone what they think of something you wrote, and ask for advice on where it can be improved that they don’t really mean “Please tell me it’s perfect and flawless and the best thing you’ve ever read” 

Writers know that when a writer asks for an opinion, they want YOUR opinion. They want to know what you think. The don’t want to hear what you assume they want to hear. They want the truth, in a nice way. They also understand how to point out an issue in your story without making you feel like you wrote the biggest pile of crap on the planet. They might even have suggestions on how to fix it. 

3) Inspiration 

I don’t mean “hey, Jim is writing a book about space aliens invading Earth, I’m going to write a book about that same thing.” I mean, writers who write motivate you to write. There’s nothing more motivating than hearing what great fun your friends are having writing their books. 

4) Writing is Hard 

Writing is hard. Don’t suffer alone. Find others who are suffering and commiserate together. There is unity in hardship. 

In all seriousness, writing is hard. Anything worth doing is hard sometimes. Your writer friends are there to remind you to never give up. Even if they don’t like the genre you write in, most of the time they’ll read what you’ve written because they like you and want to support you. Writer friends also understand the fragility of the writer’s ego. They’ll be there to encourage you when you need it. 

5) Writers Don’t Have To Be Hermits 

Writers don’t have to be introverted hermits that suck at social interaction. Does this describe me? You bet. But it doesn’t have to. I’ve made friends with local writers. I recently attended a birthday party for a local writer friend’s offspring and who did I hang out with? Two mutual writer friends. I got to be social without feeling awkward. I got to talk to friends whom I share interests with. I got to jack my kids up on sugar, then write through the crash. 

Remember, just because you’re alone at your keyboard, it doesn’t have to mean that you are always alone. 

Dear Jim,

Please can you fix it so my brother remembers me. 

Euros Holmes. 

So has the whole 4 seasons been purely for Euros to hang out with her family? 

Seems a bit excessive. Even for JM. 

JUST SO. 

I Owe You One (Jim Kirk x Reader)

Summary: Anon request:  is request still open? if yes, can I request a kirk x engineer! reader where kirk likes to poke around her stuff just to annoy her? thank you

Warnings: Language

Pairing: Jim Kirk x Reader

A/N: Sorry this took so long, hope it is alright and you enjoy it! Thanks to @webhoard for helping me out with a couple sources for the more technical stuff. This is my first attempt at a job specific reader so i hope I’ve done ok :)

Words: 1018


The sound of the Warp Core humming from the floor above, the sound of metal on metal, and occasional loud cursing filled the small, empty room you inhabited. You had been scheduled in for the night shift for the third time in a week, but as tired as you were, having time to yourself instead of being surrounded by large groups of meddling engineers was a welcome part of the job. It was nice to get away from the chaos that was the main engineering deck, it was difficult to get anything done when you had five know-it-alls peering over your shoulder.

Today Scotty had sent you to fix the electro-plasma regulator, which was located in the room you now occupied. You were lying under the main control panel fiddling; trying to remove a small rectangular panel to get at the wires beneath. Cursing Starfleet for making this seemingly easy task so ridiculously tricky, due to the size and number of the screws to be removed whilst lying on your back with little room to move a screwdriver, you persevered - only to silently curse again when you heard the door slide open.

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Lunchtime Drabble: See Me (10/?)

Lunchtime Drabble: See Me (10/?)
Pairing: Leonard McCoy x Fem!Reader, Kirk x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 981
Series Warnings: Some swearing, mention of death, a few injuries.
Series Masterlist so you can catch up!


Originally posted by sinobuazuma

Jim gently led you back to your room and sat you at the table. From the sound of his sigh, he laid down on your bed.

“Are you really okay, Jim?” You asked, worried that he was hurt worse than he let on.

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Take Me Home

Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: Sherlolly
Author's Note: I’m nervous, oh my. This is my first Sherlolly Fanfiction. Please tell me whether you liked or not! <3 
I wanna give a shout out to my lovely Betas @cumberbabe-usa and @your-fave-sherlollipop  Thank you sooo much, my Sweeties! I really appreciate your help! <3
Okay, here we go. I hope you like it!

______________________

“You have to come,“ John insisted.

“John, you know very well that I don’t enjoy events like these. Also I have an important chemistry examination tomorrow. I need to study.” Sherlock shifted in his seat and dramatically reached out for a textbook to demonstrate the urgency of his studying for his final exam.

John just rolled his eyes at his friend’s tendency to exaggerate things. “As if you were going to study, Sherlock. You haven’t even taken a look at his book for the entire semester, why start now?”

“Better now than never,” Sherlock lowered the book in front of his eyes slowly to give his flatmate an annoyed glare.

“You are coming with me,” John said, while he searched the room for his keys. Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, but was suddenly attack by his flying Belstaff, which landed directly on his face.

“But me no buts.”

“Fine.” Sherlock mumbled.

*******
Sherlock inhaled deeply and tried to block out the noises around him. It was hard to stay focused with people chatting, laughing and flirting all around him in an unpleasant volume.

He gave up on trying to enter his Mind Palace and wondered why he had agreed to attend a social event like this one in the first place. Of course, his best friend had convinced him to join him for a night of partying, and of course Sherlock had agreed. At the moment, John was lost in the crowd and Sherlock had no idea what to do, so he started his deductions.

Next to him, a young girl exchanged numbers with a guy who was anything but trustworthy. While she wrote down her number as neatly as possible on a dirty napkin, he looked around checking out every possible single woman in the room and then smiled sheepishly back at her when she handed him her number.

“He is not gonna call,“ Sherlock told her before he made his way up to the bar.

The girl furrowed her brow at him and gave him a confused smile.

Sherlock just shook his head and rolled his eyes in frustration. He probably would never understand how people were able to follow their emotions so blindly, ignoring the obvious.

“Another one,“ he said, handing the bartender his empty glass. While he was waiting for his drink to be served, his eyes wandered around the room.  Most of the people in the club were on the dance floor cheering as the DJ played another annoying track from the Nineties.

He caught a glimpse of yellow out of the corner of his eye, so he turned around and the woman who just entered the room drew his attention. She was wearing a short yellow dress, not a yellow that was too bright: no, it worked perfectly well with her brown hair.

Sherlock could tell that it was her first time being at a location like this one. Nervously her eyes searched the room as her hands clutched her small leather purse.

He couldn’t stop staring at her, and for a short instant their gazes met. He felt his heartbeat stop, time seemed to slow down, and for a second it was just them. Sherlock was taken out of the moment by someone tapping slightly aggressively on his shoulder. Before he turned around, he could see how her cheeks flushed and how quickly she turned away from his gaze.

John Watson grinned at him.  "Sorry to interrupt whatever that just was. I mean it clearly was something, maybe you should go and follow her-”

“John, what is it?“ Sherlock asked in annoyance and furrowed his brows.

"I met this really nice girl, and I uhm, I’m taking her home,“ his best friend answered and nearly tripped over as he tried to keep his balance.

"And you want me to come home later.” Sherlock finished his sentence, since John was struggling to find the right words.

“Exactly.”

Sherlock simply nodded in approval.  "Sure, no problem.“

“Thank you!“ John’s face brightened up and he pulled Sherlock into an awkward hug. "Thank you so much,“ he repeated then hurried back to wherever he came from and Sherlock was left alone once again. He reached out for his drink and glanced toward the entrance. The woman in the yellow dress was gone and nowhere to be seen.

******

Molly felt relieved as she finally spotted Mary in the mass of people on and around the dance floor.

"Hi, sorry it got a little late. The traffic was just horrible,“ she explained with a warm smile.

Mary pulled her friend into an embrace.  "Molly, my dear, you look lovely! And no worries, but I must tell you that I’m already leaving.“

Molly looked at her quizzically and Mary giggled at her confusion.  "I’ve met this really cute guy and he is taking me home,“ she winked.

"Oh, oh!” Molly answered in realization. “Uhm, have fun and don’t forget protection!“ she said in a joking motherly tone.

Mary bit her smiling lip and nodded her head eagerly as she stumbled into the arms of a guy, whom Molly assumed was the really cute one.  He gave Molly a soft smile as she watched them getting ready to leave. He put a jacket around Mary’s shoulders and then took her hand. Molly waved goodbye and felt her mood drop instantly. She felt the strong urge to get herself drunk, so she walked to the bar she had seen when she had entered the club, and she decided to order a couple of shots.

The night probably can’t get any worse,’ she thought, and downed her first shot of vodka in one go.

*****

"How lovely,“ he smiled, but if he was being honest Sherlock couldn’t care less about the story he had just been told by the woman sitting way too close to him on the black leather couch in the back of the club.  Sherlock rose from his seat.

"Getting another drink,“ he simply stated as she frowned at his sudden movement. "I’ll be back in a minute.“

Something caught his attention while he was waiting at the bar. The woman in the yellow dress was just leaning over the counter to order her approximately 3rd drink.

"This one is on me.“ Molly looked up from her purse in confusion to find a stranger paying for her drink.  When he turned around to hand her the glass, she recognized his face. Their eyes had met earlier this evening.

"Thank you,“ she mumbled shyly and felt her cheeks burn as his fingers brushed against hers when he handed her drink to her.  His eyes were fixed on every movement of hers.

Sherlock didn’t know why he did what had just done.  Somehow his mind had lost control over his body. His train of thought was interrupted by her.

"I’m Molly by the way,“ she said, avoiding his gaze. Molly felt already anxious and insecure and the fact that he hadn’t stopped staring at her didn’t do any good to slow her already racing heart beat.

"Sherlock,“ he answered shortly. He wondered why he wasn’t able to take his eyes off her. Something about her was rather fascinating. The way she bit her lip, searching for the right words to start a conversation, or how she played with a single strand of her hazelnut brown hair while she looked around the room to avoid his gaze.

"Anyways, nice to meet you, Molly,“ Sherlock said to break the deafening silence between them.

"I agree, Sherlock. And thank you again.“

Her smile was as sweet as chocolate as she pointed to her glass and he couldn’t help but wonder if her lips tasted as good as they looked.

"Oh, it’s not a big deal,“ he returned as coolly as possible.  'Stay calm,’ he reminded himself.

She began to stutter.  "It’s actually the first time that someone has bought me a drink.“  Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"Perhaps, but there is a first time for everything, isn’t there?“  He gave her soft smile and Molly nearly fainted at his cuteness.

"How exactly?“ she asked a little more self-confident.

"One could say, that I’m pretty good at deducing people and their behavior,“ he explained.

She leaned forward.  "That must be quite a skill.  Being able to tell if someone is honest with you just by the way they act.“

Sherlock couldn’t stop smiling at her.  "Well, sometimes it can be a little… annoying,“ he stated and took a sip from his drink.

"I see, I see,“ she said and smiled at him. God, her smile was going to be the death of him.

"Molly, you look… well,“ he prompted out of nowhere and Sherlock could feel his cheeks turning red.

"Thank you.“ Her eyes sparkled and she smiled and put her hand on the counter next to his. Sherlock studied them for a moment: how tiny her hands were compared to his, how soft her skin appeared to be, and how perfectly well her hand would fit into his.  Quickly he put these thoughts aside and looked back up.

Molly wondered what he was thinking about, and she also wondered why he had been flirting with her. He was extremely good looking with eyes she could stare into for hours, and he was clever. The word clever being an understatement since he seemed to be tremendously intelligent.

"It was nice making your acquaintance,“ he broke the silence once again, "but I’ve gotta check on a friend of mine.“

He pointed over his shoulder.  Molly’s smile slowly faded and Sherlock felt an ache in his chest.

"Of course, thank you again, and see you around hopefully.“ Her voice was low and her smile wasn’t as sweet as before.

The aching in his chest grew as he turned around to wander through the room, feeling her eyes on his back.

Molly ordered another shot as soon as he had left. ‘Great,’ she thought, ‘just great.’ She considered leaving as a man slowly approached her.

“What’s wrong, my dear?” he asked in a honeyed voice and a concerned look on his face.

After a few drinks and a still on going conversation with the man who had introduced himself as Jim Moriarty, Molly felt lucky about deciding to stay. Jim seemed to show an actual interest in her and her life.

“Oh really? That’s awesome!” he said with a smile dancing around his lips. “Tell me more.”  He leaned towards her, his eyes fixed on her lips and every word she spoke. Yes, Molly really started to enjoy his company.

******

Meanwhile, Sherlock had found himself yet again with a way too talkative woman. He thought about Molly: her heartwarming smile, her small soft hands and the way she was actually interested in what he said and not only in his looks. His eyes wandered to the glass in his hands, nearly empty.

“Sorry to interrupt. I’m just gonna get another one.” He held up his drink, “I’ll be back soon.”

He hurried to the bar and hoped to see Molly again. Sherlock somehow regretted the decision to leave her alone. His chest ached once again, when he saw her smiling at another man at the end of the bar. Sherlock tried his best to ignore them, but he couldn’t stop glancing towards their direction. Molly seemed uncomfortable in her situation. The guy to whom she was talking had placed his hand on her leg but she had put it aside fast, shook her head and forced a smile. Molly kept looking at her watch and she refused another drink while the guy insisted on buying her one. Sherlock couldn’t bear to watch the scene any longer, so he put a couple of pounds on the table, grabbed his drink and figured out a way to help Molly.

******

Molly had tried everything she could to get rid of the bloke in front of her, who had started talking to her as soon as Jim had left. Her state of intoxication wasn’t helping matters.

She arose from the bar-stool. “I need fresh air,” she stated as her feet hit the floor.

“I’m coming with you,” he said in a husky voice, and tried to put an arm around her.

Molly backed up in panic. “There is no need to.”  Suddenly she bumped into another person.

“Oh, there you are, darling! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I’ll be guiding you outside.”

She recognized his voice immediately. She looked up to find Sherlock staring down at her. She nodded as he pointed to the guy who had been harassing her and now was watching them in confusion. Molly felt a hand on her lower back and she gasped.

“Come on, let’s leave,” Sherlock said sweetly and pulled her close to his side.

Molly just started walking. His hand was still on her back; both of their hearts were racing wildly.

As they found themselves on the outside, Molly stopped to look at him. “Why did you do this?” she asked.

“Well, you were clearly uncomfortable and I wanted to prevent a bad outcome,” he said, frowning at her question.

Molly bit her lip shyly and pulled her jacket closer around her shoulders; she was shaking.

“Thank you,” she said barely in a whisper.

Sherlock started to take off his coat. “No problem.”

“What are you doing?”  Molly gave him a puzzled look.

“Well, I’m hot,-”  he stated “- and you’re obviously freezing.” Carefully he put his coat around her tiny shoulders.

“You’re gonna catch a cold!” she protested, trying to take off his coat again.

Sherlock stopped her by softly putting a hand on her shoulder. “I think my immune system is able to handle these temperatures.”

They stared at each other, and once again everything around them seemed to stop. The noises of the club behind them rang out in their ears.  In the moonlight she looked even prettier, Sherlock thought to himself, and he felt the urge to kiss her, but he resisted as he saw tears sparkling in her eyes.

“How am I ever going to pay you back for all of this, Sherlock?” she whispered.

He gave her warm smile, “Molly, I would feel honored if you could take me home with you.”

Molly couldn’t stop herself from giggling like a child, “There is nothing I’d rather do right now.” She reached out for his hand and Sherlock was glad that his assumption was correct: not only was her touch as soft as silk, but her hand also fit perfectly into his.

Mad Love #3 - Request

Requested by @sexy-bookworm-fangirl and everyone who asked for a sequel and then a part 3.
@wholocklover221b can you write a second part of Mad Love, where Reader and Moriarty (finally) get married and Reader is worried if her brothers (+ John and Lestrade) will come to the wedding, so Jim comforts her?! 

Pairing: Moriarty x reader.

Word count: 2.300

Warnings: Bit of angst and a strange development, un-edited.

A/N: I’m so tired… God, I apologise for any mistake, I honestly don’t know how I finished writing this.

Enjoy!

Originally posted by letsdiscussaboutsherlock

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

London was rainy as usual. The grey sky was clouded, and the empty streets looked more like small rivers for the pavement was covered with running water. Everyone was inside their homes, warming up to the fire place or a cozy blanket – everyone but Jim.

He felt vulgar, wearing the clothes of a regular pedestrian. The things he had to do to stay out of sight! Dressing up like a common, boring person because only then people wouldn’t notice him. Costumes as simple as that were the best ones to hide. Nobody looks at a man that buys his clothes in a thrift shop and wear the first thing he finds on his closet – except Jim wasn’t wearing the first thing he found, no, he took his time to pick the perfect pair of jeans, the dullest sweatshirt and then he scuffed his shoes on his garden before leaving.

There he was, dressed up like a common person, standing at the sidewalk opposite to that black door he knew so well… He had memorised every last bit of it, from the size of the squares that were carved for mere aesthetic, to the disturbing angle Sherlock left the golden lever that served to knock on the door. He had spent so many hours staring at it…

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Unwind

Summary: AOS Star Trek fic. Friendship between McCoy, Kirk and Reader. Helping the crew with their problems can sometimes leave you strung out. You tinker to unwind, no one knows where all the suddenly fixed PADDS keep coming from until…

Word Count: 1713

Warnings: None I think. Mentions of death but nothing too strong… I don’t even think I swore… Points for me

A/N: This is my first Star Trek Fic, so please let me know what you think! Thanks to @writingwithadinosaur for helping me out! Drea, thank you love!

Not my GIF


Originally posted by mcshipit

You didn’t have too many secrets from your crewmates; it was hard to keep anything secret in such a close knit group, especially since you were all stuck together on a multi-year mission in space. You didn’t even really mean to keep this a secret, it just never came up, so now, you just sorta kept it hidden by default. It wasn’t like it was embarrassing really, just not something you felt like explaining.

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anonymous asked:

Mckirk - I knew I wouldn't die, you were with me.

“This was stupid, and reckless, and irresponsible, and-”

“Hey, hey, Bones,” Jim interrupted him and grabbed Bones’ hand gently, pushing it away from his head. The beeping of the medical tricorder stopped immediately and Bones looked at him. “I’m okay,” Jim assured him.

Quickly Bones checked the readings and closed his eyes for a second. “This time,” he said after a while and he sounded so scared.

Jim knew that he couldn’t play this down with a stupid joke, not this time. Bones had been terrified. It was their first actual dangerous situation since they started their five year mission. This whole situation with Khan was still freshly in their minds and Bones had been reminded of it with someone pointing a gun right at Jim’s head.

“I knew I wouldn’t die. You were with me.”

Bones huffed. “I’m a doctor, Jim, not a miracle worker. I can’t do this again and I can’t fix you up after someone shot your head off your body, so please-” McCoy’s voice broke at the end and he leaned forward, laid his head against Jim’s chest.

At once Jim started to run his fingers through Bones’ hair. “I will be more careful, I promise. But what I actually meant was that I always had the feeling that I’ll die alone someday. You were there today. So that couldn’t be it.”

“So the only thing I have to do is be at your side for the rest of your life?” Bones mumbled into Jim’s uniform.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Jim whispered softly.

Bones raised his head and looked him straight in the eye. “Was this a marriage proposal?”

Jim smiled fondly. “Only if you want it to be.”

“God, yes,” Bones exclaimed with an excited spark in his eyes. “Yes!” He reached for Jim and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Suddenly Bones pulled away. “Wait, did it come from me or from you?”

Jim laughed loudly. “I really don’t care,” he mumbled before he pulled Bones back into a kiss.

Carnival - Jimin Angst Feat. Jungkook

Woah it’s currently 01:30 AM, lmao. This isn’t so good nor that long but enjoy! <33


Originally posted by sugutie

Sighing loudly, you threw your coat and shoes at the entrance of your apartment.
Grabbing at the roots of your hair, you sat down on the couch.
You closed your eyes and let yet another sigh of frustration, escape your dry lips.
“This is fucking messed up..” You whispered and bit your lip.

For 8 years you’d been best friends with none other than Jeon Jungkook.
Of course, you’d always been there for him, through bad days, good days and sadly, heartbreaks. An there had been lots of them. You see, Jungkook was a person who craved love like it was oxygen. He wanted nothing more than to feel that kind of strong emotion towards a person, who loved him just as much.
And you prayed every night, that that person could be you. That you could be that and that Jungkook would let you.

But of course, your prayers hadn’t been heard. You were aware of that, when Jungkook had brought a girl home for dinner. Britney, was her name. Sure she was a sweet girl, but you had a bad feeling. And it got even worse when she decided not to eat, because calories wasn’t good for her “upcoming bikini body”. You almost choked on your food when those words left her pink, thin lips. The girl was as flat as the table you were sitting at. And her hair was literally screaming chaos with all the yellow, blonde and golden nuances.
You weren’t jealous, at all. You wanted what was best for Jungkook. But you had to be stupid if you couldn’t see that she was after Jungkook from BTS and not Jungkook from Busan.
Your beloved Kookie.

That was why you were sitting on your worn at couch, mascara smeared.
Because you wanted what was best for Jungkook, and someone was going to get hurt if you stayed a minute longer. Whether it would be Britney, Jungkook or you - or all three of you - you weren’t sure of.

Another thing you weren’t sure of, was why you 2 hours later, was calling Jimin. Who panically tried to understand you between your sobs and cries for him and Jungkook.

-

“Yah! Y/N, open up!” You heard the familiar voice and scrambled to your feet and ran to the door. There he was. Breathlessly, in an oversized white shirt and some ripped jeans. He looked like he just had gotten out of bed, which he probably had, considering it was 2 AM.
“J-Jimin” You sobbed as you threw your shaking body into his embrace.
He was one of your best friends, sharing the ‘title’ with Jungkook.
And he knew about your feelings for Jungkook.
“It’s okay Y/N” Jimin said as he slammed the door shut with his foot and carried your over to the couch.
“It-it hurts” You whispered and buried your face in Jimin’s shirt.
He patted your head while he tried to calm you down. “I know it does. I know” His voice was sweet and quiet as he let you cry your heart out. Until there was no tears left.
“Why does it hurt so much?” You asked as you played with his short fingers.
“Because you’re human. And love makes you weak, Y/N” Jimin said as he rubbed your arm.
“I don’t like love. Not when I love someone who can never love me like that” You whispered as another silent tear slid down your damp cheek.
“I know how you feel” Jimin whispered. But you heard. You sat up and looked at Jimin, confusion evident in your eyes.
“Is there something you haven’t told me?” You asked as you took his hands in yours.
“N-no” Jimin hesitated as he fixed his gaze onto the floor.
“Jimin” You said, voice as harsh as you could manage, your throat still sore.
“It’s nothing” He said.
“It obviously is, when it bothers you” You said and kept looking at him. “Jimin please” You pleaded and tried to catch his gaze. He finally looked at you, eyes slightly red. Tears falling down one by one.
“Jim-”
“It’s you Y/N, I’ve had feelings for you since Jungkook brought you with us to that stupid carnival” He admitted as he sat down on the floor. He started crying more as he covered his face with his hands. Soft sobs making you flinch and die a little more inside.
You sat there numb as you thought about it.

You’d been so caught up in your own issues and feelings, that you hadn’t noticed Jimin’s love for you.
How he was always there a little more than Jungkook. How he could only stand by and watch as his best friend was slowly tearing you apart.
How oblivious you’d been to break Jimin like Jungkook had broken you.
How’d you’d been blinded by your own sadness to realize that your existence was tearing someone else’s apart.
And right there in that moment. You didn’t know what was worse.
Being broken or break another soul.

Part of the Plan. Jim Moriarty.

Request: Hi Lupin! Hope you’re having a nice WE! your Moriarty fics give me life, can I request one where reader is close to Moriarty but not involved in the business until one day he has not other choice than to ask her to play a part in one of his plans. Reader is reluctant but after “well, that was actually funny”. Some smut (praise kink please?) And if you are familiar with the character some sarcastic comments from Sebastian Moran all along would be so great. Thanks for considering it. Tons of love

Triggers: Smut. EVIL.

I didn’t include Colonel/Lord Moran in this simply because, I don’t know his character too well outside of the original works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Word Count: 1393

Enjoy ;D

Originally posted by damnmuse

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Westworld AU

For @conduitstr; happy birthday, girl!  ❤️ ✨

  • The moment the old steam train stops in the station, Jim is quick to hop out. He doesn’t carry any luggage with him, he doesn’t plan to stay long. Just a quick look around the town; see if any of it is worth his time and his money. It smells like dry grass, grease, and the perfumes of different people mix together as other visitors depart the train now, too. Okay, Jim thinks to himself, time to go exploring.
  • Leaving the station, he arrives at the main street. It’s really a dirt road, old wooden and stone houses on either side of it. People walk by; some in awe of their surroundings, others walk around like they don’t know any better. It doesn’t take him long to find the local saloon. There’s piano music to lift up the atmosphere. People are sitting, chatting, playing card games together, or being approached by the local host girls. Jim, too, is approached by one. “Hey, handsome,” she says, and Jim’s lips curl into a smile when she reaches out to touch his arm, “how about you and I go and have some fun upstairs?” Tempting. Very tempting. But Jim shakes his head nonetheless. “No, thank you. Perhaps later,” he replies, and then buys a glass of bourbon at the bar.
  • He’s quietly chatting to the bartender, trying to figure out more about this town. After a couple minutes, though, there’s commotion outside, so Jim goes to check it out. A group of bandits has arrived and are actively creating havoc. Jim has to duck besides liquor filled barrels to avoid bullets flying his way. The same girl who tried to get him upstairs before tries to duck, too, but she gets shot before she gets the chance to. Jim forgets all about his own safety, jumping up to drag her to safety instead. “Are you okay? Where are you hurt?” he asks, though the red stain on her dress is indication enough. “I need… I need a doctor,” she breathes, looking at Jim through tear stained eyes, and Jim nods. “Of course.”
  • They have to wait until the shooting is over, and by then, Jim worries it’s too late for her. He’s used his knife to break open one of the barrels, and uses the clear liquid to clean up the wound in her side the best he can, while simultaneously trying to keep her quiet. Then, he carries her to the doctor’s office. It’s small and it’s dusty – fairly sure it doesn’t fit the health regulations. It’s also busy, all the wounded who are still alive are all sitting on available chairs or lying on the floor while a single guy works to fix them all. “Doctor?” Jim says, “I need a doctor.” “Get in line,” the guy replies. “Please,” Jim stresses, and the guy sighs. “Put her down, I’ll be right there.”
  • The work is slow and frustrating, and so Jim decides to help out. He uses alcohol, gently cleaning the wounds of the men and women who are hurt. He doesn’t really know how to bandage them up properly, but he does his best – messy as it looks. “Thanks,” the guy says, and Jim shrugs lightly. “It’s fine. Does this happen a lot?” “More often than I care to admit,” he replies, “I’d treat you to a glass of strong liquor, but you used most of it on the wounds of these people.”
  • Life here is just hard, it seems. The doctor works through the night while Jim sleeps in the local inn. Come morning, it’s mostly curiosity who brings him back. Leonard looks exhausted, perhaps a little frustrated. “Are you okay?” Jim asks. “I’m out of supplies,” Leonard says, “last night, I’ve been raided. Stole most of my bandages and medicine. I’m thinking about going on a supply run to the next town, but the road is long and dangerous.” “I’ll join you,” Jim shrugs. “Really?” “Sure, sounds fun,” Jim replies. “I’ll pay you,” Leonard says, and Jim simply shrugs to that. It’s not like he genuinely needs the money.
  • They leave after Leonard gets someone to look after the office while he’s out. Jim’s never been on a horse before, but the horse seems to immediately listen to whatever’s on Jim’s mind, and the start of the journey is pretty harmless. Leonard talks a little about his life. About how he lost his wife and kids to raiders when he lived on a small farm outside the town. How his parents were taken by a deadly illness that made him become a doctor. He speaks with such hurt in his voice, that Jim wonders why anyone would want to live in these outback towns. Sounds like it sucks.
  • They stop an hour before sunset, near a small river. Good, too, because Jim’s legs hurt, and his feet feel a little unstable after riding for so long. He ties the horses to a tree and searches for firewood while Leonard returns just before sunset with two dead rabbits. “You’re a doctor and a skilled hunter, you’re pretty good with your hands, huh?” Jim comments, and Leonard shoots him a small grin. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
  • They eat dinner, which is surprisingly good. It gets cold at night, so Jim is glad for the fire to keep them warm. They talk more while overlooking a sky full of stars; large mountains looming in the distance. The gentle stream of the water is soothing to Jim’s ears, and he finds himself just dozing off to sleep. The same thing happens the day after. They spend time together, and Jim grows rapidly closer to this handsome doctor, who stitches him up when Jim guides his horse through a bigger river and hurts his foot through a sharp rock that hits him through the sole of his boot. They run into a lone woman who cries for help because her family’s hurt in her farmhouse, and so Leonard decides to take a detour from his own quest to help them. They save a family’s life (or Leonard does, mostly), and Jim feels pretty awesome about that.
  • “How much further, Bones?” Jim asks, and Leonard raises an eyebrow. “Bones?” “Seems a fitting nickname,” Jim says, “for all the patching up you do.” “We should be there in the afternoon,” Leonard replies. Jim watches the other’s back figure as he rides in front of him. It’s a good sight.
  • But it’s almost as if Leonard registers that feeling, or something. Because they arrive and get Leonard’s supplies, but come nightfall on their way back, Jim finds Leonard sitting closer to him than usual. Leonard teaches him how to hunt. Standing behind him with his arms around Jim’s shoulders, hands on Jim’s to make sure he aims properly. Really, it just makes Jim more distracted. When they get raided on the road, Leonard actively stands in front of Jim to try and protect him, though they make it out alright. Just with a few supplies less, because Leonard patches up the cut in Jim’s hand. “I wanted to thank you,” Leonard says, “for coming with me. In these lands, it’s hard to tell apart friend or foe. You’ve been good to me.” Jim smiles at that, reaching out to keep the other’s hand on his own a little longer. “Just a friend?” he asks with a smile, growing even wider when Leonard leans in to kiss him.
  • It just feels too good to be true. And it is. Because they get back to the town a few days later, and Jim feels oddly intimate to this man and just wants to be in his presence all the time. But he doesn’t get that lucky. They make it to the doctor’s office, and Bones gets to work immediately. But while he’s at work, a civilian comes in and demands he gives up some supplies. Jim gets up to help Leonard when the doctor refuses, but before Jim knows it, Leonard gets shot. Just like that. There’s a commotion while people flee, but Jim rushes towards the doctor instead. He kneels down next to him, grabbing his hand quickly. “Bones, please, tell me what I can do to help you,” he says, reaching out with his free hand to grab a hold of supplies. But there’s blood everywhere. “It’s okay,” Leonard breathes heavy, fingers tight in Jim’s grip, though rapidly weakening.
  • Leonard dies seconds later. Jim is devastated; staying by Leonard’s side for what feels like hours. In reality, though, it’s no more than twenty minutes before the men in the hazmat-like suits show up. They have to pry Leonard from his hands. They have to convince him it’s okay, because they’re going to fix up the broken skin tissue. They’re going to reset Leonard’s data. And they’re going to roll him back out. Leonard’s going to be okay.
  • “Do they suffer?” Jim asks, once he’s back in the real world. It feels surreal not to be in the wild west anymore. “They think they do,” his spokesperson says, “they think they feel pain. They feel terror, fear for their lives. They feel the pain from their written backstory, most of them tragic. Like Leonard and his wife and kids. It gives them character. Makes guests and potential buyers such as yourself more engaged.” Jim frowns at that, because somehow, that just seems wrong.
  • The moment the old steam train stops in the station, Jim is quick to hop out. He doesn’t carry any luggage with him, he doesn’t plan to stay long. But this time, he’s not here to look around. He’s not here to admire the life-like scents of the place. He’s not here to watch his surroundings in awe like other guests do, nor is he here to interact with those who don’t know any better. He passes the local saloon, and instead, heads straight for the doctor’s office. The bell rings when the door opens, and Leonard is there. Beautiful as ever. “You don’t look sick,” Leonard tells him after a quick scan from top to bottom. He doesn’t remember Jim, and that stings, “you need a patching up? I also have a good hangover cure.” “No, thank you,” Jim says, struggling to make sense as to why this thing, this robot in front of him, tugs at his heartstrings so much. “I can patch up nearly everything,” Leonard continues, “though I’m running real low on supplies these days-” sounds like a set up for a similar quest like the one Jim went on before. Suddenly, it all feels a little played out. “Bones,” Jim interrupts him, and just briefly, Jim witnesses the other narrow his eyes ever so lightly. Like the nickname is a very distant memory he’s trying to access. “Bones,” Jim continues, resting his hand on Leonard’s shoulder, “one of these days, I promise, I’m going to get you out of here.”

What is happening? (⊙︿⊙)

The proposal was always going to be a spectacularly bad idea. 

Molly Hooper had been growing distant, no matter how many extravagant bunches of flowers Jim had delivered to her at work, nor evenings he spent with her cat in his lap, discussing the future of forensics or the last episode of fucking Glee. It had started after that day at the lab, his introduction to Sherlock Holmes. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but she’d most certainly been trying to avoid him. And when they were together, she looked at him just a little too closely, like she was trying to see through him. 

Jim didn’t like losing. It didn’t help that, upon sharing the issue with Sebastian, his sniper had laughed so hard that he’d almost snorted imported German beer through his nose, leaning back on the sofa and clutching his stomach. Jim had scowled, sat beside him with a bowl of expensive olives. 

He stood now, holding a ring box, the rock inside pathetically small, but believable for an ‘IT. Worker’ salary. He’d picked it out of a high street catalogue, for fuck sake. 

The water was running, and he could hear Sebastian singing quietly, like he did when he thought that no one was listening. Jim always listened. He liked his sniper’s voice. 

He had to tell him, he knew. If not only to brag that things were going better now, that he had confidence in the plan. But then again, he might try and stop him.. Sebastian wasn’t exactly keen on sharing, even if it was for a job, even if Jim assured him that it wasn’t actually.. him. 

He decided to take a calculated risk.

“..Seb..” He called, stretching out the vowel in a way that was sweetly innocent, suggesting that he might want something. The singing stopped, and rather suspiciously, Sebastian called back;

“..What have you done?”

Jim toed on his shoes. He straightened his suit jacket, pocketed the ring box. He braced one hand on the wall, ready to run. 

“I’m going out.”

“Where are you going?” The words were still suspicious, and Jim could imagine him standing still beneath the water, eyes narrowed slightly, knowing that something was.. wrong. 

“To see Molly.”

He eyed the front door, bracing himself, not letting Sebastian reply before adding a hasty; “..I’m proposing.”

-

Sebastian was out of the shower in a loud clatter of thundering feet, a hand on the door tearing off the lock, though Jim was already at the bottom of the stairs and racing for the door. Sebastian came chasing after him, and Jim cursed himself for choosing a restaurant that was so damned close to the flat. Molly had suggested it, unaware that Jim lived so close. Unaware that he had something planned.

Jim laughed a little breathlessly, ring box clasped in his hand as he swung through the restaurant doors, staggering to a stop, the maitre d and other diners looking around alarmedly. Jim cleared his throat, straightened his jacket, and sauntered to the desk.

“I’m meeting a Molly Hooper.” He managed, trying to compose himself. Sebastian wouldn’t try anything here. By the time he’d had time to get dressed, put on shoes, the deed would be done - even if he’d seen where Jim had gone. 

“Of course, sir. This way.”

The waitress lead him to a table in the back, like he’d requested - champagne on ice and dim lighting, and Molly Hooper was already sat there, looking rather nice in a black off the shoulder number, if Jim was allowed to say so. 

He smiled, nodding at the waitress and then taking his seat, kissing Molly’s hand with a nervous titter, falling easily into his Richard Brook. 

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long..” He fretted, dark eyes wide, and Molly laughed herself, quiet and shy, and shook her head.

“Oh - no.. not long at all. I think I must have only gotten here a minute or so before you did!”

“Great timing!” Jim complimented with a smile, and they both laughed, the picture sickeningly sweet. Molly reached across timidly, and rested a hand on Jim’s own. Perhaps this was salvagable after all then.. She’d almost certainly agree to marry him. 

The waitress approached to take their drink orders, and Jim looked up serenely - only for an ear splitting smash to disturb the peace, Molly screaming and the other diners leaping from their seats. 

Sebastian stood outside the shattered window, a gun hanging from his hand and his eyes dark enough to strike a kind of dizzying heat into Jim’s chest. 

He was completely naked. 

Jim got up slowly, a scowl beginning on his face, though Molly was clinging to him, trying to pull him towards the back of the restaurant, to hide from the gunman. He let her, angry at him, at his clear intention to ruin this mission. This mission that Jim had put blood, sweat and tears into. 

“Jim! Come on! Please, let’s move!” Molly pleaded, and those dark eyes fixed on him, Sebastian stepping inside, ignoring the screaming staff as they threatened to call the police, one man even frantically waving a fire extinguisher. 

He walked over slowly, holding Jim’s gaze, the shared stare burning. Molly continued to push Jim back, but he stopped allowing her to do so, going stiff. This mission was ruined. Sebastian had made sure of that. It would not go without punishment. 

“You.” The sniper growled, and jabbed the gun in Jim’s direction. Eyes swivelled to him, terrified diners, staff and Molly. “Me. Home. Now.” The gun was jabbed back at the window, and Molly gave a whimper of “..Jim?”

She was holding onto his arm, confused. 

Jim scowled, narrowing his eyes. “No.” He said stubbornly, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Jim.” Sebastian clenched his teeth, those eyes dangerous. “Now.” He ordered slowly. 

Jim tilted his nose into the air, looking away. He didn’t care if he was being petty. “..No.” He said simply. 

A beat passed.

And then.

“Right." 

The gun was tossed down with a clatter, hitting broken glass, and a few of the diners jumped at the sound, all watching intently as Sebastian marched towards Jim, and then rather unexpectedly sending a shoulder into his stomach, bending him double and then lifting him under an arm. 

Molly gasped, shouting Jim’s name, but Jim just wriggled, fucking mortified, kicking his legs and trying to hit out at his sniper, to no real effect. His shoes and fists met air, but when they met skin, Sebastian didn’t react. He gave an about turn, marching straight back out of the restaurant.

"Sebastian! You fucking let me down - you let me down, right now! I’m going to fucking kill you..-”

They were in the street now. Jim could hear anxious voices follow them from the restaurant, the wail of a siren in the distance. His heart thumped with a kind of excited thrum, though that indignant anger still burned in his chest, humiliated. But heat fizzled down into his stomach at Sebastian’s words, a low growl of a teasing threat.

“..You just wait until I get you home..”

AOS Fic - In Darkness, Part V

Originally posted by lasheeda

Read In Darkness, Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV. 

For @gracieminabox.

Warnings - Angst. Medical squick. 

Side note - Mostly a filler chapter. This one is probably going to be a little confusing, too, ‘cause we’re in Jim’s head, and that’s a nasty, disorienting place to be right now. Bear with me. Proper notes will be at the bottom, as always.

McKirk, ‘cause it’s always McKirk. 

But often faltering feet
Come surest to the goal;
And they who walk in darkness meet
The sunrise of the soul

- Henry Van Dyke



It takes Jim a full second and a half to realize that the gentle hiss to his left is the comm unit.

He stirs, lifting his face from the crook of Bones’ neck.

“Enterprise…. irk. Come … Kirk. Can you read?” Scotty’s voice cuts in and out, tinny and faint as if from a great distance.

Keep reading

archiveofourown.org
Lead Me Home - Chapter 1 - blxckeyedbxstard - Gotham (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/7
Fandom: Gotham (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma, Jim Gordon/Leslie Thompkins
Characters: Oswald Cobblepot, Edward Nygma, Ivy Pepper (Gotham), Jim Gordon, Harvey Bullock
Additional Tags: virus!AU, Angst, Fluff, Some tragic stuff along the way, Blood and Violence, Major Character Injury, Episode 3x20, Pre 3x21, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Summary:

When the red dusty bomb invaded Gotham no citizen was truly safe, nor rich or poor could escape from the virus Alice and Jervis brought, not even the one and only Oswald Cobblepot. He became infected but the sweet irony was how wonderful the virus acted for him and his body, but what happens when the only person who he wants both dead and alive, Edward Nygma, gets on his way and is, with disastrous effects, infected too?

OMG GUYS, it’s done!! After a few fixes i am mildly satisfaced with the result of the first chapter! Hope everyone likes it and let me know what you think about it! Please keep in mind that English is not my main language and i am working with what i’ve learned so far (: Love! 

Prompt: “Request for angst!! Maybe the scene where Kirk dies in ‘Into Darkness’, but instead of Kirk, it’s the reader. :)”-Anon

Word Count: 1,557

Warnings: Spoilers for Into Darkness. Reader death.

Author’s Note: I think it ended up a wee bit fluffier than expected, but I like how it worked out. I hope you enjoy it Anon!

Keep reading

  • “You’re sending us on a work experience weekend?” Leonard asks, looking a little dumbfounded. “It’s a planet that needs some help. We’re gonna go there to teach them a few tricks that are, you know, more in line with the 23rd century.” “Isn’t that directly against the prime directive?” Leonard counters, following Jim as they walk towards the transporter room. “What? I can’t hear you over the found of the experience we’re gonna get,” Jim says, leaning in to kiss Leonard’s cheek. 
  • They’ve visited warm planets before, sure. And Leonard, born and raised in Georgia, knows heat. Likes heat, even, but this is a whole new level of it. It’s humid, too, and very few places in the exotic city they visit have some sort of air conditioning that’s actually working. The hospital seems alright, partially because it’s down in a cave where it’s relatively cool, and Leonard spends as much time down there as he can.
  • Jim takes he heat in stride, though, and Leonard tries not to look too disapproving of the Hawaiian t-shirts and shorts. “You look like a damn tourist,” Leonard says, and Jim laughs. “Let me enjoy the sun, don’t judge me.” “You’re going to get sunburnt. At least make sure you wear protection.” “You know me,” Jim says, sliding his arms around Bones’ shoulders, “you checked us out just a few weeks ago. I’m clean.” “What? No, I mean protection against the sun, you donut.” 
  • Spock is unaffected by the heat. Says something along the lines of “feels like Vulcan”, and continues to walk around in his uniform. Uhura, too, and Leonard is briefly envious that her uniform is but a short dress. Sulu and Chekov spend most of their time just on the beach, taking their time off to go swimming and (in Chekov’s case), interact extensively with the beautiful locals. Jim joins them after his meetings, and, like Leonard expects, he comes home with red shoulders and a very burned backside.
  • “Can’t you fix it?” Jim asks. “It’s a sunburn,” Leonard replies, “it’ll go away.” “Bones, darling, please-” “I warned you beforehand,” Leonard says, and Jim grunts as he lies down on his stomach. Though he shrieks when cold liquid lands on his back. “What the f-” “It’s just sun cream,” Leonard says, “helps with the burns.” “Warn me next time,“ Jim says, though he relaxes when Leonard’s hands massage his shoulders and his back. “Yes, because your burned skin is a telltale sign of how well you listen to my warnings,” Leonard replies. 
  • After business is done, though, it’s nice. All of them spend time on the beach. Jaylah and Scotty pick up surfing. Jim, Uhura, Spock, and Leonard go swimming. Chekov and Sulu organise a late night barbecue in the sand. And, really, Leonard finds himself quite relaxed afterwards. 
  • But the airconditioning in their room is poor. It’s a ceiling fan that doesn’t spin that well at all, and both Jim and Leonard lie in bed above the covers. Jim turns around, shifting closer, and he’s running his hand over Leonard’s chest. Leonard puts his PADD away, glancing at Jim with a small smile. “You didn’t really send us here for work experience, did you?” “No,” Jim admits, “I thought we deserved a holiday. But knowing you guys, you don’t really relax unless it’s something spontaneous, so I said nothing to you and Spock.” “The others knew?” “Chekov and Sulu, yeah,” Jim says, “they picked out the planet. Don’t think they’ve left the beach since we got here.” Leonard laughs, though, that turns into a tired groan when Jim presses himself even closer, kissing over Leonard’s cheek and down to his neck. “Jim,” Leonard huffs, “it’s a 100 degrees in here.” Jim laughs, straddling Leonard’s hips anyway. “Maybe, but I’m in desperate need for some Vitamin D.” Leonard opens his mouth to argue that - they’re on a tropical planet, after all - but when Jim kisses down his chest, hands roaming eagerly over Leonard’s body, the doctor wisely keeps his mouth shut.  
3

Sherlock : The Great Game Imagine

Imagine if the little boy from the great game was replaced by the reader (Sherlock’s girlfriend who solves cases alongside both him and Watson) and Sherlock finds a way to save her.

Word count: 2998

Trigger warning: mention of gun shot inflicted wound

The pink phone rang in Sherlock’s pocket.
“Hello?” He spoke with impatience as it interrupted.
He was at the gallery, confronting the curator. He was confident the painting was a fake. At the other end of the phone was the voice of a female. What was unusual was that she wasn’t crying, only trembling.
“Have you solved my puzzle?” You spoke into the phone, repeating after the voice from ear piece placed in your ear. You told Sherlock and John you’d stay behind at 221B while they went to the gallery. Somehow you were knocked out cold and woke up wearing a bomb. You weren’t whimpering or sobbing, it was as if you weren’t afraid…or maybe you just had a lot of confidence in Sherlock. Sherlock realised what was happening at once.
“Y/N?” he spoke with a sense of urgency. Sherlock was obviously alarmed, he hadn’t expected this to happen. Lestrade’s eyes widened in horror when he finally understood. “ It’s Y/N, oh god”. John was at a loss of what to do. Sherlock knew he had to do something. He couldn’t lose you. He just couldn’t.
“The painting is a fake! It’s a fake! That’s why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed. Oh come on, proving it’s just a detail. The painting is a fake. I’ve solved it, I’ve figured it out. It’s a fake—that’s the answer, that’s why they were killed.” There was no reply in the ear piece. Naturally, you didn’t speak either. Any wrong move could get you and anyone near by killed and you couldn’t risk anything like that. Sherlock was getting nervous. The Great Sherlock Holmes was worried over you. He cared. He cared about you.
“Okay, I’ll prove it. Give me time. Will you give me time?” The voice in the year piece started the count down. “Ten” you said slowly, starting to doubt you’d make it. Please, Sherlock, please help me.
“Ten. It’s a countdown. He’s giving me time.” But was ten seconds enough? “Jesus!” Lestrade exclaimed. “The painting is a fake, but how can I prove it? How? How? ” Sherlock needed to get this right. He needed to save you.
“Nine…Eight …” Come on, Sherlock, come on! You were starting to lose hope. “Y/N will die. I can’t let that happen. She will die because of me. Tell me why the painting is a fake. Tell me! ” Sherlock raised voice. He was worried. He was angry.
“Seven …” You started to count slower. You can do this, Sherlock. “No, shut up. Don’t say anything. It only works if I figure it out.” He gestured for the curator to shut up. Sherlock turned back to the painting. He thought hard. He needed this. He couldn’t lose you. He was determined to prove the painting was fake, frustrated that he just couldn’t figure it out. Unable to stand the tension, John began to pace around. The thought of losing you was frightening. He tried to block it out, so did Lestrade. “Must be possible. Must be staring me in the face.”
“Six … ” Shit, Sherlock hurry up! “Come on. ” John tried to calm himself down. The thought of losing you was daunting, and it was about to become a reality in just a few seconds. “Woodbridge knew, but how?”
“ Five …” Your counting was speeding up as you followed the voice from the ear piece. “It’s speeding up!” Lestrade tensed up. “Sherlock.” John muttered. Come on, Do this for Y/N. You can’t lose her. Sherlock thought to himself. Sherlock couldn’t lose you. You were one of his only friends, and his girlfriend. “Oh!” His mouth fell open.
“Four … Three…” Yes! Sherlock did it! “In the planetarium! You heard it too. Oh, that is brilliant! That is gorgeous!” “What’s Brilliant? What is?” John was lost. “This is beautiful. I love this! ” he grinned triumphantly, having solved it.
“Two …” Come on, Sherlock, do it already! “Sherlock!” Lestrade was urged Sherlock. “The Van Buren Supernova!” Sherlock yelled into the phone. “ Sherlock, help me!” You screamed into the phone. Before he could reply and before you could say anything else, you realised a gun was held to your head.
It was Molly’s boyfriend. It dawned on you. Jim. Jim Moriarty.
He took the phone and spoke into it. “ Well Done, Sherlock”
“What did you do to her!” Sherlock yelled into the phone.
“ Why are you doing this” Sherlock asked. “Why does anyone do anything? Because I’m bored. We were meant for each other, Sherlock. Did you enjoy my game?” He hung up. You looked up at him, he had a cruel, deranged smile plastered across
his face. “Why” you whimpered before he knocked you out with the butt of his gun.
The next thing you remembered was waking up to the smell of chlorine. The voice in the ear piece told you to walk out, where you found Sherlock waiting. “Brought you a little “getting to know you” present. Oh, that’s what it’s all been for isn’t it? All your little puzzles, making me dance. All to distract me from this.” You heard Sherlock speak.
“Evening. This is a turn up, isn’t it, Sherlock?” You copied exactly as the voice in the the ear piece said. You saw the look in Sherlock’s eyes, he was hurt, he was lost. He looked like a little lost child for a second, confused. Then he saw the explosives under your jacket. “Bet you never saw this coming. What would you like me to make her say next? Gottle o’ geer. Gottle o’ Geer…”
“Stop it.” Sherlock snapped. “Nice touch this, the pool. Where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop your dear Y/N too. Stop her heart.” You whimpered, you felt like a pawn, any wrong move and you’re dead. “Who are you?” Sherlock questioned.
“I gave you my number. I thought you might call. Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket? Or are you just pleased to see me?” Jim appeared across the pool with a smirk on his face. “Both.” Sherlock replied.
“Jim Moriarty. Hi. Jim? Jim from the hospital? Huh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then I suppose that was rather the point. Don’t be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don’t like getting my hands dirty. I’ve given you a glimpse, Sherlock—just a teensy glimpse—of what I’ve got going on out there in the big bad world. I’m a specialist, you see. Like you.” He cooed, something about him made your hair stand in its edge.
“Dear Jim, Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover’s nasty sister.” “Dear Jim, Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America.” Was Sherlock’s reply.
“Just so.”
“Consulting criminal. Brilliant.”
“Isn’t it? No one ever gets to me. And no one ever will.”
“I did.”
“You’ve come the closest. Now you’re in my way.”
“Thank you”
“ Didn’t mean it as a compliment.”
“Yes you did.”
You kept as silent as possible this whole time, listening attentively to their conversation.
“Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting’s over, Sherlock. Daddy’s had enough now! I’ve shown you what I can do. I’ve cut loose all those people, all those little problems. Even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off. Although. I have loved this. This little game of ours. Playing Jim from IT. Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?” Moriarty sang.
“People have died” Sherlock pointed out.
“That’s what people DO!” Moriarty shouted, his voice echoing off the walls of the room. You flinched at his scream. Both men seemed to have noticed your reaction. Moriarty gave you a wide grin, your fate depended on him. Sherlock’s green/ blue eyes gazed into yours as an attempt to comfort you.
“I will stop you.” He said. “No you won’t.
"You all right?” Sherlock looked at you, obviously worried.
“You can talk, Y/N, sweetheart. Go ahead.” You didn’t dare to speak.
“Take it.” Sherlock passed Moriarty a memory stick.
“ Hm? Oh, that. The missile plans. Boring! I could have got them anywhere.” Moriarty tossed the memory stick into the pool. Taking the chance, you grabbed Moriarty by his neck and screamed “Sherlock run!”.
To your surprise, Moriarty simply cooed “ Oh! Good. Very good.” You said “Just like that. Pull that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, and we both go up.”
“ She’s sweet, I can see why you like having her around. But then people do get so sentimental about their pets. They’re so touching and loyal. But oops! You’ve rather shown your hand there, my dear Y/N . Gotcha!” The red sight on your jacket movies to Sherlock’s head. You had to let go.
“Westwood. Do you know what happens if you don’t leave me alone, Sherlock? To you.” He seemed unfazed.
“Oh let me guess, I get killed.”
“ Kill you? Eh, no. Don’t be obvious. I mean I’m going to kill you anyway someday. I don’t want to rush it though. I’m saving it up for something special. No no no no. If you don’t stop prying I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you.”
“I have been reliably informed that I don’t have one.”
Upon hearing that, Moriarty instantly replied “But we both know that’s not quite true.” As if to demonstrate his point, more laser sights moved to your jacket and you whimpered as you closed your eyes. Sherlock’s eyes softened. They looked anxious and afraid. The great Sherlock Holmes, afraid. At least you knew he cared. That he still valued your relationship, that he still loved you. You knew he cared even though he claimed not to. Why else would he be here? Why else would he personally come for you?
“Well. I’d better be off. So nice to have had a proper chat.” Moriarty sang.
“What if I were to shoot you now? Right now.”
“Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face. Because I’d be surprised, Sherlock. Really I would. And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldn’t be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes.” Moriarty proudly left.
“Catch you… later.” Sherlock said.
“No you won’t!” Moriarty only chirped.
As he left, Sherlock frantically ripped the vest off you and slid it as far from you as possible, “Alright? Are you all right?!” He pulled you into a tight hug.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Sherlock— Sherlock! Are you okay?”
“ Me? Yeah. Fine. Fine. That, ah— thing that you did. That you, um, you offered to do. That was, um… good. But please don’t go it again. I can’t afford to lose you” Sherlock’s eyes were sincere. He was relieved that you were no longer in danger.
“I’m glad no one saw that.” You attempted to lighten the mood.
“Hm?”
“You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk.” You joked.
“People do little else.” You grinned at his reply.
Then, the laser sights returned, this time there were more.
“Sorry boys! I’m soooo changeable! It is a weakness with me. But to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can’t be allowed to continue. You just can’t. I would try to convince you. Everything I have to say has already crossed your mind.” You sighed and rolled your eyes. Not again, you thought.
“Probably my answer has crossed yours.” Sherlock replied, moving his gun down to the level of the explosives. Moriarty’s smirk disappeared.
Before you knew what happeneed, a sharp pain ran through your body and you collapsed to your knees. Grasping your stomache in pain, you screamed out as you realised that you had been shot. Sherlock immediately lowered his gun to run to your side.
“Shit!” Sherlock mumbled under his breath as he held you in his arms. You heard Moriarty say something before he waved off his men and left. The laser sights disappeared again.
“ Y/N! Sherlock!” You heard John’s voice as entered the pool. He had followed Sherlock here, you thought. “Call a taxi, quick!” Sherlock shouted at John.
Everything was a blur as Sherlock carried you (bridal style) into the taxi and screamed frantically for the driver to fetch the, to the nearest hospital. John checked the gunshot wound and attempted to stop the bleeding but to no avail. “She’s losing a lot of blood” John said, you could hear the anxious tone from his voice.
“Could you drive faster, PLEASE” Sherlock raised his voice. It was obvious that he was very worried. You recalled that earlier that day, he claimed he found it easy not to care. That this was all a game, the people were merely pawns. You were a pawn. Sherlock felt nothing for those people, it was just a game. He enjoyed playing this game. He told you not to make people into heroes and that heroes didn’t exist. He said that if they do, he wouldn’t be one of them. But Sherlock came for you, not because it was a game. The moment he picked up the phone and realised that your life was at stake, it was no longer a game. Sherlock cared deeply about you, and he solved the problem,he solved it for you, he saved you. Sherlock was your hero. Tears welled up in your eyes, you were beginning to feel faint.
“Hey, Stay with me, don’t you dare close your eyes, are you even listening to me?” Sherlock cooed into your ear. He was still holding you in his arms, with you partially lying on his lap. You leaned into his embrace and lay your head right under his chin. He wrapped one arm around you and grasped your hand desperately with his other hand. He held you tightly, he didn’t want to let go. His warmth was comforting, it was somewhat soothing. You were comfortable in his embrace.
“ Sherlock, do you still remember that night you told me you fancied me?” You let out a chuckle through the pain. “ you were so confused and… and you took everything like a game, like you had to deduce yourself that you must indeed be interested in me to be feeling those emotions, do you still feel the same way?” You whimpered as you felt a sharp pain and grasped your wound.
Sherlock squeezed your hand and replied “ I do, I still feel the same. I love you, I can’t lose you now, please don’t leave me. I never thought I’d fall in love until I met you. i’ll do anything to make sure you’re safe. Please don’t die now. It’s all my fault, I should have noticed Moriarty would get you, I should have. We should have never been together.” a tear rolled down Sherlock’s cheek. You looked up at him and wiped off his tear with your thumb, adding “Hey, look at me. Don’t say that, I never regretted the times we spent together. I’ll cherish the times John, you and I solved cases together… and the sense of achievement I’d get from it” John gazed at your eyes, it seemed as if he was about to cry too. Beads of tears trickled down your boiling cheeks.
“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me” Sherlock replied, it sounded almost as if he was sobbing.
“ Look at you, the great Sherlock Holmes, letting his emotions get to him, the great Sherlock Holmes is heartbroken. This is what Moriarty wants, he wants to tear you apart, and your letting him do it. Don’t cry” You gave him a weak smile. It took you a lot of effort to even say those things. You winced in pain as you felt yourself drifting away.
Sherlock lifted your chin and pulled you into a kiss. Your lips moved in sync, it felt sad though, it might just be your last kiss. Then Sherlock pulled away, he gazed deeply into your eyes. You could see the affection in his eyes, he obviously cared about you. You also saw sadness and anxiety. “Look, Y/N, if you make it through this, I promise we’ll get married” He seemed entirely serious. You chuckled “ Sherlock, you’re always so childish and impulsive. Are you proposing to me right now?”
“I’m serious, Y/N.” came his reply. You realised how much he valued you. He loved you dearly, it was all so clear now.
“ Look Sherlock, I’m not ready to die yet. I promise you I won’t leave you or John okay?” You gave him a weak smile, a failed attempt to comfort him. It wasn’t up to you to decide your fate, but you were determined to see Sherlock and John again. You felt Sherlock hug you tighter and you drifted away in his embrace.
You woke up to the sound of the hospital equipment beating. You were alright, at least you didn’t die. Familiar faces surrounded you — there was Lestrade by the corner near the door, Mrs Hudson and John by the end of the hospital bed. Sherlock was by your side. He squeezed your hand tightly and helped you get up. You winced as you felt the sharp pain from your wound, Sherlock was extremely gentle with you.
“What time is it?” You asked.
“8.30. You slept for a day. Feel better?”
He gave you a small smile and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You attempted to pull him into a hug.
“ Did you stay with me this whole time?” You asked.
“He refused to do anything else” John helped to reply.
“We’ll give you two some time” said Mrs Hudson as she and the others left the room. John walked towards the door before turning back. “Hamish… John Hamish Watson… If you’re looking for baby names”. Sherlock and you turned towards each other and broke into relieved smiles.

Hello Detective (Chapter 25)

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   Part 11   Part 12   Part 13   Part 14   Part 15   Part 16   Part 17   Part 18   Part 19   Part 20   Part 21   Part 22   Part 23   Part 24   Part 25   Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Part 29  Part 30  Part 31  Part 32  Part 33  Part 34   Part 35   Part 36   Part 37   Part 38  Part 39   Part 40     Part 41   Part 42   Part 43   Part 44   Part 45   Part 46   Part 47   Part 48   Part 49   Part 50 Part 51  Part 52  Part 53  Part 54  Part 55   Part 56  Part 57 Part 58 Part 59 Part 60

You awoke, sitting on cold tile, fully dressed. Whoever had done this had taken the time to dress you in a tight dress and heels. Your hands were tied behind your back. As you looked up there was a man in an expensive suit staring at you with a sinister smile. Your mouth formed an ‘O’ shape as you recognized him. Two large men grabbed you and raised you to your feet. They continued to hold onto your arms so you didn’t try to run, even though you were too weak from the drugs.

“You’re James…” you said, remembering the day you ran into him on the street. He had been following you, you had spotted him at the restaurant Sherlock had taken you to during the taxi driver case.

“Jim Moriarty. Pleased to meet you. That dress fits you well, although I regret not being the one who put you in it.” He smirked. You tried to wiggle out of their arms but they were too strong. He laughed when he saw you struggling.

“Where are we?” You asked.

“We’re at the pool where poor Carl Powers died. And you’re going to help me.” He said, nodding to one of his men. He let go of you and grabbed something off of a table. You noticed it as soon as he held it up to strap it to you. Explosives. Enough to take down the building. He wrapped it around your waist and you dared not move, afraid to set it off. After it had been strapped to you he moved to cut the ties around your hands. He knew you wouldn’t try to run while he held the detonator. After your hands were freed he placed a large coat on you, similar to the ones Sherlock is always wearing. You looked out the window and all you saw was darkness, it must have been around midnight.

The second man let go of you and placed a headphone in your ear, wrapping it down the back of your neck.

“Let’s make sure you’ve got this clear love.” Moriarty said, stepping closer to you. He placed his finger under your chin, raising it until your eyes met. You were the same height in the heels they had put you in.

“You say what I tell you exactly, or these go off.” He spoke, running his finger down your body near the explosives. You nodded weakly. He looked at his watch.

“Show time.” He said with a devious smile. His men took you out to the pool where you were to repeat Moriarty’s exact words as they were spoken in your ears. You stood behind a pillar. One of his men stayed behind with you, he was going to signal when you had to walk out.

You heard the door to the pool open and footsteps on the tile. They walked around for a bit before speaking.

“Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. That’s what it’s all been for, isn’t it? All your little puzzles, making me dance. All to distract me from this.” The voice said, your eyes grew wide as you realized who it was. You looked to Moriarty’s men, he gave you the signal to step out. You heels clicked on the tile. Your hands were in the deep pockets of the coat.

You stepped out next to the pool, turning and facing him. Sherlock Holmes. You kept a straight face, as you were instructed to do. Sherlock lowered his hand which was holding the Bruce-Partington Plans. He turned and looked to you, the level of shock on his face was enormous.

Evening. Moriarty spoke into your ear.

“Evening.” You repeated to Sherlock. “This is a turn-up, isn’t it, Sherlock?”

“Y/N. What the hell?” He asked, confused.

“Bet you never saw this coming.” You spoke his words. Sherlock stepped towards you slowly. What you saw on his face scared you more than the bombs. Doubt. He doubted you, he thought you were behind all of this.

Why don’t you open up that little coat of yours, love. Let Sherlock see that pretty body wrapped up in explosives. Moriarty instructed you. You took your hands out of your pockets and opened the coat slightly so Sherlock could see. Moriarty had seemed to pick out your most scandalous and revealing dress. Sherlock’s eyes scanned every part of your body. The doubt on his face was replaced with fear.

“What would you like me to make her say next?” You spoke his words again.

“Gottle o’ geer, gottle o’ geer, gottle o’ geer.” You spoke.

“Stop it.” Sherlock insisted.

“Nice touch, this. The pool, where little Carl died.” You began, Sherlock continued stepping closer to you. “I stopped him. I could stop Y/N Gregson, too. Stop her heart.” You said. You looked down and say a red dot on your chest. Moriarty’s snipers.

“Who are you?” Sherlock said, looking around. The opposite pool door opened and Moriarty’s true voice rang out.

“I gave you my number. Thought you might call.” Moriarty said, approaching you from behind. “Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or do you like the dress I picked out for our little girl here.”

“Both.” Sherlock said, pulling the gun out of his pocket and pointing it to Moriarty.

“Jim Moriarty. Hi. Jim? Jim from the hospital? Oh, did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point.”

You noticed Sherlock looking at the sniper line on you.

“Don’t be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle.” Moriarty said, noticing too. “I don’t like getting my hands dirty. I’ve given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I’ve got going on out there in the big bad world. I’m a specialist, you see. Like you.”

“Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover’s nasty sister? Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?” Sherlock spoke.

“Just so.” Moriarty replied, you could hear his voice getting closer.

“Consulting criminal. Brilliant.” Sherlock said, keeping his gun steady on him.

“Isn’t it? No one ever gets to me, and no one ever will.” He said.

“I did.” Sherlock said, cocking the gun.

“You’ve come the closest. Now you’re in my way.” Moriarty said.

“Thank you.” Sherlock said.

“Didn’t mean it as a compliment.” Jim said.

“Yes you did.” Sherlock returned.

“Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirtings over, Sherlock. Daddy’s had enough now. I’ve shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even 30 million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning… my dear. Back off.” Jim spoke. You looked down to the ground, remembering the man you were dealing with was not afraid of racking up a body count. Sherlock stole a quick glance at you and returned his gaze to Moriarty, still holding his gun high.

“Although I have loved this, this little game of ours. Playing Jim from IT, playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?” He rambled on, coming closer still.

“That’s what people do!” He yelled, his voice causing you to tremble slightly.

“I will stop you.” Sherlock growled back.

“No, you won’t.” He said, you noticed he was right behind you now.

“Are you alright?” Sherlock asked you. You were afraid to answer.

“You can talk, Y/Nickname. Go ahead.” You clenched your jaw at the sound of his voice in your ear, his breath on your neck. You looked up to Sherlock and nodded. He immediately held the flash drive out to Moriarty.

“Take it.” He instructed.

“Hmm? Oh… That? The missile plans.” Jim said, stepping in front of you and taking it. He held it in his hand and kissed it. “Boring! I could have got them anywhere.” He said, tossing it into the pool.

Your body took over, you lunged at him in front of you and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Sherlock, run!” You yelled. Moriarty just laughed, even though your grip on his neck was tightening.

“Good!” Jim yelled. “Very good!”

“If your sniper pulls that trigger, Jim, then we both go up.” You spoke in his ear.

“She’s sweet. I can see why you like having her around.” He said calmly to Sherlock. “Then again, people do get so sentimental about their pets. They’re so touchingly loyal. But opps! You’ve rather shown your hand there, Sergeant Gregson.”

You looked up to see the sniper had moved their line onto Sherlock.

“Gotcha.” Jim said, as you let go of him, stepping back carefully. He brushed his suit off and said, “Westwood.”

“Do you know what happens if you don’t leave me alone, Sherlock? Do you?” Jim spoke.

“Oh, let me guess. I get killed.” Sherlock said as the sniper moved back onto you.

“Kill you. Mmm, no. Don’t be obvious. I mean, I’m gonna kill you anyway someday. I don’t want to rush it, though. I’m saving it up for something special. No,no,no,no,no. If you don’t stop prying, I’ll burn you. I’ll burn the heart out of you.”

“I have been reliably informed that I don’t have one.” Sherlock spoke. Jim looked back to you with a smirk on his face.

“But we both know that’s not quite true.” Jim said. “Well, I better be off. So nice to have had a proper chat.

“What if I was to shoot you now? Right now?” Sherlock asked.

“Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face. ‘Cause I’d be surprised, Sherlock. Really, I would. And just a teensy bit… disappointed. And of course, you wouldn’t be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes.” Jim said, turning and opening the door.

“Catch you later.” sherlock said.

“No, you won’t” Jim yelled back, slamming the door. After the door was closed Sherlock placed his gun on the ground and ripped the coat off of you. He then proceeded the unstrap all the explosives from around your waist.

“All right?” Sherlock asked, you were still groggy from being drugged. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He slid the explosives down to the other side of the pool. You grabbed onto the pillar as your head began to spin. Sherlock had picked back up his gun and began inspecting the place.

“Are you okay?” you asked him. He was pacing .

“Me? Yeah, fine. I’m fine. Fine.” He kept mumbling. “That, uh… That you did. That um, you offered to do… that was, um.. Good.” He said, trying to find the words. That was Sherlock for ‘thank you’.

“I’m glad no one saw that.” you said.

“Hmm?” He asked.

“You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People would talk.” you smiled, trying to lighten the situation.

“People do little else.” He smiled back. You went to look down at the revealing dress you were wearing when you noticed the red dot re-appear. The door opened and Moriarty’s voice was back.

“Sorry, you two.” He began, you looked up to Sherlock and he was being targeted too.

“I’m so changeable. It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can’t be allowed to continue. You just can’t. I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind.”

You were now standing next to Sherlock, nearly the same height with the heels you had been put in. He looked to you and you nodded.

“Possibly my answer has crossed yours.” Sherlock said, pointing the gun at Moriarty, then slowly lowering it to the explosives that he had ripped from your body and slid to where he was standing. You closed your eyes and waited for him to pull the trigger.

2

Sherlock : The Great Game Imagine
Imagine if the little boy from the great game was replaced by the reader (Sherlock’s girlfriend who solves cases alongside both him and Watson) and Sherlock finds a way to save her.
Word count: 2998
Trigger warning: mention of gun shot inflicted wound
The pink phone rang in Sherlock’s pocket. 
“Hello?” He spoke with impatience as it interrupted.
He was at the gallery, confronting the curator. He was confident the painting was a fake. At the other end of the phone was the voice of a female. What was unusual was that she wasn’t crying, only trembling. 
“Have you solved my puzzle?” You spoke into the phone, repeating after the voice from ear piece placed in your ear. You told Sherlock and John you’d stay behind at 221B while they went to the gallery. Somehow you were knocked out cold and woke up wearing a bomb. You weren’t whimpering or sobbing, it was as if you weren’t afraid…or maybe you just had a lot of confidence in Sherlock. Sherlock realised what was happening at once. 
“Y/N?” he spoke with a sense of urgency. Sherlock was obviously alarmed, he hadn’t expected this to happen. Lestrade’s eyes widened in horror when he finally understood. “ It’s Y/N, oh god”. John was at a loss of what to do. Sherlock knew he had to do something. He couldn’t lose you. He just couldn’t.
“The painting is a fake! It’s a fake! That’s why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed. Oh come on, proving it’s just a detail. The painting is a fake. I’ve solved it, I’ve figured it out. It’s a fake—that’s the answer, that’s why they were killed.” There was no reply in the ear piece. Naturally, you didn’t speak either. Any wrong move could get you and anyone near by killed and you couldn’t risk anything like that. Sherlock was getting nervous. The Great Sherlock Holmes was worried over you. He cared. He cared about you.
“Okay, I’ll prove it. Give me time. Will you give me time?” The voice in the year piece started the count down. “Ten” you said slowly, starting to doubt you’d make it. Please, Sherlock, please help me.
“Ten. It’s a countdown. He’s giving me time.” But was ten seconds enough? “Jesus!” Lestrade exclaimed. “The painting is a fake, but how can I prove it? How? How? ” Sherlock needed to get this right. He needed to save you. 
“Nine…Eight …” Come on, Sherlock, come on! You were starting to lose hope. “Y/N will die. I can’t let that happen. She will die because of me. Tell me why the painting is a fake. Tell me! ” Sherlock raised voice. He was worried. He was angry. 
“Seven …” You started to count slower. You can do this, Sherlock. “No, shut up. Don’t say anything. It only works if I figure it out.” He gestured for the curator to shut up. Sherlock turned back to the painting. He thought hard. He needed this. He couldn’t lose you. He was determined to prove the painting was fake, frustrated that he just couldn’t figure it out. Unable to stand the tension, John began to pace around. The thought of losing you was frightening. He tried to block it out, so did Lestrade. “Must be possible. Must be staring me in the face.” 
“Six … ” Shit, Sherlock hurry up! “Come on. ” John tried to calm himself down. The thought of losing you was daunting, and it was about to become a reality in just a few seconds. “Woodbridge knew, but how?” 
“ Five …” Your counting was speeding up as you followed the voice from the ear piece. “It’s speeding up!” Lestrade tensed up. “Sherlock.” John muttered. Come on, Do this for Y/N. You can’t lose her. Sherlock thought to himself. Sherlock couldn’t lose you. You were one of his only friends, and his girlfriend. “Oh!” His mouth fell open. 
“Four … Three…” Yes! Sherlock did it! “In the planetarium! You heard it too. Oh, that is brilliant! That is gorgeous!” “What’s Brilliant? What is?” John was lost. “This is beautiful. I love this! ” he grinned triumphantly, having solved it. 
“Two …” Come on, Sherlock, do it already! “Sherlock!” Lestrade was urged Sherlock. “The Van Buren Supernova!” Sherlock yelled into the phone. “ Sherlock, help me!” You screamed into the phone. Before he could reply and before you could say anything else, you realised a gun was held to your head.
It was Molly’s boyfriend. It dawned on you. Jim. Jim Moriarty.
He took the phone and spoke into it. “ Well Done, Sherlock”
“What did you do to her!” Sherlock yelled into the phone.
“ Why are you doing this” Sherlock asked. “Why does anyone do anything? Because I’m bored. We were meant for each other, Sherlock. Did you enjoy my game?” He hung up. You looked up at him, he had a cruel, deranged smile plastered across
his face. “Why” you whimpered before he knocked you out with the butt of his gun. 
The next thing you remembered was waking up to the smell of chlorine. The voice in the ear piece told you to walk out, where you found Sherlock waiting. “Brought you a little “getting to know you” present. Oh, that’s what it’s all been for isn’t it? All your little puzzles, making me dance. All to distract me from this.” You heard Sherlock speak.
“Evening. This is a turn up, isn’t it, Sherlock?” You copied exactly as the voice in the the ear piece said. You saw the look in Sherlock’s eyes, he was hurt, he was lost. He looked like a little lost child for a second, confused. Then he saw the explosives under your jacket. “Bet you never saw this coming. What would you like me to make her say next? Gottle o’ geer. Gottle o’ Geer…” 
“Stop it.” Sherlock snapped. “Nice touch this, the pool. Where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop your dear Y/N too. Stop her heart.” You whimpered, you felt like a pawn, any wrong move and you’re dead. “Who are you?” Sherlock questioned. 
“I gave you my number. I thought you might call. Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket? Or are you just pleased to see me?” Jim appeared across the pool with a smirk on his face. “Both.” Sherlock replied.
“Jim Moriarty. Hi. Jim? Jim from the hospital? Huh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then I suppose that was rather the point. Don’t be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don’t like getting my hands dirty. I’ve given you a glimpse, Sherlock—just a teensy glimpse—of what I’ve got going on out there in the big bad world. I’m a specialist, you see. Like you.” He cooed, something about him made your hair stand in its edge.
“Dear Jim, Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover’s nasty sister.” “Dear Jim, Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America.” Was Sherlock’s reply. 
“Just so.”
“Consulting criminal. Brilliant.” 
“Isn’t it? No one ever gets to me. And no one ever will.”
“I did.” 
“You’ve come the closest. Now you’re in my way.” 
“Thank you” 
“ Didn’t mean it as a compliment.”
“Yes you did.”
You kept as silent as possible this whole time, listening attentively to their conversation. 
“Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting’s over, Sherlock. Daddy’s had enough now! I’ve shown you what I can do. I’ve cut loose all those people, all those little problems. Even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off. Although. I have loved this. This little game of ours. Playing Jim from IT. Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?” Moriarty sang.
“People have died” Sherlock pointed out.
“That’s what people DO!” Moriarty shouted, his voice echoing off the walls of the room. You flinched at his scream. Both men seemed to have noticed your reaction. Moriarty gave you a wide grin, your fate depended on him. Sherlock’s green/ blue eyes gazed into yours as an attempt to comfort you. 
“I will stop you.” He said. “No you won’t.
“You all right?” Sherlock looked at you, obviously worried.
“You can talk, Y/N, sweetheart. Go ahead.” You didn’t dare to speak. 
“Take it.” Sherlock passed Moriarty a memory stick.
“ Hm? Oh, that. The missile plans. Boring! I could have got them anywhere.” Moriarty tossed the memory stick into the pool. Taking the chance, you grabbed Moriarty by his neck and screamed “Sherlock run!”. 
To your surprise, Moriarty simply cooed “ Oh! Good. Very good.” You said “Just like that. Pull that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, and we both go up.” 
“ She’s sweet, I can see why you like having her around. But then people do get so sentimental about their pets. They’re so touching and loyal. But oops! You’ve rather shown your hand there, my dear Y/N . Gotcha!” The red sight on your jacket movies to Sherlock’s head. You had to let go. 
“Westwood. Do you know what happens if you don’t leave me alone, Sherlock? To you.” He seemed unfazed. 
“Oh let me guess, I get killed.” 
“ Kill you? Eh, no. Don’t be obvious. I mean I’m going to kill you anyway someday. I don’t want to rush it though. I’m saving it up for something special. No no no no. If you don’t stop prying I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you.” 
“I have been reliably informed that I don’t have one.” 
Upon hearing that, Moriarty instantly replied “But we both know that’s not quite true.” As if to demonstrate his point, more laser sights moved to your jacket and you whimpered as you closed your eyes. Sherlock’s eyes softened. They looked anxious and afraid. The great Sherlock Holmes, afraid. At least you knew he cared. That he still valued your relationship, that he still loved you. You knew he cared even though he claimed not to. Why else would he be here? Why else would he personally come for you? 
“Well. I’d better be off. So nice to have had a proper chat.” Moriarty sang. 
“What if I were to shoot you now? Right now.” 
“Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face. Because I’d be surprised, Sherlock. Really I would. And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldn’t be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes.” Moriarty proudly left.
“Catch you… later.” Sherlock said. 
“No you won’t!” Moriarty only chirped.
As he left, Sherlock frantically ripped the vest off you and slid it as far from you as possible, “Alright? Are you all right?!” He pulled you into a tight hug. 
“Yeah, I’m fine. Sherlock— Sherlock! Are you okay?” 
“ Me? Yeah. Fine. Fine. That, ah— thing that you did. That you, um, you offered to do. That was, um… good. But please don’t go it again. I can’t afford to lose you” Sherlock’s eyes were sincere. He was relieved that you were no longer in danger. 
“I’m glad no one saw that.” You attempted to lighten the mood. 
“Hm?” 
“You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk.” You joked. 
“People do little else.” You grinned at his reply. 
Then, the laser sights returned, this time there were more.
“Sorry boys! I’m soooo changeable! It is a weakness with me. But to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can’t be allowed to continue. You just can’t. I would try to convince you. Everything I have to say has already crossed your mind.” You sighed and rolled your eyes. Not again, you thought. 
“Probably my answer has crossed yours.” Sherlock replied, moving his gun down to the level of the explosives. Moriarty’s smirk disappeared. 
Before you knew what happeneed, a sharp pain ran through your body and you collapsed to your knees. Grasping your stomache in pain, you screamed out as you realised that you had been shot. Sherlock immediately lowered his gun to run to your side. 
“Shit!” Sherlock mumbled under his breath as he held you in his arms. You heard Moriarty say something before he waved off his men and left. The laser sights disappeared again. 
“ Y/N! Sherlock!” You heard John’s voice as entered the pool. He had followed Sherlock here, you thought. “Call a taxi, quick!” Sherlock shouted at John. 
Everything was a blur as Sherlock carried you (bridal style) into the taxi and screamed frantically for the driver to fetch the, to the nearest hospital. John checked the gunshot wound and attempted to stop the bleeding but to no avail. “She’s losing a lot of blood” John said, you could hear the anxious tone from his voice. 
“Could you drive faster, PLEASE” Sherlock raised his voice. It was obvious that he was very worried. You recalled that earlier that day, he claimed he found it easy not to care. That this was all a game, the people were merely pawns. You were a pawn. Sherlock felt nothing for those people, it was just a game. He enjoyed playing this game. He told you not to make people into heroes and that heroes didn’t exist. He said that if they do, he wouldn’t be one of them. But Sherlock came for you, not because it was a game. The moment he picked up the phone and realised that your life was at stake, it was no longer a game. Sherlock cared deeply about you, and he solved the problem,he solved it for you, he saved you. Sherlock was your hero. Tears welled up in your eyes, you were beginning to feel faint. 
“Hey, Stay with me, don’t you dare close your eyes, are you even listening to me?” Sherlock cooed into your ear. He was still holding you in his arms, with you partially lying on his lap. You leaned into his embrace and lay your head right under his chin. He wrapped one arm around you and grasped your hand desperately with his other hand. He held you tightly, he didn’t want to let go. His warmth was comforting, it was somewhat soothing. You were comfortable in his embrace.
“ Sherlock, do you still remember that night you told me you fancied me?” You let out a chuckle through the pain. “ you were so confused and… and you took everything like a game, like you had to deduce yourself that you must indeed be interested in me to be feeling those emotions, do you still feel the same way?” You whimpered as you felt a sharp pain and grasped your wound. 
Sherlock squeezed your hand and replied “ I do, I still feel the same. I love you, I can’t lose you now, please don’t leave me. I never thought I’d fall in love until I met you. i’ll do anything to make sure you’re safe. Please don’t die now. It’s all my fault, I should have noticed Moriarty would get you, I should have. We should have never been together.” a tear rolled down Sherlock’s cheek. You looked up at him and wiped off his tear with your thumb, adding “Hey, look at me. Don’t say that, I never regretted the times we spent together. I’ll cherish the times John, you and I solved cases together… and the sense of achievement I’d get from it” John gazed at your eyes, it seemed as if he was about to cry too. Beads of tears trickled down your boiling cheeks. 
“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me” Sherlock replied, it sounded almost as if he was sobbing. 
“ Look at you, the great Sherlock Holmes, letting his emotions get to him, the great Sherlock Holmes is heartbroken. This is what Moriarty wants, he wants to tear you apart, and your letting him do it. Don’t cry” You gave him a weak smile. It took you a lot of effort to even say those things. You winced in pain as you felt yourself drifting away. 
Sherlock lifted your chin and pulled you into a kiss. Your lips moved in sync, it felt sad though, it might just be your last kiss. Then Sherlock pulled away, he gazed deeply into your eyes. You could see the affection in his eyes, he obviously cared about you. You also saw sadness and anxiety. “Look, Y/N, if you make it through this, I promise we’ll get married” He seemed entirely serious. You chuckled “ Sherlock, you’re always so childish and impulsive. Are you proposing to me right now?” 
“I’m serious, Y/N.” came his reply. You realised how much he valued you. He loved you dearly, it was all so clear now. 
“ Look Sherlock, I’m not ready to die yet. I promise you I won’t leave you or John okay?” You gave him a weak smile, a failed attempt to comfort him. It wasn’t up to you to decide your fate, but you were determined to see Sherlock and John again. You felt Sherlock hug you tighter and you drifted away in his embrace. 
You woke up to the sound of the hospital equipment beating. You were alright, at least you didn’t die. Familiar faces surrounded you — there was Lestrade by the corner near the door, Mrs Hudson and John by the end of the hospital bed. Sherlock was by your side. He squeezed your hand tightly and helped you get up. You winced as you felt the sharp pain from your wound, Sherlock was extremely gentle with you. 
“What time is it?” You asked. 
“8.30. You slept for a day. Feel better?”
He gave you a small smile and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You attempted to pull him into a hug.
“ Did you stay with me this whole time?” You asked.
“He refused to do anything else” John helped to reply.
“We’ll give you two some time” said Mrs Hudson as she and the others left the room. John walked towards the door before turning back. “Hamish… John Hamish Watson… If you’re looking for baby names”. Sherlock and you turned towards each other and broke into relieved smiles.

Originally posted by 33-reren