[CONTAINS SMUT!] ❗️18+❗️
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Being the youngest Holmes was always quite the journey, especially when you didn't want to show off your talents, maybe even lack of such. Compared to your brothers you were always the 'dumb' one. The teachers saw it, yo...
Keys jingled lightly between your fingers, headphones pressed over your ears and music flowing through. Mycroft had to go to a meeting but you didn't mind, you weren't exactly surprised either. He offered for his driver to drop you off, but you declined, wanting to enjoy the perfect weather.
Pattering your fingers against your coat pocket, you spin around in your spot at the foot of 221B, halting at the sight of a box.
From left to right, you looked for someone who may have misplaced such an item. Knelt down beside it, you check the letter and see your name written elegantly across the luxury paper.
"Weird..." it felt cold against your touch meaning it had been here for a while, there was no ticking so it was safe enough. Shoes thumped up the stairs as you pushed open 221B and went to your room, first door before Sherlock's room.
The ribbon fell away, lid lifted to reveal the exact boots you had been eyeing earlier. There was a receipt then a note which stated:
If they don't fit, just return them x
"The hell?" The seal on the card had a single 'M' in such a bewildering design of pure luxury.
Dear Y/n,
I hope you enjoy these, and I do hope they are the right ones. You interest me greatly and I wish to keep in contact with you someway or another whether through letters or text. The decision is yours, my dear. My number is 07*********.
Kind regards, Jim Moriarty x
The letter dropped from your grip as you backed up against the wall. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," your fear was never hidden to the outside world, this was not exception.
Though you didn't know his first name, hardly the universe is ever so lazy to make a coincidence. Moriarty, your big brother's rival and Consulting Criminal of the world had found you!
The door of the flat started to fiddle and in seconds you stuffed the letter in your desk, hid the box under your bed and locked yourself in the bathroom. Water poured from the shower head, steam fogging up easily as you stared at yourself.
"Why am I scared? Sherlock and Mycroft wouldn't let him hurt me... besides it's only a pair of boots, it's not like he's asking me to betray Sherly," you pep talk yourself into conviction.
"Y/n! Hurry up!"
"I just got in the damn shower!" You yell back to your brother before stripping yourself and quickly rinse yourself to mimic your state mid shower.
"Well, get out!" Sherlock slammed his fist on the door like a toddler.
"Alright!" This screaming banter was heard by Mrs H downstairs who shook her head, continuing to brew her herbal soothers.
~~~
"You got something today,"
"What?"
"That ribbon on your bed, it's from a present and not from any of us, mainly because Mycroft doesn't do anything like that, Mum and Dad wouldn't be able to send such a thing and I certainly aren't bothered to put in that much effort, neither is John, Gary or Molly,"
"Wow, thanks,"
"So who is it from?"
"Just some online store, they make the package look real fancy," Sherlock gave you a pair of confused eyes. "What? Can't a girl want to receive a nicely packaged box? I don't want that same old brown wrapping paper every time,"
"It better not have cost extra, because it would not have been worth it," your brother lifted the Violin up to his chin again and started to play.
"No, it was included in the price,"
"Price being?" Silence. "Y/n?"
"£242,"
"Y/N!" Sherlock glanced at you again, "Y/n, who sent it to you?"
Saying 'no one' would be stupid, lying anymore would be idiotic, "Moriarty-"
John halted his typing and Sherlock struck the wrong note. "What did you say?"
"M-Moriarty sent it... I don't know how he found out my name... or the shoes I wanted-"
"He's been watching," the boys looked to each other, John nodding and calling Mycroft as Sherlock shut the blinds. "N/n, listen," the middle Holmes knelt down to your side. "I know he sent it with a letter, so please hand it over,"
"Of course," you confirm, running to your room, taking out the gift to pass it to Sherlock. He sniffed, knocked and examined everything. "Please don't tell me he poisoned me,"
"No, no, at least I don't think so, but Moriarty isn't that desperate," box and boots were strewn away as your brother opened the letter again, tapping the wax and running his fingers over the paper. "You didn't text the number, did you?" You didn't say anything. "You didn't did you?!"
"No! No, god no, I'm not an idiot Sherlock! He's killed people, I'm not going to be his next victim,"
"We wouldn't let that happen, N/n, I promise," arms wrapped tightly around you. "You're a Holmes, meaning you're strong and smart enough to survive,"
"Anyone is smart enough to survive if they tried,"
"Yet, after being in contact directly with Jim Moriarty, you're still breathing," pinching his sides, Sherlock jumped back with a scowl thrown at you.
"Will I be in danger?"
"Yes-" he saw the fear in your eyes, "but it doesn't mean any of us will let you get hurt,"
Mycroft suddenly rushed in, more frantic looking, contrasting greatly with his usually composed self. "Are you alright?!"
"I got a present not a damn knife to the neck!" This earned you a glare. "Yes, I'm fine, don't worry, Mikey,"
"I'm fine,"
~~~
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