[CONTAINS SMUT!] ❗️18+❗️
~~~
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...
They were only passing by on the outskirts of London, but it was on the closer side to 221B, so off on one good foot you went. The blood had dried up from your lip a while ago but you stupidly bit it in awkwardness from the stares.
Hissing out at the sting, your rapid knock at the front door was answered by Mrs H. "Y/n!"
Everyone, Sherlock, John, Mycroft, Lestrade, Molly, and even Donovan and Anderson rushed down.
"You're alright!" A little context, Anderson flirted with you very often, mostly to piss off Sherlock thinking you were in love with him. He just didn't seem to get the hint.
You scrunch your face up at the cheap cologne and knee him right in his crown jewels. "You smell like dollar store boys perfume," he fell at your feet as you let the case fall down by Sherlock and Mycroft. "One of your idiot Russian cases, ring a bell?"
"Oh, them," Number 1 self-proclaimed sociopathic brother Sherlock truly was! "Thanks, Y/n,"
"She was kidnapped and that's all?!" John screams in a burning rage.
"I know how to handle myself, John, I may be less psychotic but I'm still a Holmes,"
"High functioning sociopath," Sherlock murmurs like a repetitive prayer.
"You kept the boots?" Mycroft sneers as everyone looks down, the few boys knowing who it was from but the others lost in cryptic words.
"Yes, because apparently even a Psychopath can pay attention to my likes,"
Sherlock grabbed your upper arm and tugged you back before you could leave. "He's dangerous,"
"I am well aware what he is, but it's a gift, it's not like I have distant aggressive rivalry phone sex with him everyday, unlike you,"
"The freak's gay!" Donovan snickers making you spin to her and round house kick her straight on. She fell back with a bloody nose.
"Shut your bitch-ass mouth, I'm not in the mood to remind you on your manners," you were held back from committing any more physical harm. "Don't even pull that assault on an officer bullshit, you're off shift," storming off with held back tears, Molly ran after you.
~~~
Molly left soon after you assured her you were fine. She fixed up the cut on your lip after asking John who you refused to see. You didn't want anyone there in all honesty, not because you were hurt from the lack of concern, you were used to that.
But you were just exhausted. Utterly.
After getting cleaned up, a nap was the best idea you've had all day. It wasn't until late noon that day that you exited your room. "Y/n, there's a package for you!" Mrs Hudson walked through the kitchen door, the elder Holmes rushing over and taking the box before you could lay a breath near it.
"Moriarty," Sherlock whispered as if any loud mention of him would bring bad luck.
"I don't care," you snatch the letter and box from Mycroft.
"Y/n Calixta Enola Holmes, you give that back right now!"
"Kiss my ass, Alex, I'm not in the fucking mood," you lift the lid as Mrs Hudson settles down.
"You boys listen here, you've caused your sister quite some trouble, let her receive a gift from an admirer," she giggles, "back in my day I'd have many gifts every day! So, is he cute?"
"Don't know... don't... care," you murmur in small halts as you pick away the wrapping.
"This admirer is a psychotic criminal overlord, Mrs Hudson," John whispers with venom.
"Oh, criminals are always the best lovers, good choice, Y/n," Mrs H winks.
"God, no, I'd rather not, men are tiresome, self absorbed entitled beings and I'd happily..." you see a set of paints in the box.
"What was that?" She asks with a smirk.
"I'd rather have nothing to do with them," you huff out and fully uncover an expensive painting set. "Not bad, Moriarty,"
Dear Y/n,
I am aware you wish for no contact with me, I respect that to an extent but I'm awfully sorry for the trouble those pesky men caused you. They are dealt with, my dear, worry not, but accept this as a recovery gift considering you idiot brothers have no idea how to appreciate you.
Kind regards, Jim Moriarty x
"See? Always such sweethearts," your land lady chuckles.
"Mhm," you toss the letter to Sherlock who was itching to deduce the ulterior motive. You could only assume Moriarty was watching from the street cameras for your reaction.
He was. Eyes raised hopeful that you liked the present, that you'd maybe even soften up so he could finally have his fun. Blurred and pixelated e/c eyes met his through the camera, your hands raised to sign, in BSL, a reply:
Thank you, they are really nice, and thank you for caring.
Moriarty bit his inner cheek to suppress a smile that may have read as actual relief instead of a malicious one. Yet, he failed. Current attendants of the meeting he was in confused, assuming he was watching someone's death.
No, simply the smile on the youngest Holmes sibling.
~~~
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