[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...
Jim held his eyes shut for a moment. He kept in a breath, rethinking what had happened. For once in his life, his hardly dulling life, he was scared.
Scared!
The Jim Moriarty, Consulting criminal, Napoleon of crime, was scared.
And not of anything remotely terrifying, no, he was scared of hurting you. Losing you was a thought which would send him down a path of pure chaos.
Since day one he had his eyes set on you. Wishing to toy, play and eventually discard of you. Now that thought was out the window. He could never do that.
You made him feel.
Really feel.
The single thought of hurting you, truly hurting you, was one that repulsed him, let alone the thought of another doing so.
"You're thinking loudly, Jim," your voice snapped him out of his trance. "What's wrong?" It was two days after you got to Moriarty's mansion, two days and Sherlock was running a muck as Mycroft tried to be strategic with finding you.
"Nothing," Jim was sat on his chair, head on his knuckles and eyes glaring into the fire place.
"You must take me for an idiot, you're picking at your palm, your breathing is uneven and your lips is going to bleed if you keep biting at it," kneeling down beside him, you take his hand, kissing it lightly as he moved to finally look at you.
"You're not an idiot, Y/n,"
"Then tell me what's wrong and don't try to lie,"
He pat his lap, letting you settle in it before running his hand through your hair. "Just thinking,"
"We've established that, so please do elaborate on why this thinking is nerving you," you nestle your head under his chin, against his shoulder.
"Just wondering about us... how this will work," he hums, a sudden idea sparking in his head.
"No, we can't run away or murder my brothers,"
"Okay now that's no fun," he laughs when you slap him over the head. "Sorry, sorry, I just don't want to kidnap you again, it's boring and... a bit cliche,"
"Oh, god forbid the napoleon of crime be cliche!" That got Moriarty to start an ambush of tickles to your side.
"Don't patronize me, darling!" He shouted playfully with each prod.
"J-Jim! Stop!" bursts of laughter left you, trying to escape his grip.
"Nope!~" He sang, actually halting when you fell on the floor with a thud. "Y/n??"
"He's killed me!" you play dead on the floor making him roll his eyes.
"Stop being dramatic, that's my job," a soft kiss was placed on your lips when he bent down.
"Yes, sir," you salute after he pulled away.
"Boss, Sherlock has found the warehouse," Seb leaned on the door frame with a smirk at the two of you.
"Hey, Sebby," you wave which he returns. "Does that mean I'll need to be tied up and gagged to make it believable,"
"Well, from the noises last night you won't exactly be against it," Sebastian snickers, ducking when a bullet nearly hits him from Jim's gun.
"You're a dead man, Moran!" Moriarty yells as you laugh with two hands over your face. "I'm going to kill him,"
"Don't you dare,"
~~~
"SHERLOCK!" You whimper in pain as Moriarty held a gun to your head. Said consulting detective burst through the door of the warehouse, John right behind.
"I was just starting to have fun!" Moriarty groans.
"Was three days not enough, you psycho?!" John hitched his breath when he looked down to see sniper lasers on his chest, a few on Sherlock.
"The past two she was dead asleep..."
"How many times did you drug her?" Sherlock's ragged breath was noticeable, you felt horrible for lying.
"Only a few! She did try to escape twice, such a naughty girl," he grabbed your chin tight, your breath hitching. "I'm so sorry," Moriarty whispers into your ear, so quietly you hardly heard it.
You whimper in fear, letting fake tears roll down your cheeks just as planned. "Please, s-stop,"
"What do you want, Moriarty?"
"For you to play... the... GAME!" You yourself jumped at the volume increase suddenly. "You ignore me unless I've got your precious little sister in my possession,"
"Because I'm done following your rules," Sherlock stepped forward making Moriarty raise his gun.
"You don't get to choose when you're done. You're done when I SAY YOU'RE DONE!"
"Just play the game, Sherlock, please, just play it!" you cry out, leaning forward in a plead.
"Alright! I'll play your game! Just let her go,"
"Wonderful!" You were thrown forward onto the ground, your body stumbling up and to the boys, clinging onto Sherlock's coat. "See you very soon,"
And he was gone.
The door across slamming shut and the sniper lasers missing. Sherlock wrapped his coat around your bloody body, of course fake blood... plus blood which wasn't yours; you were against the idea of getting a stranger's blood on you but Sebastian dismissed your warning as Jim laughed when you took the ex-soldier down in a single lunge.
"Oh god, how much did he strangle you??" John checked your neck with wide and worried eyes.
"I-I don't know," you touched the hickeys which they had mistaken for strangulation marks. Thank god for Moriarty's persistence in one spot to merge them together like a damn Van Gogh.
"The cut on her lip is healed, no broken bones or anything severe," John and Sherlock agree, mumbling before your brother lifted you in his arms, rushing you out to Lestrade who was waiting in a police car.
~~~
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