Fandoms of the Past (Random One-shots)

Hostage (James Moriarty x fem!reader)

James put his hands up to his head, the butt of his gun against his temple. This was not what he'd been expecting when he took you hostage. You were merely leverage in the game against Sherlock and yet, that was quickly changing. You were becoming both intriguing and infuriating.

When James had taken you, he hadn't expected you to be quite so inquisitive. He'd expected tears and begging. Maybe even you being sick to your stomach. Not a thousand and one questions about everything. Perhaps it was a ploy to drive him mad and get him to either kill you or let you go. Still, after what seemed like hours of asking questions, you finally asked the right one. "Why?"

After that, James was able to calm down a bit. He answered you, only to be met with a debate. You spouted off random psychological facts and whatever else was in that brain of yours. And wouldn't you know it? You weren't just a pretty face, James realized. You were fairly intelligent.

While waiting for the right moment to lure in Sherlock, you and James had an interesting talk. Well, several interesting talks. James was surprised by how easily you seemed to get along. He was your kidnapper and yet, you didn't seem to be afraid of him. In fact, you enjoyed talking to him just as much as he enjoyed speaking to you.

"Why aren't you afraid, kitten?" he asked and you gave a little shrug. As best you could with your hands handcuffed behind you anyway. "Why should I be? You've already made up your mind as to what you're going to do. If you're planning on killing me, I refuse to spend my last moments on earth cowering in fear. If you aren't, then I really have nothing to be afraid of, do I?"

James didn't know what to do with that. Normally, when he had someone hostage at gunpoint, they quaked and cowered. They begged and pleaded for their lives. Never before had they just sat there and talked with him. James looked back to your face, his gun resting on his knee. His brows stitched together when he noticed a sly smirk on your face.

"What?" Without saying a word, you brought your hands out in front of you, the handcuffs dangling from one wrist as your rubbed the other. James stared at you in surprise. "Wh- How?" You beamed. "You didn't take into account who you were taking hostage, did you? I can break into or out of anything. Handcuffs? Child's play really. I expected more from the Napoleon of Crime."

James was torn between being impressed and being furious. He didn't appreciate your smugness in that moment, but he certain could appreciate your skill. If you were telling the truth, he could use someone like you. If not, he could just kill you and find someone else to lure in Sherlock. With an almost child-like grin, James turned back to you. "Shall we put that to the test then?" he asked, offering you a hand. You arched a brow, but took it and James tried to ignore the warmth that spread through him.

James spent the next several hours testing your skills. It didn't take him long to learn that you weren't lying. You really could break into or out of anything. It was incredible. You were almost like Houdini in reverse. That set of skills was something James needed in his little network. And, what was even better was that Sherlock and Scotland Yard would NEVER suspect a former hostage of his to work for him. Now, it was time to play with Sherlock Holmes.

*short time skip*

You played your part beautifully, distracting Sherlock long enough for James to escape. Granted, you didn't know you were playing a part. At least, James didn't think you did. He was proven wrong when he returned to one of his safe houses a few days later. He carefully removed his coat before heading to his study. He stopped short when he realized there was a fire going in the fireplace.

He glanced over at his desk in time to see the chair spin around to face him. "Hello, James," you greeted with a smirk. James fought to keep his features neutral. "And how did you get in here, kitten? I have guards everywhere." You arched a brow. "Well, pet," you began, rising gracefully from the seat, "Didn't I tell you that I could get in anywhere I wanted? You may want to hire some better trained guards. Or rather have someone train the ones you already have. IF you don't shoot them that is."

James stepped closer to you. His mind wrestled with whether or not he should kill you now. What if you had lead the authorities right to him? James shook his head. If you had done that, he would have been surrounded the moment he set foot on the grounds. Except that Scotland Yard had no evidence of his wrong doings. Not any concrete evidence anyway.

"And who would you suggest I get to do that?" A grin spread across your lips. James fought the urge to pull you to him and kiss that smug look off your face. He couldn't do that until he knew whose side you were on. "Well, I mean, I'm certain, if you asked me nicely, I would be more than willing to do it."

"For what price?" James asked. He knew nothing in life came for free. You stepped even close until your faces were only centimeters apart. "Oh I'm certain we can think of something," you breathed out. Before either of you could continue on the dangerous path you were heading, the door opened. "Forgive me, sir, but-" the servant cut themselves off as you pulled away with another smirk.

"Think about it? You know how to find me," you said before walking away from him. When you reached the door to his study, you turned back and blew him a kiss. "Until next time, James." With that, you disappeared, leaving James standing there with a smile on his face and an idea in his brain. This was going to be fun.