When a vacancy opens for a decent flat in central London, and for such a good price, who are you to decline it?
While expecting a peaceful living arrangement to develop paintings for the gallery you work for, instead you're dragged into unexpected...
"You threaten, beat and scare a man just because he was an absent father?" Sherlock walks to your side after checking on Mr Jacobs.
"Going to criticise me more, Mr Holmes?"
"Curiosity," he corrects, watching your blank face.
Stopping when Sebastian opens the car door, your mind was hesitant, and close to completely against what your heart spoke, "come with me... I need to show you something,"
~~~
The car pulled up to the address, off a dirt road from an abandoned neighborhood now used as drug dens. Gravel now splattered, mud coated, walls mildew, and a decaying fence and gate rusted to the last moments of its life.
This was home.
"Sebastian, stay in the car," you push open the door.
"Y/n, this place is-"
"If I get hurt I won't let Anna stab you, don't worry," you knew your assistant had threatened the ex-soldier, so just in case of an event, you grabbed a gun.
Sherlock soon stood by your side, staring up at the falling sign which was once up and proud with the word "orphanage" carved out of iron. "I don't think I need to tell you that the world is cruel, Mr Holmes," a wave of sour air fills your lungs, "we've both seen the short end of the stick... at what age and with what coping defines how we move on,"
"And I'm guessing yours was at a younger age?" He follows you through the faded yard.
"I read about Red Beard, about your sister, about your years in boarding," you went on without mind to his question. "Your coping is erasing what memories haunt you... some of us don't have that pleasure and live with it almost always at the front of our mind," kicking the jammed door until it opened, you cough from the severe dust issue. "You were right about personal experience, I did lose someone,"
"Why are you telling me this?" Sherlock stops you, feeling as if he had stolen your diary, reading it out to the world. This felt like a violation, like words he had no right to hear.
"Because you see me as evil. An evil like Moriarty... maybe that's true but it's all I have ever known," finger along wooden furniture, graffiti replaced once pristine oil paintings, and slick varnish. "I want you to understand why I do this. That is the humanity Moriarty lacks which you fail to see in me,"
"You're a killer, sorry that I'm a bit hesitant to find a redeemable trait," he shoots back, slowing down while you continue further.
"I grew up in a cruel world. I have only ever seen the cruel in people no matter what, sorry that I'm a bit hesitant to find a redeemable trait," you mimic, walking up stairs which dip under your step. "Besides criminal dealings and petty consultations, do you want to know what I do?"
"Murder?" he scoffs in amused disbelief, watching you on the second flight of stairs to his right.
"Help the unhelpful make rights to their many wrongs," you continue to the second floor as he continues to note what you say. "Mr Jacobs is one of the many examples, while some are usually easier to convince, people like him need a bit more to push them along,"
"Promising a job and giving him money doesn't mean you can assault and threaten him, Y/n,"
"Yet people like him CAN LET A CHILD DIE!" You spin on your heel, yell causing a few birds to flock away. "These bastards are lucky I haven't murdered them in cold fucking blood!" storming up to him, your finger pointed threateningly, "while I don't see the good, I do see the potential, and I see the chance to let children grow up loved and cared for,"
Sherlock had nothing to say to this. He was glued to his spot, not daring to move as your chest rose and fall in a rapid pace, eyes burning with pent up guilt, anger and pain.
"That, Mr Holmes, is my motive... In case you ever need to find one."
~~~
"Anna!" You yell, a shaking voice noting to them exactly what your state was.
They rushes to put on the kettle, stumbling from the kitchen with a blanket and wrapping their arms around you, trying to hold you up as your knees buckle with every sob. "Woah, woah, Boss," they rub your back, leading you to the couch, "deep breaths,"
You nod in agreement, following them to the couch. A day of too much emotionally driven events left your drained, tears streaming from your eyes and onto Anna's shoulder. Only very few knew of the orphanage, and you made the mistake of showing Sherlock. For what? The slim chance that he could see some sort of good in you?
"The kettle is on, I'll get some blankets, pillows and snacks so we can watch whatever you want," Anna gives a bright smile to encourage an answer from you.
"Alright..."
"If I may..." Moriarty's voice made you grab the gun from under the couch and point it right at him. "I think talking may help here,"
"What the fuck are you doing in my house?" you grit out.
"Visiting Anna considering you stole my right-hand man," he grabs a toffee from a small bowl of assorted treats, "you really can't afford better sweets?"
"Are you here to insult my sweet choice, fuck my assistant or play therapist?"
"All three," he pops it into his mouth before waving Anna off to the kitchen, the assistant flipping him off subtly. "Love you too!" Jim yells in response.
"Really not in the mood to listen to your shit, Moriarty,"
"Great," he kneels down to the fire place, taking out a match to ignite it, "because I intend to listen... but you should really invest in a gas fireplace," he notes at the end, but the first part made you deadpan.
"You're going to shut up and listen to me?"
"I said I'd listen, never said I'd actually shut up... but I'll refrain from too much commentary," he lets the flames reflect in his iris'. "So you better make it quick and interesting or else I can't promise I'll keep quiet for long,"
~~~
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At work and hella hungry- and I already had my break I-
