The Post-it Predicament (a Sherlockxreader fan fiction)

Prologue- Her.

A/N: Hiya, reader-chan! This is a story I've wanted to write for a really long time so I hope you like it. Again, I'm really sorry it is gender specific, It's just hard not using pronouns. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and I'll talk to you all after the chapter :)*Mario voice* Here we go!

Inside the large concrete building of the James Moriarty training facility, nothing was felt. The winds howled and the rain poured and the lovers loved but inside nothing from the outside world was felt by its inhabitants . The only thing to hear were the sounds of yelling. Not in distress or in pain, but in fury.

Jim Moriarty, suit-clad, sauntered his way into the building, going through scan after scan, confirming his identity.

"Mr. Moriarty, sir, we weren't expecting you until tomorrow," a man with a thick American accent said quietly.

"Ah, well Mark, I thought I'd give a surprise visit. I'm afraid things can't wait any longer."

No more negotiation was needed as Mark lead Jim through winding labyrinth-like hallways. Together they passed rooms the same dormitories seen in a private school.

"No one is in their quarters right now Mr. Moriarty. I'm afraid they are all in the canteen. Lunch hour. they should be back in a moment."

"Oh, I see that's fine."

"Sir," Mark asked nervously. "If you don't mind my asking, why so urgent?"

"I'm afraid Magnussen didn't hold Mr. Holmes for as long as I would have liked him to. I should have known. I should have known Sherlock would have gotten tired of him easily."

"So, Magnussen is in prison?"

"No, actually, for once in his life, little Sherlie did something interesting. He killed him."

Mark laughed. "Really... That's fresh.

"Yes. Quite. Shot him in the noggin." Jim tapped his forehead in the relative location to where Magnussen was shot. "Sherlock was about to be sent away, that's why I had to engage plan Sequel earlier than expected. That's why I'm here. To scout out. We've got to find the prime asset to this plan, the damsel. "

A buzzer sounded removing them from their conversion and about a hundred people came in into the room Jim and Mark were standing above. Automatically they got to work. Heaving themselves onto trainers and throwing punches at bags of corn hanging from the ceiling.

Jim studied the crowd below him from the glass window, them unaware of his surveillance.

Slowly his eyes made their way over to where you were down below. You didn't see him, you didn't even know that Moriarty was going to be at the facility today. You were sitting on the floor, your back up against the wall, looking down at a book. The only thing that brought you back to the reality around you was the surprise screams of those fighting and those being fought.

"Who is she?" Moriarty asked Mark, locking his eyes on you.

"Which one?" Mark asked looking where Moriarty was prior.

"Her. The one reading."

"Wha- she's not supposed to be doing that!! Mr. Moriarty my sincerest apologies, I'll take care of this straight away." Mark went storming off but Moriarty caught him.

"Woah, slow down. What's her name?"

"That's (full name). A bit unruly at times but, she's got a real gift, sir. Top of the class."

"Hmm, interesting. Show me down?"

"Sir, you're not actually considering her to be your assassin, are you?"

"Mark, who said anything about an assassin?" Moriarty was beginning to get angry. He walked over to Mark, backing him onto the wall. "I'll have you know, when I get the chance, I will be the one to get rid of Sherlock Holmes. Whoever it is I choose, will not come close to even having a weapon aimed at Sherlock Holmes! That is my job!" Jim backed up off Mark and smoothed out his suit; turning off his anger like a tap. "Now, if you would please show me to Miss (last name)."

"Y-yes sir," Mark said nervously and lead him down the stairs and into the training room.

As soon as the door opened to the room the people inside froze and saluted when they realized it was Moriarty.

The two men walked down the stairs.

The sudden silence caused you to look up from your book, but back down at it again. It was your favorite, one you had treasured from a young age: (favourite book title).

Trained animals you thought to yourself. You had promised you would never turn into one of them. A hypnotized piece of machinery. You were only here for one reason and one reason only: no one else would take you.

You were broken away from your novel by a shadow standing over you and someone clearing their throat.

"At ease," Jim said looking down at you with a wicked smile on his face.

You stood up suddenly realizing the danger that was literally standing before you.

"What's your name, puppet?" He brushed a piece of your (hair colour) hair out of your face.

"(Full name)," you said gripping onto the book.

"What's that you've got there, (first name)?" He reached for the book but you pulled away. "Oh come on, I'll give it back."

He took it from you and looked at the cover. "(Favorite book title)? I don't think I've read this."

"Well, I wouldn't have expected you to," you mumbled loud enough for him to here you. It's not that you liked picking fights, you just liked having the upper hand, and sometimes (if you were lucky) that turned into a fight.

It wasn't until the words came out of your mouth that you realized exactly what you had said to him. "I'm just saying, because you're so busy all the time. Plotting and scheming takes a lot of time doesn't it, sir?"

He looked at you. Up and down. Up and down again. Walked a circle around you. Then finally spoke.

"Yup." He made a popping noise on the last syllable and shook his finger at you like he was keeping a beat. "This one."

*****
A few days past and you sat in Jim's office. You had been transferred to Dublin to meet with him for the final time before going on your mission.

You didn't exactly know how you got into this position. There was always a small part of you that wanted to be good at this. The part that studied the Science of Deduction like a religious piece. The part that trained until you hands were numb and knuckles were bloodying.

Then there was the other side. The feeling side. The one that loves rainy days but wished you could stand out in the sun again. The one that played as the cops instead of the robbers when you played with the other kids on the block. The one that would cry when
they called you strange. The one that when you were trained to hate Sherlock Holmes you couldn't help but admire him (and think he was attractive). The part that wanted so desperately to love something again.
But in the end, you chose this. Complete numbness.

You had set down the cup of tea that Moriarty's receptionist had given you and yawned. Why had you gotten so tied all of the sudden? Why were you even doing this? You didn't hate Sherlock Holmes! Why had you agreed to this? Hell, you might even had liked him why would you agree to a mission In which the goal is to set him up? Why did you want Moriarty to like you so badly? You knew in your heart that he was a bad person, why would you want to please him?
The room went black.

A/N: BUM BUM BUUUUUUUM!!!! Yeah, look at Moose the suspense master. No? Oh alright.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this delightful little chapter. It's only a prologue so trust and believe, there is more to come :)

Thank you all for the read and I will see you all in the next chapter!!
Also, don't forget to comment! I love hearing what you have to say and I promise to try and respond to each one :)

Toodles,
Moose