Jim Moriarty Imagines

{Hello, Dear} Being Sherlock's child and finding Jim standing in your bedroom...

The Imagine Post: http://imaginemoriarty.tumblr.com/post/118909813386/imagine

Imagine...

     being Sherlock's child and finding Jim standing in your bedroom in the middle of the night after he broke into your flat.

~~~

     You awoke with a jolt as the sound of shattered glass hit your ears. It was then that you clung to the blanket that surrounded your body, your heart bursting among your ribcage. Many times you had admitted to yourself that you were not as brave as your father, and unfortunately, it was true. You very much envied him for it, but there was only so much you could do. One couldn't exactly change their natural personality, after all.

     Your senses, fully alert by now, identified the broken window that is situated across from you. Body shaking and breath accelerated you looked about the room for the perpetrator. It was then that you found a silhouette of a body right next to the side of your bed. Your breath hitched. The stranger must have sensed your fear already because a deep chuckle rattled throughout the room.

     You watched his body shift towards your nightstand, waiting in anticipation, until finally, he flicked on the lamp that lay there. Your eyes squinted a bit at the sudden taking of light, but at the moment, that was the least of your concerns; you were intently staring at the man in front of you. In looking, you found a smirk resting upon his features and a set of very dark eyes. You knew immediately that this situation was not good. You needed to get out. Now.

     Yet, you realized that this wasn't going to happen as he shifted closer to you. As a natural reaction, you started to move away towards the other side of the bed, nearly falling off in doing so. It was then that he just decided to shift onto the bed next to you, sitting Indian style with his right hand resting upon his chin. The stranger gave you another mischievous grin.

     "My, my. We finally meet Miss Holmes," he spoke deeply, confidently, as if he just knew it all. Perhaps, he did. You hadn't a clue.

     "You...know who I am?" you answered carefully, your tone quiet. You were a bit startled as the man gave out a sudden, hearty laugh.

     "Do I know who you are?" he mocked your question, "Of course I know who you are. You, my dear, are ___ Holmes. You see, at first, you were merely a rumor to me because, seriously, let's be honest, Sherlock Holmes? Having a daughter?" he gave out another laugh, "How entirely, completely absurd.

     "So I just had to find out for myself!" the stranger moved even closer to you, your face merely inches away from his own, "And besides, I'm terribly, utterly bored, so how about an adventure of meeting the daughter of Sherlock Holmes?"

     "And considering," you gave a weak, obviously fake smile, "you are definitely not a friend of his, are you?"

     "I suppose not, my dear. Though, it would be quite the fun time if we were to be working side by side. Unfortunately, Sherlock Holmes just had to be the good guy. How boring," he spat.

     "Who are you?" you were shocked by the growing sturdiness of your voice, but a little proud nonetheless.

     "Oh, goodness. Getting brave, are we?" the man chuckled, grabbing your chin. He pulled you in and pressed his lips amongst your ear. His voice was light, breathless, a deep whisper, "Jim Moriarty."

     That was when your heart stopped. It was him. And Jim had found that you had noticed, too, because now he was pulling away from you, grinning like a complete mad man.

     "What the hell do you want," you sounded more terrified than you would've liked. Jim Moriarty could sense fear; you knew that for a fact.

     "Now, now dear," Moriarty hummed, "Don't be so frightened. I merely came for a visit."

      His 'comforting' words weren't exactly what you would call calming, considering the obvious undertones. You could only watch as Jim Moriarty placed his palm against the side of your face. His eyes gently searched your own. Your fear began to slightly subside by the change of expression among his face. Moriarty didn't look so mean this way.

     Your thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of a phone. Moriarty immediately released your face and removed himself from the bed, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. He searched the cell's screen. Jim Moriarty began to move towards the window.

     "I'm terribly sorry, Miss Holmes, but I'm afraid that I must take my leave. I have business to attend to," another grin was brought to his face, "Goodbye, ___. Until we meet again."

     Jim Moriarty then jumped out of the broken window of your flat. It was then that you had registered the last words of his sentence.

     "We're...going to meet again?" you questioned softly to yourself.