The Truth Behind The Eyes |Sherlock X Reader|

Chapter 5

"Moriarty. . . Is he, your ex?"

That was stupid.

Sherlock almost choked on air, staring at me,
"No! Don't be absurd, Y/N!"

It's so hard to tell if he's serious or trying to make this a funny situation. His eyes, tell me something funny and he's face. . . So emotionless and serious.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"
A smirk appeared upon my lips as I snickered teasingly.

Sherlock shrugged smiling and tilting his head,
"I don't know. . . This?"
Sherlock quickly leaned forwards, slightly bending down and placed a kiss on my lips, my eyes widen and my heart skipped a beat. He backed up and smiled at me, ending the kiss. For I, stared at him as if he had four eyes.

"What? Bad breath?"

I shook my head, fiddling with my fingers,
"No. . . Your breath was more like, mint. . ."

"Well, that's good. Right?"

I nodded.

"What is the matter, Y/N?"

I looked up at him, sighing and now, fiddling with my hair my face turning a bright red,
"I thought you didn't care about me, in that kind of way, or you were even interested in me at all."

"I know you're interested in me. It's quite obvious."
Sherlock ran his hand through his hair, inhaling sharply,
"I just thought. . . That's how you express feelings with other people."

"You knew, all this time?"
I asked, slightly smiling.

His lips. They were so soft and. . .-

"Yes, of course."
Sherlock nodded, interrupting my thoughts. I took a step closer and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around me and I looked up at him, and he looked back at me. I blinked slowly and kissed him quickly on his cheek and his face blushed, my face did too.

"About the letters."
I broke the silence and stretched, yanking.
Sherlock grumbled as he turned to his door of the flat as
he heard clapping and footsteps walking up the stairs, coming closer and louder. A man showed up at the door, shaking his head slightly and clapping.

It was Moriarty.

"Sherlock and Y/N!"
He exclaimed, his clapping getting fainter and fainter,
"Bound to be together."

"Moriarty, stay out of this."
Sherlock took a step closer, and glared at Moriarty as I stood back, not knowing what to do or say.

"Out of this? How could I miss this? I wouldn't miss it for the world, Sherlock."

"Moriarty, sir. I would do what Sherlock says. . ."
I glance at Sherlock and he nodded to me, and Moriarty stared at me, laughing.

He sighed and then, walked into the flat, his hands in his pockets,
"Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock. You don't get it yet, I'm so disappointed in you."

"Get what?"

"The notes, Sherlock! The notes!"

"The notes. . ."

"You see, Sherlock."
Moriarty walked up to me and smiled devilishly, playing with the ends with my hair,
"If you don't figure this out, something, anything will happen to Y/N."
He turned around on spot and trotted up to Sherlock, snickering,
" 'Skull is somewhere, but where?' You got to find the skull, Sherlock! The skull"

"What will happen if I don't?"
Sherlock spat at Moriarty, biting his bottom lip.

Moriarty shrugged, a lop-sided smile appeared on his face, as he slurred out words,
"Boom. Boom. Boom."

He imitated a explosion with his mouth and tongue before he laughed,
"Sounds like fun! Hey, remember the pool? You dancing around, missile plans and John. . . Oh. Pooooor Johnny, standing and watching you fall from Bart's Hospitable. And me! Shooting my brains out."

"Yes. . I remember. Clearly"

I stood there, watching them. I
wasn't aware of what to do or say but just stand there and witness this.

I breathed shakily as Moriarty walked to me and placed a hand on my shoulder,
"Careful honey, best to stay near Sherly."
He smiled and rolled his eyes, finally, exiting 221B.

Sherlock watched him go and he turned to me, hugging me tightly,
"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me, I should be worrying about you. Are you alright?"

"Of course I'm fine, obviously."

My eyes widen to shock as I looked around, remembering, backing up slightly,
"Christ, Sherlock! John!"

John. . . isn't here, should we worry? Should we care? Should we find him? Should we ignore. . .?