Sherlock Imagines [ Book 1 ]

Fatherly Love (part 3)

Type: oneshot (based off a text post on tumblr)

pairings: johnlock

warnings: blood and gore

The world was dull.

Sherlock laid upside down, his legs hanging over the back of the couch. You were in the same position, "I'm bored." Sherlock growled. "me too." You responded, closing your eyes. Your mind was buzzing, desperate for something to do, something to latch on to.

John rolled his eyes, looking at the two of you. "Unbelievable." He muttered, typing on his laptop, you'd been featured in his stories ever since John allowed you on crime scenes. Sherlock stood, crawling over to peer over John's shoulder, you did the same to the other side. "(Your name) why don't you call Darren?"

"He's out of town." You said boredly, peeking at the computer.

"No that one was unsolved!" Sherlock protested.

"We've been over this, people want to know you're human." John continued typing.

"But we aren't human, are we?" You looked over at Sherlock.

"Scientifically speaking yes, according to everyone else, no." He kept his eyes on John's laptop. "Go find something else to do." John glared, the detective stood and laid his long body over the arms of the chair, landing himself in John's lap. The doctor looked down at him, managing to lift his laptop up in time.

"Sherlock I'm busy."

"I'm bored."

"Well I'm busy."

You rolled your eyes, standing. "I'm going for a walk." You shoved your hands in your pockets, "I'll walk around twice, y'all are gonna want the time." You winked and exited.

***

You did as you said, you'd walked a couple blocks and back, finding yourself tired from the physical exertion. You opened the door to 221b, "so did y'all have fun-" you found a small note taped to John's chair, blood stained the corners, John's gun beside it, crimson painted the handle.

Looks like Daddy and Papa are in trouble this time. Tick tock. You'll find them where it all began. Come alone or daddy gets it.

~ JM & SM

You felt your blood run cold, your eyes widened. He had John and Sherlock, biting down on your lip."Mrs. Hudson I'm going out." You called, turning and walking right back out of the flat, a certain vengeance in your step as you grabbed John's gun. Moriarty had played his last game.

***

You stared at the building in front of you, John and Sherlock were inside, no problem.

Actually, big problem.

It was your mother's house.

You bit your lip, you hadn't been here since John whisked you away. You hadn't faced the music quite yet, the sound of a gunshot pulled you from your thoughts. You looked down at John's gun in your hands, you had to. You sprinted towards the door, moving as fast as your legs would carry you. You opened it slowly, gun drawn, finger on the trigger. The house was pitch black, you slowly stepped inside. You could hear the squish as your foot landed in a puddle, you felt a slight nausea when you realized it was blood. It trailed all down the hall, you carefully tiptoed towards the living room. The lights flickered on within your arrival, The sight sickened you. Sherlock was chained to a chair, his face littered with cuts and bruises, his shirt was torn hitting at others. John seemed to be coming to his senses, tied to another chair, a single slash down the side of his face, bruises that seemed to be left by fingerprints on his neck.