Sherlock Imagines

I hate him (MoranxReader)?

He sat at the tombstone as he had so many times before. Wishing that she could've done something to still be alive. She was Moriarty's sister for god's sakes! She couldn't be dead! He held the small child close to him as the boy played with the small blue car given to him last year. Sebastian repetitively clutched the child, scared to lose him as well, leaving tight lipped kisses on the blond hair he definitely got from his father. The eyes though. That's why he held his son facing away on this day. The eyes of the woman he held dearest in this world. The brilliant e/c, bright with knowledge, but dull with the absence of arrogance. Nothing like her brother's. They were so full or arrogance and cockiness that they practically held all the light in the world. It was that same arrogance that had gotten her killed. He heard the sound of Italian leather click on the cement leading to the tombstone.
"Thought I'd find you here." Jim stated sulkily. Moran's first instinct was to fill him with holes, but he resisted the urge. It was still her brother. His brother in-law, and boss.
"Yeah. Just can't let it go, I guess. Sorry, did I have a job or something?" He wanted Jim to leave. Wanted his darling y/n to be in her brother's place. He'd get no such wish, he'd get no such thing granted.
"No. No jobs on this day. Never." Jim tried to stop his mouth from running, but fact of the matter was that he knew it was his fault. His sister's death was on his head and no one else's. If he just hadn't started that stupid game with Sherlock, she'd be living happily with Sebastian, helping raise their son.
"Then why're you here, Jim?" Most people would be whacked, or even skinned, for calling him Jim. Difference here was her. It had been a teasing name, growing up. They'd call her Moriarty, and Jim was lil' Moriarty. Sebastian just couldn't say the name.
"I do believe it's my nephew's birthday." He held up a medium-sized f/c bag. Setting it down at the sniper's feet. The toddler immediately reached for it, grabbing the coloured strings to pull it closer. Jim turned to leave, but was stopped with a thought.
"I miss her, too, Moran. She wasn't supposed to die, and if I could change it to be me in her place, I'd do it in a heartbeat." Moran didn't acknowledge the words for a bit, but in that time it was like the world was simply a photograph in a frame. Silence fell, no one moved. The only movement was the light trickle of snow on the early November morning. Suddenly, the young Moran boy remembered something.
"Unwle Jim! Com wook! I drew Mumwy a pwicture!" The little boy called to the black haired man who spun to face him. Not caring about some dumb Westwood suit, Jim kneeled down to see the artwork he was to behold. William held up a small, stick-figure family portrait. In the centre was himself, blond hair, e/c eyes. Next to him was the tallest, Sebastian, and next to him was a black haired-man, Jim. On Will's opposite side was a woman with h/c hair, and eyes that matched his. While the rest of them looked like just regular people, the sticks not really having clothes, she had a triangle to symbolize a dress, outlined with the gold crayon. She had wings with an identical golden outline, and a small oval above her head in the same respective colour. Jim's finger lingered on the drawing that was supposed to represent his sister, before handing it to Sebastian. Tears stained Sebastian's cheeks, and his face looked as if it'd been slapped eighty times. He was a mess. He looked at the picture, another wave of emotion befalling him as he stared at what his life once was. Everything had been prefect. He worked with his best friend, married the woman he loved, and had an amazing baby boy. Then, like a lightning bolt, the horror struck as she took her final breaths, too weak to say anything. A shot through the head. She was dead in a moments notice, yet before he came in she was likely tortured for days. She was taken from this world too soon, and due to her own brother's selfish stupidity.
"If I was told I could kill myself and she'd be back, I wouldn't hesitate to do it." Jim finally said, after a long string of silence. Sebastian looked to his boy, who was excitedly playing with the new toy he'd gotten for his third birthday. A toy aeroplane. He made the humming noises and everything, and seemed to love the gift from his uncle. Most days, Sebastian and Jim got along fine. Yes, he still blamed Jim for what happened, but he never held much anger on it. It wouldn't be what she wanted, so he let it go. But today. Today was the anniversary of the day she died, the day their son was born, and most of all, today was the day he felt a little more than just anger. He was furious. No matter how many new toys Jim bought Will, it'd never be the same. Sure, William was too young to understand why Jim constantly bought him presents, doted on him every second of every day, and sure, William would never complain. Sebastian on the other hand, hated this. He hated that Jim got to feel like he got rid of a little guilt at a time by doing something as pointless as buying the latest toy or something like that. He hated that Jim was alive, yet y/n was dead. Sebastian looked up to see Jim focusing intently on the boy. He reminded Jim of y/n, just as much as he reminded Sebastian.
"Know what, Jim?" Jim turned all his attention to the broken man, leaning on the pillar near his sister's grave, "Maybe you should try it. See if it works."