Amor Before Moriarty - A Sheriarty Fanfiction (Sherlock)

I'm About to Lose Control and I think I Like It.

Sunday (no lectures, class-meet ups or essays due today).

Dear Diary,

I think I've settled my mind some. It is currently midnight, so technically it is Monday and Sherlock's intrusions happened two days ago. But I don't run by technicalities.

This evening, I had an interesting chat with Jack. 

The main light was off in our room - both Jack and  I  were encased in bubbles of light, originating from our bedside lamps - the rest of the world was made of dark shapes and blurrs. We'd both been reading, well Jack looked to be reading, and I was tapping a pen against my book, chewing gum, and thinking. 

Finally, I threw the gum away in the dustbin between our beds, and coughed. Immediatley, Jack's eyes snapped to mine, so I started to arrange my pillow against the head-board, sitting up straight and indicating that I would like to talk. 

"Jack, would you know who I meant if I talked about  a man called Sherlock Holmes?" 

"Is that the anti-social guy that everyone talks about?"

"... Probably.... You'll know if you've seen him; he has ravashing black curls, ice-blue eyes, cheek bones that could... do you recognise him?"

Jack nodded, grimly. "Yes, but I've only actually met him once. Yesterday morning, he approached me. He deduced a load of crap about me, ending with some strange stuff about how I clearly sleep well, so my room-mate doesn't talk in their sleep, or stay up too late, and stuff." Jack's eyebrows furrowed.

"So he deduced stuff about me, from you?" I asked, puzzled. I shifted in my bed. Jack then asked what I thought of him, and so I gave him a  detailed description, including all my previous encounters with the famous Holmes. Jack, meanwhile, was nodding along. After I was done, he sighed, and laid his book down on the bed-side table.

"Man... do you think that  you could maybe be, well,  gay?"

My mouth hung open, Jack fumbled with his thumbs uncomfortably.

"What-why do you think...?"

"Well... you did just describe Sherlock's hair as 'ravashing'. And, man, I was wondering... you have that way... like when I asked you if that super-model was hot, and you said you'd look better in the dress-"

"You didn't ask me - you just said she was! And are you thus adhering to stereo-types, Jack?" 

His eyes widened, "No, no, dude. I've just had lots of friends who've been gay, and, well, sometimes people portray themselves in a certain way that they want people to see them in. So, they might look the cliche, so people can make assumptions without them having to say what they are, exactly. And please don't get defensive, dude, there's nothing wrong with being gay." I looked at my clasped hands.

"But, I really don't find you hot - no offense, Jack. Adorable, yes. Hot, no.  And I had a girlfriend that I loved!" 

"Jill, I don't find all girls hot! I don't want to sleep with every one of them I come accross. And do you... did you feel with her what you do now, with Sherlock? I mean, you could be bi'." 

I looked at the ceilling, and thought for a while. Jack kept his gaze on me, nervously, obviously he was trying not to tread on any toes.

"No, I didn't. And, no, I feel more... desperate about wanting Sherlock Holmes, than I did Ellie." I grimaced.

"Have you ever fancied a guy befo-"

"NO!" I said, quickly, before a certain, distinctive shadow could creep into my mind.

Jack's eyes widened at my raised voice, but then he lowered them and shrugged, "Still, I think you might be."

I nodded, "Thanks for your help, Jack." 

"Anytime."

And there we go.

But that wasn't all that happened, of course it wasn't - the thrills in my life continue! I am so glad I didn't write about this before I'd known to keep my diary away from Sherlock, or he might've read this next bit, and I might've had had to kill him. Honestly, kill him. Wink, wink.

 I need money to pay off the couple of university fees that aren't covered by the scholership. And I am sick of being poor. And because of other totally justifyable reasons like these, I have joined - pretty much executed - this brilliant scheme....

I met the Big Cheese encharge of it, today, after dark. I shrugged on my jacket, packed a pocket-knife down into my sock, another in the secret compartment of my brief-case, and I left.

Eventually, I got to the correct abandoned warehouse, on the out-skirts of Oxford.

I walked into a huge room, which was blanketed with darkness, leaking lurid liquids in some places, and was packed with boxes in others. A single, flickering light occasionally showed an old man in black clothes and sun-glasses, flanked by two huge brutes with ear pieces. 

We made our deal. At some point in the conversation - a commute that was rather a juxtoposition to the comforting one I'd earlier had with Jack - the man smiled, and said he liked my 'spark'. I nodded my appreciation, and he took off his glasses, tucking them in the dark depths of his left-hand man's jacket pocket. For the rest of the planning he looked at me with bare eyes, always smiling. 

That man would give most people the willies, but I try not to fear him, or anything else for that matter. Fear is arguably a figment of your imagination, and for what I am doing, would not be something that would bode well for me if my mind were to conjure it. 

Still, I left as soon as I was able, wondering only slightly if I was doing the right thing. But I am. I need money, I know my values, I know the melding points of right and wrong.

And so, it begins, my new life of apparantly being gay and a thief. I have to say, I am so excited. And I just can't hide it.

I might also persue in getting to know Sherlock, now that I've identified my cravings.

Look out, Sherlock, here I come.