Sherlock Imagines

Not Alone (Secrets Part II)

Request; 'Secrets' Part II
Requested by; @JayFantasy
Level; 7/8!! I loved Secrets, and that entire mini-series I did with all the characters, but Secrets was my favorite. And it just flowed really well, since I left it on a Cliffhanger like I did.
Also; I'm doing a contest this V-day! I've hidden a hecka ton of references all throughout these updates! PM me with as many as you can find!

A tear ran down Jim's cheek. That was her voice. His Y/n. Sherlock spun around, being met with the same e/c eyes he remembered from his childhood. The same exact woman he and Mycroft had sent off to her death, little under six years ago.
Y/n Holmes...-Moriarty.
Little Amelia instantly recognized the picture, and sprinted into your arms. You lifted her up with ease, eyes starred as you looked at her black curls swirling around.
"Mum! You're my mum! MY Mum!" Her excited speech hopped up and down, the varying pitches all too similar to her father's. Sherlock was soon in front of you, and your soft smile didn't falter as you shrugged at him.
"You're supposed to be dead." Sherlock reminded, his brow furrowed as he spoke. You chuckled softly a bit, eyes soft and sympathetic as you stared at the fluorescent blue-grey eyes you hadn't seen in a few years. The same ones that thought you were dead, that truly believed it...
"And so are you, technically. Who do you think gave Myc the idea?" You tried to alleviate the tension that had compounded in the area. He forced a laugh to come from him, and looked at the ground. Of course he had questions, ones you didn't particularly want to answer. His eyes drifted over to Jim, who honestly looked so pissed, yet broken that it made your heart keel over in agony. Sherlock seemed to be feeling the same, with a look of betrayal deep in his eyes as he glanced to the child in your arms. You... And Moriarty....
"You married him?" His voice was seeping distaste and contempt. Your eyes burned into him, especially for the way he looked at your child, as if she were a sort of monster. That she were born with disease, and her bloodline were somehow lesser than him.
"Yes, Sherlock. I did." You confirmed, not a hint of remorse in your voice. His eyes were hard as he considered all the new information. A lightbulb seemed to go off in his head, realizing something he previously had blamed Jim for.
"You were the one who disrupted your grave." His flat voice pointed out the clear fact, but that meant...
"Mycroft wanted this to happen." He added clearly, his gaze falling to said man as he entered the cemetery.
"Not me, her." He nodded towards you, and you shrugged, acting innocent. Your eyes were apologetic, and Jim still had yet to move. He couldn't believe this, honestly. All this pain, the grief you brought upon him. The nights spent alone, missing the woman he loved. The one who's eyes were inherited to his bouncing little girl, and made him unable to looked his daughter in those same e/c eyes.
"Daddy?" Amelia started getting concerned with what was happening as he just sat there. He didn't know how to react. On one hand, he missed you, and his heart was aching just to hold you again. To feel the same butterflies that had swept him off his feet as he swept you off yours. To feel nervous about saying the wrong thing; To feel at all. He'd missed loving you. But... You tore him apart. Five damn years you'd been alive and well, and you left him to have to throw away all those memories with you, clutching blanketing and pillows in attempt to replace the woman he held so dear, and left him, heart torn out, wanting to taste the sweet honey-slicked release of death, but never being able to. Because of the little girl who would be the only other person to ever win his heart. His own flesh and blood.
"Jim?" Your tone begged him to turn to you, but his jaw just clenched in response. He refused to slip into the euphoria of having his name slipping from your lips. A sin spoken by a saint, and even then, it somehow turned that sin to a prayer. When he turned to you, you could see the range of emotions flooding from his eyes.
"Sherlock, would you..?" You nodded to the little girl in your arms, and he was hesitant at first, but complied, taking Amelia to play in a small wooded area, John following shortly behind.
"You-" He choked, looking so broken that it made your heart fall to match his pieces, "Are supposed to be dead." He pointed out, trying not to emote any of what he was feeling. He was failing. Miserably.
"I'm so, so sorry." Tears stung your eyes as you reached gingerly out to your decaying rose, scared to send the petals tumbling. As your hand met his cheek, he nuzzled into the rough skin he'd missed so much. You'd never been good at domestic life, not that he minded- he liked to think the callouses were your heart's way of extending more out to him. You never objected to this ludicrous explanation.
"I-..." What remained of his voice was caught in his throat, trapped by pain's harsh cage. His hand encased your smaller one, pressing a kiss to the palm without thinking.
"Jim, if I'd had any choice, any at all, I would've stayed!" Tears cascaded down your cheeks, to the broken rocks of your voice, "I had to, for Amelia and you! Please-!" You didn't get to finish, because he'd waited long enough to kiss you in his mind. Too long, actually. Mycroft chose to avoid the sight, Sherlock as well, and for the most part your brother wanted nothing to do with this. When he first saw you, he was immediately going to forbid you ever even going near Jim again, but...

"I like stories!" Amelia mused gaily, happy to be able to "hang out" with such a prominent and powerful character from her stories. Sherlock had never been a story teller, had only ever enjoyed yours. He didn't really know what to do...
"I don't know any stories." He spat to her, and instead of being sad or upset, she grabbed his hand, and attempted to pull him down. With an oddly curious look, he sat on the grass, and she cleared her throat, standing like she was about to perform in her school pageant.
"Once upon a time there was a knight named Sir Sherlock, and he rode upon a great hazel steed named Dally..." He listened intently to her story, noting that Jim's way of holding onto you had greatly impacted her. He couldn't help but chuckle every once and awhile when she added a purposeful pun, or a ridiculous twist meant to make the reader laugh. She was just so much like you... And the more he listened, the more he grew to care for the little girl-and it took him much to long to realize that this was your daughter- His niece, and (even though Jim had raised her) he never wanted her to see any form of harm...
This was his niece, and suddenly, he didn't care if she happened to also be the child of his greatest enemy.

Jim pulled reluctantly away, his forehead connected to yours, like hoping to pull your thoughts straight through it.
"Damn you for leaving us." He spat, an angry tone mustering through the short phrase. Your teary eyes must've conveyed your confusion, because soon his freed hand draped across your cheek.
"People always told me it is impossible to stay mad at someone you love..." He reminded you, and a small defeated sigh escaped your lips, tears drowning your eyes.
"Yeah. You always said that was bull crap." You finished, knowing full well where this was going. You decided you couldn't regret your choice of action, not in the least bit, because you'd gotten to see your family again. Got to hold your little girl in your arms, and-
"That's always what I thought; until I met you, that is. See? There you go, ruining my entire thought process, again!" He teased, and you must've gotten whiplash at how fast your head shot up. He chuckled at the little joke, wearing the same smirk that solemnly swore he was up to no good. In an epitome of relief and disbelief you chuckled back, eyes still skeptical about this vision that you were seeing before you.
"Now come here." He pulled you into a tight hug, you face coddled into his neck, his hand rubbing your back to help control your sobbing. He forgave you... He still loved you.
"Shhh, c'mon now, you'll ruin my suit with all those worthless tears. You're here now, and that's all that matters, alright?" He soothed, and you nodded, agreeing. Your breathing was still a shaken mess when he pressed his lips to your temple, and finished by whispering sweet nothings into your ear.
"But if you ever do it again, I'm going to take twenty minutes longer and a hell of a lot more than just a kiss to forgive you. You realize that, right?" Oh, you definitely did.

And you wouldn't want it any other way.