Sherlock Imagines

My Irishman (MoriartyxReader)

HAPPY SAINT PADDYS DAY LADS AND LASSIES! PUNCH THAT VOTE BUTTON- IN THE FACE- LIKE A BOSS!!!! (even though this is a crappy story- do it in the name of everyone's favorite Irish YouTuber).
Header image credit to meh good fanfriend; @KatQueenOfHell

You were just relaxing in your boyfriend's flat, ignoring the multiple calls from your brothers. Saint Patrick's Day. It wasn't the worst of holidays- especially when your boyfriend is a sexy Irishman. Jim begrudgingly came down the steps, a little surprised to find you relaxing on his sofa as your phone went off a few feet away. For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming. It wasn't a lie to say most of your relationship had been built off of very enjoyable sexual encounters and to annoy your brothers. Yes, you were the little sister of Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes, Eurus' fraternal twin. That's more or less how you met. Eurus let it slip that Mycroft had kept you two apart, and Jim snuck you in when they were getting rid of the glass. From there; it was just a downward spiral of conspiring to hurt you brothers.
That's how things use to be, how Jim assumed things still were for you. When he knew you'd be staying the night, he'd make sure to get up earlier. Just to admire your sleeping figure taking up three fourths of his bed. He couldn't quite pinpoint how, when, or why, but he knew it'd happened. For weeks, he'd started to rise earlier to watch you sleep when you'd stayed, but that's not when he realized it. One morning, he got up and you were just- gone. All of him ached, he'd worried about you even though he knew you'd just left. And when you came by later so you could avoid Mycroft and Sherlock, it took everything in him not to run up and just hold you for a millennia. And it scared him, because he knew exactly what it was.
"Hey, babe." You used the joking nickname, lounging on the couch like a cat that just couldn't get comfortable. Jim was so aggravated by this... because he found it absolutely adorable.
"Hi, darling." He thought about asking why you were still here, but he decided against it. Why question a good thing? So, he sat next to you, watching as you scrolled through YouTube.
"What're you watching?" He asked as a video started playing. He got a glimpse of a man with, what appeared to be, bright green hair, and he could hear an accent he knew all too well.
"Jacksepticeye." You answered simply, not noticing the confounded expression he had. His phone went off, 'Stayin Alive' blaring from its speaker. He quickly went to answer it, apologizing profusely. He stood, retreating to the dining room, and checked the caller ID.
"What, Kasie?!" He snapped, hoping this wasn't another call about telling y/n about his (*shudders*) feelings.
"It's our holiday, Brother Mine..." She began, giggling on the other side of the line. Her Irish accent floated through the phone, but her words only pissed him off.
"I'm aware. Y/n suggested we go to Baker Street and do a 'kiss me; I'm Irish' bit." Jim sighed. He'd love to do that with just you two... Spend even a single holiday, just alone; together.
"Sounds fun! Hey, maybe the luck of the Irish wi-" He snapped. This was the last straw- he sat day in and day out with the woman he was madly in love with, knowing she was just with him as part of their sick joke.
"Know what, Kasie? You have your 'happily whatever after', let me handle my own damn life." He ended the call, the pain in his chest burning hotter than before. From his sitting room, he could hear the sounds of your sweet laughter overtaking the air. Somehow, despite how much this hurt him, he refused to let you go. Seeing you without him- even if being with him was your idea of a prank -hurt more than Mycroft could ever. He sighed, and headed back.
"Jim! Come here!" You laughed as he read through the Irish slang terms, "This is hilarious!" Jim smiled gently, sitting next to you as you watched the green-haired Irishman talk to the camera. As you laughed, Jim could feel a small bit of jealousy eat at him. Why couldn't you smile that way at him? He knew why...
"Geez, isn't he amazing?!" You sighed, dreamily. Jacksepticeye was definitely your celebrity crush, and you weren't afraid to admit it. Jim's eyes shot to you, scanning your features, and suddenly the jealousy over took him; a loss he couldn't control. His jaw clenched together, and his breath became heavy.
"You're bloody kidding me!" He glowered at you after forcing himself off the sofa. Confused and surprised, you looked up at him, wondering what had set him off this time.
"What do you mean? Seán is great! He's funny, charming, and, did I mention, completely awesome?!" You gushed, a smile growing despite your attempts for it not to. Jim was just getting more pissed off, little flakes falling as his heart began cracking. He was shaking as tears threatened to brim his eyes, forced back by his glare.
"What? You think he's better than me?!" He was at the end of his rope, and he only noticed his word choice when it was too late. Not that he cared anymore, but part of him had been holding onto a little string of hope that maybe you were still there because you loved him back. You couldn't help the confounded expression that stuck to your face.
"What are you-" He didn't let you finish. All that hope that maybe, just maybe, someone he loved had loved him back for once in his life, had dissipated. Leaving him trying to catch the pieces of his heart as they fell around him.
"GET OUT!" He screamed, pointing at the door, a tear falling down his cheek. The first since he watched his dad kill his mum over twenty five years ago. You were completely astounded by his sudden temper, but you knew what he was capable of so you started heading for the door. Just before you reached it, he collapsed. He couldn't handle how the world spun around him as the pain from a loss he never deserved to have filled in the first place stabbed into him. You thought about just leaving- protect yourself, first. But you could hear his sobs, and your own safety didn't seem to matter anymore, so you headed back towards where the mighty Jim Moriarty had fallen... and he had completely shattered in the few seconds it'd taken you to get to the door. You crouched next to him, and placed a hand on his shaking shoulder. You didn't know what to even ask.
"W-What's wrong..?" You asked shakily as more tears fell from his eyes. He shook his head, and you almost thought he wasn't going to answer.
"Why do you like him?" He hissed and you blushed from understanding. He was jealous... Rubbing his back, you brought your hand to his cheek, and lifted his face gently up to yours. He couldn't tell what he was feeling- other than the softness of your hand...
"I don't... He's a celebrity, I just think he's pretty cool..." You smiled gently, but he just pulled his face from your hand. You sighed, and repeated the motion a bit more forcefully this time.
"Okay, I'm disrupting your regularly scheduled temper tantrum to bring you this very important message; Seán William McLoughlin isn't my Irishman, Jim... You are." You pressed your lips to his, and all the broken pieces suddenly snapped back into place as if they'd never fallen in the first place. He pulled away, eyes wide in shock.
"Can we start over? Forget about Sherlock and Mycroft, and just be... Y/n and Jim?" He asked hopefully, and you couldn't help a girlish giggling that escaped your lips.
"As long as you're still my Irishman..?" He beamed at you, and the tears stained cheeks couldn't fool anyone into thinking he was faking. Not while his eyes shone bright enough to light a black hole up.
"I think we can arrange that."