Sherlock Imagines

The Storyteller [Part III] (Parent!lock, MoriartyxReader)

Okay, so. I decided to do Sherlock and John trying to figure out the relationship. Might do the flashback to how it started, lets see how this goes first. So, yeah. Lets do this.

The kids were cleaning up for bed, Jim was clearing the table, and, per his insistence, you were relaxing on the sofa in your nightgown and robe. Jim could be considered protective on the best days, paranoid on the worst. Now that you were pregnant- it was a constant worst. The only good part about it was Jim would insist on doing all the chores. Cooking, cleaning, making you tea. But it also meant that he wouldn't let anyone in a ten foot radius of you.
"Love, do you want something to drink?" He called from the kitchen. It could be considered romantic, how much he worried. You just called it annoying, but you loved him anyway.
"That'd be wonderful. Thank you!" You allowed yourself to relax into the sofa, positive he'd make you tea. He always made tea. You were convinced he secretly enjoyed it, the little bit of ordinary, domesticity that came with making it. The same as storytelling and cooking dinner.
When the bell first rang, Jim immediately offered to go get it, but you were already heading over.
"Just handle the tea. I'm not helpless- you know?" He sighed reluctantly, but let you get the door. You undid the bolt, and opened the door with a kind smile. You were expecting a door to door sales person- perhaps of the cookie-selling variety, or even your mum for a surprise visit. What you weren't expecting, however, was Sherlock bloody Holmes and his little hedgehog, John Watson. Your eyes widened, especially after Sherlock offered you a smile.
"Love, tea's ready- who is it?" Jim was already on his way to meet you, after having set the tea on the dining table. John gave you an apologetic look, though his eyes looked wary of both of you.
"A curious party." The detective's sonorous voice swam through Jim's ears, immediately stopping him in his tracks. His eye ticked in annoyance.
"Darling, if that is who I think it is, then would you please slam the door on him?" He said, tone dripping in honey. You sighed, and turned to Sherlock.
"What are you doing here, Sherlock?" Jim's jaw ticked at the confirmation, and the fact that you hadn't slammed the door on Sherlock. Before Sherlock could answer, however, John stepped in front, butting in.
"He just had a few questions for you, and wanted to apologize for the, um, kidnapping thing." John said politely, smiling a tad bit at the end. You sighed and let the two in, Jim's eyes widening as he dove to close the door. Too late.
"Get. Out." Jim ordered, and Sherlock smirked. John looked to you, wondering if this was as good of an idea as Sherlock seemed to think t was. Though, Sherlock hadn't told John their actual reason for being here. He just needed a shred of evidence to show you- that you had Stockholm Syndrome. One tiny act of abuse, and he knew your better senses would kick in, and you would leave Jim.
"Jim." He warned, and he glowered at Sherlock for a second. His eyes flicked to you before he pinned Sherlock to the wall out of nowhere.
"You touch my family, and I will rip you limb from limb and cauterize the arteries as I go." He hissed, causing you to roll your eyes. Your hand slid over to his shoulder, and you patted it twice, other hand resting on the opposite shoulder.
"Jim, no need to be so dramatic. How about you go get the tea, yeah?" You whispered lovingly in his ear, then pressed your lips to his cheek. He leaned into your act of affection, muscles relaxing at your soothing touch, and he slowly released Sherlock.
"Yeah... go sit back down, Darling... you need to rest." He reminded you, and you nodded softly, mostly to appease him so he wouldn't shoot Sherlock or something. You kissed his temple.
"Alright..." You murmured, then gingerly pulled away, worried he might snap suddenly and strangle Sherlock. John looked absolutely astounded at how easily you'd brought the man down from the ledge- how quickly you'd gotten him to go from blazing to not even a sear. And his body language showed it. Dropped jaw, wide eyes, and eyebrows so high, thy could be mistaken for his hairline.
"Close your mouth, Doctor Watson, you'll catch flies." Jim dropped Sherlock, and straightened his jacket out with a glare. His words were purely to "play nice" and somewhat to keep John from acting rashly or for no reason, in a place he was clearly both afraid and astounded by. Jim sent one last glare to Sherlock before stalking off to the kitchen, as menacing as possible. You shook your head, rubbing your temple with a small sigh.
"Don't mind him, he's just a drama queen." You shrugged, and headed over to the sofa to do as promised and rest. John followed, and so did Sherlock, but Sherlock's attention was focused solely on you, and trying to figure out your purpose to Moriarty- if not to hurt him. John, on the other hand, was looking around at the interior of the lavish home.
"It's nice." He complimented as you sat back in your spot. You smiled a bit, taking a quick scan at the sitting room. John seemed to almost be confused by the family pictures in a pyramid on the far wall. One of your wedding day, an ultrasound of the twins, and then the first picture of all four of you on top. You smiled gently at the photographs, knowing Jim had chose them, and their places very carefully.
"Thank you... is there a problem, John?" You said pleasantly. You actually thought John was quite kind, and you still felt a bit bad about what had happened back at Baker Street... at least, making John scared of you. Sherlock? Not so much. Bastard deserved it.
"No, s-sorry, I just- I didn't take Moriarty to be the type to, um..." He didn't really know how to phrase it, so he just motioned to the pictures. You chuckled softly, shrugging.
"To be the sentimental type?" You asked, a hint of amusement in your voice, "You know, I live here, too?" You'd decided to mess with him a bit, and by the look on his face, he was clearly embarrassed. After a few failed attempts of sputtering out words, you relieved him.
"It's alright, John, it actually was Jim's idea." You chuckled a bit, and he snapped his mouth shut, just nodding a few times.
"He's a bit sentimental. I know where your shock comes from- I was surprised, too." You revealed, telling it like the secret that it was. You laughed, and he seemed to be relaxing, because he did, too.
"Interesting thing to say about the man who tried to kill John and I." Sherlock spat sarcastically, meaning all the offense to be directed towards Jim. John seemed almost embarrassed at his friend's behavior- or maybe it was towards how quickly he'd become comfortable in said man's home.
"Jim and I don't discuss work matters under this roof. If you insist on it, you can leave." A hiss took over your voice, eyes darkening at the detective. He seemed to mull it over for a small moment before looking away.
"Of course, I understand." The simple phrase gave you your victory, and your annoyance quickly dissipated- on the outside.
"Please- sit." You motioned to the two seats across from the sofa. John smiled, saying a small 'thank you' as he sat, but Sherlock gave the room one more look over before following without such courtesy. When Jim returned with the tea, he quickly made your cuppa to your tastes, and handed it to you, careful not to spill. After you took it, he joined you on the sofa, a protective arm instantly tightening at your shoulders. He was watching, waiting for Sherlock to do something, like, for once, he was the hero, keeping a steady on and ready to pounce on any threat. Real or in his mind.
"Thank you, Dear." You said sweetly, pecking a kiss to his lips, a natural smile pulling to his lips. He leaned in for another, eyes flicking down to your lips, asking for permission. His grin grew when you consented, pressing your lips together for a loving kiss. A smirk grew to your husband's lips as Sherlock quickly grew both agitated and jealous. But, at least the detective had his first note- not one he was happy with, but it was a clue.
He loved you. Perhaps you had been his obsession- the thing he had to have. That made sense- that'd have to be it. After years and years of stalking, he kidnapped you and your mental ability to shut him out crumbled until your mind gave in- hoping to survive.
"So, what does Tweedledee," he motioned carelessly to Sherlock, then turned the gesture towards John, "and Tweedledum wish to consult me and my darling y/n about?" He purred, eyes full of challenge. You could hear Sherlock's jaw about to break... he really shouldn't clench it that hard.
"Merely hoping to ask a few questions about you both." Sherlock replied, clearly in detective mode. The air between them was practically a wall, and they never broke eye contact.
"And those are..?" You hopped in, hoping to get this over with. Sherlock's attention was moved to you, not wasting any time.
"How long have you been together?" He shot off quickly, and Jim decided to be the smartarse he is and reply- the long version. Even if he knew the answer by heart.
"Well, the night after you passed your police exam..." He feigned mulling it over, "so we officially got "together" two days after that, so... 13 years and 187 days?" He "estimated", his pretend thinking face turning into a Cheshire grin. John's jaw fell a little at the revelation, while his friend's jaw ticked. Onto the next question- and then another and another until it became a game betwixt the two. Sherlock asked, Jim answered snarkily, and Sherlock would respond with equal insult. It was actually very entertaining. Sherlock just kept adding things to his list.
2. "Met" at a bar- but met previously in school.
3. He was likely JUST starting his empire when you both met.
4. You both seemed very comfortable around each other.
5... that you likely didn't have Stockholm, because you made a point about how easily you'd leave him if he ever dared to hurt you or the kids.
6. He would want you to leave, because he saw your three's safety as the most important thing in his life.
That is, until Ravyn and Alex raced downstairs for their story.
"Daddy! Daddy!" They threw themselves onto his lap, giggling and squealing in their nighties, "You promised you'd do two tonight!" They said in perfect unison as Jim's head fell back- clearly tired. You smirked, remembering his promise after he'd been gone in Sweden the night prior.
"Ray, Al, I'm tiiiiiired- one story." He said firmly, quickly earning himself two very sad looks. Ravyn's eyes welled with tears, her bottom lip sticking out- looking much too much like her father. His face softened at the look... and just like he always did, he caved. Like nobody's business- he caved in three seconds flat.
"...Grimm's tales only." He sighed, snatching them up as he stood. They squealed with joy, while he leaned down to peck your lips.
"I'll be back when things one and two have had their nightly dose of gore and happy endings." He promised, then shuffled upstairs while you chuckled at him.
"Will that be all, boys?" You said sweetly, standing to escort them back to the door. Reserved and disappointedly, Sherlock left, John trailing behind and thanking you for the hospitality.

After the long bedtime stories were finished, Jim plopped back beside you, kissing your temple.
"You know, I know that there's already going to be a challenge, but if they keep turning out like you, we're going to need a lot more." He said teasingly, head resting on top of yours. All you did was scoff.
"And I go through the hours of labor? Not a chance." You snuggled beside him.
"Sherlock wanted to find evidence that you have Stockholm Syndrome." He mentioned nonchalantly, if not a bit bitter.
"I know."
"He should really just accept that the best woman in the world is mine, and he can't do a thing about it." Jim stated cockily, smirking. You have him the side eye.
"Not for long if you don't hurry up and finish those dishes." It's not a question whether or not he did them after that- how long? About ten minutes.
Fear can do miraculous things.