Amor Before Moriarty - A Sheriarty Fanfiction (Sherlock)

Exposing Moriarty.

((A/N: Like one of those TV people I am going to warn you that there are some scenes in this bit that viewrs may find distressing.

I mean it ends ok, and the sequel will start happy, btu there are some painful bits...)) 

The day I Died.

Dear Toilet Paper,

I heard a knock at the door. I put my diary down and went to open it, heart stuttering. I opened it to Sherlock standing there, framed perfectly. His image wasn't perfect, though; at this moment I noticed purple shadows under his eyes, and how the rest of his skin was grey. He looked like a corpse. He didn't smile when I said his name.

"Moriarty," he nodded. Why did he look so disillusioned? 

"Sherlock, I'm so glad you came. Come in, sit down. Jack is with a friend." I gestured to the bed, and shut the door behind him, as he wondered over to it. I noticed he was holding my briefcase and smiled as he set it down. He sat straight, with his hands in his lap, and looked up at me expectantly. 

"So, prove to me you quit your job, James Moriarty."

"Deduce me," I whispered, sitting down to the left of him and staring into his eyes. Sherlock coughed awkwardly before looking me over. 

"OK, well I see that your clothing is radically different - you usually wear suits, not denim. And denim over denim - you were going somewhere in a hurry to make that mistake. So you went somewhere, before you could change your mind, I presume, and wore clothes you would care little about ruining. You thought it could get messy." I smiled. He noticed this and sighed before continuing.

"You have sweat stains under your armpits, which don't look to be currently moist - you're not sweating because of meeting me. You were sweating earlier, which means you were indeed doing something that made you nervous. And," he sighed, "well.... in conclusion, you do look like someone who has quit a criminal activity..." he looked at me sadly. I smiled.

"I have a tape as well," I pulled it out of my pocket, "I can prove it to you. I just, well, I wanted to see what you thought, first, before I proved you right...."

I played the recording. I watched Sherlock as he listened. I noticed that his shoulders relaxed slightly towards the end. Finally the tape finished and he looked to me.

"So it's true. You did that-"

"For you." I said, eyes widening in a subconscious effort to exaggerate my point. Sherlock sighed and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"So you did." I nodded even though he couldn't see me. I started fidgeting with my thumbs, pushing them into my hands so it hurt. I was really afraid. 

"Tell me your thoughts, Sherlock. I did this because I was sorry for keeping everything from you; I felt guilty." he sighed. He turned his head to me and his eyes unfocused as he tried to articulate his thoughts.

"Jim..." bad sign - he never called me Jim. "For once I don't really know what to say."

"Try?"

"Well. My dear Jim..." he trailed off.

"Why are you calling me that?" I muttered. "You never call me 'Jim'".

"I never called you Jim because it is a simple name for a simple person. I called you Moriarty because it is an interesting name, which I thought better represented your character. But I didn't realise how "interesting" you were. Now 'Moriarty' just reminds me of how... secretive, and, and," his eyes focused on me, "fucking evil you are." he ended, shaking his head, with a sort of fear and mistrust in his eyes.