Sherlock Imagines

Prized Treasure (MoriartyxReader)

Quick A/N: I want to do more oneshots for John, Myc, Greg- AND ALL THE OTHER CHARACTERS. And I know it frustrates people that I immediately update Jim and Sherlock a lot more often. I'm sorry. I just have a lot more ideas- so, if you guys could send me prompts for these other characters (even if they're from tumblr, or something) or send me a lines thing (people choose certain lines/phrases and pick a character to request it- it's a little challenge thing)- Then I would love you forever. Annnyways, that's all I got- onto the oneshot!

He could feel your eyes burning into him- his very (pretty much nonexistent) soul being burned out of him. He'd messed up... and he knew it from the moment he got home.
"Y/n- My love, my muse, my reason for existing~," He tried, putting on the most honey-laced, sugar-coated tone that he could as he turned toward you, "is something the matter?" Might as well get it over with, he figured, beginning to stand as if to approach you.
"I dunno, James. Is. Something. The. Matter." Each word's blade sunk into him. He swore he was going to bleed to death.
"Well..." He began, swallowing a bit of his pride. Better to admit he messed up than watch the storm he'd release if he didn't.
"Does it have to do with my recent attempt to kill Sherlock?" All he got in return was a scoff. Obviously- well... that was part of it.
You prized yourself on not being clingy- on being able to spend days- even weeks away from Jim, and being just fine. You didn't need his constant attention and affirmation that you were "worthy of love" or whatever. You drew the line when it came to this, however.
"I dunno, James. Does it?" You parroted, only slightly, eyes staring at him, dead and cold. The glare he used to control those beneath him... never thought it would be shot back at him.
But- if it didn't have to do with the murders or anything... what the hell were you mad about!?
"I- I mean, it has to be..?" He put on his best charming smile, though it was clearly nervous, "Listen, the moment Sherlock's gone, it'll go back to under the table, low-level crimes, y-?" He fell to the ground as a vase came flying towards his head, shattering into the telly behind him. His head shot back up, staring at his broken things with utter shock before t snapping to you.
See, the reason why you and Jim worked so well, was because you balanced each other out. He talked too much, and too loud- and you reminded him to tone it down. He knew when you'd been staying inside too much to be healthy, and would take you to a dinner or something. He was a bloody level 15 hurricane, and you were the eye of the storm. He had never seen you snap before. You were too- too levelheaded. This side, it was bloody terrifying. And damn, it was a bit sexy, too...
"I don't care about your stupid crimes, Jim!" You glowered at him, anger flooding through your body, "I don't care what the hell you're doing when you're not here, I'm more worried about when you are!" For a moment, confusion crossed his face, but then he seemed to get it. Nodding slowly as the "pieces came together".
"You want me to be home more- okay... I'll do-" The damn idiot.
"NO! Christ- are you even listening to me!?" Your hands connected almost painfully to the table.
"I care about what the hell our relationship has turned into!" Why did he look so utterly lost? It wasn't a hard thing to understand.
"I'm not your toy, Jim. I'm not here for you just to get off- you realize that, right?!" His hand ran through his hair, tongue poking out to moisten his lips. This was just confusing him more.
"Well, of course you're not..." He agreed, slowly lifting his gaze to meet your eye. Bad idea. If he'd ever had to guess what the fires of hell looked like- he wouldn't even have to think. It'd be a slightly more pleasant version of the flame in your eyes.
"I'm not a maid- I'm not your bloody slave!" He wasn't quite sure what to say to that one.
"Yes, I-I know..." He silently cursed himself for his own curiosity, "W-Why has this come up..?" And, another, bad idea.
"Why? Why has this come up?" He swore you sounded offended, "Because that's how you've been treating me for the last month! Whenever you're home, the only things you even say to me relate to three things- Food, cleaning, or sex! 'Can you wash my suit?' 'Hey- y/n, have you ordered takeaway, yet?' 'Can you do this? Get that?- Run around and do everything for me!" Your nails dig into your palms, eyes positively ablaze. Realization sparked in his eyes... he was in trouble.
"And then, after I've done a million and five things for you- I don't even get a 'thanks'. No. I get you, wanting to get off, and the moment you're finished, you're off to go do whatever else you wanna do, leaving me there like you would a 50-quid prostitute!" He didn't want to get near you... he didn't want to risk getting closer. It was stupid... reckless... but it had to be done, he supposed. That, or... or run the risk of losing you for good. That wasn't even considerable.
"Oh... look, I'm sorry, okay?" He said calmly, still worried you might pounce on him, wrap your hands around his throat, and break his windpipe. With the glare you were giving him... he had no doubt you were thinking about it.
"You don't deserve that, and I am a fool for not realizing it." He gingerly took one of your hands into both of his, rubbing your knuckles softly.
"Damn right." Your voice was still hard, but your gaze was considerably softer.
"I know- I know... I just got so busy, and I didn't think about it, and I should have." His fingers tentatively reached out to brush your cheek, cupping your jaw when you didn't slap him.
"I'll make it up to you, Darling- I promise." He murmured carefully, leaning in to kiss you. To his relief, you returned it.
"You're my most prized treasure." You rose a bemused brow at him, and he quickly re-evaluated.
"Excuse me: my girlfriend, who is the most prized treasure anyone could wish to be a part of's life." He corrected with a wry smile.
"Better, and you better believe it." He chuckled softly, a weight lifting off his chest when you smirked at him.
"Oh- believe me, I do."