Sherlock Imagines

An Artistic Mind (MoriartyxReader)

Prompt: 1 (Soulmates AU where if you write something on your own skin, it appears on your soulmate's as well.) [FUNNY. No depressing shiz, Isza. No.] ((TBH I'm probably going to do a depressing version of this one for every character. You've been warned.))
Character: Moriarty
Requested by: @moriarty_burn

He could practically feel the strokes being created on his arm. Really, this soulmate business was a nuisance. He had to be careful about what he wrote on his skin, if the ink from his notebook would transfer over to his flesh- whether or not he caused his soulmate to hate him before they even met. And before you ask, yes. The world's most nefarious criminal mastermind was worried about what his soulmate thought of him. Heck- he had been since he was a child.
Most people's soulmates didn't become set until their teens, and therefore, most kids didn't have little pictures of stick people and abstract kittens drawn on their arms. No, it'd only been him. It was... comforting. His soulmate always seemed like such a happy and loving person, and in his darkest days, he would sit and watch the colorful doodles stretch across his skin while his father drunkenly destroyed what little he had to call 'home' in the background. He'd let the drawings take him far away, to a place where someone cared for him. His soulmate.
Now, he played off the drawings as that "soulmate-nonsense" to anyone who asked, and well, too. Sebastian was positive that Jim didn't even believe he had a soulmate, that this was just a phenomena that people convinced themselves was more than it was. That was, until he witnessed Jim photographing a particular set of drawings on his arms, smiling to himself like an idiot. It was really quite telling. He wished he could stop himself, but- he couldn't. Each work of art adorning his flesh was a reminder that, out there, somewhere, was you. With the most gorgeous handwriting he'd ever seen. Sometimes, with a very precise hand, he'd go over each letter, practicing the carefully constructed lines as if his life depended on getting them exactly right. He'd sometimes even sign off using the calligraphed letters.
The idea itself, he thought was idiotic. The idea of your skin showing up with the marks your soulmate made on themselves seemed stupider than anything else in the world. Yet, he chose to believe the pathetic rumor. But that was because it was, well... you. He didn't exactly know who you were, but the random doodles and drawings you made was all he needed.
But that's besides the point. The point is, you were out there. Whether he met you or not, you were out there. But that was the thing...
If you were out there, he had to be very careful what he wrote down on his skin.

"I don't know, they haven't written anything in a while." You giggled at Mariah. She'd been your best friend since preschool and if there is one thing you can always remember you guys talking about, it was your soulmate.
"Oh crap—what if they're dead?! Before you two even had a chance to meet!?" She cried, clearly horrified by the idea. It wasn't unheard of, actually... it was tragically almost common. Then again, it was just as common for a person's soulmate to have another person as their soulmate. Just like love could be one sided, so could a soulmate.
It wasn't like you had to worry about that, it was proof enough that you two were each other's when they would trace your words.
"I don't think they are, Iah." You said, sighing softly as you rolled your eyes. She had a way of reading too much into things, this was actually the fifth time she suggested they might be dead. She went to try and argue, when you suddenly felt the usual tingling on your wrist.
"Wait—I think they're writing something?" In all the years you'd known you had a soulmate, never once had they written something first...

"Hold on one second—no, Mr. Crump, I'm not trying to ignore you, just let me find some paper-!" Jim was still scouring around. This wasn't good, if he didn't figure something out soon, he'd lose the client. And a presidential candidate who wanted to conspire outside their country wasn't a client he was willing to lose. Without thinking, he wrote down the request on his forearm as the man was saying it.
"Yes, My men will handle it right away—yes sir, thank you." Jim ended the call, and sighed in relief. That relief was soon replaced with an utter feeling of sickness as he looked back down at his arm. Right beneath the looming sense of doom;

"Russia dignitary + win guarantee... American election rigging... 10,000,000 quid'? What. The actual. Hell?" You stared at the words on your arm, suddenly feeling something pressing into your opposite palm, as well. Your jaw dropped, looking at the words that had appeared there...

"Shite-" Jim cursed as he looked at the imprint he'd just left on his hand from the still drying ink, '3 billion pounds for disguised explosive—nitroglycerin base.'

"Y/n, what's wrong?" Mariah asked, seeing your utter panic. The message was quickly being clouded, like they were panicking to get rid of it, but the damage had been done. You tried to stand, but your legs immediately gave out beneath you.
"I-I can't- I can't believe this..." It had to be some sort of nightmare... right?