Benedict Cumberbatch Imagines

IMAGINE: Sherlock Facing You, Moriarty's Sister

| IMAGINE for @thealphaqueen209 |

Mycroft Holmes enters the apartment on ‪221B Baker Street‬ without even knocking. Sherlock Holmes, the younger brother of Mycroft, stops playing the violin and looks up at Mycroft. "Don't you knock?" He asks.

     "Don't be ridiculous, Sherlock. You knew I was coming, didn't you?" Mycroft replies. A tiny smile quirks up Sherlock's mouth. "I see you're thinking." Mycroft gestures to the violin.

       Sherlock nods. "I was until you arrived."

     "Well, you'd better start thinking again, little brother."

     Sherlock's eyebrows draw. "Why?" He asks suspiciously.

     "James Moriarty." Mycroft says simply.

     Sherlock straightens. "What?"

      "Were you aware that James Moriarty had a younger sister?"

     "What?" Sherlock snorts in disbelief.

      "Apparently he did a good job of hiding her from us, from you. After you captured him and we took him to the insane asylum, we found her in his house." Mycroft explains.

     "Is she psychotic too?"

     "Not before we took her brother away. She was perfectly sane. To our knowledge, she wasn't aware of her brother's...schemes. Now she's...she's..." Mycroft trails off and shakes his head.

     "What are you going to do with her?" Sherlock asks curiously.

     "You're going to talk to her." Mycroft stares at Sherlock.

     "What? No. No. No. No. Not me. Why me?"

     "Because you're the only one who will be able to deduct everything about her in a matter of seconds. We need you, Sherlock, as much as it pains me to admit it." Mycroft cringes. "Best get it over with."

     Sherlock sighs. "Can John come with me?"

     "Of course." Mycroft replies, going to the door. He stops as if remembering something. "Oh, and, Sherlock, I just want to warn you."

     "About what?" Sherlock narrows his eyes.

     "She's hostile. Perhaps even more so than her brother..."

———

You sit in the living room, your eyes staring at nothing, when you hear a knock on Jim's front door. You only blink in response. A half a minute goes by and another knock.

     "This is Sherlock Holmes and John Watson! We are coming in!" A voice announces, before they try the door handle. It opens. You do nothing, numb to everything.

     The house is dark. They flip on some lights and suck in their breaths. The house looks like a wreck. Glass is shattered everywhere and items are strewn across the house as if thrown in anger. "

     "Whoa." You hear a voice breathe in shock. "It didn't look like this before."

     "Not at all, John." Another voice replies.

     "Y/N? Y/N? Are you in here?" John asks softly, kindly, peeking through some doors. He comes to the living room and pulls up straight, paling. "Sherlock, she's in here."

     Sherlock hurries over to him and stops. You're in the middle of the darkly painted living room, books and papers littered everywhere. The furniture is overturned and the glass windows have large cracks through it.

     Sherlock swallows, his throat suddenly dry. John looks at him worriedly. Sherlock is just about to speak when your voice, hoarse from crying and screaming, breaks the silence. "You're him...You're him, aren't you?" You ask, slowly turning bloodshot eyes up to stare straight at Sherlock. Your chin quivers. "You're the one who took my brother away from me." You choke out angrily.

       Sherlock slowly walks towards you, as if you're a scared rabbit. "Y/N, I'm—" He's about to say when you grab a glass figurine and throw it at him. He quickly ducks and it shatters against the wall.

      "You took him from me! You took the only family I had!" You scream at him. Sherlock stumbles back, staring at you in shock. You start sobbing hard. "Y-you took him from me. You took James." You weep, crumbling into a pile on the floor. Sherlock and John exchange a look.

Sherlock slowly kneels beside you. He puts his hand on your shoulder and you fly backwards, jumping away from him and grabbing a fire poker. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa." He holds his hands up in surrender as John rushes closer to him. "I'm-I'm not here to hurt you, Y/N." He states.

      "Aren't you?" You hiss.

      A stab hits Sherlock straight in the heart at the look of pain on your face. "No, no." He breathes, shaking his head. He takes a step forward and you hold the fire poker up.

     "One more move and I will stab this straight through your heart." You threaten.

       Sherlock immediately stops moving, his eyes roving over you. "Did you know your brother was insane, Y/N?" He asks.

       You shake your head vehemently. "He isn't insane! He-he is kind and sweet. He'd never do anything to hurt anybody!" You cry out. Sherlock swallows at the denial that's threatening to swallow you whole.

      "Y/N, your brother is a psychopath. He's a murderer. He's a criminal." John says slowly.

      "No, he's not!" You scream angrily, brandishing the fire poker. Sherlock and John back up. "He watched over me. He looked out for me. He is the best brother. He worked hard for us to live here." You blurt out.

      Sherlock and John glance at each other. "Y/N—" Sherlock starts.

      "Stop! Shut up! Just shut up!" You scream, sobbing, falling to your knees, dropping the poker, and covering your hands over your ears. "Get out." You demand. You look up at them, hatred burning in your tear filled eyes. "I said get out!" You shriek, lunging for Sherlock.

        John quickly grabs Sherlock out of the way. You fall to the floor. "Thank you for your time." John says hurriedly, before hauling Sherlock, who is pale, out of the house.

"What are we going to do for her?" John asks as they walk down the street, trying to hail a cab.

      "She needs a hospital more than anything. She wasn't aware of her brother's insanity, that I know. She thought he was and still is the perfect brother. She's in complete denial. She doesn't want to believe us, but I think deep down she knows it's true, which I think is the whole root of the problem." Sherlock explains.

     "That's terrible." John breathes.

     Sherlock nods, in deep thought. For the first time in his life, he actually feels a little guilty. Not for putting Moriarty away in an insane asylum, but for the mental and emotional state his imprisonment has left you in. He doesn't even know if you'll ever return to the same mental state you were before Moriarty was taken away.

     "She was living a fantasy, one that wasn't even true. And it broke her." Sherlock whispers.

      "Are you-are you actually feeling bad for Y/N?" John asks in shock.

     "Um, no. That's utterly ridiculous" Sherlock lies, rolling his eyes. He looks away from John, biting his lip. He quickens his pace.

     "What's the hurry?" John asks.

     "I need to play the violin." Sherlock states as he hails a cab.
[THE END] I hope you liked it!