You're An Idiot, Sherlock Holmes (OC x Sherlock)

I Love You

"Yes, remember when you were going to blow me up into smithereens? Remember?!" I yelled, tears welling up in my eyes.

With a soundless laugh, Moriarty put his hands over his face before turning to me. "I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry," he apologized, choking on his cries. Motioning to Sherlock, he said, "He paid me. I needed the work. I'm an actor, I was out of work-"

"Sher, for the love of god, please get your explanation out of the way, because I'm not understanding any of this," I interjected, putting my head in my hands tiredly. 

"I'll be doing the explaining- in print," stated Kitty. "It's all here. Conclusive proof."

She picked up a folder and handed it to me. I gave her a skeptical look before opening the folder, revealing newspaper clippings of her article draft with things printed like SHERLOCK'S A FAKE and MORIARTY MADE UP. 

"You invented James Moriarty, your nemesis," Kitty said to Sherlock. 

"Invented him?" I said hoarsely, not believing a single word, even though the proof was in my hands. "Really?" I pushed.

"Mhm." Kitty, who was pleased with herself, turned to Sherlock. "Invented all the crimes, actually. And to cap it all, you made up a master villain."

"Stop with all of your bullshit!" I snapped angrily, throwing the folder to the floor.

"Ask him, he's right here," Kitty ordered, pointing to Moriarty. "Just ask him. Tell him, Richard."

"Oh for god's sake, this bastard was on trial!" I countered furiously, spit flying.

"Yes," Kitty said accusingly, making a swift turn back to Sherlock, who stared at her blankly, pointing a finger at him, "And you paid him. Paid him to take the rap, promised you'd rig the jury." Kitty turned to me. "Not exactly a West End role, but I'll bet the money was good." She walked over to Moriarty and gently lowered his raised protective hands. "but not so good he didn't want to sell his story." 

She comfortingly rested her hands on Moriarty's shoulders as the consulting criminal stared back at me with frightened puppy eyes. 

"I am sorry," he insisted plaintively. "I am- I am sorry." 

With a deep breath, I kneeled down and picked up the folder from the floor, holding it up. "So this is the article that you're going to publish?" I asked stiffly. "The big conclusion of it all? Of all of this? That Moriarty is just some minimum paid actor?" I turned to Sherlock, shaking my head with long exaggerated shakes.

"He knows I am. I have proof," Moriarty insisted shakily. "I have proof- show her. Can you show them something?" 

Kitty walked over to her bag and pulled out another folder.

"Oh yes, do show me something," I demanded dryly, watching her as she pulled out a few articles of Moriarty.

"I'm on TV- I'm on kids' TV. I'm The Storyteller," Moriarty said as I flipped through the Richard Brook contact details and newspaper clippings. "I'm The Storyteller," he said again, "It's on DVD." 

My head shakes were slow, becoming faster as I looked thoroughly through the folder. It all seemed too real, but it couldn't be. "No. Nononono," I muttered as I went through the folder for the third time.

"Just tell her," Moriarty insisted to Sherlock. "It's all coming out now, it's all over. Just tell her-"

"Nononono-"

"Just tell her-"

"Godnoohgodnoohgodnoanythingbutthisanythingbutthis-"

I looked up in time to see Sherlock make a step closer to Moriarty, unable to contain his anger. Moriarty yelped and backed into the stairs, pointing a finger at my flatmate. "NO! Don't you touch me! Don't you lay a finger on me!"