His ransom - Moriarty x Reader

The letter

      The next day, I decided to stay in my room to think. If what Sherlock said was true, then I had put myself in a terrible position. James Moriarty was the king, and London was his kingdom. Moving back here was probably not the wisest idea. I was going to use the day to find a flat (Sherlock and Mycroft would help me pay it, they owed me after all) and make some research. About Moriarty mostly. If this man really was as dangerous as people said, I'd better learn as much as possible about him. I realized I was just like Sherlock when something was upsetting me : I'd run around my room and yell and mumble and roll on the floor for no  reason. 

      I was bored already. Bored, bored, bored, bored. I needed some action. I DESERVED some action. And I knew exactly where to find some. I stood up and grabbed my black coat. Once I was out on the streets, I headed towards the police station. Sherlock had told me the day before he was working on a case with Lestrade, an inspector. He was going to be there one minute or another. My hands were frozen when I finally arrived. A man came up to me asking :

"- Hello, what do you want?

- I'm here to see Sherlock Holmes and Lestrade.

- Holmes is not here, yet. But I can take you to the inspector. What is it about?"

      None of your business

"- Hm... I'm here to offer my help on... a case."

      The inspector was an average man, who seemed nice but not so clever. That's probably why he needed Sherlock that much.

"- Inspector Lestrade. How can I help you, Miss...?

- Holmes.", I answered without hesitation

"- Are you related to Sherlock?"

      This was going to be so much fun. 

"- I'm his wife. Didn't he tell you about me? Well, I'm offended.

- Sorry what?! That's highly impossible. Sherlock Holmes? This man is a psychopath, a freak, he couldn't deal with a girlfriend. So a wife..."

      A woman had intervened. She obviously didn't really appreciate my "husband". Anyway. I doubted anyone did.

"- I'm not here to talk about him. I'm offering my help on your cases. I'm a bit... like him. You know, except the sociopath showing-off thing.

- We are police officers. We do not consult amateurs. We tolerate this freak, but one is enough", the woman said.

      Lestrade was about to say something when the door burst open.

"-Y/n, I told you to keep a low profile and THIS is what you choose to do, of all things you can do in London?!", Sherlock said, obviously quite pissed off.

"-So it's true? She really is your-", Lestrade said, shocked

"- Yes, but no one was supposed to find out. Good job, y/n. Anyway, Lestrade, do you have anything new on the case?

- We do. A letter. For you. Here it is. We have good reasons to believe it's from him."

      Sherlock and I both took a look at the letter. It was a nice enveloppe, pure white, great quality. The man who had sent this was left-handed, judging by the hand writing. There was no stamp, and only one word on it : "Holmes".

      My brother opened it carefully, to find a piece of paper Inside. He read it fast. And read it again. His face got paler. When he finally looked up he only whispered :

"- He knows."

      He handed me the paper, and this is what was written on it :

  My very dear y/n