His ransom - Moriarty x Reader

Torture

      I woke up, panicked, my body covered in sweat. I looked around. Where was I? What happened? And then I remembered. Moriarty. But one thing stayed blurry. How did I end up in this bed? I couldn't put my finger on a memory. I raised the blanket. I was still fully dressed. I was, somehow, relieved. He hadn't done anything to me. Yet. I got up slowly, because my head was spinning. I walked towards the wardrobe and opened the door. I gasped when I saw it was completely filled. Not with my clothes, but with fancy and obviously expensive outfits. There was a note in one of the drawers :

I hope you will like your new clothing. Please pick an outfit and join me for breakfast tomorrow morning. JM

      What the hell was going on? Why would he be so caring? I was literally his prisonner. I didn't know what to think. I didn't want to see him. He kept invading my personal space, and I knew it was not going to get better. I went through the dresses and picked a simple black one, with laces in the back. It looked quite good on me. I combed my hair for a few minutes, trying not to imagine how he had found my measurements. Immediatly after I opened the door, I heard Moriarty calling from the living room :

"- Finally! Come here, y/n, show yourself."

      His voice sent a shiver down my spine. It was soft. He had a beautiful voice. I recalled the day I met him.The day I gave him my number. The day I found him cute and oh, so handsome. I walked in. He was sitting at a big table, reading a newspaper. He looked me up and down and seemed happy with what he saw.

"- Gorgeous", he said with a smirk.

      Once again, I felt the pressing need to run away, and lock myself up as far as possible from that psycho. But after all, aren't you a bit of a psycho too, y/n?

"- You need to know something, my love. You're going to stay here. Whether you want it or not. So you have two possibilities. You can do what I say, and live a Queen life here. Or... You can keep acting like an idiot, bore me and  then... I assure you it won't be so pleasant. For you, at least."

      The soft, warm voice was gone. In just a split second, he went from the charming gentleman to the cold-blooded murderer. And like the bloody idiot I am, I spat :

"- I. Am not. Your love."

      I saw a flash of anger go through his face.

"- As you wish. Go back to your room.

- I-", I started.

      He looked up and gave me a look that made me shut my mouth instantly. He was not done with me. I tried not to shake as I turned my back and walked away. I sat on my bed, worried. What did he mean by "it won't be so pleasant"? I stayed there for hours. I had never been more afraid. For myself, and for Sherlock. He was probably going insane at the moment. 

      Someone entered the room. I was expecting Jim, but it was one of his guys. He was bringing a cup of tea. Without a word, I drank it. Such a nice gesture was too suspiscious, after what I had told him. He wanted to drug me, and I didn't resist. I lied on my bed and fell into a deep sleep within a few minutes.

"- Hmm...aaaahn" 

      That was the only sound that came out of my mouth when I tried to speak. I opened my eyes. I was not in my room anymore, but in an empty hall. I looked around me. I was sitting on a metal chair. My ankles and my wrists were tied to it with heavy chains. My head hurt. Moriarty came in. I almost fainted when I saw he had a knife in his left hand. Do not cry. Keep a straight face. He can smell fear.

"- Am I going to die?

- Die? Oh, no, my dear. Who would distract me if I killed you? You just need to learn your lesson, y/n."

      I was terrified. Frozen to the bone. I tried to speak, but couldn't even move my lips. He slowly walked up to me until his knees touched mine. He sat on my lap, facing me. I couldn't take my eyes off him. Such proximity made me anxious, but I didn't want him to leave. His left hand slid behind my back and unzipped my dress. I closed my eyes. Stop. I wanted him to stop. It took a lot to hold back a scream when I felt his knife sink in my flesh. Jim was slashing the skin on my ribs. A tear rolled down my cheek, causing him to stop for a moment. He stroked my face softly. I still couldn't believe how smooth he was sometimes. He followed the shape of my collar bones with his fingertips. And a second later, he was squeezing my throat. Brutally. I struggled restlessly. There was no hope. If Jim Moriarty wanted you dead, the only thing you could do was die. I was hot. Blood was pounding my temples. Everything was blurry. I could barely hear him breathe anymore. I was about to pass out. Or pass away. I thought about Sherlock. My poor brother. All of this was my fault. I would miss this fucker if he or I died.

      When he finally let go, I gasped for air. He stood up but didn't get away from me. He bent down and pushed his finger in the deepest wound he had made. It was too much pain to handle. I let out a loud scream. 

"- Good girl. I do hope I won't have to do this again.", he whispered in my ear.

      My body was heavy. I fought to keep my eyes open. Jim kneeled and released me from the chains. I was too weak to even stand up. I fell forward, expecting to crash on the floor , but my head hit his stomach instead. He picked me up bridal style and carried me out of this cold, dark place. I never thought I would love the feeling of a warm, clean sheet against my naked skin that much. After taking my dress off, Moriarty wrapped me in a blanket and put me in bed. I was too tired and hurt to even care about what he would do. He sat next to me. He didn't say a word. He just leaned on me and dropped a soft, light kiss on my lips.

       And for some reasons, of all tortures, that was what hurt me the most that day.