BBC Sherlock x Reader Oneshots

Moriarty x Reader: So? (No Pt. 2)

A/N: GUESS WHO'S BACK FROM THE LITERAL FUCKING WRITING GRAVE BITCHESSSSS!

Aight anyways less just go I know y'all been waiting for this :)

Word Count: (holy shit I'm actually kinda proud of myself, but also this is my way of making up for my long-ass hiatus, so really sorry about that.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What to do, what to do?

It had been only a single night since the day you turned on your TV to see none other than THE Jim Moriarty smiling and waving at you on national. Television. 

Well, you could officially say that this was the weirdest week you'd ever had. 

But now the issue wasn't simply the fact that he said your first name on TV, it was the fact that he knew it in the first place. You hadn't given him your name.

Shit.

You needed answers, and you needed them stat. But to do that you'd need to devise a plan.

And that's what led you to knocking on the door of 221B Baker Street.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sorry, what did you say your name was again?" the man known as John Watson said to you as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Before you could answer, Sherlock cut in. "(Y/N), John. Her name is (Y/N),"

"Right, right, sorry, sorry," the blonde man said, seemingly still in disbelief of your story. 

You told them everything. Where you met, what time, what you were doing there, what he said to you (in his exact words), what you said to him, and finally the story of just yesterday when Jim greeted you via the news.

"Well I knew that the '(Y/N)' he mentioned must have been someone he knew but I didn't imagine it would be some completely incompetent cashier who made some lucky guesses," Sherlock stated in a completely monotone voice.

"Excuse me your highness, get the hell off of that high-ass horse. I didn't 'make lucky guesses' as you so eloquently put it, I deduced him, something that someone, it seems, as 'mighty and all-knowing' as you couldn't even do. Give me some credit here, Mr. Holmes. You really think the fact that I knew he was a consulting criminal was a 'lucky guess'? Be rational, here. You're no better than I am. You and I think the same way, except for the fact that I don't have a massive ego problem or an inferiority complex, nor an addiction to nicotine. How about next time you open your mouth, you think before you speak a little bit more. I came here to get your help, not to listen to your whining just because I could do something the 'Amazing Sherlock Holmes' couldn't. How's that for incompetent?" you said bluntly. 

Your voice held the utmost conviction throughout the statement, not to mention enough sarcasm to last anyone a lifetime. You didn't care if he was the 'Mighty Sherlock Holmes'. All you saw was some whiny child. If anything, you could probably do his job much more efficiently than he ever could. He was the incompetent one here. You assumed he was as great as the rumours said he was, but clearly you were mistaken. "Now, Mr. Holmes, are you going to help me or are you going to sit there and whine some more?" you said, swiftly delivering an ultimatum. You looked at him and John. Sherlock looked (you assumed) more stunned than he ever had in his entire life, and John's jaw was practically on the floor.

"Well then," John said after a minute or two of stunned silence had passed.

And that's how you ended up at the front gates of the prison.