Sherlock oneshots

Sheriarty~ mates

Well hello again amazing readers! It's been a while, and i finally came up with an idea in the middle of class that I had to run to the toilets to jot down. Inspiration is running low- as always.

Self promo again- Doctor who oneshots on my page if ur interested ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I actually update that every 3 days so if ur looking for a sense of security this book doesn't provide u with go ava look!

Oh! I think this book turns 1 pretty soon, which is kinda cool if u ask me. Nearly 10k reads in a year on a oneshot book? I'll take that. I can only thank all u avid readers for sticking around, and I hope I can continue to bring u guys (occasionally) good content :)

Sherlock had tried tirelessly for many years to save Jim Moriarty. To drag him from his statistic criminal lifestyle, to save his fragile mental state. No one ever understood why he tried so hard, why he even bothered- everyone wanted Jim as close to death as was possible. But not Sherlock, he sat awake for countless nights staring at his computer screen blankly, waiting for an update on the criminals movements. He never stopped. He never even considered giving up.

When he finally received good news that Moriarty was hospitalised- well, not good news, but it meant he was tied down- he went straight there. No one ever found out what the detective had said, but when Jim was released his criminal activity dropped. He wasn't committing crimes anymore, neither were his clients. No murders, no targets, nothing more than suspicion clouded the name Moriarty.

Jim seemed to drop off the face of the earth, all of his criminal plans and schemes following him. Of course John and Mycroft had asked over and over what Sherlock had said or done to change him, but he never said. He'd change the subject, or say it didn't matter, or claim he didn't remember. It was all blatant lies, but nothing anyone could say could convince him otherwise.

That's when one day when Jim turned up at the flat to see Sherlock, John just stood aside and let him in. Let him clime his stairs. Let him into his home. Let him talk to his friend. Because this was the only way he could get Sherlock to talk, after something so suspicious turned up he'd have to say something. He hated his own logic.

Jim sat down in John's chair, leaning back and resting his arms on it comfortably as Sherlock put two mugs of tea on the table in between them. He too sat down, staring at Moriarty as his smug smirk stayed ever present on his face. He crossed his legs slowly, watching as Sherlock took his cup of tea in his hands. "What brings you here, Jim." He asked casually, earning a grin from the man across from him.

"You're telling me you have no clue why I'm here? The great Sherlock Holmes?" Jim mocked, taking his own tea and sipping it through giggles. Sherlock didn't even look his way, just stirred his tea. "Oh I know, I just want to see if you know." He still didn't look up, but could feel Moriarty's cold brown eyes drilling into him like a screwdriver. He did know why he'd come, because of his promise. No one had a clue what'd been said in the hospital that day, the words that ended Jim Moriarty's reign of terror, no one but them.

And that's because Sherlock couldn't lie to his friends.

"You know why I'm here." Jim said bluntly, still a stroppy mocking tone lacing his voice, but it was soft. He sipped his tea patiently as Sherlock finally looked up. The detective didn't say anything, and they both sat waiting for what felt like forever for the other to speak up. "If I didn't know any better I'd call you desperate." Sherlock said, averting his eyes again much to the agitation of Jim.