Nicotine (Moriarty x Reader x Sherlock)

I

I'm using they/them pronouns for this because I know boys, girls, and maybe some non binarys will read this :)

(your POV) 

You're walking down the streets of London, down fleet street, and to St Barts. (sorry if you actually live in London and I got the geography completely wrong but I did it for the references.) You have a new job there, you work in the labs. You get bored and start deducing people along the street. (yes you can deduce) Finally you get to St Barts and walk down the hallway into the lab. You see a short blonde man and a tall brunette arguing. To shut them up you ask the short one, "Afghanistan or Iraq?" They look over at you in shock and you quickly realize what you are doing. "Sorry, sorry continue arguing." "No no, It was Afghanistan. Continue the deduction." So nervously you continue. "Well you are an army doctor and you have been sent home from Afghanistan. I know you have a sister who is worried about you but you won't go to her for help possibly because you don't approve of her drinking problem but it could also be that she just walked out on her lover. Plus your therapist believes that your limp is psychosomatic, quite correctly I'm afraid. Oh and he is a highly functioning sociopath who can deduce people just like me. He had a rough childhood and has an older brother, just like him without as much drugs. He uses nicotine patches and the violin to help him think, he gets bored very easily and sometimes won't talk for days. He has almost no heart but just enough to care about a few people, he doesn't even get payed for solving crimes he just does them because without a puzzle to solve theres nothing to do except slap dead people with a riding crop and do crazy experiments in the kitchen." You stop there to catch your breath and they look at you like you are superman. "You got me better than Sherlock." The short one says in awe. "Oh yea shorty, what's your name?" Sherlock, still looking in the microscope, scoffs. "Hah I'm not the only one who thinks you're short." "Oh shut up Sherlock, My name is John Watson, and you?" "Oh I'm F/N L/N. I work here now so I guess I'll be seeing you two around a lot." Just then a ginger girl who you assume is Molly walks in, clearly she is interested in Sherlock but you know there is no chance of that ever happening. "Hello y/n, follow me I'm going to give you a tour around the hospital." 

After about 20 minutes of going around the hospital you meet 3 people, Lestrade, Donovan, and Anderson. "Anderson and Donovan don't like the fact that Sherlock can deduce, so unless you don't want to, feel free to annoy them by deducing me." After the deduction Anderson and Donovan stare at you than start screaming at molly "What the bloody hell were you thinking, Molly? We don't need anymore of those freaks walking around!" Donovan spat out freaks like she was talking about Hitler. "Thanks, because I'm the one fucking Anderson behind his wives back." Lestrade starts laughing and Donovan and Anderson gape at me like I'm calling them  Hitler now. "Oh stop making stupid faces, you know I'm right. Just look at her knees, either she was scrubbing your  floors or you were fucking."

Its the end of the day so you decide to head home, but first you head to a coffee shop. You order your coffee and sit down at a table. Soon a man walks in with slicked back dark hair, sunglasses, and a suit that is very obviously Westwood. He's hard to read, clearly important, he's hot- no no stop. Just then he taps on your shoulder. "Hey, I think your coffee is ready, are you y/n?" "Yes, I am, thank you."  Irish accent to, cute. When you get back to your seat he's gone but his number is on your chair. "Text me later, you're cute.- JM" Okay well at least you know his initials now, one step closer to his name. Coffee in hand you start walking home, 221C Baker Street, Mrs Hudson insisted that you move in to 221B but you said it was okay. You get home and Mrs Hudson greets you at the door. "Hello, come on in." "Thank you Mrs Hudson." You have a warm smile on your face and are glad to be home. As you are walking you hear the violin start to play a slow tune so you go to check, it sounds sad and lonely. You walk in and see... Sherlock, facing the window looking sad.  You walk towards him as quiet as possible and put a  hand on his shoulder, he tenses up like he's not used to anything like this at all. "You okay...?" You realize that's a dumb question to ask and scold yourself. "What are you doing here, I'm sure that you live in 221C not 221B." "I just wanted to make sure you're okay, the tune sounded lonely and sad." "I'm okay just a hard case and no sleep doesn't mix well." "Do you have any of your nicotine patches?" "No, Shorty took them away." "I'm sorry about that. Well I guess I'll leave you alone to your playing" As you turn to walk away he grabs your arm. "No stay, you could probably help me with the case seeing how our brains work the same way, unless you don't want to that's okay as well." "No no that would be great." You say with a small smile on your face. "I'm going  to wash up and then I'll be out okay y/n?"  "Okay." You smile and he disappears into the hallway. 

(Sherlocks POV)

I look at the mirror and to my horror its confirmed, sentiment. Dilated pupils, heart racing, the slightest shade of pink on my cheeks,  I hate myself for it but they're amazing, I really don't know what to do.  This is bad, really bad but I wash up and go back out and they're sitting there in a blue (feel free to change it) sweater and black pants, they look over at me and their pupils dilate just a little bit, so that's a good sign. 

~3 hours later~ 

We're sitting on the couch talking about the case when I realize that I'm really just talking to myself  they're asleep on my shoulder. I lay them down and let them rest their head on my chest, I wrap my arms around them and go to sleep for the first time in days.