A little bit of everything Multi Fandom Imagines

A Chance Meeting - Part 1 - Moriarty x Reader

"And where do you think you are going young lady?" Mycroft asked, as he looked up from his paper; Sherlock turning his gaze from the window, as both brothers watched (Y/n) make for the door.

"What does it look like, I'm going out; as much as I love being couped up in Sherlock's flat with the pair of you griping and complaining at one another, this is London, and I am going to the British Museum." (Y/n) said sarcastically, as she put on her coat and grabbed her bag.

"The whole reason that you are here is so that we can protect you, that means you have to stay indoors and out of sight." Sherlock told (Y/n), walking over to where his sister stood defiantly.

(Y/n) was the youngest of the Holmes' and despite how much her brothers insisted that she wasn't, in truth she was the only person that both Mycroft and Sherlock would give anything to protect. Mycroft had done his best to shield (Y/n) from the worst of what he and Sherlock dealt with, but his efforts seemed to have failed when his sister had begun to receive notes; they had been innocuous enough to begin with, innocuous enough that she hadn't bothered telling either Sherlock or Mycroft, but as soon as they had started to become more descriptive, taking a darker tone, (Y/n) had had no choice but to inform her brothers.

Despite Sherlock not particularly liking other people in his flat, he and Mycroft knew that there was only one place that was suitable for (Y/n) to stay until the Holmes brothers were able to find the perpetrator of the unsavoury messages; and as much as Sherlock would never admit it to another soul, now that John was married and no longer in the flat, he missed the company, and (Y/n) was more than a suitable substitute for the good doctor.

"I cannot allow you to leave (Y/n), we have no idea who this man could be, and he could still be watching you; it is safer if you remain here." Sherlock said, placing his hand on his sister's shoulder.

"I'm sorry Sherlock but its been weeks and I'm going insane; what with listening to you with that damn violin, or finding body parts in the fridge, if I don't get out I swear that the next body part that will be in the fridge will be one of yours. Now you and Mycroft always go on about how goddamn smart you are, so why don't you do your job, and find this asshole so that I can get my life back; I am going to the British Museum and don't either of you dare follow me!" (Y/n) told a shocked Sherlock and Mycroft, as she flung open the door, and ran down the flight of stairs before disappearing out of the front door.

"What did you do?" Mycroft huffed, as he folded up his copy of the London Times and placed it on the table.

"What do you mean, what did I do? Normally she loves my violin, and she has never complained about the body parts or my experiments before, so it must be you." Sherlock replied, annoyed at his brother's insinuations.

"Me? I would never do anything to upset (Y/n)." Mycroft protested, getting up from the chair and making his way to the window, watching as his sister disappeared down the end of the street.

"She is right about one thing though; we need to find this man before he hurts her." Mycroft told Sherlock, as the two brothers stared at one another, a strange sense of dread taking over the two.

>>---------------------------------<<

(Y/n) walked through the streets of the capital, humming to herself happily as she felt the warm spring breeze blow delicately through her hair; as much as she love Sherlock and Mycroft, having the two of them there all the time, watching her every move had made her feel like she was suffocating, so to be able to get out, and go to her favourite place in the city made her feel alive again.

She couldn't help but smile as she saw the big building that she knew so well, every chance she got she would come to the great museum, always ending up in her favourite section, spending hours slowly walking through the Egyptian rooms, taking notes and sketching the artifacts until she would inevitably come  to sit in front of a colossal bust of the Pharaoh Ramesses II, where she would drift off, wondering how life would have been three thousand years ago.

After many quiet hours of perusing the new collections, and her old favourites, (Y/n) found herself standing in front of the great Pharaoh.

"Hello, my old friend, long time no see." (Y/n) whispered, her hand ghosting over the cold granite of the bust, as she looked up into the face of the King.

"My brothers are driving me insane, and as much as I know they want to protect me, I needed to get away from them and come and see you." (Y/n) said, sitting down on the bench that faced the colossal piece of stone.

"Did you know that he signed the first international peace treaty in history?" A melodious voice said from behind (Y/n) as she continued to gaze at the statue.

"Yes, with the Hittites; he also married the Hittite King's oldest daughter as a show of diplomatic good faith." (Y/n) replied, finally turning to look at the man that had taken a seat next to her.

She had to admit that he was handsome, a dark, mysterious kind of handsome that made her want to look at him all the more as he stared at the statue, his deep eyes taking in every aspect of the bust.

"So, you know a lot about him?" The man asked, as (Y/n) turned her gaze back to the Pharaoh.

"Ramesses II, also known as Ramesses the Great, third king of the 19th dynasty; his 66 year reign is considered by many to be the height of Egyptian power and glory. Builder of some of the most glorious monuments in Egypt, the best, in my humble opinion being the great temple of Abu Simbel. The father of over one hundred children, many of which he outlived, and husband to nearly two hundred wives and concubines." (Y/n) said, noticing out of the corner of her eye that the man had turned to look at her, a small smile gracing his lips.

"He sounds like an old friend?" The man asked curiously, looking intently at (Y/n).

"He is. Ramesses and I have known one another for a very long time; I have been coming here since I was a young child, and I always end my visit with a quick call on the old man." (Y/n) said, smiling as she turned to look at the man next to her, her eyes falling under the spell of his deep gaze.

"I myself love it here too, though I do not get to visit as much as I would like; but if I had known that you came here, I may have come by a little more often." The man said, a subtle smile pulling at the corner of his lips as (Y/n) began to blush.

"I'm afraid I'm only here myself because my brothers were driving me crazy, and I find that a few hours haunting the rooms here, makes me feel better." (Y/n) confessed, the man furrowing his brows in confusion.

"Your brothers? Why would your brothers be driving you crazy?" The inquisitive man asked, watching as (Y/n) looked down at her hands.

"Well, I don't suppose that you have heard of a man called Sherlock Holmes, have you?" (Y/n) asked, looking back up at the man who seemed to be thinking.

"Oh, you mean that consulting detective that helps out Scotland Yard. Yes, I've heard of him, why?" The man asked, smiling again as (Y/n) looked at him.

"So, Sherlock Holmes just happens to be my big brother, well one of them anyway, and he and my oldest brother have had me couped up inside Sherlock's flat for weeks, I know they mean well but they can both be so damn infuriating, irritating and insufferable." (Y/n) confessed, chuckling softly when the man next to her began to laugh.

"That bad, hmmmmm? And why would they have you shut away anyway?" He asked, (Y/n) sighing as she thought about how much she should divulge to a complete stranger, but she had to admit that his beautiful voice and mesmerising eyes made her want to tell him everything.

"I'm afraid it's a long boring story, and I'm sure that you wouldn't want to hear it." (Y/n) told him, watching as the man stood up and offered her his arm.

"On the contrary, I would love to hear about anything you would like to tell me. Why don't I take you for a coffee, and you can tell me all about it?" The man said with an impish grin as (Y/n) stood up and took his arm.

"My name is (Y/n) by the way." (Y/n) said, as he led her back through the many rooms towards the entrance of the building.

"Well you can just call me Jim." He replied, his smooth Irish accent coming out stronger than it had before, as the two of them walked back onto the streets of London.