A little bit of everything Multi Fandom Imagines Book Three

The wrong one - Sherlock - Part 3 - Moriarty x Reader

(Y/n) groaned loudly, as she slowly woke up. Her eyes staying closed, as she moved slightly. The pain in her head. The ache in her muscles making it hard to do anything but lie still. The detective deciding that if she ever got out of this new situation that Moriarty had put her in, she was going to make the consulting criminal pay. But at least by the feel of it, she wasn't still strapped to the chair anymore. In fact, it felt as though she were in a bed covered in clean, crisp sheets. The smell of fresh air and laundry detergent filling her senses. Carefully she opened one eye, closely followed by the other as the pain behind them seemed to subside. (Y/n) sure that if she were Sherlock, she would know what the idiot that had been standing behind her in that room, had injected into her. That she would now exactly what she had to do to counter it. But as it was, she wasn't. and she would have to deal with it until the aftereffects wore off. Though at least one thing was for sure, if she felt this bad, it meant she wasn't dead. (Y/n) a little surprised that Moriarty hadn't pulled the trigger. That perhaps he had too many things planned for her to let her die so quickly.

She knew that it had been a stupid thing to do, to goad a psychopath that had no problem in killing people. But she had to prove to him, that despite how others might react, she wasn't scared. Greg had always told her that he thought she had a death wish. That she took too many risks. Put herself in dangerous situations. Her brother telling her that she had to knock it off, because he didn't want to lose her. But that was just who she was. She had always been the first into the fray. Always the first to get her hands dirty. But perhaps in these circumstances, she should be a little more circumspect. She should tread a little more carefully. Yet she had no intention of letting the consulting criminal think that he intimidated her. That he had any kind of effect on her.

Hesitantly she brought herself up onto her elbows. Her heavy eyes taking in the new room in which she found herself. She was indeed in a bed. Its white sheets thankfully not as bright as the room in which she had last woke. The room was well proportioned. A mixture of modern and classic. Something that you would find on the cover of some fancy interior design magazine. And from what she had seen of James Moriarty, what she knew of him, it suited him down to the ground.

Carefully, (Y/n) moved the sheets from her body. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed. A feeling of nausea filling her, as she slowly stood up. Her hand gripping to the small nightstand by her side as her legs feel weak. Yet she had to fight through it. She had to get to the window to see if there was a possible way of escaping. But as she got there, she realised that there wasn't.

She was up high, too high. The city of London laid out before her. (Y/n) sure that she could see the Yard. That she could see Baker Street from where she was. The detective wondering if her brother, if the Holmes boys knew that their biggest problem was only a stone's throw away from them.

"I wouldn't if I were you." A voice suddenly came. (Y/n) turning quickly on her heels. Only to have to steady herself once again as the room began to spin.

"I think that you'll find that it's a long way down. So, unless you can sprout wings.............." Moriarty continued, as he made his way into the room and took a seat in a chair that (Y/n) was sure must have cost at least two month's salary to buy.

"I don't know. Going splat onto the street might be preferable to being the prisoner of a sick fuck like you........no offence." (Y/n) retorted with a sarcastic grin, as she dropped into another chair.

"No offence taken. And you are not my prisoner, Detective Lestrade. You are my guest.................."

"Well, if I am a guest, that means I can leave any time I like. And I would like to leave now." (Y/n) interrupted, as she got back to her feet and made her way to the door. Throwing open the ingress to find her way blocked by a rather large goon, with a gun in his hand.

"I'm afraid that I can't let you do that, detective. You see, I have other plans for you." James told her. Gesturing for the man to close the door.

"And what plans would those be, Mister Moriarty? I have already tried to explain to you that you have the wrong one. I mean nothing to either Sherlock or Mycroft Holmes. To those two, I'm just some dumb copper. A goldfish. Treated with the same contempt as everyone else that isn't them. John is sweet, but we are little more than acquaintances. Poor man spends more time apologising for Sherlock's rudeness than anything else. And Greg........well, like I said, he already has enough on his plate. And even though we are brother and sister, we aren't that close. We are far too different to agree on most things." (Y/n) responded. Slowly turning around to look at the softly smiling criminal. James getting to his feet and straightening his jacket, before making his way over to her. The consulting criminal using his body to push her against the door. His arms caging her as he placed them on either side of her head.

"No offence, detective. But I don't believe you. No matter how good you are at concealing your emotions. Your true feelings. No matter how good you are at hiding what and who you really are. I know that there is more to your relationship with Sherlock and Mycroft than you are trying to tell me. So, until I find out what that is. Until your disappearance drags Sherlock from Baker Street, you will continue to be my guest. And you and I will be getting to know one another, much, much better." James informed her. His eyes darting between her lips and her eyes. His body pushed further up against hers. Leaving (Y/n) with no other option than to play his little game until Greg could hopefully find her. (Y/n) smiling, as she looked deep into the consulting criminal's eyes.

"No offence taken............"