Sherlock One shots and Imagines

The wrong one - Part 12 - James x Reader

"Can I help you........?" (Y/n) asked, as nonchalantly as she could, given that the only thing between her decency and the consulting criminal, was a sheet.

"I thought that you might like a nightcap..........." Came the reply, as James made his way into the room with two glasses and a bottle of good brandy. Using his foot to close the door behind him.

"I told you; I don't drink much. And I think that you will find that I am not suitably attired............."

"I am sure that you can make an exception, just this once. And I don't mind about your attire. I think the sheet suits you............" James said, as he moved over to the table, and took a seat. Placing down the glasses, before pulling the cork from the bottle, and pouring a generous amount of liquor into them. The consulting criminal smiling again, as he gestured for her to take a seat across from him. The detective knowing that there was little point in protesting. That anything she said, would fall on deaf ears. So, she did the only thing that she could; she pulled the sheet a little tighter around her and took a seat.

"You don't like taking no for an answer, do you..........?" (Y/n) asked, as she picked up the glass and took a drink. The brown liquor heating her body, as it made its way down her throat. Well, that was what she was telling herself; that it was the brandy that was warming the pit of her stomach, and not the way that the consulting criminal was looking at her.

If she could physically slap herself, and not look completely insane, she would. If she could leave her body and shake some sense into herself, she would do that too. This was James Moriarty for gods' sake, psychopath, criminal, killer. This was not the kind of guy that you would take home to meet your mother. Well, not unless you really hated your mother, that is. Ok, (Y/n) would again admit, that he was a handsome man. That there was something about him. But really, she had to think about this with her brain and not other parts of her body. Only able to imagine what her brother would say, what the others would say, if they were to think that she had had even the slightest carnal thought about Moriarty. The younger Lestrade sure that when Greg did come and rescue her, Sherlock would be able to see it on her face if she did anything; that it would ruin whatever there might be between them. The thought of losing Sherlock because of the ultimate bad boy, was not really one that she liked. For despite the fact that she was never really sure if there was something real between her and the younger Holmes, she did really care about him. She did wish that the kiss that they had shared, had gone further than it had. That he had said something, confessed something; that he had told her that he had human emotions and that he felt something for her. But as it was, he had stubbornly continued to be Sherlock. A fact that (Y/n) not only found mentally, but physically frustrating.

It was strange really, the two men seemed to her, to be two side of the same coin. The consulting criminal, and the consulting detective. The psychopath, and the highly functioning sociopath. Each one trying to outdo the other. Each one trying to prove that they were the best. Seemingly willing to do whatever it took to show one another who was the smartest. It as if one could not exist without the other. That if you took one away, the other would feel he had nothing left to live for. (Y/n) having to think that this "nemesis" relationship between the two men, was even more fucked up than what was between her and Sherlock. Though definitely less nauseating than watching Donovan and Anderson slobber all over one another.

"No one dare say no............." James finally replied, as he leant over and put a little more brandy in her glass.

"Oh, I bet they don't. Nothing like the idea of having your brains blown out by a crazed psychopath, to put you off saying no............."

"Yet you continue to do it.............."

"That is because I am stubborn. I was born stubborn. When I was a child, I would always do the opposite of what anyone told me not to do. My mother said that I should not cut my hair, so I had it cut as short as I could. She told me that, my clothes were too dark, so I began to wear nothing but black. My parents told me that one copper in the family was enough, so I went and joined up the next day. My brother calls it, me being bloody awkward............"

"So, if I told you that I didn't want you to kiss me...........?"

"I would say that you would have to try better. I am well aware that you are not a stupid man.........crazy maybe, but not stupid. So, I would think that you would be able to come up with something better than that. Sherlock certainly did................" (Y/n) countered. The last part said much more quietly; thought still loud enough for the criminal to hear, as she bought the glass back to her lips. The image of her poking a man eating tiger with a stick, suddenly springing to her mind.

"I can see why he likes you............" Came the surprisingly calm reply. The younger Lestrade actually having expected him to throw something, before storming out on her again. Or, at the very least, threaten her.

"What's not to like? I'm the complete package..........."

"Yes.......yes you are." Moriarty told her. His voice still calm, soft, as he finished his drink and placed the glass on the table, before getting to his feet and making his way over to her. The consulting criminal placing a gentle, hesitant kiss to her cheek.

"Good night.........." He said quietly into her ear, then standing up straight and making his way to the door. Moriarty knocking, before the door was opened. Not even bothering to look back at her before he left the room. Leaving (Y/n) to wonder whether this was a new tactic; though if it was, it was a very interesting one.