Johnlock OneShots

You'll Pay part 1

(A/N ANGST TIME!)

"I know what you did, Sherlock, and now you'll pay. You can't run away from me anymore, Virgin, you won't make it much farther if you run anyways," Moriarty sing-songed into the phone line, making me want to rip my ears off when they came in contact with the somehow sweetly serene, Irish lilted accent that was Jim Moriarty. I had only barely begun to open my moth to yell back a reply when the line went dead. He hung up on me.

I quickly found myself in a state of unprecedented panic. What did I even do that has made Moriarty so angry with me? How does he think he can make me pay? I asked myself these questions and ones just like them only mere seconds before I realized that John had never come back from the market. I swiftly spiraled down into a state of pure dread, pacing the room and trying desperately to gather all of my emotions and get them back to a somewhat normal state.

Wait, Mrs. Hudson hasn't come back upstairs to check on me and John today. Nor has Lestrade called me about the case I know he has waiting for me all day. Where are all of them?!

"Please, not this again," I begged into the cold silence, "Please." I said again, stopping the rhythmic pattern of my pacing and furiously tilting my head back to look at the ceiling above me. It was just a regular, everyday ceiling, but it always helped me in these kinds of situations. The ceiling is why I lounge on the couch when I'm on especially hard cases or just sulking about. I always turned to the ceiling for help and its jagged edges and simple coloring would provide me the assistance I needed before I officially entered my mind palace. The ceiling and I seemed to have a very brief, wordless, conversation before I wrenched my coat and scarf from the coat rack by the door and simultaneously kicked the door open with the determination to get my only friends back that I was trying to hide underneath the mask that was my face.

Just as the door came to a full swing to the outside world I noticed something that shouldn't have been outside. A taxi, but not a normal taxi. This taxi had the letters I-O-U roughly scratched across the side that was faced towards me (most likely on purpose). The scratches were obviously made by a small, double-sided dagger, though the blade seemed a bit worn out towards the tip, indicating that it was put through a lot a stabbing procedures. I remembered what John told me not to long ago, about how when I think it's obvious its very far from obvious...well for everyone else that is. As I reminisced on this memory I decided to let the tears roll, just this once. For John.

I quickly dried my tears and stepped into the taxi, "You know where to go, you bloody idiot!" I spat at the cabbie while I shoved my hands into my supposedly empty pockets. I felt something thin rub against the outside of my hand before I pluck it from its safe spot in my pocket. It was just a simple note, though I could tell by the scribbly handwriting and the accentuation of the E in my name on the front that John had written it. I quickly tore it open and began to read.

Dear Sherlock,

Moriarty let me write a note before he took me, I placed it somewhere that I knew that you would find it.

Sherlock... I don't think I'm going to make it out alive. I need to tell you something and I'm sorry I had to tell you over this stupid note.

Sherlock, I want you to know that you're the most human person I have ever encountered, and that's the very thing that I love most about you. With that said, I think that over the course of time I've lived with you, I have come to have very strong, actually, VERY VERY VERY strong 'feelings' for you. I know you probably don't feel the same but I just thought that you deserved to know before I probably die.

Sincerely yours, JW

"I have strong feelings for you to John," I found myself whispering to the note in my hands. Even the paper felt like John: Caring, and sweet. I didn't have time to reminisce in the moment before I was interrupted.

"What sir?" The cabbie asked, a bit puzzled.

"Nothing! Shut your trap and keep driving!"

I thought I heard the cabbie mumble something underneath his breath but I had no time to register what is was because I noticed that there was a note written in different, rougher, handwriting.

Johnny boys right Sherlock. You won't get him back, and isn't he just so cute! ~ Your favorite consulting criminal.