BBC Sherlock Imagines (Book 2)

Moriarty: Here and Alive

*takes a moment to channel inner Moriarty*

Okay action

~

You were folding laundry in your room while watching the news. There was another apparent murder, although, like the others, it seemed to be feigned as a suicide. Amateur, you thought. Jim could have done better, he would have done better. He would have actually made the person kill them self so that he wouldn't have to try and cover up that it was a murder. Duh. Your heart pained a little at the thought of him, but it was dull, this time at least. Of course, not a day went by in these past two years that you didn't think about him.

He didn't tell you what he would do. You didn't know that you would be coming home to a somber Sebastian telling you that your one true love had shot himself through his head.

"There's no magic trick, he's not getting out of this one," Sebastian had said. You tried not to believe him at first, tried to think of any way that Jim could have pulled this off like any other stunt of his.

But the thing was, he would always tell you before he did some prank, but that time he didn't. And that's what made it real. That's what made it not a prank.

You shivered even though you weren't cold. You continued folding clothes, deciding to change the channel and landing happily on the Graham Norton Show. You laughed as you listened to him interview Jennifer Aniston, oh how Americans were so silly. Suddenly though, your ears perked up to a sound coming from down the hall in your living room. You left the TV at the volume it was, not wanting whatever it was to know you had heard it, and grabbed your handgun. You began creeping down the hall, taking quiet steps and not letting a sound escape from your mouth. You reached the edge of the hall and peered out into the living room towards your front door.

It was the unmistakable sound of your lock being picked. You smirked confidently and cocked back your gun, pointing it at the front door. This dumbass in for a surprise when they walk in here and immediately get a bullet to the face. You waited, and you were just starting to get impatient when the doorknob rattled from side to side, then finally opened to reveal-

Jim?

"Honey I'm ho-" You shot the intruder's arm and he fell to the floor with a laugh of pain. It was not Jim. It could not be Jim. You wouldn't believe your eyes no matter what they were trying to tell you.

"Who the hell are you?" you yelled, moving to stand over Not Jim.

"It's only been two years angel, did you really forget me already?" purred Not Jim in a shaky soprano voice while clutching his bloody arm to his chest. You studied his face - his eyes were big, almost black, his dark hair was tossed around in a mess, and he still wore the same smirk. It looked like Jim, it even sounded like Jim, but it couldn't be him. Jim had shot himself in the back of the head. Jim was dead. Jim was- your thoughts were interrupted. "Did you change the locks on the house?" he asked, grinning in pain as he slid his body up to lean against the back of the couch.

"What?" you spat.

"Well I tried my key and it didn't work, hence why I had to pick the lock."

You bit your tongue in rage, but that didn't stop you from exploding. "YOU DISAPPEAR FOR TWO YEARS AND MAKE ME THINK THAT YOU'RE DEAD AND THE FIRST THING YOU ASK ME IS IF I CHANGED THE LOCKS?"

"Also, did you ever get milk? There was none when I left."

You screamed out in frustration, shooting bullets around him so that there was an outline of his body made from holes in the couch.

"I can see your still angry, but your aim has gotten better."

"I will always be angry about this Jim. How could you do this? Do you know what this did to me? I couldn't even kill anyone for a whole three months because all I could think about was how I wanted to murder people with you, how I wanted to watch the life drain from their eyes with you, and from a distance watch their families fall apart, with you. All with you."

"You know, I haven't been myself lately either," he said, looking guiltily up at you and you rolled your eyes. "Those murders that are made to look like suicides, that's my work."

You looked down at him shocked. "You're joking right? Those are just down right embarrassing," you scoffed.

"I know. That's why I had to come back (y/n)... My touch just hasn't been the same without you, I haven't been the same without you. I've become a softy. I can't even remember the last time I slit someone's throat. But you..." he reached out with his other arm, the one that you hadn't shot, and tugged on your hand with his bloody one to pull you down on the ground next to him. "You keep me sharp. You keep me motivated. You keep me a predator. And I need that. I need you."

You had been avoiding his eye contact through his whole speech, so as he finished his last words he used his hand to move your head to face him. You stared into his eyes, losing yourself in them like you used to do years ago. You reached out and touched his face. It was really him. It was your psychopathic love, here and alive. "I need you too," you said. He leaned into kiss you, but you pulled away before they could touch, much to your dismay. "But I also need you to stay still while I go get some stuff to fix your arm."

"Oh right," he chuckled. "I forgot have a hole in my arm. Must be because the whole in my heart is finally filled."

A/N

YAY FOR SECOND UPDATE OF THE 24 HOUR PERIOD.

(I swear, it's the new laptop guys, I love typing on it, clears my mind a bit too for some reason)

Random: What would you do if you opened up your front door and saw the whole Sherlock cast standing outside your house?

Momma loves you.

"You are the sky. Everything else is just the weather."
- Pema Chodron