Sherlock Imagines

The Storyteller (Parent!Lock; MoriartyxReader)

Request; Parent!Moriarty, JimXReader
Requested by; @Parisallegretto
Level; OMC THIS WAS TOO MUCH FOR MY NONEXISTENT HEART! 10! All the way; 10!
Also; this is a fem!reader, for reasons that will become clear. Sorry my peoples!

Seb was driving the twins to school, you had your phone, purse, and an extra tube of lipgloss. Jim's arms twisted around your waist as you packed a quick lunch, his lips grazing your cheek.
"You forgot something, love." He held up your wedding band, his lips pressing harder into your cheek. Things were ideal in your eyes, but Jim couldn't help feeling a bit dishearten. He'd always been the easily jealous type, but you refusing to wear your wedding ring was something he felt was fair to be a bit upset about. Especially since he never took his off, unless he was showering or getting it cleaned, of course.
"Jim, no." You rejected the idea with a small sigh. It'd only been about four or five days since your last "Mommy and Daddy" time, and he was already falling back into his usual pattern. This had to be a record.
"And why not?" His voice was hurt, as always, and you suddenly didn't know what to say. He knew why, didn't mean he liked it.
"Because, then I have people asking 'Why're you still going by your maiden name?' and, 'Ooh! Who's your husband?', what do I say to them, Jim? Oh yeah, he's just a high functioning psychopath who tried to kill our boss?" You raised an eyebrow at him, while he pouted at you. His fingers twisted the band around and around, as if he were considering. Suddenly, he scooped your hand in his, slipping it onto your finger.
"Say it's Jim Brook!" He rationalized quickly, "And that you just prefer your maiden name." He pressed his lips to your cheek, not-so-secretly crossing his fingers. Sighing, you gave him a sideways glance to see he was giving you his coveted puppy-dog eyes...
"Fine."

It was no secret that Sherlock had a bit of a crush on you. As one of the few detectives at Scotland Yard with half a mind, he had quickly found himself smitten by you and your cleverness and witty commentariat. Jim, of course, was pissed when he found out, and had suggested hanging Sherlock up in the curtains in Ravyn and Alex's room. Obviously, you'd talked some sense into him, and agreed to avoid cases with Sherlock whenever possible. This didn't help when the detective had began to just hang around the department over the last few days, which in turn fueled Jim's jealousy.
So, you sat at your desk, going over paperwork for the last few cases, while Sherlock tried to figure out how long you'd been wearing a wedding band, and how he had failed to notice. After about 20 minutes of Sherlock's near constant staring, John took it upon himself to ask the question bugging his friend.
"Good morning, y/n." John greeted with his usual warm smile. Nervously twisting the ring on your finger, you forced one back.
"To you, too, John." You knew it was ridiculous to think, but you couldn't help wondering if they knew who your husband was.
"So, I was curious, how long have you been married to..?" He waited for you to complete the question, and provide the necessary answer. A soft sigh escaped your lips. They didn't know, thank chuck.
"Jim Brook. Um, coming on nine years now." You said with a positive smile, as he nodded, before his eyes went wide.
"But you go by l/-" He began asking, being cut off before he could finish the thought.
"I prefer my maiden name, just something to hold onto, you know?" You excused the "issue". He nodded a bit, a wary glance sneaking to Sherlock, who was heading over.
"Oh, yeah. That makes sense." He faked a short laugh, which quickly cut off when two officers came into the station, their prisoner wearing an impeccable Westwood suit, and a dangerous smirk. Your eyes widened to an unbelievable size when you saw your husband being walked to a cell. Sherlock, who was next to you by now, immediately wanted to question him. He motioned them over, Jim's eyes glazed in achievement in front of the detective.
"Why would you allow yourself to get arrested?" Was the first question the detective asked. His eyes examined the room Presley, lingering on you. Sherlock didn't hesitate to step in front of you- if only he knew.
"Take him to the interrogation room." Sherlock demanded, and the rookies were quick to comply. You felt like your chest was going to burst out of pure anger at any moment. It took everything in you not to slap him right then and there.
"I'm not going to answer anything you ask me." He stated matter of fact-ly, and you could see his plan like a neon sign above his head. You cursed near silently under your breath as an 'unless' sprang from his throat, pulling out the less like a held note.
"Unless' what?" Sherlock snapped, clearly irritated at Jim's drifting eyes. The man couldn't be serious. He'd risk himself, and your job, just because he can't stand Sherlock's fails of flirting?
"Unless you bring beautiful in." He shot you a wink, pretending he'd never met you in his life. It only took a moment for Sherlock to shoot back his response, a clear and obvious 'no' that was spat like a 'sod off'.
"Sherlock," you lightly touched his arm, an attempt to both calm him and express to Jim how pissed off you were, "it's fine. Let's go." Sherlock tried to argue, but you'd already grabbed a handcuffed arm, and began leading Jim to the interrogation room.
"I love you, dearest?" He offered in a whisper at seeing your very angry glare. In response, you purposefully tripped him, shoving him upwards as you did. He hissed in pain, eyes clenching with the silent threat.
"I'll take that as a no." Struggled speech muffled some of the words, but you still got the message. It didn't make sense for him to do this. Yet, here he was, purposefully getting caught. Halfway through the interview he started turning questions back on you, Sherlock sitting beside you, and John standing like a guard dog at the door.
"Such a shiny ring, who's the lucky man?" He whimsically mused, trying to both throw the detective off, and establish the fact that you were completely unavailable. You knew his play well; ring's the state of your marriage, pointing out its glimmering clean sheen was his way of telling Sherlock that you were happily married. You'd have been more then happy to be able to pretend you weren't, at the moment, at least.
"James Brooks." The lie slipped easily out, and you could only wish you married someone like that. Someone ordinary and plain, and not a malignant lunatic. He hummed a small response, clearly approving.
"Ta, kids?" You suppressed the eye roll that tried to fight itself forward. He knew full well, and he'd keep up this act until he felt Sherlock got the message. Plus, he liked the look you had when you wanted to slap him but knew you couldn't without getting in huge trouble. That smart arse.
"A pair of twins." Curtly, you answered. He nodded for you to go on, but you weren't going to expand on your answer. No, he could keep acting like he'd never met you before.
"Yeah? And what does Daddy do?" He replied, feigning interest, acting like he would to any other goldfish. Only, he usually knew better, because you weren't exactly common wealth. You nodded, eyes growing malevolently darker.
"He's a consultant at a firm. Told me he'd probably be home late tonight." His eyes flickered with a sudden intensity, immediately recognizing what you meant.
"And what'd you say?" He leaned forward, a twisted smirk that threatened a grimace pulled to his lips, his eyes suddenly very focused. Your hands folded on the table, and you leaned into your arms.
"I told him that if he wasn't home for story time, I'd drag him through hell myself." Clearly he'd gotten the message, because his eyes momentarily hinted at fear, before a wolfish (forced) grin pulled to his features. His eyes roamed over you, but I gave him time to carefully think out an answer.
"Why would he be late when he's coming home to, well..." He trailed off, a whistle stretching from his lips, causing Sherlock to pull you back a bit. Luckily, him nor John noticed Jim's quick scowl.

You cooked dinner, Raven and Alex waiting at the table, Jim nowhere to be found. He was in big trouble. And he likely knew that. The twins kept asking where he was, and when he'd be home. You had no idea what you were supposed to say, so you didn't comment. Instead, you sent them upstairs to get cleaned up before bed, promising they wouldn't have to fall asleep before Daddy got home. Half an hour later, you were washing the dishes when you felt someone's arms circle around your waist. You didn't react, save for a glare shot to the man owning those arms.
"Your kids have been waiting half an hour for their story. It's Ravyn's turn." You couldn't turn to look into apologetic eyes, because you knew you'd cave in. That'd you tell him how stupid that was, and how worried you were he'd never come back. That you were scared you'd be alone for the rest of your life a mother of tw- excuse me- three. Sighing in defeat, he left, going up stairs to start that evening story.

"What story would my Princes Ravyn like?" He sat on the edge of her bed exciting the two twins who immediately jumped onto their storyteller.
"Romeo and Juliet! Romeo and Juliet!" Ravyn begged, her e/c eyes alit with excitement. He nodded as Alex groaned.
"Ew!" The young boy exclaimed disgustedly at his sister's choice. Sending him a warning glare, Jim continued to flip through the book, looking for the previous place holder.
"Ah, here we are." He settled, clearing his threat. Giddy, Ravyn sat up to listen, and despite his efforts to just roll over and sleep, Alex found himself waiting for his father's first action.
"He jests at scars that never felt a wound.' Juliet appears in her balcony above him, 'But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green and none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love!" He quoted perfectly from the text, dramatic words pulled straight from the text being added to be his own extreme flair. You slipped into the doorway, waiting for him to finish, but he had other plans. He offered you his outstretched hand and a wink, and you just raised a brow at him. Him and his shenanigans.
"C'mon, love, I need my Juliet." A small blush crept to your cheeks, being forced down by pride, but you still sighed and accepted his offered limb
"What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee; Take all myself." You finished for him, getting in return a proud smirk. You both grew closer as the scene came to an end, and both kids were squealing as Jim kissed you, a tender spread of butterfly wings sliding with your lips with practiced precision. Afterwards, he pulled up to your ear, a small chuckle from his lips.
"I'm sorry, my love. Forgive me?" Just the thought of his saddened eyes pained your heart in ways you couldn't describe. He always had a way of worming himself back into your heart. With a frustrated sigh, you kissed his cheek as soft as he'd just kissed you.
"You owe me; big time." That small 'yes' sent him into an excited frenzy, as he lifted you by your hips, and off the floor. This caused the twins to decide sleep would encase them for even longer, and you and Jim had to entertain them for another seventy minutes. When they were finally fast asleep, you both crashed onto your bed.
"Maybe wait a bit before another, yeah?" He chuckled, completely beat. Oh, he would love this... A sly smile snuck itself onto your face, and you followed suit, chuckling along with him.
"How's nine months sound?"