SherlockxReader One Shots/Imagines/preferences REQUESTS CLOSED!!

MoriartyxReader: Assassin Part Two

A/N:

So this chapter mentions stuff about the UK school system and if you want to understand more about it, I'd suggest looking on this website:

https://www.internationalstudent.com/study_uk/education_system/

Key (haven't seen this in a while, huh?):
(Y/D/P)= your drink preference

Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions death/murder, bullying, slight depression, and suicidal topics (You know, the good stuff...)

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Needless to say, working with Moriarty was interesting. But it was also unexpectedly fun. You had been working for six months and had seen your "employer" more than you thought you would, which gave you time to plot out his weaknesses, which were few.

Most of the time he was slightly aimless in his work, figuring he can just do what he feels like and somehow get a result. Of course, this most likely came from boredom. He acts silly and almost like a child most of the time, having a sing-song voice or something along those lines. He was apathetic about most things as well, but that was expected.

You made an effort to get close to him to discover more, but most of the time he would try to push you out. Sometimes, however, he would reveal a hint of an insecurity that he had. This made you determined to discover more.

However, as months passed, you still hadn't finished the job and your first employer was getting impatient. You knew you could kill him easily, but something held you back. You'd gotten so close to getting to him that you knew you couldn't give up now. Most of the time you had informed your employer that you still needed the opportune moment and made up some sort of excuse that was similar.

"(Y/N)?" A rich Irish voice broke your train of thought as you looked to see Jim in his rare casual attire of jeans and a grey T-shirt. "It's 1 AM. Why are you up?"

"Is it that late?" you said, shocked you were still up. "Or, well, early. I hadn't realized."

Jim nodded, sitting next to me. You were both in the lobby of a fancy five-star hotel (because Jim had ''business" in the city it was located) sitting on some of the stiffest chairs you had ever sat on. The champagne glass you had drained earlier was sitting on the table. You were so into your thoughts that you had lost track of time completely.

"So what are you doing up?" You asked curiously. Somehow you had become comfortable with the criminal, despite knowing he could have you killed on sight.

"Sleeping problems," Jim answered nonchalantly while looking away. Something was up, you could tell.

"What's up?" you asked in a way that didn't mean 'What is going on?' but 'What's wrong?' There was an obvious difference.

"Nothing really," he replied, waving the air away like it was the question. "Nothing you should worry about, at least."

You nodded, knowing you shouldn't pry because you had no right. He was the employer (kinda) and you were the employee (sort of). Sure, you were close, but nothing had crossed that barrier.

"You should be getting off to sleep, Darling," Jim told you.

"I'm fine," you said, ignoring the nickname. He had the tendency to call you different nicknames at different intervals. But as for your statement, it was true. You didn't feel very tired for some reason. "I'll go in a little while."

Jim hesitated before complying. The silence settled in, making you slightly uncomfortable. You felt the urge to talk, but you had no idea how to start. You were an assassin, not a conversational expert.