Sherlock preferences

Writingmas - Day 11

Moriarty oneshot - dodging a bullet

Your inaudible shrieks and blares of argument ricocheted round the otherwise silent house, abusing the foundations and making the window panes vibrate with anger. Your stomping and running around battered the floorboards to a point that you almost felt sorry for the old place...
"I didn't WANT YOU TO KILL HIM!" You yelled, as you kicked him in the chest, causing him to fall backwards against the wall. You turned to run but were anchored in place by Moriarty's strong hand grasping the back of your collar
"You forget, kitten, THIS IS MY JOB!"

"HE WAS MY FRIEND!"

"Oh please!... He was using you!"

"HE WAS NOTHING BUT GOOD TO ME!"

"BUT HE THREATENED TO EXPOSE ME!"

"HE WOULD NEVER HAVE DONE IT!!"

You kicked his shin, harshly as you wept, forgetting that you loved him for a split second... Your eyes were watery and bloodshot with pain as you yelled out again:

"I UNDERSTAND SOME KILLINGS JIM! BUT WHY HIM??... HE WAS A GOOD MAN! HE WOULDN'T-"

In absolute, blind rage, Moriarty instinctively drew a gun from his pocket:
"ENOUGH!" He cried, straining. The gun was aimed directly at your head forcing your heart to skip several beats.
You ducked fearfully as he pulled the trigger... You let out a feverish scream as you heard the bullet tear through the leather armchair behind you and lodge itself in the mahogany backrest. Moriarty dropped the gun instantly, letting it fall out of his hand limply and clatter to the floor unloaded. Your hands were bolted to the top of your head and your eyes were clenched shut. Your body shook vigorously.
"Oh... My god... My GOD! (Y/N), ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!"
He rushed urgently to your side as his pulse rocketed into triple figures. Your eyes peeled wide, almost as if you had witnessed death, and your face was pale as a sheet.
"(Y/n)? (Y/n), look at me" he pleaded, longing for you to comply "(y/n), I swear on my life, I thought I had loaded blanks into my pistol... Oh my god... If I'd just... If I-"
For the first time in your relationship, you were exposed to his weakness. His weakness was you... His body cowered as he sank to the floor in floods of tears, like a little boy. You swallowed, attempting to compose yourself enough to offer him your cold hand. He instantly ceased it and dragged himself up, pulling you into an iron-chained embrace which showed no signs of letting go or even loosening. You felt his warm tears drip down the nape of your neck and his shaky breaths rattled in your ribcage as of they were your own.
"Please... Forgive me..." His muffled voice came through, almost silently.
"You tried to shoot me... You dick!"
You pulled away from him slightly, staring at his pink, flustered lips. You closed your eyes once again and brought his mouth into a ferocious contact with your own. You stumbled backwards, hitting the wall and subsequently sliding down it until your embrace stemmed to the floor. You were lying on top of his pale, lean, yet toned frame and brought your leg up to subtly straddle his torso. You rolled around, almost as if in battle with each other as he snaked his powerful hands down to your waist and base of your spine, unzipping the back of your skirt sensually. As he squeezed the top of your thigh, you let out a winded gasp. You cupped his face in your hands -still damp with tears- and pecked his lips and neck. You unbuttoned the top five clasps of his shirt and fell against his chest. Warm, pulsating and soft...

"No more fighting?" You asked, breathlessly, your head placed heavily on his half-bare torso

"Deal... And no more loaded guns in the house... Also, can we end all conversations like this?" He licked his lips seductively.

"Don't push your luck Jim" you smiled cruelly as you met his sweet lips once more...