My Weakness- Moriarty x Reader Chpt. 18

“I… um… he…” is all you could muster, fidgeting uncomfortably underneath Sherlock’s intense glare.

“Sherlock, leave her alone…” John began, moving to stand between the two of you.

“I would not do that if I was you,” Mycroft hummed, using his umbrella as a hook to trap his arm, preventing him to take a step closer. “As good as your intentions are; it is better not to get involved. Personal experience has taught me this; it would be wise to adhere to it.”

John gave you an apologetic look, but did as he was bid; the thought of getting caught in the crossfire of Holmes’ argument wasn’t exactly appealing. There was a dreadful silence as you stared at the floor, Sherlock stared at you, John and Mycroft stared at each other and Jim stared at everyone staring at each other.

“Uhhhh, maybe I should go…” Jim murmured, his soft voice incredibly loud in the dead silence that now clung to the room

“Yes, perhaps you should,” Sherlock snapped, breaking his eye contact with you so he could stare at him, who immediately regretted saying anything at all.

Sherlock approached Jim slowly, his movements reminding you of a nimble, ferocious jungle cat stalking his unfortunate prey. ‘Do something, you idiot!’ your brain screamed at you as you watched on stupidly. You blinked rapidly, trying to formulate some kind of way to get Sherlock’s attention back on you. When all you got was a mental flat line, you muttered a curse under your breath and sprinted in front of Sherlock, placing a hand firmly against his tightly-clothed chest and yelling, “You shall not pass!”

Your voice rang out and echoed around the flat, the volume of it drawing everyone’s eye to you. ‘Great going,’ you thought as your face burned with embarrassment, shaking your head profusely to regain your composure. “Sherlock, in case you haven’t realised, Jim and I are in a relationship,” you state matter-of-factly, moving you hand away from his chest so you could fold your arms against your chest. “And when people are in relationships, they occasionally see each other, and sometimes they even invite the other around to their flats.”

“But this isn’t your flat. You pay a third of the rent, thus own a third of the flat.”

You rubbed your temples in an effort not to scream at him. “Fine then. I invited him over to my third of the flat.”

“Wrong again. He is in my chair, which pertains to my third of the flat, not yours. You didn’t ask my permission to use and object of mine.”

“When have I ever need to ask permission?!” you shouted at him,  his stubbornness providing fuel for your rage.

“Not you. Him.”

“Why do you detest him so? What has he ever done? He is a good person, not a vile criminal from one of your cases that you so desperately cling to.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at your remarks, his iridescent eyes shining with thought as you watched his mind work. There was clearing something that he wanted to tell you, and he was mulling other whether to actually say it or not. Deciding that he would, he opened his mouth to reply, but “Stayin’ Alive” blared loudly, interrupted him before he could even start.

Now it was Jim’s turn to have all eyes on his, to which he muttered an apology. “Hello?” he answered; his pale cheeks flushed a remarkable red with embarrassment. “Ah-ha. Yep. Back on?” He rolled his dark eyes, a dangerous glint shining in them as he turned away to murmur something inaudible into the receive end. While no words could be heard, his tone sounded furious and… malevolent? That didn’t fit his character. He turned back to you, the glint replaced by an annoyed frown. “Now I really have to go. It turns out my job hasn’t been taken care of as I first though, and now I am incredibly late in dealing with it.”

He moved to hug you goodbye, but Sherlock gave a sharp shake of his head; and indication to back the hell off. He shied away from you, and walked out the door, hesitating only to shake Mycroft’s hand, nod to John, and give you a small smile and wave. You waited until the door closed until you screamed. “What the fuck is your problem?!”

“Language!” Sherlock reprimanded, looking to Mycroft for support in the matter but he shook his head.

“She is an adult, Sherlock, and may use whatever language that she sees fit,” he stated, giving Sherlock a curt nod. “And if you’ll excuse me, I am also incredibly late for work that I was supposed to deal with some time ago.”

“Work? I believe you meant to say ‘exercise’. Your waistcoat appears to be a little tight, brother mine,” Sherlock spat, causing Mycroft’s eyes to fill with hurt, him wrapping an arm around his middle self-consciously.

“Don’t you dare pick on him!” you shout, pushing Sherlock aside and standing in front of your eldest brother defensively. “He’s only sticking up for me, as a good brother should!”

“I am only protecting you from something that will harm you! Are you so blinded by false emotions that you can’t see who or rather what he is?”

“I am not the blind one here! You say these things and yet you have no evidence to support them, and no experience involving relationships of any kind, so until you do, any remark you have is invalid to me. And when you do have some kind of understanding and you have information that is relevant to me, kindly shove it up your arse as it would do more use there than occupying precious space in my mind.” And with that you turned sharply and walked out of the door, grabbing Mycroft’s tightly and dragging him out with you.

“Where are we going, (F/n)?” he asked, closing the door to the flat gently, cutting off the Sherlock’s scrutinising frown as you left.

“Back to your place, if that’s alright,” you muttered, struggling to fight back your tears of frustration as you descended the stairs with Mycroft at your arm. “I just need to spend some time away from everything…”

“Of course, (F/n) take all the time that you require, I’m surprised you lasted that long with him without having a conniption.”

“Thanks Myc… just take me away,” you whispered as you excited the building and stepped in Mycroft’s car that was already waiting, wiping you tears away quickly as you waited for it to drive.

Mycroft, instead of getting in the front seat, joining you in the back so he could attempt to comfort you, wrapping his arms around you shoulder so you could doze during your trip to his estate.