literature

My Weakness- Moriarty x Reader Chpt. 23

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*Moriarty’s POV*

Thunk. Moriarty couldn’t help but grin whenever he heard that sound, that beautiful sound of a body hitting the floor. Though, admittedly, he preferred if it was wetter, the victim falling face-first into a pool of their own blood and possibly viscera. But not this time, not to her. Not yet, anyway. He huffed to himself a little; you would look absolutely ravishing dead, your skin so pale and your eyes so lifeless and glassy, your crimson splattered around the place. A pained scream brought him back to reality, pulling him out of his gory little daydream.

“You fucking bastard!” Sebastian screamed, clutching his shoulder as blood trickled from it, making a right mess on the floor. “My fucking shoulder, you shoulder my fucking shoulder, you prick!”

Moriarty had never understood why  people named the part of them that was injured, screaming it at the person who had inflicted it. And swearing, the mindless swearing. It was ridiculous, but thoroughly amusing to watch the reaction, to observe the various ways a person could contort their facial expressions into that of pain and suffering. It was gorgeous, an art form, or at least it would be if the general public wasn’t so appalled by the notion. “Now now, there’s no need to resort to name calling, Seb,” Moriarty said calmly, raising an eyebrow. “And tone down the language, if you would.”

“Tone down my language?” he echoed, his facial expression mirroring that of a stunned goldfish. “Why the fuck should I!?”

“Because, it’s harsh and crude.”

“Says you, you swear all the goddamn time.”

“Not without good reason.”

“And being shot in the fucking shoulder isn’t a good enough reason?”

A sigh. “It’s just a flesh wound, stop over-reacting.”

Moriarty popped his gun away in his hidden holster, smoothing out his suit shirt and running a hand through his hair. “You’ve had worse,” stepping in close to his associate. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more important business to attend to.” He step out of the kitchen, making his way back to the table.

Sebastian scoffed, grumbling obscenely aggressive things as he followed his boss, not even bothering to ask why he had shot him; he was used to it by know. “You never really did tell me what you intended to do with her, you know,” he tried, trying to make his tone friendly and failing spectacularly.

“Privacy, please, Sebastian,” Moriarty muttered, ignoring his attempt to pry. “Go back to the kitchen and clean up your mess.”

Sebastian mumbled something angry underneath his breath, but complied, like the good little minion that he was. Moriarty was very fortunate to have him, he knew he was. He had known him for a very long time, perhaps too long. Definitely too long. Originally, right at the beginning of his career, Sebastian had only been a hired assassin; a reliable sniper to aid him on some of his more complicated plots. However, Moriarty found himself having to depend on his more and more. To like him more and more. He had never really had friends, and he wasn’t sure he was even one, but he knew that Sebastian Moran was the closest thing he was ever going to get a friend. And it was all his fault, the crux of the matter to most problems with himself, was in fact, himself.

Moriarty sighed, kneeling down to your unconscious form, frowning slightly. ‘Why do I have to be this way?’ he thought sadly, the darkness and insanity that using claimed his mind melting away as he watched you, smiling fondly as he brushed a (h/c) lock from your face. ‘Why do I cause so much pain, to myself and others?’ He had been happy, once, perhaps even normal. Not so mentally unstable, insane, psychopathic. Mad. Would smile, not at pain and suffering of others, but because of life itself. Because his life was happy. He would wake up smiling, and drift off to sleep smiling, anticipating the next day and the joy it would bring. However, that changed, far too quickly for himself to register. Once he had plunged that blade into that familiar’s neck, there had been no going back. No happiness, only when another’s blood had been spilt and their screams pierced the air. Only darkness, and the overwhelming insanity that coiled around his soul like a shadow, rarely letting the light that was buried beneath it.

His gaze dropped to your face, his thumb tracing gently across your lips, bringing it to his nose and sniffing it. A very faint, almost undetectable sweet bitter smell still lingered on your lips from the poison he had given you with his own. A peculiar poison, rare, but incredibly useful as it only affected those of a certain blood type, coincidently, your blood type and not his. Completely untraceable, but just to make sure… He reached up to the table, grabbing a napkin and dunking it into the glass of water, wiping it across your lips. “There,” he whispered, cupping your cheek with his hand, drawing circles with his thumb. “Nobody will ever know.”

The light from the fireplace cast your body in a soft low, accentuating your curves, the beauty of your features. Moriarty felt his heart rate climb, his palms grow sweaty, his head start to ache. Your expression as you lay there was blank, devoid of the brilliant smile that you gave whenever you saw him, your cheeks pale, the pretty pink and rosy red missing from whenever he smiled back or wrapped an arm around your waist. Your eyes were closed, blocking the enchanting (e/c) that shone in them, that spark that they held only for Jim. He retraced his hands from your face in favour to grip is own, shaking his head furiously. “How?” he whispered. “How could I do this to you?”

Jim stood suddenly, unable to stand staring at your almost lifeless form, unable to stand what he had done to you. His head throbbed angrily; the cost of acting normally for once. He reached down, covering you with his jacket for the second time that day, then quickly pulling out his phone and calling emergency services. His mind screamed at him, tried to fight with him in a desperate attempt to rein him back under control. He ignored it, lifting the phone to his ear. He had to do this while he could, while he was still able to do something good. He spiral back into the dark recesses of his mind eventually, he knew this, but he didn’t mind. While he hadn’t meant to, he cared about you so deeply, too deeply, to harm you at this point. Jim hadn’t forgotten his original purpose for you, to use you to cripple Sherlock, but he didn’t want to hurt or lose you either. He had absolutely no clue what he was going to do in the future, all he knew was what he was doing right at this moment, and that he was most likely going to regret it late in some shape or form.

A woman answered answering him to state his emergency. “A man came in and shot my friend, beat me, and my girlfriend is unconscious!” he gasped, not intending for his voice to waver like it had. “S-she’s not waking up, she’s barely breathing! My friend… there’s so much blood…”

The woman told him to remain calm and asked for the address. Jim answered her quickly, hanging up when necessary . Eight minutes. He only had eight minutes before the ambulances arrived. He tucked his phone in his pocket and sprinted into the kitchen, finding Sebastian slumped on the kitchen counter, sulking. Jim pulled his gun out and tossed it to Sebastian, who only just caught it. “What the hell is this for?” he asked, examining the weapon.

“To knock me out with after you’ve beaten me, doofus,” Jim stated, opening his arms wide.

“What? Why would I do that?”

“An ambulance is coming, I called them and told them that you had been shot, (F/n) had fallen unconscious and you had been shot by someone. We know have seven minutes until they get here, and I am not in the state which I said, so I need you to fix that. This is what I need you to do, Sebastian. You must do it. Beat me, bruise me, fracture my ribs and give me swollen eyes, break my nose if necessary, but no longer than two minutes. When you are done with that, strike me over the head with that gun, but not too hard as I don’t want to die from it. When you’re down, drag me over to (F/n), clean the gun of prints and toss it wherever you like, and collapse on the floor. Then, all we do is wait. Understand?”

Sebastian nodded, not asking why but knowing that he would most likely be informed later. “Sorry, this is going to suck, but you kind of deserve it after shooting me.” And with that he punched Jim square in the ribs with his uninjured side, knocking all of the wind from him, fracturing and perhaps breaking ribs with a single punch.  The assault continued for exactly two minutes, Jim broken and bloody, and ended with a whack to the back of his head with the butt of his gun. Jim had managed to stay on his feet for the entire beating, Sebastian not mucking around, but couldn’t stand that final blow, he collapsed to the ground, or at least he would have if Sebastian hadn’t caught him at the final second. He mumbled a thanks, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the floor. Sebastian didn’t reply; he was far too focused on his current orders that Jim had given him.

He was carried over to you, placed close to her form, before Jim watched Sebastian run back to the kitchen to clean the gun. Such a good worker. Such a good… friend. He heard a sharp thud followed by a heavy thud; the gun and Sebastian hitting the floor. ‘Good,’ Jim thought as lay there, in so much agony that he couldn’t feel a thing.  ‘Now all there is to wait.’

__________________________________________________________________________________

*Your POV*

“(F/n).”

Your name. Someone was saying your name, though you couldn’t tell who. You tried to opened your eyes, but your eyelids felt like they were made of lead. Your body was numb, so numb that you were even sure it was still there, the only thing you could feel was your head, which felt like it had been set on fire. You groaned, screwing your face up. “(F/n),” the voice said again, concern lacing it this time. “(F/n), open your eyes.”

You groaned again, shaking your head lightly. “Don’t wanna,” you mumbled groggily, your words slurring together, making them almost inaudible. “Lemme sleep.”

“(F/n), you have been asleep for far too long as it is. Come now, you must open your eyes. You’ll miss Christmas if you don’t.”

Christmas..? Chirstmas! You opened your eyes immediately, squinting at the bright light of the room you were in. It took you a moment to adjust, but when you did, you saw Sherlock and Mycroft, standing at either side of the bed you were apparently in, relieved and worried expressions etched onto their faces. You frowned, flicking your gaze between them. “Sherlock? Mycroft? What are you doing here? Where am I?”

You brothers looked at each other, Sherlock deciding he would be the first one to address you. “You are in hospital, (F/n),” he stated matter-of-factly. “You were found unconscious, barely breathing, but alive. The doctors have no idea how-“

“Incompetence!” Mycroft spat, eyeing the doctors the scrambled to and fro from the window of your room, spitting the word with anger. “The claim to heal, to cure the sick, and yet what have they done. Nothing, that’s what. I have half a mind to fire them all for being such useless wastes of space.”

“Mycroft,” you began, giving him a stern look, but he silenced you with a finger.

“I know,” he mumbled, looking down at you fondly. “Forgive my outburst, the last few days have been… stressful to say the least.”

Sherlock hummed in agreement, looking at you with equal fondness. “He is certainly saying the least. At first, they were not even sure you would awaken, thought that you die in your stupor. They didn’t say that, though, they didn’t have to.”

“Needless to say, we haven’t left you alone, not for one second. We had to-“ Mycroft’s voice faltered at that moment. He swallowed thickly, regaining his composure before he continued. “We had to make sure you did wake up again.”

“Let’s not dwell on it,” Sherlock stated, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re awake now and on the mend. Should be out in a couple of days.”

“Hopefully,” you sighed, trying to move your legs to no avail. A thought occurred to, painfully slow in your state. “You said that I had been asleep for far too long. How long is too long?”

“Five days today,” Sherlock answered. “You would miss Christmas if you stayed unconscious for much longer, I know that you would hate that, thus, me using it as a reason for you to wake up. You are incredibly lucky that you do not have a head injury, judging by how far you fell from that chair onto that wood-panelled floor in that café. The angle of your fall should have given you a serious concussion; it astounds me that that was not the case.”

You stared at him, your mind whirring as you processed what you said. “Café..?” you whispered, frowning as heard the word. Jim was going to take you to a café, it was cold and he said they did the best hot chocolate. Wait, correction, Jim had already taken you. Your head ached as images came rushing to meet your mind’s eye, breaking the hold that unconscious had held over your memories. Jim giving you his jacket. The café. Sebastian Moran. Sebastian being infuriating. Jim sitting across from you, smiling. Pulling him towards you by his tie. The kiss. Feeling light-headed and sick. Falling. Gunshot. Blackness. ‘Wait one moment…’“Gunshot!” you shouted, your heart thundering in your ears as you remembered  that awful sound, now ringing in your ears. The sudden shout startled your brothers, both stepping closer towards you as you stared emptily, your brain going into overdrive and coming up with its own assumption. “Oh my God,” you whispered, holding your head in your hands. “Jim…”
These past three months have been absolute hell, mentally and emotionally, so I simply haven't the will to do anything creative, so sorry about you guys who have been waiting for so long, your patience is truly amazing. 

Sorry also about the awkward ending, I wrote much more than this but I decided that the chapter would run too long, so I cut it and am going to use what I cut for the next chapter. I have a feeling that this chapter is a little shitty, I'm a little rusty, I'll admit!! 

But thanks so much for waiting, hopefully I can get back into the swing of things know after all this shit.
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YuSuP0V's avatar

I need to find out what happend next!!! I NEED ANOTHER CHAPTER IM BEGGING YOU!!!