My Weakness- Moriarty x Reader Chpt. 9

You watched the sleek, black car pull up outside Speedy’s Café, looking very juxtaposed with its extravagance next to the standard appearance of the café. Jim stepped out of the car, dressed in a navy blue pinstriped suit with a tie to match. His face lit up as he saw you, and he skipped over to greet you after dismissing his transport. “I thought I said casual,” you say as he approached you, motioning to his attire. It made you feel a little ridiculous, him dressed in a suit whereas you were in your favourite jeans, black studded Converse and a black tank top.

“This is casual, blue is considered a casual colour, isn’t it?” he queried, holding his hand out to you.

“It’s just,” you say as you take his hand, “I feel underdressed compared to you. Then again, we’re only going to the café beneath my flat, so perhaps it’s you who is overthinking things.”

He shrugged as he pulled you up. “What can I say? I’m not really a t-shirt and jeans kind of guy.”

You lead him towards the café, flicking a glance up to the apartment window. Sherlock was standing at it, his curious gaze fixed on you. Glaring at him, you mouthed, “Back the hell off or I will come up there and hang you by your scarf.”
He got the message, turning around in a huff and pulling the curtains closed behind him. Satisfied that your privacy was assured, you entered the building, smiling at the middle-aged, slightly obese greying man who greeted you. “Miss Holmes, great to see you again,” the man said, shaking your hand.

“A pleasure to see you as well, Alexander,” you grin. “Table for two, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“It would be my honour, right this way.” He lead you and Jim  away to a window with a small, yet charming table. The natural afternoon light made the air shimmer, turning the quaint seating arrangement and turning it into something quite special indeed.  Taking your seat, you thanked Alexander as he left you to order.

“So,” said Jim, taking his seat opposite you, “Holmes? I can’t help the feeling that I have heard that name before…though I’m not sure where from.”

You mentally sighed in relief. In the past, when Sherlock had not been able to make it to one of your dates to spy on you, his reputation preceded him instead. Most people who knew of Sherlock, or Mycroft for that matter, thought that they were rude, egotistical, antisocial anomalies. And that expectation went to all family members. So hearing that Jim had little to no familiarity with your family was a great weight off your shoulders. It gave you a chance to explain things your own way. “I think you are referring to my youngest brother, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Aha!” he exclaimed, clicking his fingers in realisation before setting them down on the table. “Doesn’t he have something to do with the police?”

“In a way, yes. He helps the police when they are out of their depth, which is always, is the way he would put it. He is a genius, to put it lightly, even if he is a bit full of himself sometimes.”

“What sibling isn’t?” he says, disdain biting the edges of his words.

At this point Alexander sauntered over, offering you a little smile. “So what’ll it be?”

Feeling a little curious at Jim’s tone when he talked of his family, you ordered a mug of tea while Jim ordered a black mug of coffee. “Since we’re on the topic of family,” you pry once Alexander had left with your orders,” what about yours? Do you have any siblings? What does your family do?”

“My family is dead,” he answered flatly, his eyes flicking to up to meet yours.

You watched his expressions with interest. His eyes had that glint again, the one that caused intense fear throughout your entire body. But there was something was a deep pain and trauma hidden behind the disconcerting feeling. And yet also intense anger by the way his eye had twitched, clenched jaw and the slight pinch to the left half of his mouth.

“I’m so sorry Jim,” you say before you stared at him for too long, taking his hands in yours and giving them a comforting squeeze. “May I ask how?”

“Murder. Plain and simple. Not much more to say,” he responded flatly, but his expression softened a little when you squeezed his hand a second time.  “But thanks for your concern.”

You smiled at him, locking your eyes with his; the pain and glint was gone, replaced by fondness. Smiling to yourself, you leant in to kiss him to only have it interrupted yet a second time. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter under your breath as Alexander returned, placing your drinks in front of the two of you.

You mutter a thanks, prying your hand free of his grip and leaning awkwardly away from him. Picking up your tea, you take a long sip, trying to hide the blush creeping onto your cheeks with the steam. Jim, it appeared, also had the same idea; you caught a glance of his own pink-dusted cheeks as he went to drink. You locked eyes with him again and you both burst out laughing, nearly spilling your drinks all over the table. The evening only got better from then, the two of you had formed a stronger bond with each other, making it amazingly easy to talk to one another. You talked about everything, except family as it was an uncomfortable subject for both of you. But eventually it had to end, with Jim staying with you for as long as he possibly until his business called him away.  You lead him out to his car, which was waiting for him alongside the curb. “Until we meet again, Miss Holmes,” he offered, kissing your knuckled before he entered his car.

You waved to him, watching him leave until his black car had become one with the shadows. You turned to enter 221B, but stopped abruptly and stared at the number of police cars that were now stationed along the street. You flicked your gaze up to the apartment window once again, seeing lots of movement and silhouettes coming from inside. Frowning, you hurried into the building, wondering what Sherlock could possibly have done in the short time you were away.