Haunted Holmes ➳ Sherlock x Reader

Extreme

Hey beautifuls~

This is probably one of my favorite chapters.

I hope you enjoy this as much as I do writing it! ^_^

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡

As Sherlock processes his thoughts, I quickly grab an anesthetic needle, and hide it behind my back.

I'm done with Sherlock as well.

I don't care if he thinks I'm crazy, I don't care if he's William's father.

He's lied to me too...

He doesn't love me, I've been a fool.

I'm angry, yet amused at my own foolishness.

Silly, silly me...

"H-How did you..." Sherlock doesn't get to finish his sentence as he stares at me intrigue skirting his irises.

"He lied, and lied...look where it got him." I smile sweetly, walking over to him.

"Y/N, what you've done is extremely dangerous. When he wakes up---" He tries to say, but I stop him by placing my index finger on his lips.

"Shh...darling, don't be jealous..." I whisper, stroking his cheek slowly -- smoothly, before roughly stabbing the needle into his arm.

I stare at his face obsessively, as his eyes widen in shock -- his mouth going from pursed to agape and in awe.

"Y/N...why?" He asks softly, as I let him fall on the cold marble floor of this stupid hospital.

"WHY?! Christ, Sherlock you're funny even when vulnerable!" I laugh, sitting next to his partially-paralyzed body.

I place his head on my lap, and run my fingers through his devlish curls, as he becomes more drowsy with each passing minute.

Pressing the top of the needle, I inject the rest of the anesthetic liquids in him.

"Y/N...!" He squeaks out.

"Shh...the nurses might hear, silly!" I whisper a grin on my face.

---------------------

Sherlock's POV:

I wake up in a dark room. Unfurnished, except for the sofa that I'm on. There are no windows, plain -- white walls that are tearing at the edges. The room is dimly lit -- the only light is provided from the small bulb on the cieling. My coat is gone, so is everything else I ever owned. Im in a white shirt with black pants.

The door is iron -- sturdy.

"Finally awake?" I hear James Moriarty's hollow voice ring through my eardrums.

Of everything, the most odd and confusing of all in my current situation, was the fact that James Moriarty, in the flesh, was sitting on my other end of the sofa. He was dressed in the same apparel as myself, only topping it off with a blankly bored facial expression.

"Where are we?" I ask, slowly starting to collect myself -- my thoughts, as I sit up from my slouched position.

"That girlfriend of yours...she's real hot. Extreme. Bit of an idiot though, I mean...no offense to you Sherlock, but I'm going to have to execute her personally. In a kidnapping, I'm not usually the victim -- I'm the organizer. This is just unacceptable."

"Why would she do this...? We loved each other. I told her the truth about what you did to her." I ponder, a strange ache in my heart -- a feeling of betrayal.