Manipulated by a Consulting Criminal (Jim Moriarty x OC)

Chapter 33

(A/N- Heya darlings! I'm back! So remember that friend I was crushing on? IT'S BECOME A HARD FALL. She doesn't swing my way and doesn't think of me the same way anyways, so I'm sort of stuck here with these feelings? I'm meh. So, how have you guys been? Anything new to share? Feel free to talk! This chapter is dedicated to villaininthehouse for commenting on the previous chapter. Love you! Live Long And Prosper.)

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It's a date. XOXO 

Sherlock re-read the text again and again, trying to figure out if Jane was serious or if she was messing with him. He decided to go with the first one and rolled out of bed before throwing on a dressing gown. He looked around the apartment and started putting a few mantelpieces back in their places, humming a song he had heard a long time ago.

John woke up and heard someone singing in the living room. He threw on one of Sherlock's dressing gowns and walked into the room groggily, his eyes widening as he saw Sherlock. Sherlock was waltzing with an imaginary partner, his eyes closed, as he was singing 'Can't Help Falling In Love' by Elvis Presley. John chuckled softly and went back into his room, not wanting to disturb this love-sick puppy. Just then, the doorbell rang, snapping Sherlock out of his trance.

Mrs.Hudson opened the door and after a brief conversation with a female, she let her upstairs. Jane walked in to the room, wearing chunky glasses and with her hair up in a messy bun. She smiled at Sherlock and waved her phone, which was in her hand. John visibly tensed next to him, not willing to trust her. "Why are you here?" asked John. "Your roommate slash boyfriend invited me," she replied. 

"He's not...we're not..." stammered John, unable to frame any words. Jane silenced him with a nonchalant wave of a hand. "I'm just playing, John. Don't worry." Sherlock stared at her with cold and calculating eyes, ignoring the warm feeling in his chest when he looked at her. "Your pupils are dilating," said Jane, as she stepped closer to Sherlock. "Your breathing is becoming erratic and your pulse has quickened," she continued, holding his wrist with two fingers, sensing his pulse. He pulled himself closer to her and kissed her cheek.

"It's nice to have you here again, Jane," he said. She smiled and breathed in his scent of lemongrass and cigarette smoke. She pulled away and smiled at him and John before holding up a manila folder which Sherlock took and peered into. "Lestrade called," she said as she walked to the mantle, observing the immaculately placed objects. "You don't say," said Sherlock as he held up a photograph of Lestrade's ass taken from a glorious and all-revealing angle. John looked horrified as Jane burst into laughter. 

"I'm...oh....that's hilarious...I swear...freaking Gavin..." she wheezed, trying to catch her breath. "I swear, I just picked it up from Scotland Yard on my way here. I promise," she said, in her best 'I'm-not-telling-the-truth-but-he'll-believe-me' tone.

 He shook his head and read the rest of the report about a plane crash in Dusseldorf, and how the body of one of the passengers was found in the boot of a car in Southwark. Sherlock sighed and turned to Jane and John, who were awkwardly conversing about Sherlock's sleep patterns. "Interesting thing to talk about. The two of you can discuss it later, now let's go!"He whined the last part of the sentence, making him sound like a 5 year old. Jane chuckled and grabbed his hand before whispering, "Come along, Holmes." The two of them ran out of the room, leaving John to shake his head and follow them as he muttered something that sounded like, "They're my OTP."

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(A/N- Cue OTP by Troye Sivan.)