Brilliant {A BBC Sherlock Fanfic}

Violent Cofessions

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE: VIOLENT COFESSIONS

A/N: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. A lot of feels in this chapter, just...ugh... Difficult to write all this Mormelia. I'm a strong Sherlia shipper myself (yes, I ship my own creations. Deal with it) I'm very proud of the fact that I don't have a love triangle in Brilliant, so I'm afraid I can confirm Amelia and James won't be getting together (more on Mormelia below). I'm also entering "Brilliant" in the 2015 Watty's.

The cover for Adamant {An Incandescent Prequel} is cofirmed (yay!) and its cover is posted to the side. The story will be told mainly from James Moriarty's point of view, occasionally switching to Amelia's, and contains extreme amounts of Mormelia. Keep in mind I haven't started writing this on paper yet (key word being paper. I have it in my mind palace. Ehehe.) and it won't be posted until Brilliant is completed. Thank you to Renner_Addict135 who is editing/reviewing Brilliant for me.

Amelia woke in a strange bed next to none other than James Moriarty. She bolted upwards, many years of MI6 training kicking in. She slammed her elbow down into James’ face, guaranteeing that he was now awake if he wasn’t before. His nose broke with a loud crack, blood starting to trickle from his nose.

“Fuck!” He cursed loudly, scrabbling off the bed and crashing onto the Persian rug covered floor. He held his nose in his hand, trying to stop the bleeding desperately.

Amelia’s hand flew up to her mouth, “James! Dear God, I’m so sorry!” She jumped off the bed, ignoring the fact that she was dressed in nothing her undergarments and an oversized t-shirt which smelled like James. “Are you okay?”

He waved her off absently, examining his blood-crusted hand with interest. He reached up and snapped his nose back into place, Amelia letting out a wince at the loud crack that sounded. James arched a curious brow at Amelia’s discomfort, “It’s just a bit of blood, love.”

“Doesn’t mean I like it,” Amelia grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. She chose not to question why she was wearing James’ shirt, perching on the edge of the large king-sized canopy bed. “So,” She began, knotting her hands in her lap, “what do we do now?”

James shrugged, taking a glass of water from the nightstand and dipping in a handkerchief—from where he’d gotten it from Amelia had yet to know. He dabbed at his upper lip, wiping off the blood. He cocked his head, watching her in a cat-like manner as she twisted a stray strand of dark hair around her finger.

“James?” Amelia said softly when he didn’t reply. She hopped off the bed, crouching down on the floor next to her ex-lover, “We’ll figure this out. We can make this work.”

He laughed hollowly, “What’s the point?” He asked, sounding utterly defeated. Amelia blinked in shock, taken aback by his sudden vulnerability. She’d never seen him like this before; no trace of his usual lively psychotic behaviour. He looked up at her, his brown eyes cold and emotionless, “You said it yourself: it’ll always be him.”

Amelia pursed her lips, still slightly stained red as she hadn’t removed her lipstick from the day before. She got up, turning away from James as she ran a hand through her hair. After a long pause, she suddenly yelled, “Dammit, James!”

His eyes flicked up to her, surprised by her outburst.

“I don’t care,” Amelia seethed, spinning on her heel to face him vehemently, her eyes blazing in fury, “if you’re upset with me. I don’t care if it hurts you that I love someone else because quite frankly, you deserve it. I loved you, and you made me kill your brother. Even after that, I loved you for the longest time. You screwed me up, James! I can’t trust anyone anymore because I’m afraid that they’re either going to die or they’re going to turn on me.