A simple tune: Sherlock x Fem!reader

Chapter 11 - Stay and talk

"To talk to you without anyone interrupting or you having the option to run off to your room," he moved around by each stall, checking it was all empty.

"Oh, so you admit it's my room now, hm?"

The last bathroom stall door was pushed open until he turns. "You're not leaving anytime soon are you?" He asks with a glimmer of hope; you couldn't quite tell if it was playful or not. "Why did I never know Moriarty was your cousin?"

"Seriously? This? Out of every topic of conversation you could bring up, you ask about Jim?"

"Why did you never tell me, Y/n??" He seemed awfully offended which was humorous to no end.

"Oh, sorry, how would it have gone?" You refused to face him properly, instead keeping your eyes on the mirror. "Sherlock, love, sorry, I forgot to tell you that my cousin is a mass murdering psychopath with a building criminal empire... now did you want Chinese or Indian food?"

It wasn't evident on his exterior, but it stung to hear you refer to him as 'love' again; after all, it was the one thing that kept him calm at the worst of times.

"You never told me anything about your family... I told you all about mine and you always said you had a bad relationship with yours," he gave one glance over you, making sure he understood. "I could never tell what the problem was but... dead? You could have said something-"

"Why?! Because you care??" Body facing him finally, he could see the rush of adrenaline rise in your eyes and the breathing pattern hurry.

"I do care!" He retracts himself, taking a breath. "I do-"

"No. No, you did... you don't anymore, you made that clear," curling your fists up, they tugged on the hem of the shirt, "quite clear,"

Sherlock wanted a small talk, he didn't want shouting, so he tried to deescalate it. "How? When did I stop caring?" His voice was soft now.

This wasn't going to work this time, though. Standing ground was the only option, and if it meant the tears kept falling from your stoic face you held high, then so be it. "The night you said you never loved me... because that was the night I stopped caring,"

Sherlock couldn't let you walk away, not like this. "Don't run away again,"

"I'm not running!" The yell rung out against the walls. "I'm not."

"Then stay and talk. Isn't that what normal people do to solve problems?" Uncertainty paints his lips, fear drowning his eyes and ears keen for your words.

"Well, neither of us are exactly normal, Mr Sociopath, so let's just shut up and never bring it up," You push him back gently with your hand.

There was a moment where you stood with a hand on the door, listening to his final words: "That's it then? We pretend like the other doesn't exist?"

"We've done it before, we can do it again," leaving swiftly, the boys at the table see streaming tears. Jim was the first to run out the door after you, Seb and John waiting for Sherlock to come back.

Of course they knew Sherlock needed to talk to you and kept Jim in check to stop intervening. Hope was that you both would resolve it but evidently not.

"Y/n," Jim held a hand out, letting it just grace your peripheral.

"Don't start, James," your voice was tired, raspy in the slightest and done. Done with it all. "I don't want to talk about it,"

"A hug?" He suggests. Moriarty was never one for such things like hugs, but if you were sad, he wouldn't hesitate. You were his little cousin and he wouldn't let anyone hurt you... and get away with it.

"I'm sorry," you move into his arms, holding him tight and leaning your head into his shoulder. "I'm sorry for ruining dinner,"

"Shut up," he rolls his eyes. "You didn't ruin anything, let's just get you home and warm, I'll deal with Sherlock,"

"Don't hurt him, Jim, please,"

"Why not? Like I always say, no one hurts my little cousin and gets away with it," his sing song voice brought a smile to your face.

"Thank you, Jimmy,"

"Anytime, N/n, now let's get you back to..."

"221B... yeah, I know," you whisper against his Westwood. "Just stay here and pay, I need a little walk,"

"Promise you'll be okay?" He smiles when he sees you patting the pocket of your own.

"If anything happened to me then god have mercy on whoever will have to deal with your torture," tussling his hair, you begin your walk down the road.

"You still love him don't you?" Moriarty calls out—he may be psychotic but he knows what love looks like. The silence furthered his theory more, "just sleep on it," he adds on, walking back into the restaurant and fiddling for his gun to use on a certain someone. "Dammit, Y/n!"

Smiling softly, you made sure the pistol was safe in your pocket while the night drifted away.

~~~

Sherlock exited the restaurant, napkin held to his bloody nose while John was talking with Sebastian; the blogger trying to deal with Moriarty who was leaning against a wall, typing away to the nearest assassin who was free while one fist was laced lightly with blood.

"Yeah, well, I'd appreciate if Sherlock wasn't dead by tomorrow," John looks to Moriarty who shuts his phone in annoyance. "What did he just-"

"Tried to find an assassin, but I made sure there wasn't anyone free," Sebastian glances to Sherlock. "Will he be alright?"

"He's Sherlock," John does the same. "Who knows with him?"

"Y/n would know best," the sniper, looks down the street then to John again. "Captain," Seb put both feet together and salutes, John following with an addressal to the former Colonel.

~~~

Sebastian Moran being the best boyf for Jim

- Anna ❤️