You gawked at the detective.
"That guy? You're telling me that dude in his fancy suit is THE most dangerous guy on the planet?" You asked in a disbelieving tone.
Sherlock sighed again and steepled his fingers beneath his chin.
You sent John a look that said, 'You've got to be joking,' but John just looked gravely back at you. John wasn't just looking grave; he was looking scared. Scared for you? It didn't make any sense and you wanted answers not more stupid questions. Holding up your hands you sent Sherlock a confused look.
"So Mr. Dangerous hates you and wants to use me to get back at you for something?" you asked slowly.
Sherlock took a deep breath and leaned forward in his seat so he was looking you right in the eye.
"Mr. "Dangerous"," he wiggled his fingers as he said the word dangerous, "As you call him is actually known as James Moriarty."
Moriarty. That name struck a cord in you. Your memory stirred feebly and a weak recollection came to mind.
"Wasn't he the idiot who stole the crown jewels then killed himself soon after? Like 3 years back?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"He's no idiot, (YN). You on the other hand," he stopped as he saw your eyes darken menacingly.
"Well that's beside the point," he added with a smirk as he rose from his chair to look out the window. "James Moriarty is the cleverest criminal in the world. He had a web of spies and assassins but I destroyed them. He appeared to have died but it has come to light that it was all a ruse."
You nodded as you stared off into space remembering the newspapers and excitement in the States about the criminal.
"Then what does he want with me?"
Sherlock peered down at you and shrugged.
"You were around me so he must-"
"Bloody Hell Sherlock, just tell her already," John interrupted a small smile wrinkling the corners of his mouth.
Sherlock ignored John and walked over to the side of the room with a couch and, to your surprise, a wall completely covered with bits of paper, pictures, cab tickets, and other odd assortments.
"Sherlock if you don't I will," John threatened in a happy tone.
"Tell me what?" you asked irritably.
"He likes you," John said with a huge grin on his face as he watched Sherlock for a reaction.
Sherlock refused to look around still apparently focused on a scrap of paper with only two words on it.
"He what?" you said blankly.
"I said he-"
"I DO NOT LIKE HER, JOHN!" snarled Sherlock, his blue eyes like shards of ice.
John chortled obviously enjoying his friend's anger.
You on the other hand were shocked.