Sherlock Imagines [ON HOLD]

16. When you fight (Moriarty)

--• JM •--

Slowly, you fished your keys out of your pocket, sliding the key into the lock before turning and opening the door, all while you tried to be as quiet as a mouse.

Once you carefully closed the door behind you, your eyes slid over the living room, a relieved sigh escaping your lips when you discovered that your boyfriend was already asleep.

Thank Merlin.

Grunting, you limped towards the bathroom as you held your bloody stomach.

After entering the bathroom, you let out a much needed pained gasp. You took a seat on the counter, gently lowering your bottom on the hard wood.

You reached for the first-aid kit and pulled it to your lap, opening the kit with trembling fingers before you grabbed a pair of scissors. With a deep breath, you pulled your leather jacket off, ignoring the various stings and jabs of pain.

Your cut your shirt with the scissors open, a scream escaping your mouth as the cold metal came into contact with your wounds.

"Fuck!"

You bit your lip, drawing blood as you looked at the large cut on your stomach.

Not even an hour ago you were working a job that didn't go as planned.

It was actually really simple. All you had to do was kill the minister, crack his lock and burn the money. However, you didn't expect the minister to have some company because your informant told you that he would be alone at the time.

Just wait until i see you next Sunday, Dave.

Luckily, you managed to get the job done with a bit of effort but unfortunately you didn't get out of there unharmed.

Once you had killed the minister, a bodyguard of his, the last one that was still alive, found a knife nearby while you were fighting a mate of his. After also killing his friend, the bloke had the chance to cut your stomach because you were still distracted.

At least i got to paint the minister's kitchen with his blood as revenge.

You took out a needle, clean bandages, a bottle of alcohol from your secret stash and dental floss ( you truly regret not buying the thread a few weeks ago when you noticed that there wasn't any, damn you laziness).

Biting your tongue, you poured a small amount on your stomach to disinfect the cut. After the pain reduced, you took a drag of the bottle to calm you down.

You were about to start stitching your wound when you heard a sound in the next room.

Chills ran up your spine as the light of the hall turned on, followed by a pair of footsteps, which could only mean one thing. That one specific thing you wanted to avoid as much as you could from happening.

He woke up.

"Fuck."

You froze as the door of the bathroom opened, revealing an angry-looking Moriarty.

"What in Merlin's name happened?" He asked, an underlying fury in his tone, as he came over to check your wound.

You shrugged. "A bodyguard sliced through my skin like i was the turkey at thanksgiving."