Sherlock Oneshots and Drabbles

Evening- Teen!Moriarty x Teen!Reader

The day you had met James Moriarty had certainly been an eventful one. You had met him at a school you had just started. It was the same school your late cousin, Carl Powers, went to. The school was filled to the brim with people, something your previous school was not. You had just moved from your tiny school in (hometown). Something also new to you, was the cruelty of the people you were surrounded by. You entered the building and were greeted such bullying by your first class. They didn't bully you, not yet anyway. However, during lunch, you met a boy who struck your interest. His name was unknown to you so far, but something about him told you he was different.

At the end of the day, you walked down what you thought was an empty hall. You were kept back for a while so you could get your things in order. You were ready to get home and take a break. It felt as if the school had taken you into its jaws, shook you like a rag doll, and spit you out. As you were about to turn a corner, you heard quiet whimpering. You froze in your spot. You would love to be able to do something for this person, but when it comes to comforting someone, a robot would do a better job than you. You let your eyes slide close, taking in a deep breath, remembering what you had learned over time. Even if your attempts were futile to end someone's crying, your efforts and love were more than enough to show you care. Slowly, you peak your head over the corner. The boy's back was to you, bending over to pick up a multiple of papers off the floor. Your footsteps quietly pad across the floor until you reach him. Silently, you get on your knees and assist him in picking the papers up.

He doesn't notice you until he turns around to get the rest of his papers. His bloodshot eyes widen in surprise, emotions swimming in them. His cheeks begin to tinge with red, as if he were embarrassed you had caught him in such a state. Your (e/c) eyes meet his chocolate ones. It was the boy from lunch. Without saying a word, you hand him the stack of papers you had collected. He looks at the ground, somewhat ashamed, and takes the papers from your hands. The both of you rise from the ground, dusting off the dirt from your uniforms. You study his face as he keeps his eyes directed at the ground. If you hadn't known he were embarrassed, you would have thought he were looking for something with the look of concentration on his face. Realizing he wasn't going to say anything, you stick your hand out hesitantly.

"(Y/N) (L/N)," you state quietly. His eyes widen at the gesture, his hand slowly reaching to yours.

"James Moriarty," he says, equally as quietly as you.

The clock within the school chimes, both of your heads turning towards it. It's four o'clock already? I should get going.

"Well, I-I gotta go..." you internally curse yourself for stuttering.

"I'll... see you tomorrow?" you ask the boy.

He nods along with you, "Yes... See you." As you both turn away from each other, something clicks in your mind.

"They were good. You shouldn't care what they think. I think they were great," you tell him without turning around, hand on the door. You heard him stop walking, like he picked up your words and were turning them over in his mind, looking for a hidden message.

"T-Thank you," he sounded surprised. Then again, you doubt anyone had ever told him that. You nod, and push out the door.

"Get home safe," you whisper to yourself, making your way home.

*~*~*

Before you knew it, the next day had come. You opened your locker to find something drop out. Eyebrows furrowing, you bend over to pick it up. Putting in your pocket for the time being, you take your books from your locker, rushing off to class. You entered the room just before the bell rang. You quickly find your seat and set up your stuff. When there was nothing to do, you remembered the paper in your pocket. Taking it out, you carefully unfold it. You smooth out the wrinkles in the paper, then take a close look at the paper. Your eyes widen in realization, able to tell who it was from just from the way the lines looked on the paper, and the careful sketching etched on it. James. At a glance, you wouldn't be able to tell, but the young boy could draw. You thought they were beautiful, though most would consider it unnerving, morbid even. Deceased animals is something odd for a teenage boy to be drawing when you think about it, but you thought his sketches were intricate.

Getting lost in your thoughts, you don't notice you let out a dreamy sigh. Your eyes gaze over the page, over and over, drinking up the lines, and shading, and curves.

"Ms. (L/N)?" the teacher calls out. Suddenly, you jerk your head up.

"Perhaps you'd like to find the answer to this equation in that dream land of yours?" he asks, gesturing to the board with quite a long equation on it. Your face burns bright red with embarrassment, hearing some of your new peers snickering.

"I-I'm sorry, sir. I wasn't paying attention," you admit quietly. Your teacher just sighs.

"I should just punish you, but I suppose since your new you can have one more chance. Just don't daze off again," he says sternly, but also with slight amusement. You nod, and fold the picture back up, putting it back in your pocket. Focusing back on the lesson at hand, you didn't notice the pair of dark brown eyes watching you.

*~*~*

You had gone home that day, and hung up the picture you were given on your cork board. When you had returned to school after the weekend, you were greeted by James during lunch. Through out the year, you two became closer. Eventually, you became best friends, but of course, something was bound to happen. You had found out that you were going to move to America the coming winter. When you had told James, his face held no emotion. You attempted to read his face while he stared at the ground. He didn't say anything as you carefully watched him for a moment as he stared at the ground. Without a word, he turned around and walked away silently. As he left, you watched with teary eyes in the empty corridor. That was the last day you saw your best friend before you left for America.

*~*~*

Years later, you moved away from America to London. This was where you met John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. You had met the two boys when they were on their way to a crime scene, and later helped them solve it. After that, you had just stuck around. Case after case, it led to this moment. You knew he was special, the smartest person you knew. You were sure he could have been dangerous, but you thought he wouldn't choose that route. He was your best friend, your secret crush even. You had faith in him, but how wrong you were. You remember seeing him again after so long. Imagine how surprised you were when he stepped out into your field of vision at the pool. Imagine your surprise when you discovered he was the one and only consulting criminal. You can remember his name slipping pass your lips in a whisper.

You felt terrified, and disappointed. But then you noticed something, and realized he still cared. He was still the same 15 year old boy that was your best friend somewhere inside. There may have been those lethal red dots directed at John and Sherlock, but none were on you. Eventually, he met your eyes, and you recognized the look immediately. That was how he used to look at you. By the time you left, you were already missing him. Even though he was known as some heartless killer, you still loved him like you used to. And now, here you were, in a dark isolated area. You could just barely make out someone's silhouette, the man standing just out of the light. The light above you flickered. Where were you?

"...Evening, darling."