Honey I'm King | 2 |

Chapter 1 - He's back.

This is a continuity of my other fanfiction; "Honey I'm King." Read that first to actually understand this one.

This was written before season 4 aired, so the things that happen in this fic are taken from my imagination, which means headcannons and stuff. Basically.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1 – He’s back.

When you got your awfully drunk body up the stairs to yours and Moriarty's apartment, the man right behind you, you placed yourself in the middle of the living room, a hard look plastered on your red face.

"Why didn't you tell me?" You growled.

Moriarty looked around the apartment, which was full with empty beer cans, vodka bottles, wine, whiskey, and all the other things that you’ve been drinking. You’ve been completely out of control the few years Moriarty had been gone.

"Jim!" You shouted, stomping your foot in the ground, almost losing your balance in the process. Jim brought his gaze to you, and his facial expression was somewhat... sad? No, disappointed. He looked at you with disappointment. "Y/n?" He muttered, taking a step closer to you. "What did you do when I was gone?" You threw both of your arms out in the air in the same dramatic way Moriarty did sometimes. "What does it look like, fuckstick?" You hissed, surprised at your burning aggression. You would've never said that to Jim Moriarty if you were sober.

"Did you do drugs?" He asked with some kind of glow in his eyes. It made your own eyes burn.

You shook your head. You hadn’t even thought about drugs.

"Alcohol and chain smoking." You informed him, his face dropping a little.

"You-" he started, before he took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, looked down and then up. "You don't know how to take care of yourself, do you?" he finally said.

You shook your head as you felt your eyes sting more. You hadn't seen your boyfriend in years because you thought he was dead, and now he was disappointed in you. You sat down on the couch, burying your head in your hands. You could hear Moriarty pick up stuff that was on the ground, putting them in a pile on the table in front of you.

"Jim?" You called carefully after a good few minutes. "Hm?" He simply answered with, waddling into the kitchen and coming out with a garbage-bag. You sighed a little, lifting your head reluctantly. "Why didn't you tell me? I thought you were fucking dead. I lost it already the week after you "died"!" You straightened up your back and rolled your head on your shoulders, another thing that you've got from being too much around Moriarty.

The man didn't answer; he just simply continued to clean. This was extremely out of character for him.

But you demanded answers, because he fucking left you!

"Jim!" You suddenly exclaimed, and you saw the man flinch a little. Moriarty seemed more vulnerable than before. He doesn't dare to look you in the eye like he did before, nor does he tease you like he usually would when he came home. Guilt?

"Jim. I demand answers!"

Moriarty frowned at the choice of words, and he looked straight at you, his dark eyes staring right trough you. "It had to be done. If I told you, you might have started rumors." He muttered, that Irish drawl stronger than before. Had he been using his time away in Ireland? "Fucking hell, who am I supposed to say it too? Remember that I left all of my friends, for you?" You hissed, slamming your fist in the now clean table. Moriarty raised his brows and grimaced with his mouth, tilting his head slightly to the side. "True."