Full Bodied (A Moriarty x Reader Fic)

Chapter 6

He was holding onto his shoulder that was now streaming blood down the chest and sleeve of his shirt, looking at you with unkempt rage and next to him-

Next to him was a average height man, lean, slicked jet black hair and abyssal eyes, cloaked in a white long sleeve button up, black belted slacks and shiny dress shoes.

James Moriarty. 

Your fingers clawed at your chest, trying to manifest oxygen back into your lungs.

"Oh darling~" He brought his hand to his face, over his comically ajar mouth, feigning a bashfulness and shock.

"You look absolutely terrified." Moriarty's face morphed dark and expressionless, all the while you're trying to get your brain to start working properly. 

Moriarty panned his face to the absolute ball of fury beside him, a small smirk on his lips.

"That'll be all, Sebastian, thank you."

The taller man, who you now consider to be named Sebastian, looked back at him with a 'are you serious?' look. You wondered if at some point he would take revenge on you for biting a piece out of his shoulder. Moriarty just raised a brow in response, and the tall man gathered himself up, leaving the house and slamming the door on the way out.

You felt glued to that floor, and for what seemed like forever, all that happened was you sat there staring at Moriarty, and him staring right back into you.

"What do you want?"

He shoved his hands into his pockets, and flashed you a confused look.

"You're the one that came to me, ran right to me in fact."

To him? As if you would have went anywhere near that man if you knew who he was working for!

"I did not! There were two men after me and that guy from before was across the street so I ran to him-"

"And thank goodness you did, those boys would've tied you up and tortured you."

"And you won't?"

The corner of his mouth twitched along with his brow, his devious and psychotic nature just begging to pool out of him and devour your fear.

"Only if you ask nicely."

A shiver ran up your spine, it's like every time he talked a cold air came out into the room. He started to walk towards you, and you're sure he could see you start to curl up into a little ball. He continued to walk past you, right behind you and up a spiral staircase into the floor above. Saying nothing the whole time. So there you were, alone on the cold hardwood floor of a serial killer's  house in silence, in the middle of the night, no idea where you are and-

and your phone was dead. Fuck.

Slowly, you started to get up, you felt small. Miniscule. You started to take the first floor of his house in, wide open, kitchen to your right with a doorway to a hall next to it, and to your left a step down into a large lavish living room. Large wonderous windows that let the moonlight spill in, on the dark floors and stark white walls, and on the tall metal spiral staircase that was almost calling to you.

Because I'm sure as hell not going down that hallway.

You're heart was going a mile a minute, and you shakily strode over to the staircase. The railing was cold, and matched the aura of the house. You continued up to find a large space with only two doors on either wall, only one being open. Taking a deep breath you kept going, carefully creeping into the open room, which you can now tell is an office.

Moriarty sat back towards you, behind a deep, heavy wood desk. You clasped your hands in front of you, unaware of if he has even noticed you.

"Aren't you just a curious little kitten?" he said without moving a muscle, let alone looking back at you.

Don't waiver. Sherlock trusts your judgement, it'll be ok. 

You took one step forward towards Moriarty,

"Who were those men..."

Another step,

"The Mortlake brothers."

Another two steps,

"They aren't with you?"

And then another-

"No." Moriarty spun around to face you, a deep seriousness and almost insulted look in his black eyes.

Freezing, it felt as if you were playing red light-green light, and that you shouldn't be moving with his eyes on you. Maybe you should hold your breath too? Just in case? 

He broke the stare, eyes down now looking at whatever was in his hands before. You started to take another couple steps, this felt oddly familiar to you. 

"Who do they work for then?"

You started to get into his personal space, managing to get to the other side of his desk, almost next to him now.

"The man trying to take over my territory, that's targeting Mycroft since I'm dead, therefore targeting you-"

You were probably only a foot away from his side now, him still sitting but now looking up at you, he smiled softly and put his head in one of his hands, tilting it and batting his eyes.

"Since you two were so..." he drew a sharp inhale between his lips, "close."

He had a habit of freezing you it started to seem, you just stood there staring down at him.

"...I don't know what you mean."

Moriarty's face immediately dropped in disappointment, he looked back to his desk and mumbled something like 'disappointing' if you heard correctly. Maybe that was your warning to back off, but you just had so many more questions, and what would you do otherwise? It's not like you can call anyone, or walk home, you don't even know where you are. 

You took one last step, almost touching his seated figure, slightly craning your neck over his shoulder, interested in what 'paperwork' a consulting criminal could possible need to go over. You swore you saw a little smile on his face from what little you could see from this angle. 

"Downstairs, there are bedrooms in the hallway by the kitchen. Go find yourself one."

It was awfully late, and you wondered if he was like Sherlock in the sense that he doesn't really sleep. You decided not to push you're luck any longer, and went downstairs into the hallway that was littered with doors. You opened the first door on the left and right, and figured either of those could be Moriarty's since they were the first ones there. The other doors were storage, the last one on the right was locked.

Finally, the last one on the left contained a large bedroom, walls painted a deep red, dark wood décor, crown molding, brass accents, and a large lavish bed with off white bedding. It seemed almost royal, and compared to the modern bright look of the rest of the home, you assumed this room was less used. You decided to just lay down, and the tiredness you didn't realize you were carrying swallowed you up as you drifted to sleep.