His ransom - Moriarty x Reader

Diner

      He was so close I could feel his hot breath on my cheek. I remembered the night before. Not the torture, but what happened afterwards. The kiss. Part of me wanted to slap him, punch him, tear him apart. The other part wanted him closer. The other part wanted to feel him. The other part wanted to believe any lie he would tell me.

"- Well, now, darling. Why would I kill you?
- Because that's why you kidnapped me. That's why you're hiding me at your place."

A loud noise escaped his lips. I didn't know if he was choking or laughing. Maybe both.

"- If I had wanted you dead, you would be. And I dont usually take people I want to murder to the best restaurant in town." He whispered.
The car stopped. We both got out and entered the restaurant. It was a nice, expensive place. A waiter immediately led us to a table in a corner. Jim started looking at the menu, but I couldn't stop staring at him. Many questions remained. He looked up and said :

"- I think you'd like their pasta."
"- Oh, well you're probably right. After all, you've got a whole file about what I do and do not like."
He seemed satisfied.
"- Do not worry, my dear, there's a lot more you can tell me." He murmured.
James Moriarty called a waiter. The young man practically ran to our table. My "date" ordered for himself, obviously impatient to see if I would listen to his suggestion. The boy turned to me :

"- And for you, Mrs. Moriarty?"
I have to admit, I did not expect that. Keeping my voice ferm, I ordered.
"- Same thing, please."
Now it was his turn to be surprised.
"- Why?" Moriarty asked me.
"- Well considering that you do not want to kill me anytime soon, I'm guessing I'll stay with you for a quite long time. So, why not acknowledge my host's tastes?"
The answer satisfied him. He smirked before randomly talking about music.

"- Do you like Bach? I know you love Chopin, but what about Bach?
- Well... I've hated hearing anything from him for years to be honest." I said.
He was waiting for more, so I explained :

"- Sherlock loves Bach. He plays the violin. Often Bach. And when he... got rid of me, I started hating him. And ever since, I've had a rough time listening to Bach without getting mad. So this is your fault as well.
- How so?
- If you hadn't come after him, I wouldn't have sent me away. He doesn't trust me. Never did. And after all, he was right. Look at me now. So naive I fell in the arms of a stranger who was actually a criminal mastermind using me against him. So, thank you, James."
Ooops. Why did you say that? He looked like he was truly interested in what I was saying. No one ever listened to me, so that was probably why he had such power over my talks. For some reasons, he was pleased. I froncer les sourcils, and he said :

"- You can ask your questions now. You fulfilled your terms of the contract."
Right. "James". I hadn't planned to call him that. Just did.
"- Why did you ask for me as a ransom for John? Why not keep him? Sherlock's best friend...."
He raised his eyebrows.
"- He's not as good company as you are. Plus I'm not into men."
Oh lord. I wanted to slam my head on the table. To forget what he had just said. That could not be the reason.
"- And he cares about you more. You know it. That's why he tried to hide you away from me. But my turn to ask you a question. Why did you agree to come so easily? I was... surprised, I have to admit."
Did I even know myself? I didn't resist. I didn't try to find a solution. Was it because I knew I had no choice? No.

"- Because you're... different. I wanted to see what you had to offer.
- You were not scared?
- Terrified. But so what. Kill me, go right ahead. After all, my life or another, it makes no difference, does it?"
Shut up. Shut up now, y/n. You're going too far. Stop showing him.

The rest of the diner was spent in silence. We were both thinking. Suddenly, he stood up, dropped some money on the table and left. I followed him, walking slowly through the crowded restaurant. I saw him standing there, his back against the wall. As I got closer, he said :

"- Do you know why your brother is weak? Why I can manipulate him like this?"
Without waiting for an answer he spat :
"- Because once you start feeling, you're fucked."
"- You're probably right. Wanna go for a walk ?"
He looked at me suspiciously, so I added :

"- I wont try to run away. Running away is boring "
A smirk formed on his face, and the anger left faster than it came. My brother had the power of making people mad in a split second, and this conversation with Moriarty had awakened my anger.
"- Fine then."
His hand was searching its way to my waist. I felt like it was not personal, but still moved away from his touch. I thought he'd be offended, or even angry, but he just kept a straight face and waited for me to start walking. We wandered in the streets of London for hours. Sometimes speaking, sometimes not. We both hated small talk. We only said something when something had to be said.

I was lost in my thoughts when I heard whistles and low voices calling me names. Was this really happening? I was not in the mood for assholes. I grew up with two by my side. The two guys got closer. James looked at me but didn't move. One of the them said to Moriarty :

"- That's a nice slut you've got here. Would you mind sharing ?
- Not at all", the criminal answered.
I stared at him in shock, but he smiled at me and I understood. He wanted to see what I was capable of. I took my heels off and got closer to the asshole, teasingly. My right hand was on his chest. I could still see Moriarty. He was tensed. Ready. But there was something more.

"- Want me, darling? There we go then"

I hit him in the balls with my knee and punched his throat. His friend tried to grab me, but James had already taken his gun out and shot him in the head. I was now on my knees, liberating all the anger, hatred, fear, and passion I had kept inside all those years. I punched him over and over again, until I couldn't feel my fists anymore. Then only i stood up, shaking a bit, and asked for the pistol. Moriarty raised an eyebrow in disbelief. I pushed him against the wall, my hands wrapped around his neck.

"- Give me the damn gun, James."
When he finally did, I didn't hesitate one second and shot the scumbag in the face. I turned around and held it to Moriarty's head. I never thought about shooting him, of course. I lowered the weapon and put it back in his jacket. Once again, he tried to put his hand on my hip. But this time, I didn't fight it.