OLD - Sherlock x reader: A consulting detective in love

Sherlock x Reader: A consulting detective in love Chapter 8

You were just about to respond but the kettle pinged to say that the kettle was boiled. Mrs Hudson ran up to you and John with your cups of tea in hand. You took them generously and sipped it slowly. A question still burned in your mind.

"John, you and Sherlock still haven't answered my question fully, who is Jim Moriarty?"

He sighed deeply as if the name uncovered terrible memories. 

"Alright then, Jim Moriarty is Sherlock's nemesis, his opposite. He knows how to make Sherlock think, how to make him question things."

"Question things?"

"Yes, and Sherlock had to do something he regrets to this day and it all started with Moriarty being the catalyst."

"What did Sherlock have to do?"

"He had to fake his death."

"WHAT!" 

"Yes, Sherlock had to jump off of the top of St Barts and kill himself but Moriarty shot himself on top of the building and died or so we thought."

"Sherlock faked his death."

"Yeah, i saw him jump off that building before i was struck down by a cyclist. He has never told me how he survived the fall."

You both sat in silence for a few moments and then you decided that you needed out of 221b for a while, you needed to think and you cant think while being here

"Um John, may i please go outside for some air?" You asked, your voice was cracking

"Sure, I'll wait in here."

"Alright."

You walked out of Mrs Hudson's place and let your thoughts take over as you opened the front door of the building. Flashes of imagery appeared, pictures of Sherlock and my nightmare figure battled in your mind. The cold London air hit you, Your hands began to shake. You walked away from the building and looked for somewhere peaceful to sit and think. 

You then saw what looked like a small kids's park. But it looked abandoned. 

Perfect

You walked over and saw that the wind began to push the swings back and forth, you could hear the sound of the old swings squeaking at every push the wind pushed at them. The sound of the busy roads were distant and the wind and the sound of the leaves crunching beneath your feet were surrounding you. You closed your eyes, remembering where it all began. That knock on your door, those mysterious and unique eyes staring at you, His gentleman like persona which he only pursued when you were with him. But then you remembered the notes, the photos, the corpse murdered and left on display for you to find. 

CLICK CLAP CLOP, CLICK CLAP CLOP.

It was the sound of footsteps, light but forceful. The footsteps were approaching you, standing right behind you. 

"Hello, my little Swan!" A light Irish accent was heard from the person behind you.

You turned around to see him, the man of your nightmares... Jim Moriarty.

You were about to run but he grabbed you by the arm viciously pulling you towards him

"You can't run from me my little swan, Nor could you try to hide" He spoke with venom poisoning his words

Tears began to stream down your face, your breathing hitched as he wrapped an arm around your waist and one of his arms was touching your neck. 

"Shhhhh, its okay now my dear (YN), i won't hurt you." he whispered into your ear