A/N: So, I basically pulled this shit out of my ass at 11:30 pm after scrolling through the Andrew Scott tag on Tumblr. I was sitting there the whole time whispering "fuck you" everytime I scrolled past an adorable picture of him... which was basically all of them. -.- Then I got this idea in my head of Moriarty being with someone and I was like, "I should write this." But then I thought about it and was like, "Fuck this, I don't have the attention span." And thus, this brainchild was born. 'S just a short fic, but I feel very proud of myself. ^-^
PS: See if you can find my Avengers reference. You won't get anything, but still . . . I'll think you're awesome.
PPS: It's really easy to spot. I'm not even joking.
"Sherlock, I never agreed to this." Nick's voice was small, but firm. She gave him a desperate look. "I-I can't do this. I'm not an actress, Holmes. He's going to find me out and kill me and I don't want to die. I'm too pretty and young to. I haven't even finished learning all the languages I've wanted to learn."
She continued to ramble and plead, but Sherlock Holmes was just as stubborn as she was and would not budge from his decision.
Eventually, she'd caved in, but only because she wasn't feeling well and didn't want to fight. At least, that's what she told anyone who asked.
Soon after that, she was adorned in a tight-fitting dress and large stilettos and trying to seduce James Moriarty, who was going by the alias Christopher Langley at the time.
In the beginning, it was awkward to say the least. She was intimidated by his Westwood and his shiny black shoes and that crazed look in his eyes. But then, he said nine words that she would never forget coming out of his lips.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you, sweetheart."
She'd nearly laughed in his face at the small sentence, knowing full well what James Moriarty was capable of. But she'd managed to restrain herself enough and carry out a full conversation.
"Oh, I have no doubt, sir," she'd said as huskily as possible, trying as hard as she could to get it over as fast as humanly possible. "You must excuse my mood swings tonight. I've already had a few drinks, and I think you'll come to find that I can be a rather emotional drunk. More so now, I guess."
Jim's right eyebrow rose in a questioning way, silently asking her to continue. "And what's now?"
"Well, my heart's just been broken, for starters . . ."
And the night progressed. She pulled stories out of her ass, and he listened intently, as if the great criminal mastermind James Moriarty could ever be actually interested in something so completely trivial and utterly human as this encounter.
As she ran out of things to say, she tried to bid him adieu, but he'd insisted on walking her home and hearing more. Twenty minutes and more complete bullshit later, they'd reached the door to her flat.
Jim automatically reached down and grasped her hand, bringing it to his cool lips. "Thank you for the lovely night."
She'd blushed and glanced down at her shoes. "Thank you for listening to me rant."
"Not a problem. I could listen to you all day, honey."
Her face grew an even deeper shade of scarlet and she said a short, quiet farewell. Moriarty nodded and stepped off her porch, slowly making his way to the gate in front of the complex. As he reached the small door, he hesitated.
"Good night, Phoenix," he said quietly, before taking off in long, slow strides towards wherever it is Jim Moriarty's go.
As Nic lay in bed that night, she realized that, deep down, she'd enjoyed the night, as well.
Four months and many dates later, Phoenix Michaels could officially classify herself as a woman in love. Sure, their relationship was based on lies, but Phoenix was always herself around Jim. And while Jim was not known as Jim to her, he was still him. He still had his psychotic tendencies, and sometimes he would mutter things like, "Get it together, Jim," when he thought she wasn't paying attention.
Sherlock had abandoned Moriarty pretty soon after he started his quest. But he would still check in with Nic every once in a while, just to make sure that he wasn't plotting to kill the Queen, Heaven forbid.
But what killed Nic inside was that she was in love with her best friend's sworn enemy. Sure, Sherlock Holmes was hard to love, but Phoenix found a way to pierce the wall that surrounded his heart. He was like a brother to her and saved her arse more often than not.
And how does she repay him?
By falling for the enemy. She couldn't even tell Sherlock how she felt because she knew what he would think. She secretly fell for the enemy.
And boy did she fall hard.
Nic awoke to the sound of a gun being cocked.
She shot out of bed, grasping the sheets to her bare chest and stared into the barrel of a pistol. She glanced over the top of the gun and met Chris's-er, Jim's-eyes.
And they were cold and lifeless.
"I would like to know who you are before I shoot you, love," he said in his soft Irish lilt. He set his jaw.
Nic fought the urge to just fess up. "Babe, what on earth are you talking about?" She tried to push the gun away from her face, but Jim brought the gun down on her hand and pressed the barrel to her forehead, right between her eyes.
"Ah, ah, ah," Jim sing-songed. "Let's not get touchy-feely here. I don't want you changing my mind." Jim moved to sit on the bed, in front of Nic. "Now, tell me about your relationship with Sherlock Holmes. What do you know?"
Nic didn't move. She didn't do anything except stare into Jim's eyes for a while.
Then, "Sherlock Holmes is a friend. He asked me to watch you. Make sure you didn't hurt anyone else. After a while he gave up on that notion. He realized there would be no stopping you. You are James Moriarty, the greatest criminal mastermind on this god-forsaken island. Probably the greatest in the world. Now I've told you everything. Are you still going to shoot me?"
Jim hesitated for a moment, then moved the gun to her temple, pressing the barrel harder to her skull. "How long has it been since he's . . . given up?"
"Three months, two days," Nic answered robotically.
Something changed in Jim. Toby saw his eyebrows knit together for a brief second. But it was, as stated, very brief. She barely even noticed it.
"And you stayed with me?" Jim asked suddenly.
Nic was taken aback. He sounded surprised. Shocked, even. She was not expecting Jim Moriarty to ever sound so . . . human.
Nic tried for a smile. "Of course I did. James, all those times I said 'I love you' . . . while I might not have said your real name, it was still directed at you. All those times I said those words, it was never, ever without meaning. I love you, James."
Jim's face contorted with anger. "YOU ARE A LIAR! Don't you dare lie to me."
Nic suddenly got angry herself. She was hurt that he didn't believe him. Sure, it was probably harder now that the truth was out, but Jim was clever. Surely he could tell that she was not, in fact, lying.
"Why do you think I'm lying to you?!"
Jim removed the gun from her forehead and grabbed her around her throat. "You lack conviction."
Nic's eyes filled with tears. Her throat burned as she choked out, "You want conviction? How about this: I swear on, not only my life, but on every single soul on earth that I love you. And I will never stop."
Instantly, Jim released her throat, threw the gun aside, and smashed his lips to hers. Nic felt a tingling pain in her top lip where her teeth nicked it from the force, but ignored it and kissed him back just as passionately. Jim's tongue was in her mouth, tasting her sweet blood on his tongue and he knew that he hurt her. But he didn't care. In fact, the taste of her got him even more aroused.
Soon, Nic was pinned on her back, naked and crying out with pleasure as Jim slammed into her again and again. She screamed out his name for the first time as she rode her orgasm. And, boy, did it sound nice coming from her lips.
And that night, as Nic lay in Jim's arms, her body still shaking with the aftershock of their lovemaking, Jim did something he'd never done before. After making sure that she was asleep, Jim whispered softly, "I love you, too." Just to try it out.
It sounded pretty damn good.