You didn’t care. In fact, you enjoyed it. Being evil was so delightfully delicious and terribly fun. It also meant you got meet the most interesting people, including your current boyfriend, Jim Moriarty.
You thought about that for a moment, relishing in the memory of the first time you’d met, before wrapping your arms around his neck from behind, “Jim~”
He was at his desk, working on something you knew was important, and didn’t stop to respond, “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like what you’re about to say?”
You spun him, forcing him to stop, an action only you could get away with and even then it was still a little dangerous. He glared up at you but you ignored it, straddling his lap as you tugged at his tie.
“You want something. What?” He stated flatly.
You gave him your best pouty face, a move you only pulled when you really, really wanted something,
Sherlock was quiet, eyes skimming quickly over all the scattered pieces.
“It's because it's her.”
“You need a break. When was the last time you ate? Slept? You've barely moved from that spot for the last ten hours!”
His eyes snapped up toward the man. They were void of emotion. “If I even waste a second, she will die, John. Do you want that?”
John's face fell before he dropped into his chair and buried his face into his hands. You were gone. Taken away by Moriarty. In order to get you back, they needed to complete the puzzle. A literal puzzle. At each crime scene, there was a piece or two. Those were the hints. Once all the pieces were in Sherlock's possession, you would die. The goal? They had to figure out the picture before that. John had his suspicions that the actual picture would reveal where you were being kept, but Sherlock never answered.
Of course, none of the pieces really
He may be scary sometimes, but I know that he can be a big old teddy bear.
Now, what corner do I turn again? Is it a right or a left? Oh no, I can never remember which way to turn. All of these corridors look the same to me. And the pictures on the wall never seem to help me. Without looking where I'm going, I bump into someone. I look up to be greeted by dirty blonde hair and a scarred cheek.
"Oh hello," My father's best friend Sebastian greets me with a smile. "Are you lost again?"
I sheepishly nod my head. "I thought I was going the right way."
He laughs. I glare at him. I don't like it when he laughs