#but let me out of my cage i want to WRITE my little piranha

[apparihtion]

what if you 🫵 like this for a starter that will most likely be a paragraph long (this is a threat)

[mycrofts-girl-blog]

He was my everything (Dead! Moriarty x Sister! reader x Sherlock )

 (Hi guys. This is my first imagine/one-shot released in a long time, and definitely the first one in this fandom. I am Brazilian, so please let me know if there are any serious errors in my writing. Hope you like it. IT'S BIG, I KNOW. But it's worth it, I promise.)

One Shot Jim Moriarty had a sister. And she decides she wants something back that belonged to her. Sherlock has what she wants, and she puts in a big mess to retrieve it. In the end, all she is looking for is to meet the brother. (Words: 5118 Warnings: Suicide, tragedy, sadness, memories, dead brother, insinuation of violence) 

It was Thursday, about four in the afternoon. The Sky in London was exceptionally clean and blue, with no wind or cloud. As you liked.

 You tugged on the black suit that fits perfectly into its curves and twisted its neck, watching its own reflection in the elevator mirror. You did not realize that it would be so easy to get into the safest building in the country, but I was really pleased with the ease with which everyone believed what you said.

 Your brother would be proud.

 You walked slowly through the building, watching everyone around, disdaining your poor mediocre lives mentally. Their ridiculous clothes, their bad hair, the lack of meaning in their lives ... So boring ...

 Your eyes run again through the costume you wore when standing in front of the glass door. With your hands behind your back and formal posture, you receive the eldest Holmes with a courteous smile.

 “Sr. Holmes ... I'm (Y/N), I'm taking you safely to your destination�� Your polished voice does not seem to convince Mycroft completely, so you give him the MI6 access badge.

 “Good. I do not know you. Where is the usual driver?”

 "Evan is attested, sir. His wife won her baby last night” Mycroft seemed to be convinced, going forward with a nod.

 You smiled at his back. So silly, so slow ... So boring ...

    Jim was right, in the end, the accounts.

 Mycroft got in the car after you opened the door for him. Slowly, you turned around and got into the driver's seat, savoring every second. He turned on the car, and almost immediately Mycroft raised the glass that separated him from you.

 You just drove in complete silence for about twenty minutes. It was only then that the elder Holmes came down the glass to ask you.

 "We're not on the right track," Mycroft's cold voice made you smile.

 “Oh, we are.”

 “Not. I must go to Buckingham's palace, which is on the other side”

 "There was a little change of plans." You smirked at him. You can see in the rearview mirror a small spark of concern in the ice man's gaze, and his hand immediately went to the tie where, you know, there was an emergency button –“You are free to press one of your panic buttons or even call the police ... But I suppose you do not want to do that ...”

 "And why would not I?"

 "Oh, Your dear little brother would not like that much." Mycroft's gaze flew to you at once, and slowly he took his hand away from his tie.

 "What did you do to Sherlock?"

 "Nothing ... Still." The sadistic smile on your face grew, and you turned on the screen in the back seat, displaying a live image of Sherlock. The detective was in a cage, hung 10 meters high, on top of a lake. You heard Mycroft gasp.

 “Where is he?”

 “You will see. We're going to find it. You know, this lake is populated by more than 30 species of carnivorous fish, including beautiful Amazonian piranhas and a pair of white sharks” You rejoice, bragging, and your sadistic smile increases as you see the look of despair on Mycroft's face.

 “Who are you? And why are you doing this?”

 "Calm down, dear ... We'll get there. Now sit down and enjoy the way” You turn your head to look at him, taking on the expressionless eyes again that you knew as well as do “Oh, and do not and forget that if anyone is warned about it ... Your little brother will make lunch for my little fish ...”

 You no longer hear a sound from Mycroft, so turn on the radio, and a lively pop song sounds through the speakers. You smile, humming some passages about how incredible life was and how everyone should be happy.

 Half an hour later you park the car on a road, next to a large wall of stones. You descend, enjoying the sound your jumps made as you hit the asphalt, and open the door for Mycroft.

 "Leave your cell phone, your suit, your vest, and your tie. And all your emergency buttons. "The coldness in his voice made even the ice man shudder inside, though he would never admit it. Mycroft obeyed you, and as soon as he stepped out of the car, just in his pants, white shirts and shoes, one of his men positioned himself behind him “Juno, please take Mr. Holmes to join our guests. I'll be there in a second”

 The man, the size of a closet, gestured at Mycroft, who followed him without a word.

 You smiled like devil. Every second of it was so fun ... Oh, how you wished you could share that with Jim ...

  Mycroft was in a panic. Cad centimeter of the body cried out in desperation. And this was not only due to Sherlock's situation or the strange girl who had kidnapped him despite all the security he had, but mostly to the fact and that he had no idea what was happening. He had no control over absolutely nothing, not about himself or his own thoughts.

 The closet man never stopped walking behind him, without giving a word. Mycroft kept walking forward, his mind working as hard as he could to find out anything. But before he could finally get anywhere, the giant man behind him opened a glass door.

 The older Holmes walked slowly now. The ground ceased to be marble and became stone. He looked around, noticing that he was inside a cave. It was big, it had some artificial lights. And a small cliff.

 Then he saw Sherlock and the cage, hanging by a steel cable in the middle of a great lake, which was below the level where he was now. Mycroft walked to the edge of the small cliff, looking down into the water, and found the species his hijacker had spoken of in the car. They were real. Hundreds of sharpened animals waited hungrily for their brother's flesh.

 Sherlock was looking at his brother in silence. The cage fluttered above the water, the detective balancing between the iron bars of the single floor he had underfoot.

 “Mycroft! I knew you would come! Get us out of here, for Christ's sake!” John's voice echoed like a cry all over the cave. Mycroft turned to find the doctor in a chair, hands, and feet tied to the furniture, and a hopeful look on his face.

 "You'd better be quiet if you do not want a tape in your mouth." The closet man said, his voice making the two men shudder. He took Mycroft by the arm and dragged him to another chair next to John.

 "Could you be more delicate?" Mycroft grumbled, opening his mouth for the first time since the menace in the car, which only made the big man laugh out loud.

 "Of course, princess. Do you want a cup of tea?” The cupboard man scoffed, turning his back after tying Mycroft's hands and feet in his chair.

 "It would be good," Old Holmes murmured.

 "We're lost," John growled.

  It was only a few minutes before you came in through the same door that Mycroft had just passed. You had changed, you wore a drab and dramatic black dress now, but you kept your bare feet on the floor.

 You fell silent and walked to a large volume covered with a silky red fabric, pulling dramatically and revealing a large golden and black throne.

 You smiled, sitting up gracefully as one of your maids took the red cloth off the floor. The three men watched you in silence until John opened his mouth wide with his typical indignation.

 “Oh, for God's sake. What does all this theater mean?”

 "Speak less, Watson," Sherlock chided, speaking for the first time since he'd been put in that cage.

 "Thank you, Sherlock, darling," you said, smiling sweetly at the detective. "I suppose like the Holmes brothers, you two have already unraveled the whole situation, have not you?”

 Sherlock and Mycroft faced each other, but neither spoke a word, pulling a puzzled exclamation from John.

 "Of course not." You said, crossing your legs, the devilish grin returning to your face. "What fun would it have? Oh, you two are so boring. Boring Monotonous ...”

 “Who are you? Can you put an end to it at once? Say what you want" John burst out again, making you smile and stand up, walking slowly toward him, the sadistic grin on your face and your expressionless eyes penetrating the doctor's mind.

 "You're too hasty, Doctor." Your voice continued in sweet intonation, though Your face was scary. "You do not even know who I am, do you? Oh, so predictable ...”

 "You're some lunatic who wants money or government information, I suppose," Mycroft murmured. You sighed dramatically, coming up to him and holding your face. Her long, black nails pressed against the ice man's silky skin. The smile disappears from his face, giving way to an expression without any emotion.

 "I had bet more chips on you, Mycroft. You know, Jim. I was right all along. You, Holmes, are boring ... I am (Y/N). (Y/N) Moriarty. And it's a disappointment and great displeasure to finally meet them.”

 You let go of Mycroft's face, only to enjoy the mixed expression of panic and confusion emblazoned on all three faces. The sadistic smile returned to your face, and you walked gracefully to the edge of the cliff.

 "What do you say, Sherlock? It had not even crossed your mind, had it? Of course not ... Poor Sherlock, so annoying ... Boring ... You're all so boring." You hummed, turning away from Sherlock and staring at the two perplexed men.

 “Moriarty?”

 "Oh, swallow it at once, Holmes." You rolled my eyes at Mycroft. "I'm James's sister. Or Jim, as you prefer." The smile faded from your face as you sat back on his throne.

 “Clear. Of course, this was so obvious. Moriarty also forged his own death, and now he's back in the game with his sister on stage. How come you two did not think about it?” John shrieked, angry and frightened.

 Your face contorted and pure hatred as you rose again, walking up to John Watson in firm, determined steps.

 "You're terribly wrong, John Watson." You snarled a few inches from his face. "My brother did not forge his own death as your friend's coward. Jim Moriarty is dead” Your voice was cold as an iceberg, causing a shiver go to John's spine “And if you open your mouth one more time only, will serve as an appetizer for my fish.”

 "What do you want from us? Revenge?” Mycroft whispered, now really taken by terror.

 You walked to the edge of the cliff again. Sherlock stares at you, and you reciprocate. Your hands were on your back and your upright posture was imposing something. Fear? Respect? Awe? Maybe all those.

 “I want the ring.”

 “Ring? What ring?” Mycroft asks, confused. You do not even turn to him.

 "Where's the ring, Sherlock? I know you walk with him. I know you look at him every day." You pause, and then resume with a hoarse voice of hate." I want the ring. NOW.”

 Your cry echoes through the cave. Sherlock looks at you and nods.

 "It's in the inside pocket of my coat" the detective says, loud enough for you to hear.

 "Juno, bring the coat on" You orders, without breaking your gaze with Sherlock.

 Seconds later, the closet man arrives with the jacket extended for you. You stretch your hand, going straight to your inner pocket and grabbing the little metal circle.

 Your eyes are fixed on the little ornament you hold in your hands now. Solid iron circle, carved in the simplest and most beautiful form, the small tip, small spots.. It was so simple, so rustic and cheap ...

 Flashback

 The golden light of the sunset illuminated your face, just like your brother's. You were on the porch of your penthouse, in America, on the last day of the little vacation Jim had taken to stay with you.

 "I have something for you," Your brother exclaimed, taking a velvet box out of his pocket. You knew it was a ring, probably one of those that cost millions of dollars and he always insisted on giving you a gift for no reason at all. Still, you smiled and picked up the gift.

 "Thank you, Jim. " He smiled, looking expectantly at her reaction.

 You slowly opened the box, facing a rustic copper braided ring. Your brows drew together in confusion.

 "I did it," your brother smiled. "It's a sign of how much I care and care about you ... I thought you'd think it's special ..."

 “And it is” You smile, thrilled with the gift “Thank you, James ...”

 "Everything for you, my dear." Moriarty smiles broadly, wrapping you in a tender embrace and kissing your forehead.

 You've never taken the ring since that day, until four years later.

 Your brother had appeared by surprise in your apartment, which was nothing new. But he was downcast this time. Something in his gaze showed ... Worry?

 He spent only one night and was so caring and considerate that you made sure something was wrong. The next day, as he said goodbye, he took the ring and put it on his own finger.

 “I'll take this, this time. As a guarantee that I will come back to you" he said, looking deep into her eyes.

 But he did not come back. Instead, he committed suicide on the roof of a hospital the next afternoon.

 Flashback

 "All this because of a goddamn ring?" You were torn from your memories by John Watson's voice again. His eyes flashed with hatred.

 “No. It's not just for the ring." You said, the voice grave for the vivid memory of your brother. Without another word, you walked solemnly to the throne and sat down again.

 “Then why ...”

 "I thought I told you to shut up, John Watson," you shout, making the men jump in their seats.

 Then there is silence.

 You slowly slide the ring down your finger, feeling the metal on your skin.

 Your eyes run through the cave. Jim loved that place. He spent weeks, months there, planning his crimes, laughing at his adversaries ...

 There were so many memories ...

 You close your eyes, your brother's presence was almost palpable to you. It was as if you could hear her voice echoing all over the place, her laughter waking her from the book she read or the feeding of the fish. His scent was still in the air.

 Flashback

 “(Y/N)”! Jim's voice echoed like a scream all over the cave. You took your eyes off the fish that had just arrived to populate the lake, a gift to you, of course “I have a surprise for you.”

 “One more? I thought all those fish were already a big enough surprise for a day.”

 "I never tire of gifting you, my dear." Jim smiles, reaching out for you to stand up. He led her to the center of the cave, where he held his red and golden throne in which you loved to sit. Besides, a giant volume, covered by black silk.

 “Jim ...”

 "Pull it," he urged, pointing at the cloth. You did as he said, dramatically pulling on the fine silk and revealing a beautiful golden throne, padded into the most expensive shiny black fabric.

 A huge smile crossed your face.

 “Jim, this is ... Wonderful ... Thank you!” You smiled, wrapping your arms around your elder brother's trunk, inspiring his signature scent. Jim returned it with satisfaction, leaving an affectionate kiss on his forehead.

 "I am the king, my dear. And every king needs a queen ...”

 Flashback

 You looked at the covered throne next to yours. The cloth was black, the mourning, the pain, death completely enveloped him.

 You swallowed the tears that threatened to fall. He touched the ring and, with a sad smile, rose to walk toward your guests.

 "Tell me, why should not I kill you right now?" your cool voice filled the silence. "Why should not I blow your brains out?”

 "I have a daughter," John whispered, not looking at you.

 "Oh, I know that. Rosamund, is not it? She is beautiful, indeed ... And so smart” You wander. John looks at you with alarmed eyes.

 “What did you do with her?”

 “Nothing” You smile “Yet”

 "Do not you dare touch my daughter" he growls, making your smile widen.

 "She's everything to you, is not she?" John nodded shakily. Your smile falls apart “Jim was everything to me too. And he's dead. ”

 "(Y/N), do not do this," Sherlock says, the fear in his voice amuses you, but you do not smile “ Nothing will bring your brother back ...”

 "Oh, I know." You turn to Sherlock, then giggle. "I know.”

 "That's not funny, miss," Mycroft remarks. Your face takes a serious look when you look at it.

 “No, it's not. It's not funny. You know what I find funny, Mycroft?” He denies “Today is Thursday...”

 “and?”

 "Jim used to call me every Thursday. No matter what happened, he called me every Thursday at 4:00 p.m. I had been expecting it every week since I was three years old, and then we would talk about what he was doing, about my day, about his plans ... I think that's funny. Because it's Thursday, he did not call me at 4:00. Not last week, or the other, or the last five years. Do you know why Mycroft? Because he's dead.”

 “(Y/N)...”

 "I did not think it was funny, Holmes," you said. "It was not funny when Jim did not show up on the morning of my birthday, when I did not wake him up next to me in bed, having entered my house without having the keys, a bouquet of white roses, as he did every year. That has not happened for the last five years, Holmes. Because Jim is dead.”

 You looked at the two men tied up. Tears now pinning your eyes, but you did not care.

 "It was not funny when he was not in my living room on Christmas morning. We had a tradition. He would come, I would make the tea ... Then we would open the piles of expensive gifts he bought me, and he would be glad that I liked them. And then I played the song I had composed for him, as I do every year, and he listened and asked to play again. And then we would spend all day in front of the fireplace, in silence, or play chess or set up a Puzzle. We did this every year since I was three years old, are missing ... Jim was not there the last five years, we did not do any of that. His gifts were. The music too. And the fireplace, the games, the silence ... But not Jim. No my brother. He will never be, Holmes. Do you know why? Because it does not exist anymore. My brother is dead.”

 John had changed his face. There was no more hatred. It was close to compassion now.

 Tears ran uncontrollably down her face, sobs caught in her throat. Every memory was so painful ...

 "It's not funny when I call Jim. He does not answer me anymore. It also does not respond to my messages. Never. I just call and call, but he never answers. I just hear your voice in the recorded message, every time. Every time...”

 You smile through the tears, listening to your brother's voice in your mind.

 "Jim Moriarty was all I had." You turn to face Sherlock, your face blurred with makeup and your lips. "He was my family. My best friend. My brother. My partner. My Tutor. He was my world, Sherlock. But he's dead now. Do you know what that means?”

 Sherlock was silent.

 "It means he'll never hold me again, Sherlock. That I will never hear the voice that has calmed all my crises since I remember. It means I will not have anyone to run when I'm scared. It means he chose you, Sherlock.”

 “No, I do not think he ...”

 "He died because of you, Sherlock Holmes." your voice was shaky now, your hands shaking as he dropped to your knees on the edge of the cliff. "He was all I had" you whispered.

 "I'm sorry," Sherlock lamented, with sincerity in his voice.

 "I was the only one at his funeral. I ... I loved him so much. More than my own life” You said softly, tears dripping from your face “But he's gone ... Forever ...”

 "Kill us will not bring him back, (Y/N).”

 "I know," you said after a moment. "I will not kill anyone." You stood up, slowly moving to a small table near the door and picking up a white pill in a pot. White with red polka dots. You smile, taking a glass of water and taking a sip along with the tablet.

 You pulled the lever close to the cliff then the Sherlock cage was brought back to the ground. You unlocked her with the key she wore on the necklace and stood face to face with the detective.

 Your pupils were dilated, your hands trembled, and an empty smile hung from your lips, while the pale skin of your face was stained by black makeup. Sherlock could see the pain in your eyes, your broken soul. He smiled, noting how many common features you had with your brother.

 "I hate you," you whispered. "You took away everything I had.”

 "I'm sorry," Sherlock said the real feeling in his voice. You were silent for some time.

 "Maybe you'll find something that interests you in Jim's room." You say " Juno will take you there.”

 Then you walked to the throne again, stumbling a little on your own feet. You stood in front of the black cloth throne and smiled nostalgically, pulling the silk off. Folded over the velvety fabric was Jim's favorite coat.

 You took it, dressed slowly, and sat on your own throne. Her brother's scent no longer existed, but you could almost feel it there.

 Sherlock untied his brother and best friend quickly. When everyone was properly free, he turned to face you. Your eyes were closed now, your mind starting to cloud, but you smiled at him anyway. you knew he was looking for you.

 "I do not want a funeral, Holmes. No one would. Not Jim.”

 "So?" He strode to you.

 "The fish," Sherlock nodded, kneeling in front of him. "Do not destroy this place, Holmes. And never come back here. Let this be our sacred grave.”

 "I will. I promise." You smiled, opening your eyes for one last moment and looking at the detective. " I'm really sorry.”

 “Do not feel. It was meant to be.”

 Your eyes closed again, the depth of Sherlock's eyes engraved like the last image you had ever seen.

 You felt your body grow light.

 At that moment you knew that you would never play your piano again. You knew that your feet would never touch the soft sand of the beach, that you would never taste any sweet again. You knew Christmas gifts would continue to be delivered every year, but there would be no more music and you would never read your books again. Your last act would be to feed your beloved fish.

 Jim would like that. It was dramatic.

 Flashes passed before you. All of them from Jim. Your laughter and jokes when you were just a kid, and he was your hero. He had never rejected you, never give you less than all he had, all the attention and love that Jim Moriarty possessed were yours from the moment you came into the world. His heart belonged only to you. His queen.

 The darkness that had enveloped you suddenly dissipated, the memories going with her as a figure appeared in front of you. your eyes were open again, and you could see him now, standing in front of your throne, with a white rose in his hand and the smile that soothed his storms.

 He was there. Jim was there. your brother. Your world. Your Jim.

 "I was waiting for you, my dear ..."

 You smile, running into his arms in a second. His embrace tightening around him, your head over his heart. His scent invaded her nostrils, numbed anything that might be around him.

 “Jim ...”

 "Hello, my queen." He looked into your eyes, his tenderest smile, the one reserved only for you, illuminating his face. "We have all eternity now. Don’t worry.”

   -

  Sherlock heard yout last word. The name. Jim.

 He watched the life drain from your body until your lips turned purple, your body lifeless on the majestic throne.

 "Sherlock," Mycroft called out. The detective turned, watching his brother less than a meter from him. "I'm not sure what happened, but ... I'm sorry. It's ... Tragic.”

 "She was just a scared little girl. She missed her brother. And he did not know what to do about it." Sherlock stood up, staring at his older brother.  “I'm sorry.”

 “For?”

 "Never say I love you."

 Mycroft stared at his younger brother in a momentary shock. Then his critical eyes watched the young Moriarty's lifeless body on the throne. The older Holmes sighed, the gravity and tragedy of the moment bringing him to the brink.

 “Me too. You know" He whispered.

  Juno, the security guard, led the brothers Holmes and John down a long corridor, then a beautiful glass elevator in the middle of the rock, to a room on the surface. A large room, with glass walls, where you could see the vegetation, the valleys and the sunset. The golden light of the end of the day illuminated everything.

 Sherlock was the first to get out of the elevator. The detective walked solemnly through the great room, watching every detail his eyes could pick up on the safe place of his worst enemy.

 It was large and luxurious. All furniture in black and white. A large table, facing the glass wall, caught her eye. A tall leather chair protruded behind her, and several papers, photos, maps, and schemes lay on the black glass. Photos of Sherlock, Mycroft, Greg, John, Rose, Mary, Ms. Hudson, and Molly. Annotations. Magazines.

 Sherlock took the portrait door that took a central place on the table. The picture was old. In her, a little girl with black hair and even darker eyes watched with a smile for the camera, the mouth dirty of something pink and, next to her, a young Jim, with a bright smile and a look of devotion to the girl.

 The detective looked around. The whole place was adorned with picture frames of the same girl. Some pictures showed her as a baby, playing with animals or on the lap of young Jim. Others brought her as a child, and then a teenager. There were hundreds of photos, everywhere, on the walls and on all surfaces.

 In the back of the room, above the fireplace, a photo had stood out. It seemed to be newer than most, it was in a large frame. The two brothers, (Y/N) and Jim Moriarty, smiled purely. They wore white and embraced each other with a mutual, almost palpable devotion.

 Sherlock sat in the center armchair and picked up a letter from the table. It was Jim's. For (Y/N).

 " My dear, precious (Y/N),

 If you read this now, it is possible that I no longer exist on earth or anywhere under the heavens.

 I'm so sorry.

 I swore I would never leave you. And I did not keep my promise.

 I promised to get back to you. And I will not be back.

 Forgive me, my queen.

 I'll be waiting for you when you're ready to come to find me.

 Please, my precious, never forget how special you are. How beautiful and graceful you are. How light you lit my gray days with your light. You are my sunshine from the moment you were born, and it will be for all eternity.

 Do everything that makes you happy.

 And be with me when you're ready.

 Forever and ever,

 James. "

  Sherlock folded the letter and put it back on the table. He felt a weight in his heart, something like guilt and sadness.

 Jim Moriarty was not just a worthless criminal. He was an older brother. That she loved her little sister with all her fibers, with all that he was.

 Rising again, Sherlock watched five certificates on the wall beside the fireplace. All of (Y/N).

 Prodigy of the NASA robotics fair at age 8.

 Graduated at Harvard at age 17, in physics.

 Highlights of the international astronomy fair at 18.

 At Stanford at 21, in space engineering.

 At Oxford at 25, in astrophysics.

 Beside each certificate, a photo of her with Jim.

 And next to all that, a note.

 "We will dominate the whole universe, my dear"

 Sherlock swallowed. He turned his back and took one last look.

 "Come on," I said, the low voice calling Mycroft and John back to the elevator.

 Silently, they reached the stone corridor they had entered for the first time.

 "I need to do something sooner." Wait for me in the car.

 Without waiting for a reply, Sherlock walked into the cave again. The disturbing morbid silence enveloping him.

 Carefully, he took the dead body of little Moriarty. Her skin was already cold, her face expressionless. Sherlock took a deep breath, and without taking his eyes off her, carried her lifeless body down the stone steps to the edge of the lake.

 He knelt down, the girl's black dress touching the water. Black hair flying with the slight artificial breeze.

 "I'm so sorry, (Y/N). We could have ... been good friends" he whispered.

 Slowly, the detective placed (Y/N) Moriarty's body in the water. The dress getting drenched as the fish fluttered around the lifeless body of the one who fed them for years, and now became their last meal.

 Before leaving her, Sherlock left a tender kiss on the girl's forehead lifeless. And then he turned and, without looking back, left the cave.

 Already in the car, he watched Juno lock the door between the stones with a large lock and carefully put a large panel of plants on it, closing forever the grave, the sanctuary of the Moriarty brothers.