Sherlock One shots and Imagines

The wrong one - Part 10 - Jim x Reader

Dessert. She had made it to dessert without having insulted the man across from her again. Though she had had taken to calling Sebastian, 'Jeeves', which he didn't seem to like. That fact making it all the more fun, despite (Y/n) having a feeling that he was probably as dangerous as he looked. 

Once she had been given a compliment by Mycroft of all people, the older Holmes telling her that she wasn't like others that he had met. That she wasn't just your normal goldfish; that he believed that she amazingly had the ability to think and reason to an advanced level, which was probably as good a compliment that you might get from Mycroft. And she believed that this ability to think and reason, had got her this far, despite her big mouth trying to get her shot. Yet it still hadn't got her out of this; she was still a prisoner of the psycho consulting criminal. The younger Lestrade continuing to hope that her brother, that John, Sherlock.......heck, even Mycroft would come crashing though the door at any moment. That she would find herself engulfed protectively by Greg's arms, as others brought down James Moriarty. But from what she knew of the man sat across the table from her, something like that, would be easier said than done. That he would probably have a plan up his sleeve already for such an event. So, she would have to continue doing what she was doing; trying her best to distract the criminal, and take his mind off killing her.

"Well, my compliments to your chef, James. The îles flottantes were perfect, as was the rest of the meal." (Y/n) said, as she took her napkin and touched it to her lips, before finishing the wine in her glass.

"So, now what.............? Was that the last meal for the condemned woman...........?"

"Do you dance.................?"

"What, the macarena..............?"

"No, Detective Lestrade, I mean real dancing.............."

"Yes, I know, it was a joke.........and I do dance. I leant by standing on my grandfather's feet when I was little. It has been a while, but I am sure that I can remember the steps. Why..............?" (Y/n) countered. Briefly recalling how much joy she had felt, when the old man would twirl her around the room. When he would tell her that this was how he and her grandmother used to dance when they were young. These moments leading to her being amazed by the old movies of Ginger Rogers, Fred Astaire, and Gene Kelly. Her brows furrowing, as the consulting criminal smiled, got to his feet before making his way over to her, and holding out his hand for her to take.

"Good, then you will dance with me................" James continued. His thin, dangerous smile never leaving his lips, as (Y/n) looked between his hand and his eyes.

"There's no music.............."

"There is music all around us............." The dark-haired criminal replied, before the female detective reluctantly took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. The breath catching in (Y/n)'s throat, as he drew her close and moved with her around the floor.

As he continued to smile, (Y/n) was sure that he could feel her heart pound through the thin material of the dress that covered her body. That he would be able to see the pulse on her neck, throb, as the blood rushed through her veins. She couldn't help but let her mind go back to when he had kissed her; to the moan that had left her, when his lips had moved to her neck, his words 'I will have you in ways that Sherlock never has. And when he comes to find you, I'll show him that you are mine.........You won't even be able to remember his name when I'm finished with you', were ringing in her ears. Her insides twisting and turning as they continued to move in silence around the floor.

Looking into those dark, dangerous eyes, she couldn't help but feel herself drawn in; and she couldn't help but hate herself for it. This was, in no respect, what you could describe of as a good man. In fact, James Moriarty couldn't get further away from being a good man, if he tried. He was bad, wicked, evil. He was a criminal, a killer. Yet there was a thrill attached to that; a thrill that was making her mind race. The thoughts of what he could, would do with her, making a warm blush radiate up from her chest to her cheeks.

"You look even more beautiful when you blush............" James suddenly said, as he reached up and placed his hand on her warm cheek.

"Tell me, what are you thinking about...............?" He continued. (Y/n) feeling the heat in her cheeks rise, as she pushed the thoughts of the criminal to the back of her mind. Doing he best to just think of those that were hopefully looking for her.

"I'm not thinking about anything..........it is just the wine. If you really do know so much about me, you will know that I don't drink often." The female detective retorted, as she finally moved her eyes from those of the man that still held her close.

"So, you aren't thinking about before, when you told me that I had to at least wine and dine you before I could even think about getting anything from you. Well, I've wined and dined you, so....................."

"What..........? You think because you have fed me, I am suddenly going to forget that you had you braindead goons take me from my home? That I am going to forget that you are keeping me as your "guest" against my will? That you are probably hoping that Sherlock will be coming for me so that you can prove something to him? So, you can hurt him or someone else. Were you thinking that I would suddenly throw myself to my knees in front of you, because of your charm, and beg you to do all manner of things to me......? Wow, all I can say is that you must normally deal with some really strange women, if you think any of that is gonna work. Personally, I prefer a man that doesn't kidnap me to get a date. Personally, I prefer men that don't threaten me with death. I mean, call me old fashioned, but that is just the kind of girl I am.............." (Y/n) retorted, as she pulled away from Moriarty's grasp. Her eyes growing wide, as the consulting criminal suddenly grabbed her by the throat. Jim moving so that he could whisper into her ear.

"You may not give yourself to me tonight, Miss Lestrade, but I assure you that you will do before your brother, or the Holmes boys even come close to finding you. And when you do, I will make sure to punish you for this............" Jim told her, his voice low, calm, but filled with a menace that not even he had shown before this moment. (Y/n) stumbling backwards, as the consulting criminal left her alone in the room.