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Y/N was staring at the ceiling of her bedroom, lips pursed. She had fucked up and she knew it. She knew it very well now. That night, however…
When Y/N had agreed to help Moriarty escaping from Saint-Bart, she didn’t know what was waiting for her. She didn’t know she would have to babysit the former Sherlock’s Nemesis. But she had had to; before leaving for challenging the laws of gravity, the Detective had made Moriarty swear to not leave the house until he tells him to. How he was supposed to eat and to live decently without any money and without going out for grocery shopping hadn’t made part of the plan. Well, even geniuses couldn’t think about everything while put under big pressure, what can I say?
So Y/N had been forced to visit the former criminal-or-not at least twice a week to feed him and keep the man from going insane. At first, she had been the one threatening of going insane: she had a lot of other things to do than taking care of and illustrious and dangerous stranger! She had a job, she had friends, she had a guinea pig which she already had to take care of, thank you very much! But the more time passed, the more Y/N was starting to like the visits she paid to Jim. The man was funny, quite kind, very clever and always so happy to see her… Twice a week became every other day, Y/N was having tea with Jim, they talked about the news, about what facts around the world may or may not be Sherlock’s activity, about the movie BBC had aired earlier this week… Then every other day became every day, Jim started cooking for Y/N from time to time, inviting her to spend the evening with him, and Y/N started to bring DVD to Jim. They ended up watching them together, when they didn’t just make fun of the actors, their actor plays or the plot itself, and even the three at once. Y/N even showed some pictures of Hilary, her guinea pig, to Jim, no need to say he just fell in love with the little animal as soon as his eyes had been on it. It had been very difficult to believe Y/N once had had to take him out of a mortuary bag, two years ago…
And then, the big day was here. Y/N was used to receive messages from Jim several times a day, at random; she was currently cleaning Hilary’s cage when she heard her phone going crazy. She hastily but carefully put the guinea pig back in her nest before looking for what had made her phone hysterical.
Y/N! He just came! - JM
I’m free! - JM
Actually, no, I’m far from free, but I can go out without risking my life! - JM
You have to come over! - JM
I’m taking you out to the restaurant, it’s my threat! - JM
*treat, not threat…- JM
I hope you’re not driving. Oops. -JM
Y/N beamed to the screen; she was so relieved! Sherlock was alive and had come to free Jim, that meant he soon would be able to start a new life and that was wonderful. And he wanted to take her to the restaurant to celebrate! Yes, that would hardly be the first time Y/N would have a meal with Jim, but this time was special. This time was official. This time was in another context. And Y/N couldn’t help blushing madly while picturing the lovely genius in a tux instead of the worn jeans he had had to wear these past two years. But nobody had talked about a tux or a fancy restaurant. Nope.
But, after picking Jim up and arguing during almost half an hour because he wanted to drive – he knew the address and Y/N didn’t that’s it, it would be easier to just drive himself than indicating her the way! Give him these goddamn keys Y/N! – they indeed arrived at a fancy restaurant after agreeing to take a cab, so no one would drive. And… Oh, what a night! Jim just seemed to want to give Y/N the Full Monty; pulling and pushing her chair, classy wine, flowers, glowing smiles, light chattering, little touches to her hand now and there… Of course, he did pay the bill. Of course, Y/N did want to argue about that, but she had been warned, it was his treat. Of course, Jim asked to their second cab of the night to drop Y/N first and, of course, he went out of the cab – after paying the driver and starting another argument with Y/N about this – to wish her a good night. They kissed. At first, just a little peck on the lips because they were quite tipsy and a little high on happiness; then some more chaste little kisses because, well, why not? That was fun. That felt right. And, finally, losing their patience, good night kisses became a real make out session in front of Y/N’s door. Did it lead to something more? It could have, but, as for the rest of the evening, Jim had been a real gentleman and, after one (some) last kiss (kisses) he just left, wishing Y/N to make sweet dreams.
It had been a wonderful, gorgeous, absolutely perfect night. Then it had been a hell of a morning. Y/N was remembering everything. Every sweet word, every little smile, every light touch, every tiny peck and every heated kiss. And she recognized this feeling making her ribcage a little too tight, making her stomach fluttering each time she was thinking about him. This was love. F*ck… This couldn’t happen. Jim was a criminal, a damn charming and lovely one, but still a criminal! And his life would start to become a real mess now that Sherlock was back, even if he was willing to help Jim in every way he would be able to. It would be courts, maybe prison or evasion again and it already made Y/N ill; not because she wasn’t willing to follow and help him in every deep shit he would be involve, but because she knew he didn’t deserve this, even if he was a criminal. She didn’t know the murderer; she knew the man who was cooing over pictures of a guinea pig. He made big, bad mistakes, ok, but his information had allowed Sherlock to tear the biggest European criminal network down, that should count for something, right? Worse than all these ethical considerations, Y/N was afraid to lose Jim’s friendship. She was afraid of taking him away with unrequited feelings. After this perfect night, after the whole dining and wining thing, after the making out session. Women can be quite thick sometimes, believe me, I’m one.
Since Jim was free to, at least, go for his grocery shopping by himself without putting his life in danger while waiting for a penal hell to fall on him, Y/N decided she was not needed anymore: she stopped coming to Jim’s altogether. She was far too afraid of his potential reactions to last night. When he asked if Y/N was coming, she just answered that she couldn’t, sorry. A few days later, without any news about Y/N, Jim tried to phone her and, after having been dropped on his voice mail, sent a text asking if everything was alright. The answer came a few hours later: “Yes, thx”. Y/N never picked her phone up and stopped answering his texts after that. So much for not losing Jim’s friendship...
After a month of silence, this is how Y/N found herself staring at the ceiling og her bedroom, lips pursed and certain to have fucked everything up. She would have liked to be able to say she regretted that evening with Jim and the few kisses they have exchanged, it would have been far simpler, but she didn’t. She absolutely didn’t. What she regretted, on the other hand, was how she had handeled the situation afterwards. She should have gone to Jim’s and aksed him to talk about their relationship; maybe he would have asked Y/N out? He would; Y/N was sure he would. What had she done?
The doorbell made her emerge out of her regrets; Y/N dragged herself to the door and peek by the peephole. A very pissed off Sherlock was waiting on her mat.
“Open, please, Y/N, I know you’re here.”
Crap. She obeyed and, as soon as the door was open, Sherlock made a step to the side to reveal Jim, who was hiding behind him. Jim, who was handcuffed and freshly out of a police car which was waiting for him.
“Y/N! Give me a minute, please!”
“I... But... I...”
“I would let him talk, if I were you, I won’t be able to hold the policemen back for ver long” Sherlock said, before taking a few steps towards said policemen who already looked quite annoyed.
“Listen to me, please, Y/N...”
“Ok, yes, what...” Y/N was about to say what do you want but it seemed a very harsh thing to say to somebody who did nothing wrong... Well... In the context... “What can I do for you?”
Jim went from pleading to angry in a matter of seconds, it would have been scary if Y/N didn’t know better. He was hurt.
“What you can... Oh my GOD! You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what?! It did! I kissed you, on this very mat, in front of this very door. I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen, ok? If you never want to see me again, it’s alright, I’ll go and you’ll never hear about me again, I swear, but, at least, I’ll be able to remember these kisses. What do you want? Do you want me to disappear?”
“I... No! I didn’t - I didn’t want to destroy our friendship...”
“Our friendship? Our friendship?! We’re not just friends and you f*cking know it!”
“What?!”
“I don’t want to be your friend! For Gad sake, Y/N, I love you!”
“I’m really sorry to interrupt, guys, but you need to worry...” Sherlock was, indeed, starting to run out of ideas to entertain the cops. The fact that Y/N was looking at Jim cross eyed and mouth open didn’t help the matter at all.
“Y/N... As you can see, I’m quite on a rush right now”, to underline the urgency, he made the chain of his handcuff jiggle, “so hum... I have to make it cheesy and to the point: will you go on a real date with me when all this mess will be over? Will you be my girlfriend?”
Y/N was astounded, but she had understood the main theme: date, girlfriend, cheesy and to the point. So, as an answer, she kissed Jim, deeply. When she pulled apart to breath, he smiled soflty at her “That must mean yes.”
If you would have said to Sherlock that, one day, he would promise to Moriarty’s girlfriend that he would bring him back to her as soon as possible, he wouldn’t have believed it. But that’s what he did, not only he did promise, but he also delivered said promise. Don’t worry about Y/N and Jim Moriarty, they have all the help they might need.