A/N: THANK YOU MEGAN FOR GIVING ME THIS IDEA. I DEDICATE THIS CHAPTER TO YOU.
Still not Moffat/Gatiss.
As the couple stood by the gate, lost in the pleasure of being with each other, a lone figure slipped into the shadows, his hands tucked into his coat pockets.
He was alone, his father having killed his mother ages ago.
Jim had later killed him.
He'd only been ten, hiding in a corner as the police and a little boy walked around his house that was called a crime scene now.
"A heart full of love."
"A heart full of you."
"A single look and then I knew..."
"I knew it too."
"He was never mine to looooooose." muttered Jim in a sing song voice. "Why regret what could not be?"
"For it isn't a dream..." Sherlock and John sang together.
"Theeeeeese are words he'll never say. Not to me... Not to me, not to me..."
"Not a dream after all."
"His heart full of love... He will never feel this waaaaay.." Jim stopped singing, turning and running off as Sherlock headed toward the shadows nearby.
What was that? Moriarty stared at the phone, his nimble fingers pressing the buttons swiftly.
"Press send. Jim Moriarty is no coward..." Instead he flung the phone across the table, it hitting the floor and skidding across and under the sofa.
It appeared that in the name of love, Jim Moriarty was, indeed, a coward.
A/N: I dunno, didn't turn out exactly how I wanted... What do you think?
Reviews much appreciated!
And if you liked this, go read my other story, Dear Sherlock, and pop a letter in the reviews!
Remember: SHERLOCK. MINISKIRT. PLOT BUNNY.
Until next time: