"Mummy?" your son, Dean, called as he ran like a mad man towards you and your husband, Jim.

"Yes, darling?"

His small hands grasped onto your arms as he yanked himself to sit comfortably on your lap. "I've been doing some thinking..."

"Dangerous pastime," Jim interjected before you swatted at his chest.

"... How did you and Daddy meet anyway?"

You and Jim both exchanged glances before he turned to Dean. "Well sweetie that's an awfully long story..."

"I promise I'll sit through the whole thing like a good little boy!" he swore.

"Alright fine," Jim caved. "Should you begin?"

Girl, I'm glad you called, first heard you talk

It took me a second cause I couldn't hear your drawl

And that don't sound like you

No, that don't sound like you

The school bus drove away into the distance as you begin your trek back home one regular afternoon. You looked towards your house in the distance before sighing, realizing your small 8-year-old legs could only carry you so quickly. Today, being a Monday, meant that dance class would be today and you were thrilled to dawn the ballet slippers you had recently gotten for your birthday.

"Excuse me miss, but do you know your way to Glenn's Quarry?" a small Irish boy asked you.

"It's this-a-way," you declared. "That's my neighborhood and I haven't seen you around before..."

"I-uh- just moved in... Parents are splitting up and can't be around each other anymore. I saw you on the playground today and then on the school bus... I'm Jim, by the way."

"And I don't talk to strangers."

"I'm not a stranger, I'm Jim."

You rolled your eyes at the new-kid-in-town and began your trek home with Jim trailing on beside you.

I know it's been a while, I don't mean to pry

But when I asked you if you're happy I didn't hear a smile

And that don't sound like you

Nah, that ain't the girl I knew you always sounded like

"Good morning Y/N," Jim greeted as he left his house and joined you on the path to the school bus. "I see your parents didn't get you that car like you wanted."

"You don't know that."

"Of course I do. Not only are you walking to the bus, but you're not giving me a ride."

You scoffed at his implication. "Now what makes you think I would ever give you a ride to school? You got gas money?"

"I'm your best friend, I don't apply to the concept of 'gas money'," Jim pointed out. "After all, we've been friends for almost eight years now. I know all your secrets, you know all of mine. The least you could do is take me to school in your hypothetical car."

Truck tires on a gravel road

Laughing at the world, blasting my radio

Cannon ball splashing in the water

Doing whatever whenever you wanted

What did he do?

'Cause you don't sound like you anymore

You and Jim sat on your front lawn stretched out in dirty lawn chairs you found in your garage. Jim had promised to be with you when you found out if you had been accepted into your dream school even though he liked to remain you of the worthwhile community college right across town whenever you brought it up. "How much longer do you think it'll be?" you nervously asked.

"Probably the same time it always is. Mailmen are unfortunate creatures of habit."

In time the mail was put in the slot and you had held the highly awaited letter in your hand. "Well... I guess the longer I wait isn't going to change the answer..." you said, still staring at the envelope like some monster from your childhood nightmare.

"Oh for god's sake," Jim announced, snatching the letter from your hand before ripping into its shell. A small smirk spread across his face. "Congrats Y/N..."

You let out a gleeful shriek before jumping into his arms and burying your face into his neck. "Never trust a hug, it's just a way of hiding your face," Jim muttered solemnly as he thought of the years you wouldn't be able to spend together.

Your pretty brown hair, you always loved it

Guess he didn't like it so you just cut it

And that don't sound like you

Nah, that ain't the girl I knew you always sounded like

The London streets were buzzing with the sound of a busy Saturday morning. The businessmen in their suits rushed off to meetings, the uniform-clad students towed themselves to lessons, and Jim Moriarty sat in sweatpants taking it all in. Normally he didn't like to participate in the handy work of his job, but this case was a special one.

Rumors had spread through the crime circles that the infamous Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson had gotten another live-in. At first Jim figured he would met them eventually sooner or later, but a name Jim now only heard in his dreams was brought to life again. Y/N Y/L/N. The one that got away, the unsolvable enigma, the light in the darkness.

He peered up into the window of Baker Street as he tried to catch a glimpse of your face. After all, it had been almost twenty years since he had seen you up close. For years Jim had snuck into the concert halls and watched you weave intricate melodies as you leapt all over the stage, but he always made sure to leave before the lights came up. Now, somehow or another, you had crossed paths with Sherlock.

Jim fingered his cell phone nervously as he stared at your contact information. Finally he took an ignorant leap of faith and pressed dial.

Truck tires on a gravel road

Laughing at the world, blasting my radio

Cannon ball splashing in the water

Doing whatever whenever you wanted

What did he do?

'Cause baby you don't sound like you anymore

Oh, anymore

"Hello, this is Y/N Y/L/N speaking," he heard your voice say. Something seemed different about you, however. Your voice seemed accented with a newly found confidence and purpose, but yet underneath your smooth dialect you sounded to have lost your spirit.

"Um... hello," Jim sputtered, already sounding like an idiot. "This is Jim Moriarty speaking... I was just hoping to... just to hear your voice again really."

From the other side there was nothing, but unresponsive silence followed by conniving murmuring. "Oh hello Jim," you finally answered, this time much more uneasily. "It's nice to hear from you again..."

"I, uh, was wondering if maybe you wanted to get together to chat. I've been thinking about my childhood recently and there's a certain part of it that I want to be able to feel again. I was deliberating if you'd help me."

Again, another period of frigid stillness on your end before a nervous, "Sure why not."

That town, that job, that guy

You can leave them behind, girl, you know you're better than that

If you wanna come back, you can come back

Baby, come back to

You had both agreed on a time and place, but Jim knew Sherlock wouldn't willingly let you out emptyhanded and would insist the Baker Street Duo tag along. Jim had rented out the restaurant to provide you some privacy and Jim at least a little bit of security.

The chime of the bell above the door made Jim glance up and catch a glimpse of an exploding star. Fire and beauty wrapped up in one lovely portrait. "Jim," you shortly greeted before sitting down.

"Hello Y/N," Jim said in awe. "You look great."

A small smile appeared on your face. "Why thank you. These years have been kind to you as well."

"So, where's the infamous Baker Street Duo? Rumors seemed to say that you are the newest 221B resident."

"Yeah I am. A starving artist couldn't make it on her own so here I am relying on the support of a doctor and a consulting detective."

Jim laughed at the sense of humor he had grown to miss so much. "Then I presume you've heard about the little game between Sherlock and I," Jim admitted, disappointed, as he tried to state the obvious.

"I'm afraid I do... Actually it's why I came here in the first place. Jim, I... I can't... We can't go back to the way we were. Not after what you've done, after you who've become. I just couldn't said it over the phone."

He nodded dejectedly before standing up to leave. "I guess that's it then..."

Truck tires on a gravel road

Laughing at the world, blasting my radio

Cannon ball splashing in the water

Doing whatever whenever you wanted

What did he do?

'Cause you don't sound like you

Gimme the girl I knew

'Cause you don't sound like you anymore

Mmm, anymore

So the plan might've gotten a little bit... off track to say the least. Sherlock and John just wanted a simple open and shut case to nullify Sherlock while keeping them both alive. However after finding ties to the biggest criminal circle in London, the case was too big to ignore. Which is how you'd found yourself, a small London-based dancer, leaping from bullets and twirling around criminal masterminds.

"Sherlock, forget whatever you wanted to accomplish here. We need to leave if you put any sort of value on our lives," John urged. However Sherlock rather stopped dead in his tracks before quickly entering his mind palace. "I guess this isn't such a bad place to end it all, on second thought."

"He's here," Sherlock stated.

"What? Who's here?" you asked, hating when Sherlock forced you to play the pronoun game.

"Moriarty."

Shivers raced down your spine while sun shining memories quickly ran through your head. While everyone else had seemed to have made his mind up about Moriarty who couldn't seem to forget Jim, the Irish lad who lived next door.

"Surprised to see me?" his voice rang through the hallway. "You really shouldn't be, Sherlock. After all, when you go poking around in the biggest crime circle, or any crime circle actually, you're bound to find a connection to me." Jim walked down the aisle towards where you, Sherlock, and John had gathered.

"Jim, let us go," you begged. "This is all a misunderstanding."

"Well..." Sherlock said. "This case was at least an eight so are any of us really surprised it was going to end this way?" Suddenly, men adjourned with unfriendly looking guns surrounded the area and your trio was soon entrapped. "This is how you want it all to end? In a fire of bullets? Seems a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"You always were one for the dramatic Sherlock. However this isn't the end Sherlock. Oh no, not yet," Jim informed you all as he walked over to stand right in front of you. "Y/N I actually needed to speak with you. I-" he began before the sound of a gun rang through the room and MI5 dropped out of the ceiling.

"Jim!" your panicked screams rang through the hall as you watched blood stain Jim's blank white shirt and quickly moved to grab onto him. However yet another gunshot sounded throughout and Jim moved to land on top of you, two blood stains quickly becoming one.

"He saved her..." Sherlock mumbled in disbelief as John ran to help you assess Moriarty's condition.

"Jim, Jim listen to me," you begged.

Jim's eyes moved to meet yours and a smile spread across his face. "Hello darling," he spoke before your voice became muffed and even your radiance turned to black.

Girl, I'm glad you called, first heard you talk

Took me a second cause I couldn't hear your drawl

"Daddy, you got shot! Twice!" Dean exclaimed.

A small laugh escaped Jim's mouth. "Yeah, I know. I was there," he reminded him. "Took me a little while to recover, but thankfully Mummy had decided to be at my side through it all. Now here we are, almost eight years later, married with one kid," Jim said as he lovingly kissed your cheek.

"Well one for now..." you teased as Dean ran back off to play with his toys much too tired of all this lovey-dovey stuff by now.

"Yes, for now. At least a little longer I think."

"How's nine months sound?"