Collab with drayizzle

We're basaaaaaaaaaaccckkkk. Are y'all ready for some bloody madness? You can call us @myfirstnameisdrayizzle from now on.
You WILL see more collabs in the future cause this is FUN. Amen sista. This note is short and sweet, I learned how to say it properly, without further ado.......

THE QUEEN OF CRIME PART 2

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The cool Wind of the London night blew your scarf, the purple battered in the wind and against your leather jacket. You turned to find Sherlock standing next to you, your eyes fell to the scarf around his neck and you groaned. "Really?" You tugged at your own scarf before turning towards the city. "My brother is down there." You nodded at the building across the street, "He has a victim already. From the sounds I heard, he's already replaced me. Either that or he's finally getting his hands dirty."

"He's down there and you had us meet up here? You don't appear to be armed." He raised an eyebrow, you smirked and pulled your jacket apart to reveal at least 6 different kinds of knives all cleverly attached, "that's only the beginning. Now, shall we?"

"How do you plan to get us there?" He looked at you skeptically.

You grinned. "Do you trust me?"

"Not really."

"Good enough." You grabbed his hand and pulled him over the side of the building and jumped. A cry barely had time to erupt from Sherlock's throat when you collided with soft fabric, enveloping you both. The detective looked at you with wide eyes and you fought the urge to laugh, you failed and chuckled quietly, "your face!" You quickly recovered, putting yourself in what you liked to call assassin mode. An emotionless look swept over your features, you hopped off with a perfect flip. Sherlock fumbled off not so gracefully, but managed to land on his feet. You stepped towards the dark building, reaching behind you and pulling out the pistol you had hidden in your waistband. You signaled to him and he picked the lock to the door, quietly edging it open and raising his hands to motion to you to go in.

"Ladies first," he whispered, giving you a slight wink. Your stomach flopped, but you blamed it on the situation you were about to get yourself into.

"Fine, I'll be the brave one," you muttered.

"Brave or stupid?" he shot back. You punched him lightly on the arm as you walked in the door and you heard him snort behind you. The moonlight shone in dimly through the blanketed windows, barely lighting up the hall you were walking down. You held your gun at the ready - you knew your brother was big on surprises. You wouldn't be shocked if he jumped up from one of the floorboards or flew in from the window. The end of the hall came in sight, and you noticed there was one door straight ahead and two more on the walls perpendicular to it, facing each other. As you approached the doors, you made out a piece of paper taped on each one. They were labeled "DOOR 1", "DOOR 2", and "DOOR 3". Below the numbers, in blood red ink, it read, "pick one, either way you both will die".

"Shit," you mumbled. "He knows."

"I always know," came that familiar tenor voice behind you. Sherlock and you turned around at the same time to face him. The moon reflected off his black hair, and created white dots in the middle of his eyes. "I was going to wait and see which door you chose, but I couldn't help myself." He looked greedily between the two of you, and a devilish smile creeped into his features.

You looked at the detective, his smirk annoyed you yet at the same time made your knees grow weak. You cleared your throat and looked away and towards the doors, bracing yourself for blood and gore; you'd had your fair share. You studied each of them before silently playing a game of eenie meenie minie mo and selecting door three. You twisted the knob carefully, slipping into the room with your gun drawn. The lights were on in there, unlike in the hallway, and you were momentarily blinded. Crimson painted a trail towards the center of the room. You followed it, Sherlock behind you. Suddenly the lights flickered and went out. You slowly reached into your back pocket and pulled out your phone. No service, yet a perfect light source. You flipped on the flashlight, finding a small box in the center of the room. It was clean, wrapped up with a blood red bow. You and Sherlock shared a look for a moment before you kneeled down and pulled out a small dagger, cutting the ribbon. You both reached for the lid, fingertips brushing. You felt your cheeks pink slightly, but the dark light hid it, thankfully. He moved his hand away and you felt a lingering warmth.

"I forgot to get you a present this last Christmas sis, hope this makes up for it," chimed Jim from behind you. Both you and Sherlock had forgotten he was even there, and the sound of his voice sent shivers through the both of you.

"How thoughtful," Sherlock remarked dryly.

"Well go on," urged Jim, sweetness coating his voice, "it's not like opening it will kill you." You turned around to find him smirking, and he chuckled at the glare you sent him. You pulled up the lid, and after looking in, you weren't  sure if what you were seeing was actually real.

"What is this?" you asked, holding up the "present". Two dolls dangled from between your fingers where you held them - one with curly brown hair and a coat to match, the other with dark straight hair and blood red lips, he even managed to get the h/c flecks.

"Ever heard of voodoo dolls?" chuckled Jim. You caught Sherlock's eye, giving each other a confused look. He plucked the dolls from your hand, as well as your dagger, and began to walk in a circle, like an animal would their prey. "These dolls are said to have a, oh what's the word, mystical, connection with whoever they resemble. They are said to also let out emotion." He stopped beside Sherlock, who had inched closer to you. "You wouldn't know a lot about that, would you Sherlock?" His lips twisted into a smirk, "I told you what would happen if you didn't leave me allloooooonnne." He sang, his eyes locking with the detective's. "I would burn.. the heart.. out of you." He took deep shuddering breaths in between sets of words, his lips quivering in anger as he stabbed the Sherlock doll through the heart with your knife.

"I also informed you I don't have one." The detective remarked dryly and Jim stopped walking. He stood behind Sherlock, inches away from his neck.

"Oh? Then you wouldn't mind this." Jim tossed the dolls aside and someone grabbed you from behind. A blade was pressed into the crook of your neck, and you watched as Jim shoved his gun deep into the space between Sherlock's shoulders.

An animal like growl erupted from your throat, Sherlock's eyes widened slightly at you. "Even you wouldn't kill your own sister." Sherlock's voice had seemed to deepen even more than usual. Moriarty pressed the gun deeper into Sherlock's back, his breath hot on the detective's neck. "I won't be the one doing it."

You watched your brother's finger inch closer to the trigger and you knew you had to do something. You swung your leg back, colliding sharply with whoever was holding you's shin, their grip on the knife loosened, you grabbed what you made out to be a man's wrist and twisted it, but instead he did somewhat of a twirl and pulled you into his arms, a crooked grin upon his face as he held you in a dip like position. "Y/N that's no way to treat someone you love." His eyes locked with yours and you could feel your brother's gaze burning into you. You tried to move but he held you locked in place, memories danced before your eyes."Sebastian." You breathed.

Flashback:

"Sebastian!" You squealed, he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly from behind. Your gaze was locked on the man in front of you, who you were busy torturing. He was bonded to his chair, fear gleamed in his eyes. "Sebastian I'm busy!" You harshly whispered, amusement glittered in his eyes. "He doesn't know anything y/n." You sighed, pulling free from Sebastian's embrace, and begun cleaning your nails with the dagger in your hand. "I'm sorry, but you do realize since you don't posses any knowledge..." You whirled around and kicked the man squarely in the stomach, his chair falling back. You stepped on the knife cuts you had placed into his side. "You're no longer useful. And you know what Moriarty does with people who aren't useful?"

The man looked up at you with wide eyes, he seemed no longer able to cry out. "He ends them." You twirled the dagger and embedded it in the man's chest, piercing his heart. You pulled your dagger out, picking a rag out of your pocket and wiping the blade clean. You turned towards Sebastian, who had a smirk upon his face. "You get even more twisted every kill." He shook his head, walking towards you. Wrapping his arms around your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You never felt 'the spark' people referred to, nor the warm tingling feeling that would spread through you, but he accepted this side of you. The bloodbath you called a job, and that was good enough. You didn't need anything more, plain and simple.

You looked up at Sebastian; an idea floated into your mind, you softened your gaze. You raised your hand and stroked his cheek gently, a twisted grin upon his lips. "You care."

You pushed yourself upright, you managed to catch what seemed to be a rustled Sherlock who didn't look happy at all as you were reunited. Jim rolled his eyes, "As teary eyed as this makes me, you have a job, Sebby."

Sebastian rolled his shoulders slightly, as if he was resisting the urge to punch your brother then and there. Jim pushed the gun further into Sherlock's skinny frame, "now where was I, oh yes. What's worse, watching your love be killed, or be with another man?" Jim spoke into Sherlock's ear, all the detective could was watch. Various emotions flickered in Sherlock's eyes as he helplessly watched.

You wrapped an arm around Sebastian's neck, "But I see that it isn't for me." You released your arm and Sebastian kneeled over, a dagger embedded in his stomach. You pulled it out and heard a gasp like sound from Jim. "Now, James." You kicked Sebastian in the chest and sent him falling back, you turned towards your brother. Twirling your dagger on one finger, you stepped closer. He moved the gun up the back of Sherlock's neck and you froze. Suddenly, a piercing wail filled the building and you dropped to your knees, covering your ears. It ended, but the ringing in your ears continued. You found Sherlock in the same position as you, but Jim was still standing tall. His eyes were closed like he was meditating.

"Well that's my cue," he announced. You and Sherlock exchanged confused glances. Jim walked to the door, a placid look covering his face. Before he reached the door, he paused and turned around to face you two. "This isn't over," he warned, then went whistling down the hall.

"That was convenient," you remarked, trying to break the silence of the room.

"And how convenient that you stabbed Sebastian."

"It had to be done." You looked shamefully to the ground, you'd never felt this way about a kill before. Why did you suddenly feel ashamed with Sherlock witnessing it?

"Sherlock..... Killing is what I know. It's all I've done for the longest time. It gets the job done."

"Investigating killings is what I know, so I guess you could say we balance each other out." You looked up to find him smirking down at you, and you blushed to the ground. You hoped the dark lighting hid it as you focused your eyes on your dagger in your hand.

"Who knows Holmes, maybe we'll meet again." You stepped forward, offering a hand. He took it, but used it to pull you towards him. You allowed yourself to look into the shininess of his eyes instead of your blade. He was inches away.

"Oh we will," he stated confidently. "Perhaps tomorrow?"

You felt it, the spark that people described, the warm feeling, it was all there. "Mmmm I'd have to check my schedule, I think I need to decapitate someone tomorrow."

"Surely that won't take all day," he insisted, glancing down at your lips for a split second.

"Sherly, it won't."

The detective perked up at your answer and you raised an eyebrow, a smirk twisting at your lips. "Is the great Sherlock Holmes asking to see me again? Should I feel honored?" You looked up at him, "Cause I do."

And with that you stood on your toes and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his face closer to you as you pressed your lips to his. It was short lived though. The last thing you heard was the sound of a gunshot and seeing Sherlock's face as you felt yourself collapse into his arms. Then the world went black.

Here we are, the end to another part. But don't be too sad... Part 3 is on its way. We wouldn't be Sherlock writers if we didn't make you wait. HAHA TRUE WE ARE LIKE MINI GATISS AND MOFFAT. I HOPE YOU FEEL VICTIMIZED. "How many of you have ever been personally victimized by Gatiss and Moffat?" *waves hand rapidly *

We feel like proud mothers. Just thought I'd put that out there.

We finished writing and I was like "is this what being a mother feels like? NOW I UNDERSTAND."

Well. That's a wrap.

Bye bye for now! Remember to check out @drayizzle 's one shots aswell!

My people:

Fatherly love part two will be up soon, just wait. Gatiss and Moffat remember?

Bye!