Disclaimer: I obviously don't own a thing.
A.N. So, as Valentine-themed story, I couldn't help myself. I went with my new side OTP. Jim/Eurus. Because I love insanity.
It's a date
She was a vision. A long, flowing midnight blue dress, a coat not unlike her brother's, and a cascade of flaming red hair. Jim opened the door to the hotel room she'd told him to find himself in with his most dapper Westwood suit and an ear-splitting grin. "This is your idea of a disguise, my Queen? A wig and an attire that will have every man and woman turning to stare at you?"
"Nobody would think I could be that brazen, would they?" she retorted. She took in the elegant suite, with the ample bed covered in crimson rose petals, and the table on one corner, facing the window, already set with antique china and a covered silver tray, before nodding her approval. "Besides, Mycroft has to approve of me playing as much as I like. I mean, he did say people not to talk to me, but he didn't soundproof my cell. Voice carries, and not even arteriosclerosis could make him forget that, I hope."
Jim chuckled. "One would hope so, for England's sake. Not that I'm not flattered, but – why me?"
"Because you're obsessed with Sherlock, and I've always wanted to play with Sherlock's playmates. Did Mike tell you what I did?" she purred, rubbing against him.
"No. But I can imagine. Something like this, my Queen?" the consultant detective queried. He uncovered the tray with a lopsided grin and displayed an unquestionably human heart.
"Sort of, Jiminy. Who's that?" she inquired, looking intrigued and puzzled at the same time, a frown on her delicate features.
"Oh, no one of importance, sadly," Jim murmured, waving away her concerns. "It jjust seemed the right offering for you."
"Does this make me the Queen of Hearts? And what would you be then?" she replied, reaching out to touch it with the tip of a finger.
"I usually insist to be king, but in Wonderland I'd like to be the Cat. As long as it gets the cream," Moriarty quipped.
"That's why I'm here, I won't withdraw," she assured with a purr.
He took that as permission to first take off her wig, tossing it away haphazardly and letting her dark hair fan out, and then undress her, slowly and reverently.
She shivered in pleasure. "Either you get out of that suit very soon or it'll be ripped apart in three minutes," she warned, splaying on the bed.
That was all the motivation he needed to get naked in record time. He liked this suit, damnit! He'd planned to take things nice and slow, until she begged for him, but just like her brother, she had no patience. Oh well. He could work with that.
If instead of making love to a fairytale royal he shagged a hoody-eyed incubus silly, well, he was adaptable. Also, he thought the point of this was to pretend it never happened. But by the time they were an exhausted, sated heap on the posh bed, they both wore so much evidence of it. Long scratches on back and stomach, dark bites on neck and shoulders. And this not even mentioning how much of each other's DNA was inside them; over them; under their nails.
Moriarty was proud of this, honestly, and was tempted not to wash it away for a long time. Eurus? Eurus, even if she had wanted to, how could she hide it entirely? She'd go back to her cell well-shagged…and it was undoubtedly on purpose. Was she using him? Yup. But he was imagining she was her brother half the time, so they were even.
It was only afterwards, laying boneless and full of oxytocin on the bed, that it occurred to him. "We haven't used any precaution," he remarked, his index finger following one of her new scars.
"As if you would ever let yourself get an STD, or the doctors at Sherrinford didn't keep me in top shape," she huffed, bored.
"Not that, silly," he corrected, between giggling fits, "what if you get pregnant? Of course, they would terminate it, but imagine if they didn't. Imagine if they want to use the baby, too. We would definitely have to get the both of you out and go to your home to introduce the baby to your parents. Imagine the Christmas dinners!"
At that, she started giggling too, irrepressibly. Finally, finding her breath back, she pointed out, "Nobody called me silly. Ever."
"So? Am I dead?" Jim asked nonchalantly.
"No. I like it."