"You want to smell and touch her hair. Feel her heat and the soft of her skin. Taste her sweetness until it rots away your crooked teeth," Miss Mooney was looking at him, unimpressed on her throne. He tried to keep still in his seat, but her look caused him to feel crucified with damnation. "Now let me tell you something my little Penguin, that will never happen." Cobblepot/OC AU

Sherlock is diagnosed with a terminal illness. Warning: angst like whoa.