Disclaimer: I own nothing.
An old lady once told me that I would die for the man I loved. I didn't believe her then, but then again I was only seven at the time. I was eighteen when I met Mycroft Holmes who had come to see his brother at the same college that I was attending. It was love at first sight for me, and I knew that the old lady had to be right, because I knew I would die for the man.
I befriended his brother, Sherlock, first out of a desire to know more about Mycroft, but then out of a desire to know Sherlock. We got along well. I would listen to his rambling soliloquies about deduction and he would patiently ignore me when I would talk about my studies of computer sciences.
The first and only time I ever tried to ask out Mycroft Holmes was the second time I ever saw him. He had again come to visit Sherlock. He looked me over in derision and said he didn't believe in sentiment and even if he did he would never have it for a goldfish. I cried that night, but moved on. The Holmes brothers didn't do sentiment and I was happy to love from afar.
The first time I asked Sherlock to teach me deduction, he laughed at me. I was persistent and soon wore him down. He had little patience for me in the beginning, but when I offered to teach him how to blend in with a crowd - how to perfect his people person persona, as he described it - he had more patience as I seemed to have an endless supply when it came to him. I never reached a Holmes level, but I at least knew what to look for and could make rudimentary deductions. Sherlock only ever asked me once why I wanted to learn and all I responded is that I didn't want to be a goldfish anymore.
After college, Sherlock spiralled. He took drugs and disappeared for days. I would always track him down and wait out his recovery. Mycroft never spoke to me, but he would nod to me every time he visited Sherlock after he had gone on another bender. That was enough for me.
The day Sherlock met John Watson is the day I faded into the background. I moved out of his flat and let Sherlock move on with his life. We would communicate once in a while and I would sometimes do some odd work for Sherlock when he contacted me. I never stopped keeping tabs on him, however. I was actually quite good with a computer and was able to hack Mycroft's cameras to keep an eye on both the Holmes brothers. I was pretty sure neither ever knew and if they did they never said anything.
It was all this that brought me to now - facing off with Moriarty on the rooftop, Sherlock not ten paces away from me. Moriarty seemed endlessly confused by my presence and all I could do was smile. "You don't know me," I said to the evil genius, "But I have been in love with the same man for over ten years. He holds a minor position in the British government and cares for no one except the man you are about to kill. Sentiment makes you do crazy things, which is why I'm going to stop you Moriarty. The only person the man I love cares about is your mortal enemy, which I think makes you my mortal enemy." With that I held up a button and pressed it, "I've just exposed every single online connection you ever made, every single offshore account, every email, everything to the British government."
Moriarty's lost expression soon twisted with rage and he snarled. He took aim and shot a bullet at Sherlock and I did the only logical thing. I shot a bullet back at Moriarty as I jumped in front of the bullet shot at Sherlock. We both hit the ground at the same time, him dead and me barely alive.
Sherlock rushed over to me, but I shook my head. I knew there was some plan to get Sherlock out of there alive. "Go," was the last word I said before I died.
The old lady was right. I did die for the man I loved. The man who I had talked to only once and only seen maybe seven times at most. The man with a minor position in the British government. The man I was nothing but a goldfish to.
Random Scene to Accompany:
"You know he'll never love you," Sherlock said to me from behind.
I didn't deign to respond.
"My brother doesn't do sentiment."
I again didn't respond.
"You're wasting your time."
Silence.
"If I were you, I'd stop this useless pinning and do something more productive with my life."
Finally, I snapped, "Did I ask for your opinion?"
"You're being an idiot."
"You think I don't know that! You think that I don't know that it's a hopeless cause!"
"You shouldn't let sentiment have so much sway over you."
"You know what, shut it Sherlock. You don't get it. I know I'll never have his love. I know that I'm not good enough. I know that I'll never be smart enough. I know that I'm nothing but a fucking gold fish! And if I could move on, I would. But some of us can't be fucking automatons. We can't all be perfect Holmes'. So just shut up Sherlock." That was the end of that.