Jim Moriarty X Chubby!Reader ~Friends Part 2

“Who was that woman?” Sherlock paced, racking his brain for any clues to the identity of the right hand woman to his archenemy.
“They’ve been together since they were children. She mentioned that boy Moriarty killed.” The blacked haired man turned quickly.
“She did? What did she say?”
“That she was scared after they did it. They? Did she help him?” The detective flopped into his chair, quickly steepling his hands in thought.
~
Kids glared as they walked by. They know, she concluded from their hate filled eyes. Even the teachers seemed to look at her with faces contorted with wariness. The girl could feel their stares burning into her, all screaming the same thing: you killed him. A dark haired boy grabbed her shoulders and whispered something in her ear. She couldn’t understand his words but they felt comforting.
(Y/n) jolted awake. She held her head in her hands, crossing her legs and propping herself on her knees with her elbows. Her breath was quick and ragged, heart pounding in her ears. How many times did this make? She had suffered this nightmare at least three times a week for the past twenty-one years. She grabbed the small (f/c) notebook that was kept in the nightstand drawer.
“3,324.” Her soft voice matched her hand in recording the number in the book. She knew the reason for tonight’s dream, because of the old woman. (E/c) eyes glanced over at clock.
4:37
Her vision seemed to be adjusting to the darkness, she could make out his outline beside her lit up by the faint moonlight from the window. (Y/n) slowly laid back down, adjusting herself so that she faced him. When she was awoken by her nightmares, she always found it soothing to watch the man sleep. He was always so busy with clients and it was rare that she ever saw him as peaceful as he was when he slept. A smile smile graced her lips as she admired the sharpness of his jawline and how messy his hair was when he slept with it wet. She wished that sometimes he would just take a day for himself instead of constantly working nonstop for days on end. Now he was scheming with that wom-no, the Woman. To say that she was dreading their meetings was an understatement. Irene Adler was one of the most beautiful women (Y/n) had ever seen which made her anxious. What if her chose Irene ov-
“What’s wrong, darling?” Jim ran a hand down her cheek, bringing her from her thoughts. Her eyes refocused on him.
“Just the nightmare again.” She partially lied. Warm arms pulled her in, holding her close.
“How many times now?” He stroked her hair to calm her.
“A little over thirty-three hundred.” Jim knew that he was to blame for most of their occurrences and the dream itself. Whenever she would wake like this, he would pretend to be asleep and watch to make sure she was okay. It was his way of saying he was sorry for something he couldn’t apologize for, killing people was a part of his trade and she knew it.