My first Sherlock fic. I like Moriarty and I thought I'd take a whack at his hot and cold personality in terms of a "pet".

Edited 6/2018

I rested my head on the back of the tub and hummed along to the Amy Winehouse song playing through the sound system across the room. My thoughts ran to Jim. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. He would be home soon and hopefully, he'd had a good day.

Don't keep me waiting.
- JM

Speak of the devil. He was on his way home and he would be expecting his afternoon cuppa. Thankfully, I'd already prepared a kettle for him with a tray of sugar, cream, and lemon just the way he liked. My phone pinged again with Jim's dwindling patience.

Do you understand me, Nora?
- JM

You will not be kept waiting. I understand, dearest.
- NM

I didn't dare hesitate to reply. A week ago, I didn't reply to his text and paid for it when he arrived home. I touched a bruise on my shoulder and flinched when my phone alerted me of his reply.

Good girl.
- JM

I smiled.

James Moriarty had lured me in a year ago and now I was trapped in his web. As poisonous as he was, I enjoyed being in this arrangement with him. I wasn't his girlfriend, nor he my boyfriend. We were…well, I wasn't sure exactly what we were, but we kept faithful to each other nonetheless. Our relationship, if one could call it that, was never built on love. Instead, it was fear. Jim made sure that he was four steps ahead, and that I knew he could kill me at any time if he pleased. I realized quite quickly that Jim and Moriarty were two men in one. Although I called him Jim, I wasn't in a relationship with Jim. Jim cared. Jim loved. Most days, I was in a relationship with Moriarty. Moriarty ordered, manipulated, and dominated. Moriarty didn't give a flying fuck what happened to me, and Jim somewhat did. Likewise, Jim was the only reason why Moriarty hadn't killed me just yet. Well, Jim and Sebastian.

Not a day went by that I didn't understand that I was the criminal's pet. I was here for his enjoyment. He played with me and took care of me, as long as I abided by three simple rules: be ordinary, be extraordinary as well so as not to bore him, and give him female companionship. I agreed without hesitation a year ago because he was attractive and I was in desperate need of extra money and a flat to kip in. (My flatmate had kicked me out to make room for her boyfriend, and my job at the local coffee shop wasn't worth much). Back then, I was desperate. Truly, truly desperate with nothing more to lose. I was ignorant of how difficult living life as Jim Moriarty's pet would prove to be at first.

Every day, I made sure I was fascinating to him by being an equal balance of ordinary and unusual. Being ordinary allowed me to be myself. I listened to my usual music, I walked and talked the way I usually did. I was myself, that part was a cinch. Being extraordinary, however, required me to constantly change myself. I went shopping for new clothes at least once a week because, more times than not, Moriarty would dispose of clothes that weren't interesting to him anymore. (Thankfully, he allowed me to keep my pair of old checkered boxer shorts and an oversized Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone shirt that I wore as pajamas my first night as his pet. He said it interested him how sentimental I was about a "ratty pair of boxers and a childish shirt").

With my style constantly changing, James made sure he was able to keep an interest in my body and the way it looked in different clothes. Even my hair underwent changes. I met Jim when my hair was a short, dirty blonde. He soon grew bored of that and I became a brunette, a blonde again, and now I am ginger with hair just past my breasts.

As for sex, Moriarty remained in control and it never ever became boring. I did have to uphold my end of the agreement as his live-in companion by purchasing certain clothes and adult toys that would keep him interested in me in the bedroom on days when my body alone wasn't enough for him. I spent my days doing as he asked, having Seb accompany me here and there as I played the good pet. James approved and continued to make me happy. However, the odd day did come about when Moriarty would not be happy with me. It could be his dislike of a bad dye job from the hairdresser, it could be a stressful client that he would project onto me, or it could be his overall disapproval of the clothes I purchased, or it could be all three.

Those were the days that Moriarty would lose his composure and have a field day with his pet. Those were the days that were extremely painful and almost always left me with a scar or bruise. Poor Sebastian would care for me in the aftermath and put me right. Regardless of the criminal's hot and cold personality, I'd grown to love Jim Moriarty very much. And though he never said it, I was certain that, in his own way, he loved me very much as well.

I sunk deeper into the water, listening to Amy and waiting for the sound of Jim's key in the door. "I told you I was trouble..."

"You know that I'm no good." The voice dripped with venom. I turned my head to the left to see Jim in the doorway. He grinned, "Hello, my darling Nora."

"Hello, dearest. How was your day?"

"The usual. A few boring people with their boring problems. But there was one...one...extraordinary person."

I nodded knowingly. Sherlock Holmes, the man he obsessed over. "The good doctor was with him, I take it?"

"Watson's very predictable," Moriarty rolled his eyes. "But that's what makes my pet different from Sherlock's. You're not predictable, are you, Nora? Well, aside from the music. And, you really ought to listen to someone other than Miss Winehouse, pet. I'm starting to think you're unhappy with our relationship...that you're being unfaithful to me. Which I know isn't true, is it?"

My lips curled into a smirk and I turned my head back to the faucet. I always found it funny how quickly jealousy would set Jim off. A few days ago, it was the way a man eyed me in the street. Today, it was a simple Amy Winehouse song about cheating. It was times like this that I enjoyed having the upper hand for a moment, even if it was in the form of an answer.

Moriarty unbuttoned his Westwood jacket. "You're not with anyone else, are you? You and Seb, you haven't been mucking about, have you? You understand that you're my pet?"

Humming in acknowledgment, I looked down at the remaining suds.

"I said, do you understand, pet?"

I snapped out of my reverie. "Relax, Jim. You mustn't be so jealous all the time. I understand that I belong to you, and you alone and that, dearest, is something you must understand."

Moriarty crouched beside the tub before I realized how rude my statement was. "Nora..." his dark eyes glared into my hazels. "I'd advise you to watch your tone with me, or have you forgotten who I am and just what I can do to you?"

His hand dipped into the water and touched my inner thigh. I jumped at the feeling of his fingers against an oval-shaped scar no bigger than the size of my thumb left from skin graft surgery. I thought back to that night three months ago when I went out for my birthday. At the club, some man put his hands on my waist and ground himself against me while I was dancing. Jim, who was watching nearby, grabbed my hand and brought me straight home.

"You're mine. You are my pet! Do you understand? Mine. Only mine, and you're not keeping to our agreement! Sherlock keeps the kind doctor on a loose leash...lets his pet do as he pleases. But darling...I believe you should know by now that I," his lips pressed roughly against my ear, "am not as nice as Mr. Holmes."

With a flick of his cigarette lighter, he touched the flame to my tights. I tried to wriggle away but he had me pinned against the wall. He came to his senses only when I'd screamed loud enough. My tights melted to my skin and soon my skin was on fire. Moriarty flashed back to Jim. He frantically put me out. I cried out. He panicked, realizing the seriousness of what he'd done.

I didn't want to go through the surgery or feel pain like that again. Without hesitation, I carefully kissed him. Moriarty slowly faded to Jim. His greedy mouth took mine. His tongue forcefully entered my mouth and claimed me as his. I pulled away and stroked his cheeks with my thumbs. "I'm so sorry, Jim. I didn't mean it."

Jim searched my eyes. "Good girl." I knew he knew I was lying. I meant every word of it. I watched him stand straight and walk towards the bedroom. "Now, get out of the tub."

Doing as he said, I opened the drain and reached for the towel I'd left on the nearby hook. My heart pounded when I noticed it was missing. I swore in my head. Why did I have to snap at him like that?

"You won't be needing that pesky towel. Now, follow me, pet. I need to remind you who your master is."

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