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The consulting detective's apprentice

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Your P.O.V. 

‘And then, he told me I was lowering the IQ of the whole street.’ Anderson ranted angrily, and you faked a gasp.

‘How rude!’ You exclaimed, feigning to be shocked, but honestly you thought it was pretty hilarious.

You were in the heart of London; a woman had been murdered in her hotel room near Piccadilly circus. It had been a bloody affair, of course DI Lestrade and his team had been called in on this particular case. You didn’t think it was a very complicated one, but Lestrade seemed to believe otherwise.

You were new on the forensics team of Scotland Yard, you were bright, witty and highly underrated. Today, they weren’t planning on even letting you in on the crime scene, but you had been acting sickly nice to one of the most respected employees: Anderson. Though you did not understand why anyone could tolerate him, he was an absolute moron in your opinion. Anderson had started ranting about this Holmes fellow and you had pretended like you were interested, and like you agreed with his short-minded opinion so they would let you in on the murder site.

‘Exactly!’ He said desperate, stepping into the room were the woman’s body lay.

‘Excuse me but sir, it is my first day here and I really would like to practise a bit. May I?’ You said as nicely and respectful as possible. You saw Anderson think really hard, and he had probably figured out that if he was nice to you, you would listen more to him.

‘Yes of course, but don’t damage anything, I still need to analyse her body.’ Anderson said, and you forced a smile.

You wouldn’t find mistakes on a case even if it was presented to you on a silver platter.

‘I’ll be extremely careful.’ You said as you snapped on some rubber gloves and crouched down by the body.

Since you were new, and you actually weren’t allowed on this premises you hadn’t gotten one of those ridiculous white suits. You were aware that you had to wear those to prevent contaminating the evidence, but you had pulled your hair back in a bun and you were actually extremely careful with every move you made.

You scanned her body. She had been fairly beautiful, nothing out of the ordinary though. Her clothes indicated that she had cared about fashion and that she had been wealthy. She had really cared for her skin, as you still saw a small smudge of cream on the side of her jaw. Her well-manicured nails indicated that she had been doing a job with not too much physical implications. And you saw the extravagant makeup tools she had stalled on her table, so you guessed she had been into makeup. She was probably a model, or a wannabe

Then for the injuries, god, this murderer had been thorough. Her body had multiple cuts, incredibly deep on different parts on her body.

5 Cuts, deep knife. Some bits of rusts had been left around the edges of the wounds, but the were pretty clean, you guessed carbon steel. They were inflicted viciously, but controlled. There were 3 cuts on her torso, one across her pectoral muscles, grazing on her clavicle and two across her lower abdomen, cutting through all major organs. If she hadn’t died of the loss of blood she would’ve died because none of her normal bodily function wasn’t cut up.

2 other cuts were spread across her legs, one in each, tracing down her skin vertically and mirroring each other. If you hadn’t seen much gorier murders, you might’ve become sick at this one.

So the person was controlled while he inflicted these injuries on her, and she was helpless, unconscious? She hadn’t been tied up, obviously, so was it chloroform? You bowed closer to her face and smelled at it, no traces to find, but you could’ve missed it, obviously. So was she knocked out cold before this? She would’ve felt the pain but her body would’ve gone into a coma, so that’s probable.

Where did she come from? Maybe-

‘Excuse me, miss!?’ A loud voice bellowed and pulled you out of your concentration, you would’ve snapped at the angry guy but you weren’t in charge here. It could cost you your job, and this was a great job.

You looked around and saw that everyone of the forensics team had left, including Anderson. Right now DI Lestrade was looking at you angrily with his arms folded and a slight crimson tint on his cheeks. There were two men standing next to him.

One man had blond, almost grey hair and had a curious look on his face. He wore an incredibly fluffy grey knitted sweater which made him look cute, but something about him made you believe he wasn’t one to be messed with.

The other one really caught your eye. He had dark curls that framed his face, making it look even paler then it even was. His icy blue eyes pierced through you as his gaze went over your whole body, probably analysing, you thought. He was handsome, obviously. But in a cold, intelligent kind of way, maybe even mysterious with the whole cheekbone thing.

‘Yes sir?’ You asked evenly, you were just doing your job.

‘Can you explain me what you are doing here?’ He asked you, more controlled this time.

‘My job sir, I’m on the forensics team.’ You said without a bite to it, if you had applied a great amount of sass on that you would’ve been fired in a blink of an eye.

‘Ah, you’re her, well, you must go now.’ He said, not really interested anymore.

‘Excuse me?’ You asked confused, he was asking you to leave the crime scene without giving a report?

‘Our external expert requires solitude while working, so you need to leave the room.’ He told you and you balled your fists, this was your first day on the job and you were doing pretty well. But you relaxed instantly, there would be more cases, more opportunities, there was no use in screwing it up now.


Sherlock P.O.V.

She was intelligent, that much he could see. A bit dull on the outside, but he saw that was just a façade. You were polite, but you were aching to work on this case, you were bright-eyed and eager to find out every little secret about her murder.

He had been in a good mood today; it had always made him impulsive.

‘Will you be in need of a report?’ She asked Lestrade, with concealed annoyance. She was obviously making a choice for the long run, clever.

‘Yes, an objective party always seems to help in an investigation.’ Sherlock said politely, hoping to stimulate her interest for murder investigations. John had made him soft.

Her clear eyes fixed on him, and he saw as she analysed him for a second time. Her eyes squinted slightly but she nodded politely. Sherlock stretched out his hand and opened it, so she could put her notebook in it, but she just stared at it with a small frown.

‘Your notes, please.’ John said, seeing that the girl didn’t understand what his friend meant.

‘I had too little time to make notes, I was still observing.’ You said with constrained anger, reminding them they had interrupted her. Sherlock felt an urge to smirk, but repressed it. She had a strong sense of pride, but she was good at keeping it to herself. 

‘Well then, let me know what you thought.’ Sherlock said impatiently, he had been so incredibly bored the past few hours. John hadn’t sufficed enough with entertainment, and he needed someone to let out his frustrations. Obviously this average girl would make a mess out of it. 

‘Very well, are you interested in the medical facts or more in the ones that’ll point you to the killer?’ She asked, ever so polite.

She must’ve figured out that we were detectives, well that should speed things up.

‘The latter.’ Sherlock said, walking over to the opposite side of the body and snapping on some gloves for himself. The girl just nodded. 

She doesn’t like chitchat, lovely.

‘A carbon steel dagger was used for these five cuts. She died of the blood loss of her wounds, which were inflicted very carefully, so I’m suspecting a man with psychopathic tendencies-’ She said professionally but was cut off.

‘A man?’ Lestrade asked and Sherlock saw a slight grin spread on her face before it quickly fade away and she turned to Lestrade.

She does enjoy showing off her knowledge, not that she has much.

‘Most certainly, I smelled the manly cologne on her while searching for traces of chlorine.’ She told him and Sherlock had to be a bit impressed, this girl was slightly above average.

‘She could’ve been with a man before she was killed.’ John suggested and the girl slightly shook her head.

‘Obviously not, a woman so obsessed with her appearance wouldn’t have gone to see a man while dressed in jeans, no matter how expensive they were.’ Sherlock explained and the girl raised a brow at him, impressed, he guessed. She looked down and her eyes lingered on his hands.

‘Huh, violin.’ She whispered. And it caught Sherlock’s attention.

That was quite the deduction, I hadn’t expected her to be so advanced in this field.

But before he could ask any questions to her, he had to answer the detective’s.

‘That’s quite tricky Sherlock, just a guess, maybe she was different.’ Lestrade said and the girl had turned her attention back on the body.

‘They never are.’ She muttered, not thinking anyone would hear.

‘Who did it?’ John asked, and he looked up at him, not even with a smile.

‘Well?’ Sherlock asked the girl, who had stood up. He got up too, and looked a bit down on her, she had placed a hand on her chin and seemed to be deep in thought.

‘I’m not sure, but I think the most logical explanation is that she was running from a stalker and that’s why she stayed here temporarily.’ She said and Sherlock nodded, she was more interesting than he had initially thought.

‘She was fleeing? How did you know?’ Lestrade asked, and the girl smiled, lifting two similar keys.

‘She apparently lives in the same building as I do, and fleeing from someone is the most logical explanation for staying at a hotel in the same city as your home.’ She said with a big grin on her face, obviously proud.

‘Lestrade, whenever I’m called to a case, I want her to be there on forensics, ditch Anderson.’ Sherlock said to Lestrade, and a smile spread across her face. 

‘I can’t do that; Anderson has more experience then her.’ Lestrade counter argued and Sherlock heard the girl mutter a ‘heaven’s sake.’ to herself.

She thinks he’s stupid too, splendid.

 ‘I don’t care, do it.’ He said, while walking away and leaving them alone.


Your P.O.V. 

Somehow, that man, who had proved to be extremely intelligent had thought you were smarter than Anderson. His name was Sherlock, rather strange, but it suited him.

But Anderson’s stupid, so that isn’t the most difficult thing, really.

‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’ Lestrade said to you, mentioning for you to come along. 

He seemed pretty nice, fairly intelligent and friends with Sherlock, you decided that you would listen to what he said without any comments. Well, that is if his orders aren’t stupid. 

‘Check all her devices, if you find any traces of a stalker, he’s the killer.’ Lestrade ordered one of the police officers as you walked down the corridors towards the entrance.

‘Did freak solve it yet?’ A rather obnoxious police officer asked Lestrade as she walked beside him, giving you no attention whatsoever.

‘No, she did and he confirmed it.’ Lestrade sighed, not slowing down.

Freak? Did she refer to Sherlock? That was incredibly rude.

‘We’re going down the station to write an official report for this case, and you’re going to help me. Is that clear?’ Lestrade asked you and you nodded decisively, he was a good DI. 

The drive to the station was boring, and so was writing the report. You even showed off in it by writing down every detail you had noticed about her, from the most insignificant dust particle to the goriest parts of the inflictions. When you were done you sighed and handed it to Lestrade. He read through it and raised his eyebrows. 

‘I’m promoting you to the new head of forensics, you will be taking Anderson’s place.’ He said without looking up from the report, you took in a sharp breath.

‘Thank you, Sir.’ You said breathlessly, you had hoped you would receive some respect, but you had never dreamt of this.

‘Yeah yeah, you’ll have to thank Sherlock Holmes, not me. Now off you go.’ Lestrade said and you nodded quickly, leaving before he could change his mind.

You stepped into a cab and told the driver where to go to. Your phone ringed a single time and you looked on it to see who had texted you, it was an unrecognisable number.

Meet me at 221B Baker street, we have matters to discuss –SH

You looked at it, a bit stunned at first, but then you grinned, SH, it must be Sherlock Holmes.

‘Sir, could you change the route to 221 B Baker street?’ You asked the driver nervously and he looked surprised.

‘Off to Mister Holmes’s place? What have you gotten yourself into, lass?’ He asked you friendly and you smiled a bit awkwardly. 

‘Nothing, yet.’ You said and he laughed, a friendly silence descending between the two of you. At the end of the ride you paid him and said your goodbye quickly as you got out and took in your new surroundings. 

221…B… Ah! There you are!

You knocked on the door nervously, you were here to see mister Holmes, and you would tell the one who would open the door. Except if it was Sherlock himself, that would make no sense. But the door was quickly answered by a nice looking lady.

‘Good evening, I’m here to see Mister Holmes.’ You said politely to the elder woman, and you felt proud that you had asked it without stuttering.

‘Of course my dear, come in, It’s freezing outside.’ She said as she ushered you inside, you instantly liked her, she was like a sweet grandma that would hit anyone that didn’t accept her cookies.

‘Thank you.’ You said as you looked around, it was a cute house, rather home-y in your opinion.

‘Well, you’ll find him up the stairs. Then to the right, or follow the sound of the music, that’ll do too.’ She told you as she made her way to her apartment, you guessed that she had to do this a lot.

You walked up and heard the screeching sounds of a violin rebound against the old walls of this complex. 

Ha! I knew it was violin, great, that must’ve left him with quite the first impression of me. Now I’ll have to convince him that I’m as smart as he thinks I am, bollocks.

You timidly knocked on the front door, but the music never faltered. You were afraid he hadn’t heard it, but if he had and you would knock again you might come across as impatient and annoying. So you hesitated, but then knocked again, a bit louder.

‘For God’s sake Sherlock, I was in the bathroom.’ You heard the man scold muffled by the door, as he opened it and looked at you in surprise.

‘Oh, hello.’ He said to you, surprise written over his face, a blush crept on your cheeks as you realised Sherlock hadn’t told him you were coming. 

‘Good evening, Mr. Holmes contacted me to discuss something.’ You said shyly, and John smiled friendly.

‘I’m sorry if he caused you trouble; he can be an arse sometimes.’ John said to you as he stepped to the side, motioning for you to get in, you muttered a thank you and decided what to reply.

‘We haven’t been introduced yet, my name’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N).’ You said to him as you reached out to shake his hand, he quickly reacted by grabbing your hand and giving a firm shake.

‘John Watson, pleasure to meet you. That was quite the show you put on back in the hotel.’ He said to you approvingly and you smiled, planning on thanking him.

‘It wasn’t a show, John, she was merely solving a case. (Y/N), sit down, John will make you tea if you’d like that.’ He said quickly, and you nodded, sitting down.

‘I’d like to thank you for today, I’ve been promoted to head of forensics.’ You said as you smiled at him, he didn’t smile back, he just stared at you with those illuminating eyes.

‘You’re taking Anderson’s place?’ John asked as he gave you a cup of tea you hadn’t asked for, you felt awkward, but you managed to keep calm and relaxed on the outside.

‘I do believe so, yes.’ You told him politely, as you tried to ignore your sweaty palms and slight trembling. You saw that Sherlock frowned a bit.

‘How did you know about the violin?’ He asked you and you smirked, you had been prepared to this question and you felt confidence seep into your chest as you sat a bit straighter and held your mug less tight.

‘I noticed the hard skin on top of your right hand and prints from strings, which indicates you play an instrument, as I’ve seen many times before with myself. However, they weren’t in the right direction to be from a cello, so it was a violin.’ You said, and you saw John look in surprise.

‘What about a guitar?’ He asked you and you nodded slightly.

‘That’s true, I hadn’t considered a guitar, Mister Holmes just strikes me more like a classical music lover rather then guitar.’ You said, again with a polite smile.

‘You stopped trembling.’ Sherlock observed, and you looked down at your hands, seeing how the nervousness was taking over again. 

‘Don’t worry, it’s coming back.’ You said with a bit of a sad smile as you tried to steady the mug.

‘How bad is it?’ He asked you, and you immediately knew what he was talking about.

‘Could be worse, but it isn’t really something to be ignored.’ You shrugged it off, you didn’t want to spend too much attention to it.

‘What are you talking about?’ John said, completely lost.

‘Her social anxiety, John, obviously. Try to keep up please.’ He said curtly as you threw him an apologetic smile.

‘How?’ He asked Sherlock, ready to be baffled again.

‘She’s extremely timid, shy even, but only on certain moments. She was hesitant in knocking again, even though she knew I was expecting her, and most of her comments she says only to herself, even though they’re somewhat intelligent. That can only be caused by a fear of being wrong and being mocked at, also she’s quite jumpy.’ He said to John as he looked at you once again, you scoffed.

‘Do you blame me? I’m sitting on a sofa in the home of two strangers, of which one has acquired my phone number even though I haven’t given him it.’ You shot back at him without any sign of tremble of fear in your voice. Sherlock immediately leaped upward and pointed one of his elegant fingers towards you.

‘That’s it!’ He exclaimed while starting to pace around the apartment.

‘That’s what, Sherlock?’ John said annoyed to his friend.

‘You have the potential of not being an idiot, (Y/N), but you’re way too stupid at the moment to show it. Except when we were at the case, and when you get agitated.’ He told you and you were honestly surprised, he thought you could be more then and idiot, marvelous.

‘And what could I do to complete my transformation to a non-idiot?’ You asked him challengingly, with the slightest bit of sarcasm in your voice. All the comments you usually make in your head, or under your breath, you were shooting towards Sherlock, and it felt good.

‘Go with John and me to our cases, learn, observe.’ He said to you, his eyes seeing the last bit of your soul, or so it felt.

‘That’s actually a great idea, since I’m not always available anymore, do you live close?’ John asked you and you put all your sass back in your mind, you smiled a bit ruefully at him.

‘No, sorry, it’s almost a half-hour drive from my apartment.’ You told him, hoping that the offer of being Sherlock’s apprentice would still be on the table.

‘You are going to move in here, in John’s room. He doesn’t use it anymore since he moved out, and that way we’ll be quicker.’ Sherlock said, finally sitting down again and resting his head on one of his hands. 

‘John?’ You asked him, you thought that would be the politest thing to do.

‘I’m fine with it, really. There has to be someone with some manners that’ll keep an eye on him.’ John said with a small smile and you nodded thankfully.

‘Do you have a lot to move?’ He asked you and you shook your head.

‘Just my bag and some other things, I moved here about a week ago so I’m well-prepared, It’s kind of a coincidence.’ You said to the gentlemen in front of you.

Sherlock leaned forwards with a wolfish grin on his face, ready to make the statement that would determine whether you’ll stay or leave.

‘Dear (Y/N), the universe is rarely so lazy.’


I’m going to stay.

Chapter Text

Your P.O.V.

‘Oh dear, four boxes? Is that everything you’ve got?’ Ms Hudson asked as you unloaded them from the cab.

‘I just moved, and I really don’t need that much.’ You smiled at her as you took two of them and stared at the other ones quizzically, wondering how you would get them with you.

‘I’ll give you a hand.’ John said as he walked out of the building and picked up the boxes.

‘Thank you.’ You said with a smile as you walked in.

‘God, these are really heavy.’ He exclaimed in a groan as he walked up the stairs behind you you just grinned and opened the door to your room. You set down the boxes next to your bed, and John did the same.

‘What’s in them?’ John asked and you shrugged.

‘Some paint and brushes, nothing special honestly.’ You said casually as you took in the looks of the room, it was boring, but it was sufficient. You didn’t think you would be needing it much anyway these days, you had a feeling Sherlock Holmes did not like to sleep.

‘Ah, so you’re an artist?’ John asked behind you as you descended the stairs towards the living room.

‘Used to be, but I picked up forensics in Scotland and got a job offered here right away.’ You told him as you sat down on the sofa again, you liked this apartment a lot.

‘Love the decorations in here.’ You said with a small smile as you looked at the smiley with bullet holes in his face on the wall behind you.

‘Thank you, Sherlock did it himself.’ John grinned, but then turned his attention back to you.

‘But you graduated from university and they wanted you right away? That’s quite impressive!’ He told you, and you wanted to respond but you got cut off by Sherlock, who had just walked into the room.

‘Maybe Scotland Yard decided to hire someone who wasn’t completely stupid.’ He snapped, and by his dishevelled look he had just come out of bed, though it was already ten o’clock.

‘I think Lestrade is fine, honestly, not too bright but he keeps his men under control. Except for that one Lady, I think she’s rather annoying.’ You told them as you took out your notes and scribbled down that you had to unpack your things.

‘Dark hair? Awful voice? Refers to me as ‘freak’?’ Sherlock said bored, sitting in his chair and massaging his temples.

‘Yes exactly, is she in a relationship with Anderson?’ You asked and John chuckled a bit, while shaking his head.

‘Affair.’ Sherlock said with closed eyes and your mouth formed an ‘O’.


Sherlock P.O.V. 

There were no current cases that really seemed worth it, and he was so incredibly, amazingly bored. This conversation was mind-numbing and he felt the need to scream surged up in him.

He quickly stood up, muttering some recent conclusions from his experiments to himself, searching out the files that mattered from his science box in his mind palace. But he already knew all of that.

‘There has to be a case!’ He said, and faintly noticed how John said something to (Y/N).

(Y/N)! Maybe she was the source of new information he needed right now.

He turned to her and decided to deduce everything he could from her.

‘You are fairly intelligent, probably one of the brightest minds in the whole United Kingdom, not even close to my intelligence, however, but no one is. You have graduated from your latest study with the best ratings England has ever seen, that’s why you got the job. Your thoughts however are a complete mess; you suffer from social anxiety that prevents you from telling you what’s on your mind. That’s the reason why your last relationship ended badly, he broke up and you moved to London, conveniently. You are very composed, and you care what people think about you, extremely annoying. Furthermore, you are an orphan, with no living relatives left, you suffer from serious problems of solitude.’ He spit fired, expecting for her to act shocked or slap him across the face, or get mad like people usually do. But she just lifted her left eyebrow and leaned forwards, resting her head in her hands.

‘Wrong.’ She said and Sherlock turned to her, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes.


There’s always something.


‘Which part?’ He asked her, now really intrigued.

‘Boyfriend part and reason for moving to London.’ She said with a small smile, and Sherlock made a mental note that she had an odd reaction.

‘Stand up.’ Sherlock said, while at the same time sitting down in his chair, turning it facing his new apprentice. She stood up and he let his gaze slide over her, she didn’t seem to be bothered in the least.


That’s how you should be, careless for other people’s opinion, good.


He noticed how clean she was, overall she was impeccable, no stray hairs laid on her shoulders, and it looked like the clothes she was wearing were completely new, no small stains or rips. That could be because she was in forensics, and she knew how much leaving the smallest clue behind could influence a scene, but she hadn’t been accustomed to that for such a long time, she had just gotten her first job in this field. And her condition had to do with someone, someone had inflicted this on her…


Ah, interesting.


‘You wanted to be a forensics major for quite a long time, but you couldn’t be… because you had to care for someone, probably with a terminal illness. After they had passed away you decided to finish up your studies, and move to London because of the job offer.’ He said, and she nodded. Finally, he wasn’t used on getting it right on the second try

‘Do you mind me asking who it was?’ John asked carefully, and she smiled sadly, shaking her head.

‘My sister, Congenital Muscular Dystrophy, her muscle tissue disappeared until her organs couldn’t function anymore. It was slow and painful, and it took longer then expected.’ She told John, her voice was steady and professional. That indicated that she had still a great amount of emotion to deal with, but she preferred not to share it with anyone, this girl wasn’t so annoying.

‘And she wasn’t in the hospital?’ John asked curiously, he had heard from the disease but never had he met someone who had witnessed it, his doctor instincts were kicking in.


She isn’t annoying now, but if I treat her badly she will become frustrating very soon, she’s obviously too stubborn for her own good. I’ll make her tea.


Sherlock quickly stood up, walking to the kitchen and setting up a kettle of tea, he had recently learned how to make it after he was told that the morning tea didn’t make itself.

‘No, she was too stubborn. The doctors knew she wouldn’t make it for a long time and she didn’t want any medication to slow her down in her few years of life, she was quite special, always happy with the time that was given to her. However, in her last year she was bedridden, and I was her personal nurse.’ Sherlock heard her say from the living room, he noticed that you didn’t sound upset, or bothered while saying it, so you were a caring person.


Maybe she’ll survive me…


‘That must’ve been hard on you.’ John said, but before (Y/N) could answer Sherlock walked back.

He walked over to her with the cup of tea in his hand, he had just prepared it like she had asked John earlier. He extended his arm towards her, motioning for her to take the tea from him. She looked at him surprised, but as she saw his intense look at her she took the tea, realising it was exactly what she needed.


She hasn’t said thank you like an ordinary person would, but she noticed it, so it is enough.


‘Not that hard, I’ve heard her ranting for years how blessed I should feel with a true angel next to me, even for a short period of time.’ She grinned and Sherlock frowned.

‘Are you religious?’ He said with a slight disapproving tone.

‘Sherlock!’ John scolded him, but Sherlock ignored it.

‘Not myself, however I do understand why people would want to believe, it provides a great mental stability to someone who has it tough. Angel was meant more in a figurative way.’ She explained to him, and honestly he couldn’t comprehend how someone could believe in something that didn’t exist, but he just accepted it. He also locked this statement in a different box of his mind palace, so he could use it later.

‘It’s getting late, I think I should go home to Mary, she must be worried by now.’ John said with a polite smile, standing up from his chair.

‘It’s been a pleasure John, thank you for helping me lift those boxes.’ She said with a smile, still polite.

‘Bye John.’ Sherlock said simply, and he saw how John stopped a bit and threw him an incredulous look.

‘Bye, and it wasn’t so much, just two boxes. Until next time.’ He waved and quickly took off.


John’s P.O.V.  

‘Mary! I’m home!’ John yelled as he hung up his coat.

‘I’m in the kitchen!’ Mary answered and John walked to her, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

‘How was the moving, has she settled in yet?’ Mary asked, while looking up from her book.

‘She only had four boxes of small items, so it wasn’t really necessary to actually help.’ John grinned as he sat in front of her at the table.

‘What’s bothering you, love?’ Mary asked with a smile, John wore a small frown as he shrugged.

‘I’m not certain, but Sherlock made the girl tea while she was talking about what had happened to her in the past years. Apparently her sister passed away because of a fatal illness and she took care of her. And when I left, he actually bothered saying goodbye.’ John shook his head, not understanding this change in character.

‘Well, maybe she has good influence on him, she seems fairly nice don’t you think?’ She suggested, while casually looking at her book.

‘Mary, tell me you didn’t check her history.’ John said sternly, and Mary looked up with a guilty look on her face.

‘I’m sorry John but I had to check her out, she’s living with Sherlock after all.’ She defended herself, and John kind of understood, but he couldn’t keep up with the fact that he had no normal people around him at all.

‘I have to admit that is true, but please don’t do it again, alright? Or maybe she’ll get a heart attack when you slip out something while talking to her.’ John said desperately, his temperament rising up a bit at this invasion of privacy.

‘Not possible, I’ve read her medical rapports over the years, her heart condition is extremely healthy and stable.’ Mary said while shaking her head.



Your P.O.V.

You woke up groggily, you had gone to sleep almost right after John had left, you had felt absolutely exhausted.

The blinds didn’t block all the light that was shining through your window, and a ray ended on your face, annoying the bloody shit out of you.

‘Fuck off.’ You moaned as you turned around and laid a pillow on your head, but there was no turning back from it now, once you were awake, you would stay awake.

You sighed and sat up, throwing your legs on the side of your bed, you stood up and let out a loud yawn while stretching. You scratched your hip a bit and walked over to your closet, where you had put all of your clothes. You decided on changing before going downstairs, you didn’t know Sherlock well enough for him to see your ‘Fall out Boy’ Band shirt in which you slept.

You were too lazy to actually think of a good combination, so you threw on your black dress with a high cut. It hugged your figure until your middle where it flowed out carelessly, it made you look dressed up while you were actually just lazy and comfortable. Cool.

You walked down the stairs and yawned again, you hadn’t really woken up yet and you took the door that led to the kitchen to make yourself some breakfast. But as you put a piece of bread in the toaster you heard an unfamiliar female voice come from the living room.

‘So I told him that Mycroft would probably know what was going on with them, so he tried calling him, but Mycroft didn’t pick up. So I went looking for myself, and they have this really beautiful house I had never been to, so I was actually really nervous, right?’ She said. She sounded quite old, so it couldn’t be a girlfriend.

‘Very much so.’ An elderly male voice spoke and you guessed it was a couple, probably for a case.

But then you saw Sherlock, he was sitting on his chair with an extremely annoyed look on his face, like he couldn’t be bothered with this nonsense. But John had told you Sherlock normally sends people away if he doesn’t care, so why didn’t he now?

You took a peek around the corner, and you saw an elderly couple sitting on the couch. The eyes of the woman immediately shot to you, and you already regretted being curious.

‘Oh hello, who are you?’ She chirped, and you looked at Sherlock scared, he had opened his eyes and was now staring at you in full annoyance.

‘Good morning.’ You said nonetheless, light and polite, walking out of the kitchen with a small smile.

‘I think it’s time for you to leave.’ Sherlock said while shooting up from hi chair, quickly walking over to the couple.

‘Last time you also made us leave when your friend came over, we’re going to stay a wee bit longer to get to know your girlfriend.’ The woman said sternly and Sherlock sighed loudly.

‘No you’re not, you are leaving.’ Sherlock repeated and now the man shook his head.

‘Don’t tell us what to do son, we are interested in your life and we want to know if you are going to be married in a while.’ He said and you almost choked on your tea.

‘Calm down dear, you might scare her off.’ The woman said and your eyes widened.


Oh my bloody God, those are his parents.


A small giggle escaped from your lips and Sherlock threw you a murderous glance, you knew he was planning your death. But you also felt bad for him, now he had to explain that you weren’t his girlfriend, and he was obviously hoping they would leave. And yesterday he had been very nice to you, so you decided helping him out.

‘Sherlock, love, didn’t you have an appointment this morning?’ You said to him, and shot him a suggestive glance, hoping he would pick up on it.

‘Yes, I actually did.’ He said to you with a weary look.

‘Oh, we’ll return tomorrow then, we would really like to meet you.’ His mother said as she stood up.

‘Well, Sherlock is very busy this month, so if you wouldn’t mind we could talk now while he’s gone. I’d love to meet you, that way we won’t bother Sherlock, you know how he can get.’ You said with a grin, and Sherlock looked quite surprised to say the least.

‘Wonderful idea love, I see that Sherlock has chosen one who is as smart as she is beautiful.’ His mother beamed and you had to laugh at her enthusiasm, Sherlock had opened his mouth to say something back, but he appeared to have felt your burning gaze.

‘Very well, mother, father, it was nice seeing you again but I’m off to work.’ Sherlock said as you took John’s chair and scooted it closer to the coffee table so you would be able to converse well. He had already picked up his coat

‘Sherlock, where are your manners? Are you leaving without saying goodbye to her?’ His mother spoke offended and you smiled at her.

‘It’s really fine.’ You assured her with a warm smile, but she shook her head.

‘That’s not how we raised him.’ She said, and you wanted to sigh.


Leave it alone lady, Sherlock’s not all social manners, he has better things to do then to say goodbye to me, like fleeing from you.


You suddenly noticed a hand on your left side of your hip, that Sherlock apparently used to steady himself while he bowed forward and placed a quick kiss on your right cheek.

‘Goodbye.’ He said evenly, and walked away.

Pardon my French but what the actual bloody fuck.

‘Bye.’ You said with a smile, not breaking character.

‘Well, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?’ She said with a small smile and you laughed a bit, knowing how difficult it was for Sherlock.

‘You shouldn’t be so though on him, he treats me well in his own way, I don’t want him to do anything that he normally wouldn’t do.’ You objected, feeling the need to defend Sherlock, he had given you the tea, what obviously indicated that he had manners.

‘That’s very nice dear, now tell me, what’s your name?’ She asked. And a nervousness cause by your anxiety started creeping in.


Why did I do this again?


Sherlock’s P.O.V.

He was standing behind the door, listening to the beginning of the conversation, to make sure she wouldn’t say anything he didn’t want them to know.

‘Well, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?’ He heard his mother say to her, and her laugh.


She will never shut up about those useless manners.


‘You shouldn’t be so though on him, he treats me well in his own way, I don’t want him to do anything that he normally wouldn’t do.’ He heard her say, and he was taken aback a bit.

He wasn’t used to hearing positive things about himself in conversations he wasn’t a part of, and he knew that that was his own fault, but it still felt strange to be praised by someone.

He kind of liked it actually.

He quickly ran down the stairs and flew out of the apartment, whistling loud and holding up a hand to haul a cab. He was planning on going to the morgue to do some experiments, and then text her to ask her if they were gone. He didn’t know why she went with it, and was willing to stay with them, but he was certainly thankful that she did. He liked seeing them, but they could be so bloody dull.


Why didn’t she just say she lived with me on a platonic basis?


He arrived at the morgue and kept thinking on what your motives may be, he even got his file about you out of the box in his mind palace, but he couldn’t conclude anything from those facts. Emotions had always been rather difficult for him to link to events.

Molly was as squirmy as she always was, stuttering nervously while he proceeded concentrated on his experiments. At a certain point he stopped cutting the leg in front of him.

‘Molly, how do you figure out someone’s ratio behind their actions?’ He asked her, and she looked startled to say the least.

‘Isn’t that your whole job?’ She asked him, and Sherlock had to chuckle a bit, just like (Y/N) Molly could’ve been much successful if she wasn’t so awkward and insecure.

‘It is, but I mean something not murder related, more about emotions.’ He said and she thought about it for a second.

‘You just ask it, that way there can never be a miscommunication, that’s the source of all kinds of problems.’ She said, half determined and half wobbly, Sherlock threw her a quick smile.

‘Thank you Molly, I’ll be going now, Bye.’ He said as he turned around quite dramatically and walked away. While he got into the cab and told the driver where to go, he received a text.


The coast is clear –your girlfriend


‘Could you go to 221 B Baker street, please?’ He asked the driver who just nodded and changed the route, he didn’t care. 

When he arrived he felt calmer then when he did before, it felt so stupid now, why would he get worked up on the actions of one human? Useless. 

‘Ah, you’re back, hi.’ She said with a smug grin on her face, as soon as Sherlock walked in to the room, he took off his coat and looked at her wearily.

‘Thank you for listening to them the whole time.’ He said evenly, measuring your reacting.

You just shrugged, while sitting on the carpet crossed-legged. There were two chairs, and a sofa, but you chose to sit on the floor, Sherlock paid a bit attention to this small decision.

‘It was my pleasure.’ She said carelessly, while continuing her scribbling in her little notebook.

‘Why did you do that?’ He asked curiously, sitting in his chair.

‘Hmm?’ She asked, looking at him for a few seconds before returning to her drawing.

‘Why did you offer to be with them this morning?’ He asked again, a bit impatient now. She looked up and seemed to be waging multiple options in her mind.

‘Well, I was the one who peaked their interest, you might’ve gotten rid of them easier if I hadn’t barged in so rudely, so it’s part my fault. And It was a little thank you for yesterday’s tea.’ She said, while twirling her pencil through her fingers, and Sherlock nodded a bit.

‘You could also have said that we aren’t together.’ He replied and she nodded.

‘Of course, but then they know that I live with you in a house, without a relationship.’ She said like it was a bad thing.

‘So?’ He asked and you looked a bit awkward.

‘Well, when a guy and a girl live together without a relationship… It leads to many questions with people…’ She said, trying to put it into words, she was clearly struggling.

‘Why do you care?’ Sherlock asked her and she frowned a bit.

‘I don’t know.’ She said, sounding unsure of herself.


And that, dear (Y/N), is the root of all of your problems.


‘You shouldn’t care, you should never care what people think about you, especially if you’re as smart as you are.’ Sherlock said, and she nodded to herself, but then tilted her head towards him.

‘Not even good people?’ She asked, and Sherlock shook his head.

‘Not even good people, however, you can choose a few who do matter, I think that is what happened to me.’ He said, careful to not sound hypocritical, he knew that John had made him soft. If he hadn’t, she wouldn’t have been here, he wouldn’t have wanted to help her, even if it were for his own benefit.

‘I’ll work on it, thank you for the advice.’ She said with a smile towards him, and he noticed that this was one of the first honest smiles she had made since he first saw her.

‘And don’t give in to social pressure, if you don’t feel like doing something though other people expect it from you, you shouldn’t. Like smiling.’ He said, not really understanding why he was telling you all of this, but to his surprise she just nodded and wrote it down in her notebook.

‘Okay, got it.’ She said, grinning up to him.


Strange, I’m feeling oddly satisfied, perhaps because I helped her? Can’t be.


‘Are you hungry?’ Sherlock asked, thinking of what he would want to eat this late afternoon.

‘Starving.’ She said while standing up and brushing the dust off her dress, she stopped when she was impeccable again.

‘Shall we go out?’ He asked her and she nodded, looking down at her clothing.

‘I’ll change then; a dress may seem much to formal.’ She said, making a move towards her room.

‘(Y/N)’ Sherlock said threating, a bit disappointed that she had already forgot what she had just learned.

‘Sorry Sherlock, force of habit.’ She told him, clearly regretting that she had said it.

‘It’ll take you some time, but I’ll point out every time you make a mistake.’ He said, but tried to enlace some kindness in his voice.

‘That’s fair.’ She answered while shrugging on her coat, walking down the stairs.

‘Is there anything particular I should know about my parents?’ Sherlock asked her conversationally, he didn’t know why but he enjoyed talking to her.

‘Well, your father expects us to get married within a month, but I already told him that that wasn’t going to happen. He has serious problems with his hip, but he himself doesn’t care. Your mother is getting fed up with him losing stuff, apparently you have a brother, by the way, who has been incredibly rude in their opinion. They are under the impression that you lack a lot of manners too, but I honestly couldn’t understand that.’ She said quickly, and Sherlock smiled to himself, she had remembered all of this so he wouldn’t get into trouble later, sweet.

‘Well, I am quite rude.’ He said as he opened the cab door for her, she looked at him pointedly and rolled her eyes.

‘I think everyone is exaggerating, honestly you are not so bad at all.’ She huffed, Sherlock grinned and told the driver the address of the restaurant.

‘That’s because you haven’t known me for so long, and I can tolerate you.’ He told her and she gave him a ‘good point’ look, after which he smiled.

‘Sherlock, why are you helping me?’ She asked him, and he noticed he liked the way she said his name, it was without annoyance or anger like he was used to hear, just curiosity and kindness.

‘That’s something I have yet to figure out.’ He replied with a smirk, and she chuckled.

‘Well, thank you anyway, I hadn’t expected to make a friend so quickly.’ She said with a smile as she looked out the window, glancing towards the people and the buildings that were passing by.


Friend? She has known me for one bloody day.


‘Friends?’ Sherlock asked her, taking Molly’s advice and just ask why she thought that. She looked at him and a small blush crept on her cheeks.

‘Y-yeah, I mean you are helping me and we’re living together so I just thought-’ She said nervously, her anxiety taking over as she thought she had made a social mistake.

‘No, I don’t mind at all, I just don’t make friends that easily.’ He assured her, feeling responsible for her flustered state, he really hated it when she became insecure. They said you should accept a person for who he is, but he really wanted to change your ego, way too small.

‘Neither do I.’ She said and he nodded at her, looking out of the window.

‘Do you ever wonder what’s it like to be normal?’ She asked Sherlock, and he didn’t have to think about it.

‘No. Boring.’ He said confidently, and she smirked a bit at his statement.

‘Maybe, but happy.’ She said softly and he looked at her.

‘Aren’t you happy?’ He asked her, feeling a bit sad that someone who was kind and respectful to everyone, and who had intellect hadn’t received the happiness she deserved.


‘Not yet, but I’m working on it.’  

Chapter Text

Your P.O.V.

‘Oh, excuse me do you mind?’ You asked Sherlock politely when your phone started ringing.

You were sitting together at the Italian restaurant Sherlock had picked, you were half way through your main course and the ambiance was nice. Sherlock told you about the cases he had solved, and you loved it how his eyes started to sparkle and his hands moved when he showed off a bit, though he didn’t leave the details behind he couldn’t make sense of. He was telling you about John and Mary’s wedding when your phone went off, the only reason you had left it on was in case someone from work called.

‘Not at all.’ He answered and you picked it up.

‘Hello?’ You said, you didn’t recognise the number on your screen.

‘Hi, It’s Greg, we’ve got a murder and you need to come over immediately, I’ll text you the address.’ He said, clearly sounding stressed and out of breath.

‘I’ll be there in a second.’ You answered and hung up, looking apologetically at Sherlock.

‘I’m sorry, but Lestrade called. There’s been a murder and I need to come over.’ You told him, you felt incredibly bad for leaving him at the restaurant, but there was no other choice.

‘There’s a case?’ He asked you, his eyes shining with excitement, you grinned a bit.

‘Has he texted you?’ You asked him and he frowned a bit.

‘No.’ He answered and you nodded.

‘Until he does, it’s his case, if you walk in it’ll damage his authority and his ego.’ You said to him as you stood up and paid the waiter, Sherlock had wanted to do that but he was currently thinking about what you had just said.

‘But he always calls me for cases.’ He said while following you out of the restaurant.

‘No Sherlock, he solves most of them alone.’ You told him with a smile.

You received Lestrade’s text and looked up to Sherlock, and he was frowning, clearly upset with this current information.


Thanks, do you mind if Sherlock tags along? He won’t be a burden; he’s teaching me how to deduce. –(Y/N)


Fine, but I’ll send him away if I have to –Greg


‘Come on, Sherlock, hop in.’ You said to him from inside the cab, he quickly sat down and you gave the cabbie the address.

‘You’ll have to be good boy, but I persuaded Greg to let you come along.’ You said to him and he started smiling wickedly, grinning at you like a little boy.

‘Who’s Greg?’ He asked you after five minutes of comfortable silence.

‘…Greg Lestrade?’ You said unsure of yourself, he must know him, right? 

‘Isn’t he called George?’ Sherlock asked you with squinted eyes and you gave him a perplexed look.

‘No Sherlock, his name is Greg, and he’ll send you away from the scene if you misbehave so you’ll have to be as polite as possible to all of them.’ You said to him. 

‘Not if they behave like idiots.’ Sherlock muttered under his breath and you chuckled.

‘Even then.’ You said with a fond smile, he was acting slightly childish and it was adorable.

‘I do not understand why I would have to care about their feelings.’ He said stubbornly, slightly pouting while he crossed his arms and looked outside.

‘You don’t, but it’ll all be easier if they dislike you less. They won’t try to backstab you, they will immediately call you with a slightly difficult case, et cetera.’ You told him sternly, he had to understand that treating others well was for his own good.

‘I’ve survived this far.’ He shot back at you and you sighed.

‘Maybe, but either Donovan or Anderson has tried to screw you over at least once, right?’ You said to him, but he was staring out of the window.

‘They did blame me for a murder once, things escalated and I pretended to be dead for two years.’ He said casually and you looked at him disturbed. 

The cabbie laughed a bit and shook his head, he honestly didn’t seem surprised.

‘Wait, are you lying to me?’ You asked him with one raised eyebrow, and he was contemplating whether to answer.

‘Ma’am, if I may, Mister Holmes is considered a celebrity around here and I can confirm that everybody thought he was dead for two years.’ He told you with a shit-eating grin as your mouth popped open.

‘Well, now I understand why people consider you rude.’ You laughed, while sending a wink at Sherlock, and to be honest, he just looked extremely confused.

‘We’re here.’ You said, as you became serious again, thanking the cabbie and paying him and asking him to wait for you, this wouldn’t take very long. You stepped out of the car and walked over to the house where Lestrade stood. 

The place where you were currently standing was one of London less safe neighbourhoods, to say the least. And the small house you were standing in front of was small, old and badly maintained. But there were no police cars, no sirens and no police tape. Just Lestrade.

‘Lestrade, what’s wrong?’ You asked him with a frown, noticing that there was something off.

‘The actual scene is further ahead, but that location doesn’t have an address so I texted you this one.’ He explained, and he started pacing away, on an asphalt road that went through a pasture that started right next to the house. 

You followed him quickly and noticed how Sherlock hadn’t said a word, you shot him a glance but he was looking at the ground, caught in his own thoughts.

After five minutes of walking you finally reached the place where 4 police cars were standing and were tape had set off a surface of approximately 6 square meters. In this surface was a part of a ditch, and you glanced in it.

There was lying a cold, white body of a teenage girl, thrown in the ditch like some useless piece of garbage. Slowly, you felt your body go cold as ice, your heart started burning just like your eyes and you felt a lump in your throat.

You quickly walked over to the police car with the forensics supplies and put on gloves, and the other gear that was officially required. You turned around to the other forensics.

‘Listen to me, I’m going to give the body a once-over, pointing out the most obvious aspects that could’ve caused to her death. From there I’ll assign you particular tasks based on your speciality. Understood?’ You said sternly, and you saw how the four people nodded decisively, only Anderson wavered a bit. 

‘Understood?’ You asked again, looking at him and he looked a bit scared back at you.

‘Yes madam.’ He answered you, but you didn’t want to waste any second now. So you walked over to the ditch and slid in, crouching closer to the body.

She was probably 16, or something around that age. Blond hair that was now smudged and dirty, missing strands on a few places, so she had been taken by force. There were bruises littering her barely clothed body, her T-shirt was ripped open at certain places and her jeans weren’t pulled back on properly. You already knew what had happened more or less. You investigated the wounds on her body, she had a large amount of bruises scattered around her skin, but the most prominent ones were on her throat.

You looked at her face, no pale and drained from life, with a cut lip and a black eye. She had been beautiful once, very beautiful. You felt sick at this sight, but you kept looking for clues like you had to do. You felt yourself go emotionless, but at the same time the roaring fire in your heart started spreading through your body, making you extremely angry.

You stud up and tried to figure out how to climb out of the ditch, when a pale hand stretched out to you, Sherlock looked at you just as emotionless as you felt, but you took it and he helped you out.

‘The Girl’s name is Anastasia Cunnington, 15 years old and lived in London, I found her ID in her shoe, she must’ve hidden it there. She was raped, and strangled. I don’t know for sure if she was drugged but we’ll have to conclude that out of the report that my team will assemble. There won’t be any traces of fingerprints because of the water that passed over her when it rained.’ You told Lestrade, and he nodded grimly.

‘I’ll interrogate her family and friends, maybe we can figure out where she went and what happened. Do you know anything about the suspect?’ He asked you and you shook your head.

‘I know it’s a grown man, only he could have the strength to inflict those bruises on her. I’m still in the dark whether it was one person or…multiple.’ You said hesitantly, not liking that you didn’t know.

‘Sherlock, do mind taking a quick look at the body to see if you can speed up the investigation? I want to get this bastard as soon as possible.’ Lestrade asked and Sherlock nodded curtly, walking away to find out something for himself.

‘Have you ever seen him so…quiet?’ You asked Greg, you didn’t know Sherlock for long but you had heard that he liked solving cases and that he would always be happy with them. But right now you could find nothing of all that back in his personality.

‘Never, but he isn’t heartless nor soulless, especially after being with John for so many years, I guess he finally found a case that didn’t make him happy.’ He said, and you nodded slightly, turning away to talk to your team and tell them what to do.

They would look for drugs, list all the wounds that were inflicted on her body and do an overall fact list about the state she was in. That way you could reconstruct what had happened to her and find the one who did it faster. Your Job was done here, you could’ve helped more if there were more clues on her, but it was now up to the specialists.

You walked back and heard someone pacing up behind you, but you weren’t in the mood to talk, you just needed to calm down. But the person walked right besides you and you noticed it was Sherlock.

‘Separate cabs?’ He asked and you nodded.

‘Yes please.’ You said as you walked besides him back to the main road, there the cab you took here was till waiting.

‘You take this one, I’ll phone another.’ Sherlock said, while taking his phone out of his pocket.

‘No, I insist on you taking this one, I don’t mind waiting, and I need some air anyways.’ You told him, and he started shaking his head.

‘There is air in the cab, get in.’ He said impatiently, and you frowned and took a step back.

‘No, stop being so difficult.’ You said to him, now pissed, and his eyes shot up to yours.

‘I’ve just seen the lifeless body of a kidnapped, raped and murdered girl. I am not going to leave you alone in these parts, and I am not going to discuss it with you. Get in.’ He spat at you angrily, and you felt slightly taken aback for his concern. You wanted to apologize, but his phone rang and he took the call quickly. 

‘What?’ He asked, still angry, and he seemed to grow more annoyed by the second.

‘I’m not leaving her behind here- I don’t care that you are going to pick her up.’ He now shouted, really raging against the person on the phone.

‘Now is a really bad timing Mycroft.’ He threated, and you recalled Mycroft being his brother, but you didn’t understand what they could be talking about. 

‘Yes, sentiment. Now shut up and piss off.’ He ended the call and took you by the arm, dragging you to the cab.

‘We’re going back home immediately.’ He said with a burning fire in his eyes, you just let yourself be dragged and didn’t complain. There was something going on that you didn’t understand and he was trying to protect you, so you wouldn’t say a thing and trust him.

‘221 B Baker street.’ He said at the driver, who probably had felt the mood swing in the car as he quickly drove away, trying to get this over with.

There was a 5-minute silence in which you let Sherlock cool off, then you put a hand on his shoulder, to get his attention. He turned to you with an annoyed look on his face.

‘Are you alright?’ You asked him concerned and his features softened, he nodded.

‘I’m sorry for being so stubborn, you were just trying to help me and I shouldn’t have snapped at you the way I did.’ You apologized to him, truly feeling bad for being so stupid when he actually just cared about you.

‘It isn’t your fault; you have the right to question my reasons. It is good that you do, it means you’re thinking.’ He said evenly, his voice now calm and reserved.

‘Just not enough.’ You said with a small smile and he chuckled, nodding a bit.

You got to Baker street and you felt relieved that you were finally home, however, Sherlock froze right in front of the door, turning around towards you.

‘(Y/N), there is someone inside, and he won’t harm us physically, but if I tell you to do something you’ll have to follow my orders immediately.’ He told you sternly, while looking into your eyes with that intense stare of his.

Even though you were a bit distracted by the light shade of his eyes, you managed to nod, keeping some of your thoughts together. You weren’t used to people having this kind of effect on you. And you saw Sherlock’s movements also stutter a bit as he turned around and opened the door. You followed him, taking off your coat and leaving it at the entrance.

When you came in to the living room of your apartment, a man was sitting there, looking at Sherlock intently. You didn’t know how to describe him; it all was just a tad bit…odd…

‘It took you long enough, I thought I would be waiting for you all evening.’ He said, sounding posh and like he was superior to you.

‘I don’t think we’ve met yet.’ You said icy, your annoyance about this timing, especially what you had just witnessed had turned you confident for a minute. You were able to sass whatever you wanted, without anxiety screaming in your head that everyone hated you.

‘I believe not. Mycroft Holmes.’ He said to you as he stood up and stretched his arm towards you.


Ah, the rude brother.


‘Ah, Sherlock’s brother, I’ve heard much about you. I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).’ You said, your voice still even and your face emotionless.

‘I hadn’t expected Sherlock to tell anything about me.’ He said with a small smile and a raised eyebrow.

‘Oh no, Sherlock hasn’t told me anything, but I did have a nice chat with your parents.’ You said with a slightly triumphant smile, and you just felt Sherlock smirk besides you.

‘What are you doing here, Mycroft?’ Sherlock asked with an edge to his voice, he didn’t have a lot patience left for today.

‘I wanted to discuss some things with your… girlfriend.’ He said, the last word emphasized with a look once over, disapprovingly, like you were a disease.


 Hold up, what did that wet fucking sock just do? Does he want to play dirty? because I’ll kick his stupid arsehole so hard the doctors will have to get my toes out of his teeth. Psh, looking at me like that, rude.


Even though your mind was racing with bloody thoughts about murder and abuse towards this narcissist, you kept incredibly calm, your anger setting in like a cold fire.

‘I might’ve agreed to that, however I want to recommend you to purchase some sort of book, educating you about manners first, Mister Holmes. So I want to politely decline.’ You said, calmly, not showing any signs of anger, you wouldn’t let him get you all worked up.


Guess Sherlock received all the good genes from the parents.


‘I can assure you I know everything about manners, (Y/N).’ He said to you, looking rather pleased with himself.


Bitch I’ll wipe that smug grin off your face within a fraction of a second.


‘In that case I’ll have to ask you to step off your high horse before speaking, and insulting me again. Also, it’s Miss (Y/L/N) for you, Mister Holmes. Now if you would excuse me.’ You said, remaining calm and ignoring the urge to throw him out of a window, and walking to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea, so you could actually calm down.


Queen of passive aggressive trash talk, love, do not try to challenge me.


But the moment you felt the adrenaline leave your body, images of the girl started shooting back in your mind, and you felt yourself become nauseous again. You quickly put down the mug you were holding and you ran to the bathroom, emptying whatever was in your stomach in the toilet.

When you were done, and you felt like the contents of your stomach had all been ejected you flushed the toilet and stood up to wash your mouth. You did with warm water from the tap and soap, and after that you brushed your teeth. You felt better, honestly.

‘Can I do anything for you?’ Sherlock asked with a frown from the doorway, he was a bit unsure about himself, you could hear from his voice.

‘No thank you, I’m fine now, just got overwhelmed.’ You said with a shaky smile, and saw how he looked down at your hands.


Fuck, at this rate I could apply for a job as vibrator. Stop trembling you stupid hands.


‘I’ll make you some tea.’ He said while turning around and walking to the kitchen.

‘Sorry for being rude to your brother.’ You said a bit ashamed, now that your anger had subsided you realised how inappropriate your behaviour had been.

‘You weren’t rude, you were calm and composed, he was just acting like a bloody moron. I’m glad you said something about it.’ He said to you, and you nodded thankfully at him, you honestly felt bad. He was putting water in the kettle, and you leaned against the counter.

‘Is your brother as smart as you are?’ You asked him and Sherlock shrugged.

‘In his opinion he is smarter.’ He answered, not sounding like he cared to much. You figured family had never been very important to him.

‘I didn’t know that that was possible.’ You said with a sigh, not really paying attention to what you said or how he reacted.

‘Have you had more cases like this?’ You asked him as you walked to John’s chair and sat in it, rubbing your temples, hoping to get rid of the headache.

‘No, they never asked me to do this type, I’m more useful in cases that involve well-thought murders with unclear motives.’ He said as he brought you the tea. You thanked him and wrapped your hands around the mug, gently blowing at the warm substance. 

You were lost in thought, all kinds of images and motives shooting through your head, trying to make sense of what had happened, and how it had happened.

‘I’ve never gotten this emotionally invested in a murder.’ You said softly, your eyes still fixed on the window, your mind going in every possible direction. 

‘It’s natural, as long as it doesn’t cloud your thinking.’ Sherlock said slightly harsh, and it helped you to fixate on the things that mattered.

‘Tomorrow the reports will be done, I’ll go fetch it and bring it back here.’ You said while sipping from your tea.

‘That’s illegal.’ Sherlock said with so much apathy in his voice that you wondered why he had even opened his mouth.

‘I’m the head of forensics now, they won’t fire me.’ You said with a light shrug, knowing that the indeed could fire you, but that you and Sherlock were the ones that could wrap this up ten times as quickly as any other detective. 

‘Probably.’ He said, seeming to be lost in thought himself. 

There was a silence in which you two relaxed, thinking back about all that had happened today.

‘Sherlock, how come that your brother is a complete arsehole?’ You asked seriously, and he snickered a bit.

‘Must be something that runs in the family.’ He said, while sipping from his tea, you shook your head.

‘You aren’t anything near an arsehole, and your parents were lovely too.’ You said to him, looking at his face, taking in the way he looked. You were still figuring out who he was, and what his personality was, Sherlock Holmes was intriguing. 

‘Are you calling me lovely?’ He asked you with a raised eyebrow, and you grinned.

‘I guess I don’t know any better.’ You said with a smile, and he smiled back, like genuinely smiled back, and you felt goose bumps rise on your skin. You sighed, trying to gain back the control of your body, he would obviously notice it if you were starting to behave like a little schoolgirl with a crush.

‘Do you mind if I paint you?’ You asked him, your head slightly tilted, and he frowned.

‘Excuse me?’ He asked you, putting down his tea and leaning forward with a frown on his face.

‘Paint you, I like to paint a lot, especially people. And you’re very interesting, if you don’t want it you just have to say it, it’s okay.’ You said, shrugging a bit, but feeling let down.

Capturing Sherlock in a 2d work with all the right emotions and shades would’ve been a true challenge, besides, it would give you an excuse to stare at him a bit more. You had the feeling like you have never actually seen him, because staring longer then three seconds would be suspicious.

‘No, it’s fine, but will I have to do something?’ He asked, a bit concerned about what he was getting into.

‘Not at all, sometimes you’ll just see me sketching a bit, and you shouldn’t freak out when you see five pages of my dummy filled with sketches of your face.’ You said with a lopsided grin and he nodded. 

‘Do you mind showing me one of your works?’ He asked you, curiosity sparked in his eyes. 

‘Not at all.’ You said, feeling a little bit uncomfortable with it, but you were going to paint him, so you guessed it was fair.


Sherlock P.O.V. 

She walked to her room to grab her painting, and it gave Sherlock time to think about what she just asked him. He wasn’t used to people giving him this kind of attention, sure John was interested most of the time, but he wasn’t exactly as gentle as she was.

She came down again, looking a bit unsure of what she was about to show. But Sherlock wouldn’t stop her, she needed to get over her insecurities, because they were based on nonsense. Well maybe she was a really bad artist, he didn’t know yet. The painting she was about to show him might look like an abomination, and he would honestly tell her if it did.

‘Place it on the couch.’ He said to her and she raised an eyebrow, but did as he asked her to.

He stood up and sat behind the low coffee table on the ground, now looking up a bit at the canvas that was placed two meters in front of him.

Ellie's portret

He didn’t know if he liked it, he had never had much association with art, but it did make him feel something. The painting was of a little girl, her features were slightly pained, but hopeful. An intelligent look came out of her green eyes, and her hair was sloppily put into a low ponytail. Weird kind of veins, were painted across the canvas. 

‘What are those?’ He asked, and she immediately knew what he meant.

‘That how I imagined the disease taking over my little sister’s body, that’s her, Ellie.’ She said, affection clear in her voice, she didn’t even sound sad, but her tone was filled with love.

The colours created a warm glow to it, engulfing the being of the girl, her character was displayed perfectly, and Sherlock was sure he could deduce from this painting. The technique itself was also perfect, and it looked like she could step right out of this painting.

Sherlock didn’t know what to say, he didn’t think it was beautiful, it was more then that. He had to admit he wanted to meet the little girl after seeing this, she looked interesting, clever and different. He stood up and took the canvas, then climbing on the couch and taking off the blue and white skull painting off the wall and replacing it for Ellie’s painting.

Sherlock stepped back and looked if it looked alright, and he nodded to himself, it fitted perfectly with everything else. He looked at his flatmate, to see what her reaction was, and she was staring at the painting with her head tilted and a small smile gracing her lips.

She was beautiful, obviously, her looks were impeccable and her face showed classic beauty, but that was what anyone could see. But Sherlock thought She was beautiful, the girl herself, he liked looking at her and he liked talking to her.


That means I want to be her friend…



Chapter Text

Your P.O.V.

Oh fucking hell that’s just dandy isn’t it? I really have to change those goddamn curtains if I don’t want to get a sunburn in my sleep, or if I want to get any sleep at all.

You opened one eye and groaned loudly, currently being seriously moody. But then again, you normally were in the mornings, you loathed them. You stretched in your bed, and made some moves to wake up.


I wake up. Flawless.

Post this. Flawless.

This girl. Fla- Oh fuck not so much.


You had gotten up and walked to your mirror, getting a lowkey heart attack from your own sight. You guessed you should stop singing flawless in your head as long as you hadn’t brushed your hair, or even better, you really needed a shower.


But first breakfast, I’m absolutely famished.


When you opened your door you suddenly heard the high notes of a violin playing, and you remembered that Sherlock played that instrument. A small smile crept on your face as you took your little drawing book, or dummy and walked down the stairs as silently as possible. 

When you walked into the living room, Sherlock was sitting down in his chair, with his eyes closed, playing the violin. You didn’t make a sound as you sat on the coffee table and started drawing, you wanted to capture this moment perfectly, in your opinion this was the best way to picture him, passionate. Sherlock seemed to be too caught up in playing to notice you were there, and when you had drawn him as detailed as possible, you closed your book.

His eyes flew open and stared right at you, and you quickly grabbed your book, deciding that you wanted to paint him with his eyes open, they were one of his best features, really.

His eyes shot towards the book after you had laid it down again. And you seemed to catch his train of thoughts.


Oh you little shit, that’s not going to happen.


‘No peeks at the sketches before I have finished the painting, that would spoil everything.’ You scolded him, trying to chase that thought out of his head.

You walked to the kitchen to get yourself some breakfast, and the moment you had turned your back on the living room, your spidey-senses started tingling and you spun around.

‘Sherlock.’ You said loudly, before you even saw what he was doing, but you quickly readjusted and saw how Sherlock’s hand was laying on top of your sketchbook. He hadn’t made a noise, but he had put down his violin, he had walked to the coffee table and he had attempted to see what you had been drawing.

He had frozen the minute you had screamed his name, but now his hand was moving slightly to the corner, planning on opening it up. All through this dramatic scene he was looking at you intently, he was like one of those arsehole cats on the internet.

‘I’m warning you.’ You said, moving your hand to the left and feeling what kind of object was there and feeling your hand wrap around a relatively small, cold thing. Probably the tin can you had seen last night, however, you weren’t planning on checking it because you were still looking at Sherlock intently, not wanting to lose your little staring contest.

‘You want to attack me with an extra small cookies jar?’ He asked you calmly, his voice a little bit raspy since he hadn’t used it today yet.

‘You’ll be surprised how well I can throw.’ You said to him, and he slightly squinted his eyes, analysing your posture and estimating if you were bluffing or not.


I’m certainly not talking trash love; I’ll throw this can with a ferocity that’ll knock you out.


‘You wouldn’t.’ He said, and your eyebrow shot up.

‘Are you challenging me, William Sherlock Scott Holmes?’ You said to him with a smug grin on your face, you had definitely remembered some juicy details from your chat with his parents. His face now looked annoyed, and the tips of his fingers closed around the edge of the book, now slight panic started to bubble up in your chest.

‘I swear to Dobby’s grave there will be grave consequences if you dare to open that sketchbook.’ You threatened him, and when he moved his fingers even closer to the opening you threw your cookie jar towards him, knowing he would be able to avoid it. But in the time he needed that you leaped forward, closing the space between you, you had seen how he had picked up the book quickly, not giving up yet.

You tried to snatch it out of his hands, but he was a bit to quick every time. He spun around and turned his back on you and you jumped on it, wrapping your legs around his waist as you tried to grab it with frantic motions. You weren’t able to actually hold it, but he didn’t have the opportunity to open it either.

‘huh-uhm.’ Someone cleared their throat from the open doorway and both your heads shot to see who it was.

A perplexed looking John Watson was standing there, with an unbelieving look at his face as he saw the scene before him. A grown up, world famous detective was holding a small book in his hands, probably not his since he had an also grown up woman on his back like a monkey trying to grab it.

You tried to take this opportunity to grab it, since he was looking at John, but you threw your weight too much forwards as both of you tumbled over. You harshly hit the ground, but as soon as the impact had slightly lessened, so in 5 seconds, you crawled forwards and got a hold of your book out of Sherlock’s hand and held it close to your stomach, curling around it and hissing at the detective.

‘Excuse me, did you just hiss at him?’ John asked, with one eyebrow raised, and serious sass was evident in his voice.

You just looked at him, and the current situation was dawning in on you. You were sitting on the ground in a grey tank top and long plaid pyjama pants, and you wanted to pat your back at thinking of another way to sleep this night then in your usual oversized shirt and panties, that would’ve been awkward. You felt that your hair was sticking in every possible direction and you were slightly panting from all the fast moves and concentration.

You stood up and brushed yourself off with the hand that wasn’t occupied, then you stepped to Sherlock, who was sitting crossed-legged on the ground next to you with crossed arms, looking incredibly pissed. You stretched out your hands towards him, and even though his expression didn’t change, he did take your hand and let you help him get up even though he didn’t need it.

‘Good morning John, may I offer you a breakfast?’ You said to him with a light tone in your voice and a little skip in your walk to the kitchen.

‘So you are not going to tell me what just happened?’ He asked you, completely ignoring your question, just like you’d ignored his last.

‘Toast?’ You asked Sherlock and he shook his head.

‘We’re on a case, I don’t eat.’ Sherlock explained to you and you shrugged.

‘Toast it is then.’ You said to him and he grunted annoyed, walking back to the living room.

‘Answer my question.’ John said, his foot tapping lightly as he looked at you with a completely pissed-off look, his whole stance said ‘Angry father.’

‘Sherlock wanted to see what was in my book, and I didn’t want him to see it yet.’ You said with a slight smirk as the toast hopped out of the toaster. You took some Jam and butter and you put it on the side of his plate, putting some toast next to it and setting the plate down on the table next to his chair.

‘So instead of talking it out like grown ups you decided to behave like little kids?’ He asked you two sceptically, and you saw how Sherlock threw a dirty look at the plate.

‘Sherlock you’re going to eat that.’ You said to him sternly as you poured some milk onto your cereals.

‘No I’m not.’ He said stubbornly, angrily tying his robe together so it hid his grey t-shirt and own pajama pants.

‘You’re going to stay there until you do.’ You stated, planning on not giving this up.

‘Then I’ll solve the case from here.’ He shot back and you shook your head as you took a bite from your cereals.

‘No you won’t, because I won’t bring the report back to you.’ You said to him, and he frowned.

‘You can’t make me stay here anyways.’ He said to you, now raising his eyebrow and grinning cockily.

‘Are you challenging me again, Holmes? You do remember the last time you did that? Five minutes ago?’ You snapped at him and he huffed.

‘That wasn’t really impressive, I’ve seen John throw better then that.’ He scoffed and John looked insulted.

‘I was in the army.’ He protested and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

‘You were a doctor.’ He said back and you chuckled a bit, but returned to the point.

‘That was meant to be a distraction, not to actually hit you, you know that.’ You said to him with a smirk, and Sherlock made an expression that he admitted to know that.

‘But I doubt you’ll do any better if you really try.’ He said with a dangerous glimmer in his eyes, you just looked extremely pleased with yourself.

‘O really? Stand up please.’ You said to him and Sherlock smirked himself, and stood up from his chair, remaining calm and motionless once he stood.

You looked down at your little bowl with cereals, hoping to find a piece that’ll be big enough to have actual impact.

‘You are NOT going to throw a piece of cereal towards Sherlock, (Y/N).’ John said, threatening you with one finger while his other hand searched for his phone.

He found it while you were still looking for a good projectile, and he dialled a number.

‘Mary, this is unbelievable, we’ve left Sherlock here with another Sherlock.’ He exclaimed desperately, while sending death glances at the both of you.

‘John, there is only one Sherlock, okay? I’m just someone who enjoys life just as much as him, but he’s unique.’ You said, briefly interrupting your scavenger hunt for the perfect piece.


Ah found it! You’re a big beauty, aren’t you?


‘She’s about to chuck a piece of cereal at him to prove she can throw.’ He said pissed of as you turned the cereal around in your hand a few times, it was soaking with milk but it’ll do. 

‘He challenged me.’ You singsong at the same time as you pulled your arm back and threw it.

The piece just shot through the air and collided with a loud splash against Sherlock’s forehead, right between the eyes. Some little drops of milk were scattered across his truly stunned face.

‘BULLSEYE.’ You yelled while throwing your hands up in victory and twirling around, but while you were turning you grabbed a little towel from the kitchen and walked over to Sherlock. When your bodies were almost touching you held his curls up with one hand and started dabbing away the milk with the towel in the other hand. Quite intimate to be honest, and you felt your stomach tingle, though you ignored that. Sherlock looked somewhat flustered too.

‘Be careful who you challenge Sherlock, I’m the female, British equivalent of a ninja.’ You said with a grin on your face, and Sherlock stood still, but a smile was creeping up on his face.

‘Beautiful hit my ‘lady.’ He said to you as he stepped back and made a small bow, at the same time you heard John speak.

‘WHERE?-SHE HIT HIM RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES, WHY IS THIS RELEVANT, MARY?’ He was bellowing, turning a light shade of red.

‘Thank you kindly, sir.’ You said, while pretending to lift your skirt as you bowed for yourself.

‘Shall we go to Barts and solve the case?’ He said to you eagerly, and you shook your head.

‘Not before you finish your toast.’ You said to him, now gently with a sweet voice, he frowned, already opening his mouth to reject the idea but you cut him off.

‘Just do it, just like the way I should’ve trusted you yesterday with the cab you should trust me on this, okay? I’m only trying to help you.’ You said to him, placing a hand on one of his lower arms that he had crossed across his chest as a sign of injustice.

But he relaxed and sat down, grabbing the plate and applying some butter to his toast, taking a bite out of it and giving you a ‘are you happy now?’ look. You just smiled at him as cute as you could manage and turned around to finish your own breakfast.

John was silent, still with the phone next to his ear, but with his mouth hanging open. This was apparently something that had never been done before, however you threw him a warning look, indicated him to stop looking like that, it wasn’t really stimulating.

‘I’ll be waiting downstairs; I want to chat with Ms Hudson a bit.’ He said as an excuse, but you knew he was going to tell his wife all about this, the little snitch.

‘I’m going to take a shower and change, and then we’ll be ready to leave.’ You announced while you set down your plate in the sink, and walking over to the bathroom.

You took two towels out of the cupboard and turned on the water, you didn’t bother to lock the door since Sherlock wouldn’t walk in on you anyways. You took off your clothes and folded them neatly on the little edge of the sink, then you stepped into the water and let yourself relax completely.


Sherlock P.O.V.  

He had just finished his stupid piece of toast and stood up to put it next to your bowl in the sink, it had been less bad then he had anticipated, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to think as clearly as he normally did. But did the toast cause that or your presence?

He heard your voice come out of the bathroom and he sighed as he realised you were one of those people that actually sung in the shower. But that was a disadvantage of living with a woman, he figured, though some men did have this tendency too. Like probably Lestrade.

He looked around to find the small sketch book you had used while he wasn’t paying attention, and which you fought for earlier but he couldn’t see it.


She must’ve took it with her in the bathroom, clever.


He smiled, really appreciating your way of thinking. Like when he had almost taken your book, you hadn’t yelled, cried nor thrown a tantrum, you had threatened to throw a cookie jar at his head, amazing! At least you were interesting and unpredictable, he never knew what was coming next.

He opened the door to the bathroom and saw that the shower curtain was drawn, so he silently stepped inside and saw the book on top of your clothes, he just had to make a few quiet steps towards it-

‘Sherlock, if you don’t leave quickly things will go psycho really quick in here, and this time the showering chick will stab the intruder, do you understand?’ He heard her voice from the shower, and he wanted to chuckle, but he didn’t want her to think she was funny.

‘Just hurry up, I’m bored.’ He said whilst he turned around and closed the door behind him.

He would find a way to obtain that stupid book, not that he knew why he really wanted it, he just did. But right now, he had to focus on the case.


And solve it quickly, to make them pay.




Chapter Text

Sherlock’s P.O.V.

‘If you take more then 5 minutes I’ll leave without you.’ Sherlock screamed at her room upstairs.

‘You won’t be able to access the folder.’ She screamed back at him, her voice slightly muffled because of the door she had closed to change after her shower.

‘I think we’d agreed on not challenging each other, so hurry up.’ He screamed back, rolling his eyes and hitting his head against the wall out of frustration.

‘Yeah well, I can’t choose what to wear and it’s hard, okay?’ She screamed back and he huffed before realising that her anxiety might be playing a role in this.

‘Put on a dress.’ He yelled back, hoping that if he would tell her what to wear that she would be persuaded and that they could go.

‘But I have only one other-’ She started protesting but was cut off by Sherlock. 

‘Great, throw it on and then we can finally leave.’ He said, ruffling through his curls and leaning his head back against the wall.

‘No you don’t underst-’ She began to speak again but Sherlock wasn’t having any of it.

‘Yes I do, put it on right now or I’ll leave you here and lock all the exits.’ He shot back and he heard her murmur something that he couldn’t quite understand, but he also heard how she opened multiple drawers, so he guessed that she was listening. 

He walked back to the living room and sat in his chair, closing his eyes and placing his elbows on the armrest and letting holding his fingertips against each other, he always did when he was thinking. Right now he was contemplating whether it wasn’t better to leave all by himself, if John had taken so long he would’ve left ten minutes ago.

He heard the wood at the door creak, and he looked up to her, seeing something he hadn’t expected.

She almost leaves me speechless… 

She was wearing a black dress with long sleeves and a wide neck that just showed off her collar bones, it hugged her figure perfectly and ended above her knees. It was the perfect combination of classy and sexy, in Sherlock’s mind, and he was impressed, he hadn’t expected her to be able to look that good. Furthermore, she had applied some makeup, eyeliner and mascara. He now also understood why she hadn’t wanted to put on the dress, it was tight, and it made her insecure.

‘You look absolutely radiant.’ He said with a smile while standing up, looking outside to see if he would need his coat.

‘Thank you.’ She said softly, and he heard her voice waver, she wasn’t convinced.

‘Truly, I’m not someone who lies to please people, ask anyone.’ He said with a smirk and she grinned, her shoulders straightening and her chin a little bit higher. He didn’t understand that his opinion would influence her so much, maybe he would have to say them more often.  

She didn’t grab her coat either, it was fairly warm outside and long sleeves would be enough. Together they exited the apartment and stood on the pavement, waiting for a cab to pass by.

‘Sherlock! Mate!’ They both heard from their left, and they turned their heads to see who it was. Sherlock had however already recognised the voice, and he felt the urge to run away as quickly as possible. 

Bloody hell, don’t have the patience for him.

He also remembered he was with her, and that this could become even more awkward than he had anticipated if Sebastian would insult him. In some strange way he had grown to care about what she thought about him.

‘Sebastian.’ Sherlock said curtly, stretching out his hand and shaking his. He loathed Sebastian, because of the way how the banker felt the constant need to humiliate him.

‘I wanted to come by your apartment and ask a favour of an old buddy of mine, but I see that you’re already working on a case.’ He said with that cocky grin on his face, then he turned his full attention on (Y/N).

Oh you bastard, you don’t know who you’re talking to, she’ll eat you alive.

‘And you, lovely lady must be his current case, I hope you’re not in too much trouble. I’m Sebastian Wilkes, high-class banker.’ He said smoothly, also shaking her hand, and squeezing it a little bit, adding a quick wink. Sherlock felt how she felt uncomfortable with this.

‘(Y/N) (Y/L/N), and I’m not part of his current case.’ She said, and Sherlock saw how Sebastian’s gaze went over her whole body and back, his pupils slightly delating.  Sherlock felt the urge to stand in front of her to protect her from this predatory gaze.

Sebastian, keep it in your pants, this isn’t some stupid college girl.

‘In that case you must be a colleague.’ He said with a raised eyebrow, very subtly indicating that it wasn’t possible for Sherlock to have any other relationship with you. Sherlock wanted to open his mouth to reply that she was a friend, knowing that anything else would make a person uncomfortable.

And he didn’t want to go through the same thing as last time when he had introduced John as a friend, but John corrected him as a colleague, that had been painful.

‘Girlfriend, actually.’ She said with an angelic smile on her face, slipping a hand in Sherlock’s, he immediately took it and smirked a bit, she was oozing confidence right now and looked nothing like a few minutes ago.

Much better like this, feels also nice, holding hands, though it is utterly unnecessary.

Sebastian’s eyebrows shot up and his mouth opened with a loud pop, his gaze went over her body and face again and Sherlock saw that he wanted to scream that she was out of his league.

I agree with you on that Sebastian, however, she is even farther away from yours.

‘Well, what a surprise, I would’ve never thought back in college that Sherlock would get a girlfriend, especially not this beautiful.’ He said, trying to remain smooth, but he was just too stunned. Sherlock’s eyes squinted and he raised his hand to haul a cab, his mind was spinning with what he could answer. 

‘You don’t think much at all, do you?’ She huffed, leaving Sebastian completely baffled and Sherlock proud.

‘Gooday to you Sebastian, I’m unfortunately not interested in your case.’ Sherlock said, no sign of regret in his voice as he opened the door for (Y/N) to slide in. He got in after her and closed the door before Sebastian could answer. 

‘Bart’s hospital please.’ He said to the driver, looking outside and seeing a pissed-off Sebastian. The cab drove away, and Sherlock felt her poke his arm, he looked to his right and saw a blushing (Y/N).

‘I’m sorry if that was rude, I shouldn’t have done that without knowing if you would approve of it. He was just being one of those mainstream douchebags and I thought that this might be… I don’t know, sorry.’ She apologized, almost stumbling over her words.

‘It’s alright, I enjoyed his reaction and I really didn’t mind.’ Sherlock smiled, hoping that his answer would make her less anxious.

‘Now there are 4 people who think we’re together, this might result in quite some trouble later on.’ She laughed a bit, sounding like she didn’t really mind. Sherlock felt a bit…warmer, though he subconsciously blamed it on the weather. 

‘Probably not, the whole world thought that John and I were together for a long long time, some of them still do.’ Sherlock smirked and she chuckled again, shaking her head a little bit.

They got to the Hospital and it wasn’t too crowded. There were a few people walking in and out of the hospital, probably for check-ups or something like that. There were several people standing outside to smoke, mostly huddled in groups. Though there was one woman standing alone. 

Her face was familiar, but he ignored it as long as he could, opening the door for his fake girlfriend with a smile, which she immediately returned. Then he saw her face change as she saw Donovan standing at the entrance.

Why does everyone who hates me bother me today?

‘Freak, what are you doing here?’ Donovan said, facing Sherlock and not (Y/N). Sally didn’t see the face of rage that (Y/N) had the moment she said freak.

‘Our work.’ (Y/N) spat, and the officer turned around to her with both her eyebrows raised.

‘Has our freak gotten himself a little girlfriend? Who are you, his doctor or something? has he finally gotten help?’ She said, obviously feeling very much superior to (Y/N).

‘Well, I’m not proctologist, but I recognise an arsehole when I see one.’ (Y/N) huffed and Sherlock snorted, that was actually a great comeback.

‘Oh so you’re an arrogant too? Do you want to be a detective when you grow up?’ Sally said mockingly, but the girl she was talking to seemed unfazed, she kept a poker face on.

‘I’m the head of forensics, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), I’d like you to remain professional.’ She said, her face completely blank and her voice reserved as she just almost killed Donovan.

‘Oh, so you are the one they replaced Anderson with?’ She asked, using an extremely condescending tone while saying you. Sherlock had to step in or (Y/N) would rip Donovan’s head of.

‘I would say that they advanced rather then replaced.’ Sherlock said calmly, and saw how a bit of the tension left his roommates shoulders.

‘We’ll see about that; she hasn’t done anything yet.’ Donovan snapped, crossing her arms and looking challengingly. She didn’t care at all about the girl, she just wanted to humiliate him through her.

‘I solved the last case, but I can’t figured out yet what your part is in all this.’ She defended herself, and Donovan was losing control of herself

‘I can get you fired any minute.’ She said, her voice’s volume increasing as she said it, her face reddening as she balled her fists.

‘Please Donovan, pull yourself together, you’re making a fool out of yourself.’ Sherlock said with as much apathy as a human could muster, (Y/N) snorted. And Donovan became a bit redder, Sherlock decided that it was enough, so he took (Y/N)’s hand and dragged her not the hospital.

‘Hey!? I wasn’t done with her yet.’ She protested as she tried to keep up with the gigantic steps that man made.

‘Remember what you said? Be nice to the people you have to work with, even if the are idiots.’ Sherlock said, but he was amused that there was someone who hated Donovan as much as he did.

‘Don’t throw my own words back at me, Sherlock, that’s extremely lame. And besides, I think there’s an exception to that rule when the person is a complete and utter twat.’ She huffed as they stepped into the elevator.

‘In that case I would never have to be nice.’ He said with a small sigh, but she shook her head.

‘No you should, because those people are just stupid, or average, so idiots in your opinion. That arsehole we just met outside was intentionally trying to hurt people, and that’s disgusting.’ She said grumpily, her arms crossed and her stare burning a whole in the elevator doors. 

‘In that case you’re right.’

‘Bet your sweet arse I’m right, I’m a genius.’ She said, still grumpy and apparently not really thinking about what she was saying.

Or did she really consciously say: ‘sweet arse?’. This girl is a mystery.

He threw her a questioning look, with one of his eyebrows raised and she squinted her eyes.

‘What.’ She asked, while pacing the halls with small steps, looking like an angry miniature villain.

‘I was just wondering if you really meant that.’ He said with a smile in his voice.

‘Of course I did, I’m a proper genius and you know it.’ She said while throwing her hands in the air in expiration, Sherlock just chuckled.

‘No you’re not.’ He answered, joking of course, she was a genius.

‘OOOhhhhh yes I am, that guy agrees with me.’ She said while pointing at one of the bodies lying on the exam table in the morgue.

‘How would you know? He’s dead, you can’t prove that he does.’ Sherlock proclaimed, making a ‘what-in-the-name-of-Elizabeth-are-you-doing’ kind of move with his hands.

‘Ah, but you can’t prove that he doesn’t.’ She said with a smug grin on her face, happy with the way this discussion was going.

‘That makes no sense and you know it, with that way of thinking you could say that god exists!’ He said incredulously, she just nodded.

‘He could be real, it was never proven that he wasn’t, right?’ She said, probably just trying to mess with his head, well, she was succeeding.

Ah she’s right about that and I hate it, stupid ratio.

‘Ehm, sorry?’ He heard a timid voice speak when he had already opened his mouth to sass something back. Sherlock had forgotten that they were standing in the morgue and that this was actually Molly’s workplace.

‘Molly.’ Sherlock said with a grin, and Molly looked a bit confused. 

‘Hi Sherlock, and…?’ Molly said slightly awkward, but (Y/N) gave her no chance to stumble over her own incapacity to feel comfortable around strangers.

‘(Y/N)! Hi! Sherlock has told me a lot about you.’ (Y/N) smiled as she quickly walked over the nervous girl to shake her hand. Sherlock wanted to frown, because he hadn’t told her that much but he kept it to himself. 

‘Oh really?’ Molly answered nervously, she hadn’t expected Sherlock to say anything about her, and if he did it wouldn’t be too nice.

‘Really, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.’ She smiled and Molly smiled back, Sherlock saw how she unwounded and looked more comfortable with the second. Then Sherlock realised something.

One moment she’s about to rip someone’s head off while spitting fire at them, and the next moment she is being so sweet it makes me a bit sick, (Y/N) is something different.

‘Thank you, are you helping him on a case?’ Molly asked with a real smile, finally she wasn’t acting like a nervous rabbit.

‘I wish I did, but he’s helping me on a case, I’m the new head of forensics.’ She told Molly, and a twinkle came in the latter’s eyes.

‘You got Anderson’s job? That means we’ll be working a lot together.’ She said with a beaming smile, she seemed to really like (Y/N).

‘Let’s start today then, we need the files on the case of Anastasia Cunnington, It’s new.’ She said to Molly, who nodded, already recognising the case.

‘We haven’t analysed everything yet, but most of the substances have already been recognised and written down.’ She explained while walking to the secured file cabinet, the two other’s following her. She opened it with a key and Sherlock felt (Y/N) gaze burning holes in him, he looked over to her and she shook her head.

I only wanted to borrow that key, and make a replica.

Sherlock huffed and crossed his arms, and saw how (Y/N) took the file and scanned it quickly, a small blush came on her cheeks as she really tried to concentrate on the papers in front of her. He decided to make it even more difficult by standing right next to her, sides almost touching and faces close to each other. 

‘Sherlock?’ She asked, her voice composed.

‘Yes?’ He asked innocently, and saw how a small smile crept on Molly’s face, he had forgotten that she barely saw him making any jokes.

‘Personal space.’ His flatmate said, hoping that he would get the hint. But Sherlock is a dick. 

‘What about it?’ He asked and saw how she sighed, closing her eyes.

‘You really should put some space between us if you still want in on this case.’ She threatened and Sherlock’s lips quirked upwards.

‘Ah, you’re really sounding like a Scotland Yard employee, bravo.’ He mocked her and she threw him a death stare.

‘How long will it take for the others to analyse the remaining evidence?’ She asked Molly and Molly looked a bit uneasy again. 

‘It’s Saturday, so they will be back on Monday.’ She said while staring at the floor, she was feeling guilty for something she hadn’t done.

‘You’re bloody joking.’ (Y/N) said bluntly, looking extremely baffled.

‘It was Anderson’s idea to not work in the weekends to avoid stress and burn-outs.’ Molly explained, not liking the idea herself.

‘Wha- Anderson- Seriously are you fu- Those lazy-.’ (Y/N) was stammering and got cut of by Sherlock before she could start swearing.

‘Well do it ourselves, that way we’ll be done this afternoon.’ He said strictly, giving his partner a pointed look, she looked flustered and mad but she had to pull herself together.

‘Yes of course, smart choice. I’ll show you the body and then you can go to the lab.’ Molly said professionally, pacing to one of the tables.

‘We’ll split up. Sherlock, you can take the file and go deduce whatever you think is relevant for the case and see what you can do with that, I’ll analyse the substances.’ She said, more in control this time.

‘I can analyse them too.’ Sherlock said with a frown and she nodded.

‘But I can’t deduce.’ She told him with a smile, and he understood why she had chosen to do it this way. Sherlock stretched out his arm to receive the files which was given by Molly.

‘Call me when you find anything.’ He said seriously and she nodded, already looking at the body for clues that the team had missed.

It was honestly intriguing to see how she changed persona. Just like he had just noticed how rude she could be, and then change to a sweet girl, he saw now that all the banter and sass had left her mind, replacing it for the case. He liked that, he could discuss things with her, joke around a bit or fight for a sketchbook, but when he needed her to be in top focus she would be a reliable source.

‘Thank you Molly.’ He said with a curt nod as he readied himself to go back to the apartment. Molly seemed to be taken aback by the fact that he had actually acknowledged her before leaving, but he didn’t care and left.

The next few hours went by smoothly, he read through the material and concluded that there had been multiple men involved, who probably knew the victim. (Y/N) called him several times to give him more clues about the case, and when she did, she sounded pretty empty, Sherlock had made a mental note to talk to her about it later.

Slowly they started to figure out what had happened, they discussed it on the phone and together they found out who it had been and what had gone wrong. Sherlock was content with this way of working, he could’ve done it himself of course, but having someone with a different way of seeing things while still being smart was refreshing and sped up things.

‘I’ll be home in a minute, but I have to go grocery shopping first.’ She said on the phone, sounding incredibly tired. She had worked hard to keep up with the speed in with Sherlock worked.

‘We’ll order something, no need into wearing yourself out, just come home.’ Sherlock said while glancing out of the window, noticing that there was a suspicious woman standing on the sidewalk. 

‘Alright, order something you like, I don’t care.’ She said, and Sherlock heard her close a door. She was probably exiting the lab, the ride would take her 20 minutes and she would be home in 25 minutes.

‘I will, bye.’ He said to her, planning on hanging up.

‘Wait, what’s your nickname?’ She said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

‘Don’t have one.’ He answered, knowing what she was up to.

‘Sure you have, please tell me, or I’ll ask John.’ She said, and he sat down in his chair with a grin on his face.

‘Well, John will tell you he calls me Sherlock, or some kind of swear word.’ He tells her, actually enjoying this conversation, he hears her chuckle.

‘Then I’ll have to come up with something myself.’ She said, and Sherlock sighed, but kept smiling.

‘Good luck with that, I won’t answer to it.’ He said challengingly and he heard how she was outside, probably hauling a cab.

‘What about…Lock? No not lock that sounds too… I don’t know. Maybe Sherly, though Sherly makes you sound like Barbie’s fifth child, so no…’ She said, half talking to herself half to Sherlock, who was still sitting in his chair, staring at the ceiling with an enormous grin on his face.

‘Sherlock is quite easy to pronounce, and it suits me, so why not go with that?’ He said with a bit of sass, as he heard her tell the cabbie where to go.

‘You’re boring Sherlock, I need a nickname for you, a good one. Curly? Ooh I like curly, what about you?’ She said, and he knew she was trying her best not to laugh.

‘Makes me sound like a sheep.’ He answered and heard how a short laugh escaped from her lips.

That’s actually a beautiful sound, objectively speaking of course.

‘Al right, what about…ehm…something edgy and cool…homie…Holmie, HOLMIE.’ She exclaimed delighted, and now Sherlock had to laugh.

‘I think we both know we are way to British and mature to call other people homie.’ He said with a laugh, and she huffed.

‘Speak for yourself- wait no, you’re not mature at all Sherlock, piss off.’ She laughed and Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

‘That’s rich coming from you.’ He shot back and heard her chuckle.

‘I’m not in denial, however, I still need a nickname for my partner in crime…you’re smart, but genius is too mocking when you’re actually a genius…could call you snow white, since you’re so pale and your hair is so dark, but that would make me a dwarf so no… I’VE GOT IT.’ She said, and Sherlock heard her mutter an apology to the driver.

‘You’re Spock.’ She said proudly, and he frowned.

‘I’m a what?’ He asked her, and he heard her gasp.

‘You don’t know who Spock is?’ She asked him again and he huffed annoyed.

‘No I do not know who Spock is, so would you tell me?’ He asked impatient, he wanted to know with whom he was being compared to.

‘No no, I’ll show you, when I get home, we’re going to have a movie night, and you’ll meet your soul mate.’ She sounded exited, and he imagined her jumping up and down in the backseat of a cab, with a horrified cabbie.

‘Fine, are you almost here?’ He asked her, sitting up in his chair and looking around the living room.

‘Yeah, give me ten minutes.’ She said, and he nodded.

‘Alright, bye.’ He said, now really planning on hanging up.

‘See you in a minute, Spock.’ She said and hang up before he had the chance, he huffed and shook his head, this girl was a handful.

‘So, what does she have? The keys to Buckingham palace? A nephew who works with human recourses at Scotland Yard, a book you’ve been searching for forever, perhaps?’ John asked as he walked back into the living room, he had been making a cup of tea for himself. 

‘What are you on about, John?’ He asked him, not actually caring. 

‘Well, I just saw you behaving yourself, you just had a phone call for fun and you smiled. The last time I saw you acting this human with a woman, she was the secretary of a guy you wanted to rob, so what does she have?’ He asked Sherlock pointedly, a bit on edge. Sherlock was taken aback.

‘Nothing John, I just work with her, no romantic feelings are involved with this.’ He said, sure of himself. She was just less annoying and better to work with, that’s why he liked her, not that he liked liked her, just platonic.

‘You were just giggling like a little schoolgirl on the phone with her boyfriend, don’t sell me bullshit Sherlock, I’ve known you for way too long.’ He warned Sherlock, and now Sherlock was getting a bit worked up himself.

‘I’m not lying to you John, she is just very easy to talk to, she doesn’t annoy me with stupid questions or ridiculous assumptions like you just did.’ He spat to John, who pulled an instant bitchface.

‘Well excuse me mister honest, but the last time I thought you were genuinely improving as a human who was capable of loving, you shattered someone’s heart. And if you are planning on doing the same with this girl I want to know, because she has been through way too much to be hurt by your selfish plans.’ He said angrily, and Sherlock got quiet

‘I said that it was her fault, a human mistake to fall in love with me. But I do regret having to hurt her, and I know she doesn’t care because she’s actually smart, but I’m sorry.’ Sherlock said blankly, no excessive emotions in his voice.

He saw that John was taken aback by his apology, and he felt uncomfortable with all of this.

‘Oh, well… uhm’ John started, clearing his throat and looking awkwardly at his own hands. 

‘It’s all right John, I was the one who gave you the reason to believe that.’ He said curtly, he might be getting more decent, but he still loathed all that emotional talk.

The door opened downstairs, and even John knew who it was, because she was singing loudly.

I see trees of green, red roses too

I see them bloom for me and you

Loud footsteps came up the stairs, skipping one step at the time, and she stood in the doorway with her eyes closed and her arms open. 

And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

She opened her eyes, which had a mischievous glint in it, she walked over to Sherlock, all through this singing.

I see skies of blue and clouds of white

The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night

And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

 She had grabbed his hand and placed it on her hip, and she had taken the other herself. Within a second in which Sherlock finally didn’t have control over situation they were waltzing through the room on the rhythm of the song she was singing.

The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky

Are also on the faces of people going by

I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do

But they're really saying I love you. 

She sang with a huge grin on her face, twirling with Sherlock across the room, through the kitchen. And he was laughing too, he honestly didn’t expect this to happen, ever. John took a few photo’s when both of them were too busy looking at each other.

When she was finished she let Sherlock go and made a mocking bow to John who was laughing and clapping.

‘Thank you, thank you, you were a great crowd tonight.’ She said with a stupid smirk on her face. 

‘You’re a really good singer.’ John complemented her and she grinned, her cheeks rosy from the excitement.

‘Thanks John, it’s nice seeing you again.’ She said a bit out of breath.

‘Why are you so excited?’ Sherlock asks her with a smile while sitting down.

‘Well, my dear Spock, we are going to watch one of my favourite movies, starring you.’ She said with an evil smile, Sherlock just huffed.

‘Which movie?’ He asked her, but then the doorbell rang.

‘Oh, that must be the pizza, do you mind opening the door please?’ She asked Sherlock, who simply nodded and walked downstairs.

He took the three boxes and paid the delivery boy, quickly making his way back to the living room again.

‘… ah now I understand why this is your favourite movie. That’s a handsome main character.’ John laughed, and Sherlock stopped walking up, wanting to hear more.

‘Who? Capitain kirk? Nah, he’s cool, but not really my cup of tea.’ She said, and Sherlock frowned, so she had types?

‘Then who’s your favourite?’ He asked her and he heard some ruffling.

‘Don’t tell Sherlock, but I’ve always had a crush on Spock. He’s my all time favourite, hands down.’ She said with a low voice to John, so Sherlock wouldn’t hear it.

But he had heard it, and a smile spread across his face. He didn’t know what he felt for her, if it was simply friendship or something more. He didn’t know if he was going to act on it, because that would go against everything he believed in. He didn’t know if she even thought of him differently.


He didn’t like not knowing.


But he liked her.

Chapter Text

Your P.O.V.


It’s been a month since you’d moved in with Sherlock.


It had been the best month of your life.


You had solved cases or discovered something every day. There wasn’t time to be bored when you were around Sherlock. Well, he did get bored sometimes, and then you would invent a challenge for him, something stupid and social. He would always say that it was rubbish and he would do no such thing, but you kept nagging until his ego took control and he had to prove himself.

Once, he had to buy coffee for a guy and ask him about his life, the guy broke down crying saying that it was the nicest thing someone had done for him in a while. Sherlock was shocked to say the least, you had been sitting at the other side of the cafeteria to see if he aced the challenge and were left speechless. Sherlock had awkwardly patted him and talked to him, but not in an emotional way and he had changed someone’s day, maybe even life.

Sherlock himself had been changing too, not that you noticed it yourself, he always acted incredibly considerate around you. You had gotten into a fight multiple times, but the were resolved fairly quickly. But John told you, and so did Lestrade and Molly that he was so being nicer to everyone, less arrogant and more communicative. 

You had been changing too. Sherlock had made it his mission to help you get rid of the social anxiety. You had told him it wasn’t possible, and it had made him even more determined, the asshole. He had been the one to start with the ridiculous challenges, for you though. It had started off calmly, buying a cup of coffee without stuttering, talking to the sales woman. Often you had found yourself in a state of panic and fear, but he had helped you out every time.

Now, after quite a lot of breakdowns and embarrassments you were starting to control it, you still felt anxious, but you were capable to think around it, not let it cloud your mind with negative thoughts.

You were also getting a bit more sarcastic, more confident of yourself. You didn’t let yourself be pushed over anymore, and your sole purpose in life wasn’t to please others anymore. You stood up for your rights and were able to have a bad day without having to fake yourself through it.

With Sherlock being more like you and you being more like Sherlock you had gotten incredibly close without you really noticing. You predicted each other’s movements and thoughts, though you still had trouble with keeping up with Sherlock. It seemed like you were each other’s shadows, but more independent. It was great.

You had been solving all the cases that were thrown to you together, and you had gotten more invested in other police matters, like robbery and non-killing stuff. Sherlock still was a bit stiff towards that, he enjoyed it less then catching a murderer.


‘Lestrade called, he wants us in.’ You yelled while pouring your coffee in your Starbucks take-away mug you had bought a while ago. You heard hurried ruffling and quick footsteps approach. 

‘Murder?’ He asked excitedly with a glimmer in his eyes, already fetching his coat and doing that hot thing where he puts it on and adjusts his collar.

Uh. Hot?

‘He didn’t say.’ You answered him, not really going into details, grossed up by your thoughts.

I have thought about him being pretty damn gorgeous before, but I’ve never described a simple action as hot.  

‘Boring.’ He said as he took his scarf ad started fumbling with it.

What’s up next (Y/N)? Thinking about his scarf? Pull yourself together.

I shouldn’t be ridiculous; his scarf isn’t hot.

Though that one time where he just pulled it off like that, damn.

Oh fuck.

‘Childish.’ You chimed back at him while quickly grabbing your own coat and picking up your coffee again. You were headed downstairs quickly, not wanting to be late to one of the only interesting things that was going to happen today.

‘That’s rich coming from the girl who is drinking her coffee from a mug that is mostly used by fifteen-year-old in expensive slippers.’ He sassed back at you, while you huffed.

Sweetheart get of your high horse; you were just swooning over his coat. You are definitely acting like a teenager again.

‘Rude.’ You answered as you stepped unto the pavement, quickly looking around the street. You didn’t know why you did that honestly; it was just a force of habit.

Sherlock hauled a cab quicker then you would ever be able to, and you two quickly got in.

‘Scotland yard, please.’ Sherlock said, while he stared out of the window.

‘Coffee?’ You asked him, stretching your hand that was holding your cup towards him.

‘Ah, marvellous.’ He answered as he took the cup out of your hand and sipped quite a lot of the liquid, he didn’t give it back though. 

‘Sherlock.’ You threatened him, knowing that he was messing with you, he loved that.

‘Hm?’ He asked you innocently while staring at you wide eyed, you could swear you got Goosebumps because of his stare.

His eyes aren’t hot, they’re cold…

I hate myself.

They are so incredibly beautiful god fucking damnit.

‘Coffee.’ You demanded, opening up your hand so he could give it back, of course, he wouldn’t.

‘Ah ah ah, didn’t you mother teach you to speak in two words?’ He said with a mischievous smile and you raised an eyebrow.

‘Orphan.’ You shot back, on purpose using only one word.

Sherlock didn’t pity you, he never did, he would console you when the time was right, but you never saw pity in his eyes, thank god. He stared intensely into your eyes as he took another sip, challenging you.

‘Ask nicely.’ He said to you with a mocking tone in his voice and you just smirked at him, grabbing the money for the cabby and quickly thanking him as you got out. Sherlock followed right next to you, still holding the cup.

‘The whole white girl look really suits you, Sherlock, you’re even acting as annoying as them.’ You said, knowing that you were guilty of all those annoying things. Buying Starbucks, taking pictures with it, no one could judge you because you were grown-up though.

‘You’re a white girl too.’ He stated bored, sipping at more coffee, not giving a rat’s ass about what people thought of him.

‘I’m a white woman.’ You stated back, snatching the cup out of his hand, groaning when you felt how little it weighed.

‘You owe me, Sherlock.’ You said to him as you walked side by side into the building, stepping into the elevator.

‘No I don’t, that coffee was made by my coffee machine.’ He said as the relaxing music played in the background.

‘It is standing in the apartment that I have been paying now for three months just because you didn’t ask for money on your last cases.’ You answered him, not really minding though, you had plenty to waste it on other stuff.

‘I thought that was something noble heroes do.’ He said to you, giving you a cheeky side-glance as the corner of his lips quirked upwards.

‘Heroes are boring.’ You answered him while casually sipping your coffee, feeling his stare on you.

‘I know there was a reason I kept you around.’ He said, nodding approvingly as you stepped out of the elevator.

‘That, and you would be utterly fucked without me.’ You answered, automatically walking towards Lestrade’s office. You by the way knew Sherlock would be fine by himself, but you knew that with you he was not just fine, but great.

‘Keep on dreaming, Love.’ He said casually, and your heart made a 360 while dancing the Macarena. He had started using this word for you last week, and John had almost jumped out of the window he first heard it, apparently he didn’t use any affectionate words at all.

But I’m the bloody exception, suck it stupid fangirls.

You mind wandered back to when you had accidentally met Sherlock’s own fanclub, who most horrifyingly knew everything there was to know about you. It had been a dramatic experience.

You walked past Lestrade’s office when you saw the little note that said you had to go to the conference rooms. You entered the only one that was occupied by people and spotted some familiar faces.  

Anderson, Donovan, Dave and Clarence from the forensics team, and Lestrade were amongst a great amount of police officers, some of them weren’t local, you noticed.

‘Ah you’re finally here, let’s start.’ Lestrade said, scratching his head a bit as he opened his PowerPoint slide presentation of whatever he would tell you today.

‘As you may know, Frank ‘fingers’ Abbandando Junior is momentarily living in London.

You frowned, but felt how Sherlock nodded slightly. You threw him a pissed look for not sharing this information with you and he stepped closer to you, bumping he shoulder slightly to yours as a silent apology. You relaxed again and focused on the presentation.

‘Now we have received from an anonymous source that he isn’t here to go on a well-deserved retirement, but he is recruiting new members in an honestly strange way for his new gang in London.’ Lestrade told the room, and people started whispering suggestions in each other’s ears. Not you and Sherlock though, you were still standing shoulder to shoulder in the back of the room, waiting for more information.

‘All right, settle down please.’ Lestrade said tiredly, it was like looking after a group of toddlers.

‘What do you mean, with a strange way?’ Anderson asked, and for once it wasn’t a stupid question.

‘He’s only taking in women.’ Lestrade said, and some chuckles erupted from the room.

‘Maybe he’s forming a harem.’ One of the officers joked, and everyone laughed.

Except for you and Sherlock of course.

‘Yes, very funny Bradfort, however we are dealing with a serious threat here.’ Lestrade scolded the officer who had made the tasteless joke.

‘How is he doing it?’ You asked curiously, it was a question that had remained unanswered yet and you were aching to know. Every set of eyes turned to you, and you felt the gazes of all the police officers go up and down your body, asides from Donovan you were the only woman in the room. You felt Sherlock shuffle uneasily besides you, standing a little bit in front of you.

Oh I love it when he get’s all protective, it almost feels like he cares about me as more then a friend. Not that I care about him more then a friend. Or do I? I do think about him a lot, but that's maybe because he's around all the time. Bollocks, I hate feelings.

‘Here’s the thing, I’ve been trying to comprehend it all evening, and I didn’t believe it until we checked the records. He goes on speed dates. Actual speed dates, he reads the woman and decides from one minute of speaking if they’re mental, and apparently there are a lot of woman out there who are bonkers.’ Lestrade said, his sass shining through his professionalism. The murmuring had returned in the room, it sounded too strange for words.

‘Your thoughts on this?’ You whispered to Sherlock, leaning closer to him. You didn’t notice his eyes flickering towards you as you had lessened the space between your faces to a few inches.

‘He’s got a plan, and you’re going to hate it.’ Sherlock whispered, getting even closer. You suddenly felt a third party staring at you, your eyes shot towards the place it came from and you saw Donovan sending you death stares.

‘Is it the only way?’ You asked him, not asking for the details, Sherlock would tell you when he found it necessary, you trusted him.

‘The only civilised way.’ Sherlock whispered back, smirking a little bit. You smiled to at the thought of all that was spooking through his marvellous mind.

‘Attention, I have a way to find out everything there is to know about the organisation. We’ll infiltrate it and break it from the inside.’ Lestrade said proudly, but his joy was short-lived.

‘We’re going to send a spy? HA! I suggest Bradfort, he would make a nice little lass.’ One of the officers mocked, and a loud round of laughter was shared amongst this company.

‘I actually had someone else in mind, someone who is a bit more qualified on several aspects.’ Lestrade said vaguely, but then stopped to stare at you. Everyone noticed and turned around, you suddenly understood what Sherlock had meant.

‘Fine, but I do except a pay raise.’ You mumbled, and you heard multiple men snicker as Lestrade smiled relieved.

‘Her?! Isn’t it incredibly typical that the psychopath’s partner has to act like a potential gang member?’ Donovan scoffed, and you looked at her, slightly hissing.

‘I think this beautiful lady will be snatched up in a second, gangster or not.’ Officer Bradfort said and there were some approving noises.

‘Thank you.’ You said curtly, nodding at him and sending Donovan another threatening stare. She seemed to crumble under your fierce gaze she shut up.

You didn’t notice how Sherlock was sending his own death stares to the officers who had showed interest towards you, they all quickly retreated when they saw the angry detective, they had heard the stories about him throwing people out of windows.

‘All right then. This evening she will be attending the speed dating event, and we’ll be listening. A full squad will be waiting outside in case anything goes wrong and she’ll wear an ear piece. In the meantime, I suppose that Mr. Holmes will be watching with us, he’ll determine if the man sitting in front of Miss (Y/L/N) will be part of the mafia. Are there any questions?’ Lestrade said, and he assumed right that Sherlock would be there, you rarely did cases on your own.

There were no more questions whatsoever, and the room emptied quickly.

‘(Y/N), thank you for assisting.’ Lestrade said.

‘It’s nothing, really. In which establishment will it be and how should I be dressed, and when should I be ready?’ You asked, firing the questions towards Lestrade like bullets.

‘AH! IS THIS THE LOVELY WOMAN I WILL BE WORKING WITH?’ An obscene voice shouted, followed by a well-maintained man. Obviously gay. His hair slick with product, tightly combed back on his head.

‘Yes Francois, this is her. (Y/N), he will help you get everything ready to be undercover.’ Lestrade said, sighing a bit at the sight of weirdoes around him.

‘Francois? But you’re not French.’ You deduced, you had gotten better at it, but you still couldn’t see half the things Sherlock saw.

‘He’s from queens, actually, his name is Jack.’ Sherlock said with a smirk, and as Jack threw Lestrade a perplexed look, you bumped you shoulder to his upper arm, sending him a smile. Sherlock grinned back and you felt warm at the casual silent conversations you had with the detective.

‘I can see it, a true ‘femme fatal’!!’ Jack exclaimed, making over the top movements.

‘Teach me the art of being cheap, O great master.’ You said with sarcasm enlaced in each and every syllable, you heard Sherlock chuckle.

‘Cheap? O no ma’am, you are going to look like royalty.’ Jack said with a mischievous smirk plastered on his face, and you felt the slightest bit fear seep into you.

Three hours later, you had memorized each detail of the plan, and now your ‘make-over’ was done too.

‘Pardon my French but bloody hell I feel like the fucking princess dairies.’ You said from the small changing booth that had been improvised in one of the rooms. Behind the curtain you were admiring yourself in the mirror.

‘Do you mind coming out of there, so we can see it too? We must hurry.’ Lestrade said, a little bit impatient, but honestly, he was just curious. 

‘I don’t know if this is really fitting for a speed date.’ You said, questioning the choice of wardrobe.

‘The restaurant you’re going to is the Buckingham palace of speed dates.’ Jack shot back, not wanting to hear criticism on his work.

‘I wouldn’t wear this to Buckingham palace.’ You protested, sounding hurt. 

‘How would you go then?’ Jack answered, and you didn’t skip a beat.

‘I don’t know, naked I suppose, that would leave quite an impression, wouldn’t it?’ You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air out of desperation. You heard the deep loud laugh of Sherlock and Lestrade, and you blushed a little. 

‘Come on, love, let’s get this over with.’ Sherlock said and you took a deep breath in as you stepped out of the fitting room. Silence.

You had your eyes trained on the floor before you, as you could hear a pin drop in the room. You looked up and saw the three men stare. Lestrade looked like he had just seen a ghost, Jack’s mouth was opened obscenely wide, like he wanted to imitate Monet’s painting and Sherlock, well…

His face was completely relaxed, his eyebrows were raised just a tad bit and his eyes were opened wide, his lips had parted just slightly as his eyes roamed over every square centimetre.

‘Is this a good silence or a bad one?’ You asked awkwardly, your insecurities setting in.

Your dress was a deep, deep shade of red, almost mesmerizing and remembering anyone of the colour of blood, morbid, I know. Your hair just waved loosely, it had been treated well but nothing fancy had been done with it. Your lips were as red as your dress, crimson, and your eyeliner was dramatic and reminded you of classic black and white cinema.

You were like a celebrity that was about to own the Oscar’s red carpet. But you still felt insecure. Because your dress’s neck dipped down until your waist, showing the slightest bit of skin on your stomach and between your breasts. You back were the same, and you felt naked.

‘This is my masterpiece.’ Jack said, wiping away a stray tear and taking his camera, to make picture of you looking pissed at the named camera.

‘Oh, it’s ehm, very very beautiful.’ Lestrade said, having trouble with speaking and not being able to take his eyes off of you.

Sherlock just stood up, offering his arm to you. You enlaced yours with his as you giggled a bit, he had promised to take you out to dinner before going on the mission so you wouldn’t eat anyone who would step in your way. He knew how you got when you were hungry.

You walked in silence as he gave you your coat and helped you pull it on. You smiled at him and he smiled back, but still no verbal reaction. You walked out of the building, waiting on the sidewalk for a cab to pass by when you decided to speak up.

‘Cat’s got your tongue?’ You asked, smirking a little bit as you saw Sherlock’s expression. But he quickly composed himself, shaking his head with a confident smirk.

‘You have left me with a loss of words.’ He said to you with a rare, warm, genuine smile. You felt your cheeks heat up, and you had this warm fuzzy feeling all around. That was the biggest compliment he could’ve given you, ever.

‘Thanks Sherlock.’ You smiled at him, squeezing his hand, he just nodded at you.

You arrived at the restaurant and you had honestly a good time, not that you talked much, Sherlock was telling you in detail how the case of the elephant in the room had happened.

‘Wait, an actual elephant?’ You said unbelieving at him. 

‘A real one.’ He said with a smirk.

‘Sod off.’ You shook your head, you still had troubles with understanding all the incredible things he had done, but then again, now you were a character in those stories.

A small ring sounded from your purse, indicating that you should get going to the speed dates.

‘It’s a pity that I couldn’t come with you.’ Sherlock said lightly while he shrugged on his coat. 

‘True, but if a girl comes to a speed dating event with her roommate that might be a tad bit odd, don’t you think?’ You smiled and he nodded.

You drove to the location were the observation van was placed, and you got in. There were standing some of the officers and Lestrade. You went through the steps again to make sure you understood, you needed to be clever, smart, and uninterested in the regular guys. Sherlock would deduce who was who and whisper in your ear if you should sass them away. The cameras were taken over by the police and they would see every move you made. 

‘Good luck.’ Lestrade said at the end and you nodded at him, then you gazed at Sherlock who just made a quick movement with his head.

‘Chin up, love.’ I still remember from the first time you made me embarrass myself.  

You smirked at him and got out of the van, getting in character. You walked slowly, but confidently, your hips swaying with every step you took and with an icy look in your eyes as the cars stopped for you, so you could cross the streets. It was incredibly how much people changed by how you acted towards them.

‘(Y/N)(Y/L/N)’ You said to the host, the moment you walked in the fancy establishment, it looked like small palace.

‘Most certainly, to your left ma’am.’ He said professionally, but you saw his eyes go up and down your body multiple times.

* Alright (Y/N) take place on table number 6, there we will be able to see you and your partner quickly. * Lestrade said through the earpiece and you made it look like you were choosing where to sit and went with table 6. 

‘Alright, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming tonight. You will be doing 10 rounds, each one of them lasting five minutes, if within the five minutes you notice that this won’t be of any use, the ladies will be able to send the man away. Now all, take place please.’ The host spoke professionally, and you sighed, you had never thought you would go speed dating.

* Hang in there (Y/N), stay in character. * Lestrade said and you remembered you were undercover, so you sat straighter, with your chin up, placing a little smirk on your lips so you would look confident.

The first guy that sat in front of you was in your opinion already a no-go, he had a serious drinking problem, you could deduce. He looked like he had just taken his first shower in months, but that was a good thing, he was trying. However, you disliked him because his gaze kept lingering on your chest, and not anywhere near your face, he was here to get laid.

‘The time starts now, good luck.’ The host announced, and your partner finally looked at you. 

‘Hi, I’m Marc.’ He introduced himself and you smiled politely to him.

‘Nice to meet you, my name is Claire.’ You said, you had been given another name to stay undercover, you had actually gotten a whole new identity you had to memorize.

‘Beautiful name, Claire.’ He praised you and you smiled at him, at least he was trying to chat with you.

‘Thank you.’ You said simply, leaving him to do the talking, you had to remain mysterious and classy, that was part of your act.

* It’s not him. * You heard Sherlock say curtly, and he sounded well beyond pissed. You knew he had more problems with this plan then you.

‘What are you going to do after this?’ He asked you, already steering the conversation to where he was trying to get it, your smile didn’t falter for a second. 

‘Depends on what happens this evening.’ You said to him, and you really hadn’t meant it that way, but he took it as a hint.

‘Great, because we could leave and go to my place, you can slip into something more comfortable.’ He said to you suggestively, with a disgusting grin splashed on his face.

* Oh God * You heard Sherlock groan, and you knew he was aching to make a snarky comment, but he couldn’t because he knew that you’d have to laugh, and that would raise suspicion. So you did it for him. 

‘Oh I’d love to slip into something more comfortable.’ You said back, and waited just one second for the punchline.

‘Like a bloody coma. Next.’ You snapped at him, keeping your face relaxed because the apathy, classy lady, had her emotions under control.

Marc looked stunned for a second but then nodded and scurried away a bit frightened, you apparently had really surprised him.

* Try not to make the next one shit themselves. * Lestrade scolded you, and you heard Sherlock’s laughter in the background.

The high pitched sound of a fork hitting a crystal glass sounded across the room, and the male bachelors sat down on the table to their right. Next round.

‘Damn, woman, If I could see you naked I’d die happy.’ The next guy said with a confident smirk on his face, you didn’t even change your expression, you just raised a brow and answered immediately. 

‘If I’d saw you naked I’d die laughing.’ You shot back at him before even thinking if he was a mafia, and that was the only reason why you didn’t ask him to leave.

* (Y/N) BEHAVE. * Lestrade said while you heard Sherlock scream in the background that you really had to go on doing that.

‘Geez, you’re a lady, act like one.’ The guy said with a disgusted look plastered on his face, you wanted to punch him.

* Try not to kill him, he’s innocent. * Lestrade said in your earpiece and you wanted to groan.

‘Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know my vagina came with terms and conditions.’ You said back coolly, and you heard the girl on the table next to you snicker at your comment, you threw her a quick grin and you returned to the conversation with this ‘Jeremy’ fellow.

‘Clever enough, you’re a bit of a bitch but that’s okay, you look nice, really nice, especially that dress. You know where it would look good? On my bedroom floor.’ He grinned, not getting the hint.

‘It would look fabulous jammed in your windpipe.’ You said, sarcasm dripping from the words. Jeremy finally understood that he was too stupid and that he should move on.

You had still a few minutes left, and you ordered a gin tonic, it was a classy drink with enough alcohol to make you not wanting to shoot yourself.

* Remember, we’re on a case here, try not to get drunk. * Lestrade said and you whipped up your phone.


If I don’t get some alcohol in my system, I WILL SHOOT SOMEONE. – A very pissed me.


You send the text and actually heard how he received it, read it and showed it to everyone.

* I wouldn’t mind, and it would prove to the mafia that you were capable of being a part of a gang. * Sherlock said lightly and you smirked at your screen, pretending to read something funny.

* Don't encourage her Sherlock, both of you should behave. * Lestrade sighed. 


Shush, Spock, you’ll make me laugh.


You send that to Sherlock, and you heard him snicker as soon as he read the text.

The host hit his glass again with his fork, and all the men moved to the next table, the guy that was now sitting in front of you looked alright. The thing was, everything about him, from his look to his smug smile screamed ‘Sexist!!!!’, and you were very touchy on the subject of feminism. 

‘Good evening love, my name is Henry.’ He introduced himself, taking your hand from the table to place a kiss on your knuckles. You pretended to giggle and you held your other hand in front of your lips, batting your eyelashes a bit more then what was necessary.

‘Hello, I’m Claire.’ You introduced yourself, and he threw you a thousand-watt smile.

* Sherlock, would you please stop pouting and tell us if that’s a mafia or gangster or anything illegal? * You heard Lestrade say, and you wondered why Sherlock was moping around.

‘Claire, what a beautiful name for a gorgeous girl.’ 

* Not him. * You just heard Sherlock say, and you wanted to find out why he was suddenly so bummed out.

‘Thank you, so, what do you expect to get out of this evening?’ You asked Jeremy, hoping you had been wrong on the whole sexist thing.

‘I’m not sure, depends on the girl, honestly. It could be a one-night stand kind of thing or it could be something for the long run, a woman by my side you know.’ He said to you, explaining honestly, he wasn’t so bad, but you knew what was coming.

‘By your side? Hmm, what would she be doing there?’ you said as you took a sip from your gin tonic, painting the perfect picture of a pretty, classy lass.

‘Uh, you know, what a woman does.’ He shrugged and you already heard the condensing tone in his voice, so you sighed.

‘Oh honey, once again you prove that size does matter.’ You said disappointed, turning the glass in your hand.

* Honey? Really (Y/N)? * You heard Sherlock’s disapproving tone. 

* Shut up Sherlock! * Lestrade bellowed.

‘Why?’ He asked, his brows furrowed. You raised your gaze to him and stared him straight in the eyes. 

‘You need a bigger brain.’ You said evenly, and you heard the girl from a second ago crack up again.

* That’s my girl. * Sherlock said approvingly


‘Oh I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be listening but you’re very clever.’ She said to you and she honestly looked nice.

‘Thank you, I’m just not really in the mood for bullshit.’ You said sheepishly, grinning towards her.

‘Oh I know what you mean, tonight’s catch isn’t very impressive huh?’ She said to you, and you kind of noticed how your date stood up and walked away.

‘It is amusing though.’ You grinned at her and she nodded.

‘Amen sister.’ She said, throwing one hand loosely in the air. 

‘I’m Claire.’ You said with a small wave.

‘I’m Lisa, nice to meet you.’ She said with a smile. 

* It’s her, she’s the contact person. * Sherlock whispered in the microphone, so you could hear it loud and clear.

‘Hey, you know, tonight’s not going to be really successful, do you want to get out of here?’ She asked you and you grinned, not breaking character.

‘I thought you’d never ask.’ You said with a smile, standing up and grabbing your purse.


We’re heading out, I don’t know where, track me.


You texted Lestrade quickly, locking your phone and putting it in your bag. You walked behind Lisa, outside, and she seemed to know where she was going so you just went with it.

‘So I assume you are single?’ She asked you and you nodded.

‘Pretty much so, I was hoping to find a guy who’s a little bit amusing, but I’m never lucky.’ You sighed, planning to throw your speech to her.

‘Unlucky in love?’ She asked you with sympathy and you just couldn’t believe she was with an illegal organization.

‘The worst, makes you believe they’re all like that, do you understand what I mean? It really does frustrate me sometimes, they seem to be running with their heads in their asses, they could use some wake up call.’ You groaned and she nodded, you knew she was measuring whether you would be killer material.

‘Have you ever been cheated on?’ She asked you quietly and you nodded. 

‘Yeah, by a guy I was with for about three years.’ You said, your emotions locked up though, you did not have to come across as crazy and impulsive.

‘What did you do?’ She asked you and you grinned.

‘Make sure he would never be able to do it again, even if he wanted to.’ You said with a mischievous smile, and Lisa laughed.

‘Good job, that’s how it should be done.’ She said and suddenly a few men stepped out of the ally, standing threating in front of you.

* (Y/N) Watch out. * Sherlock breathed and he sounded concerned.

‘Evening ladies.’ One said with a tasteless grin on his face, you gripped your purse tighter and tensed up, ready to react. 

* Ah, this is a test, to see how you react, they are part of it all. * Sherlock said to you, and you almost started hissing at them.

‘What do you want?’ You spat to the spokesman, trying to have a natural reaction to this situation.

‘No need to be so hostile, honey, we are just looking for a little bit of fun.’ He said to you and you felt the guys behind you step closer.

‘Buy a mirror, you’ll laugh your ass off.’ You said back, and his fake smile turned into a snarl instantly.

* Your sarcasm is going to get you killed, we’re near you if it doesn’t work out. * Sherlock said to you soothingly, he had never seen you actually fight.

‘That wasn’t so smart of you.’ The guy answered and balled his fists, you crouched and tore a long rip in your dress, making it look like split. It was so you could kick better without having your dress in the way. 

‘Ah, you’re making it easier for us how nice.’ He chanted and you ignored him.

‘You know how to fight?’ You said to the girl next to you, she looked frightened and you made a mental note that she was a great actress.

‘A little bit.’ She said with a small voice and you nodded, looking her fiercely in the eye before turning around.

‘Don’t you bloody touch us or I’ll rip every limb off your body.’ You threatened the guy who was standing the closest to you.

‘We’ll let you live if you cooperate.’ The leader offered, and you spat in his face. He wiped it away with barely suppressed anger.

‘Fine, have it your way, bitch.’ He said, and lunged forward.

You had already balled your fist and you hit him straight in the nose, you heard a loud crack and felt warm blood splatter on you knuckles. You were proud that you had taken him out with one punch, but you were also focussing on the next guy.

You dodged his hit and punched him in one of his weak points, were all the nerves were connected to each other, he groaned and you took the opportunity to kick him in the nuts with the back of your foot, burying your high heels in his manly parts. He cried out and you hopped back, in front of Lisa, as if you were protecting her. But you felt her hand on your shoulder.

‘(Y/N) Relax! I have to explain something to you.’ She said to you, and you saw how the guys that were left stepped back, relaxing. You turned around and feigned surprise.

‘Lisa what is all this?’ You said wide-eyed.

‘This was a test (Y/N). I recruit new members for our special force, and this was a test to see how you handled a threatening situation.’ She explained to you.

Special force, psh, that’s like calling your weed supply vegetables.

‘Special force? Like MI6?’ You asked her innocently.

‘No, we’re more secret, orders from the highest ranks are for us and we need the best of the best. Our team exist of unexperienced women who show potential, and I think you’d be perfect.’ She told you and you frowned, looking at the two men you had beat up, they were still lying on the cold hard ground. (AH OH trouble.trouble.trouble.)

‘And those were agents?’ You asked again, pointing with a shaky finger towards them.

‘Yes, very good ones, where did you learn to fight like that?’ She asked you, probably to calm you down. You pretended to have an elevated heart rate and quick breathing, like you were in shock.

‘My father taught me, for this kind of situations.’ You explained to her with a shaky smile, she nodded and smiled at you.

‘(Y/N), you have proved yourself to be a valuable asset for our team. You also look like someone who gets bored easily and needs something more in life then a simple office job. Do you want to be part of the realistic version of Charlie’s angels?’ She said to you and you pretended to be confused.

‘I don’t know, it sounds… interesting but I’m still… a bit shaken up, I’m not used to this.’ You said concerned, looking around, pretending to be troubled.

‘I understand, are you willing to think about it?’ She asked you calmly, and you knew she would kill you if you said no.

‘I will, definitely, I will.’ You stammered, nodding quickly, but not looking afraid, just shaken up.

‘We’ll bring you home, where do you live?’ She asked as a black car pulled up to the sidewalk.

‘Eh, Sofia hotel at Piccadilly circus, I’m still looking for something.’ You explained awkwardly.  

The ride was silent, and you pretended to calm down slowly, looking around the city like you were interested. When you finally pulled up to the hotel, you looked at Lisa.

‘I feel I should… thank you, you made my evening very interesting, and would you mind giving my apologies to the two men I beat up?’ You asked her and she shrugged.

‘It’s their own fault, they shouldn’t have underestimated you, and you can tell them yourself the next time.’ She said with a wink and you smiled.

‘I guess I will, goodnight.’ You said simply, and after she had answered you slammed the door shut. Walking elegantly into the hotel, straight to the elevator.

When the doors closed you leaned against the wall, closing your eyes and letting out a sigh.

‘That really was something, wasn’t it?’ You asked Lestrade, hoping he would hear you and that the microphone hadn’t fallen of.

* Really impressive how you handled the situation, you should become an agent. * He answered, clearly impressed with you.

‘Nah, I think I can help Sherlock better on the forensics team, right?’ You said jokingly, but you didn’t hear a reply from Sherlock.

‘Where is he?’ You asked Lestrade, sounding weary.

‘As the fight started, we had to hold him from jumping out and helping you. He was so worked up we had to remove him from the scene.’ He said to you, a little bit afraid that you would blow up on him, but it wasn’t his fault, Sherlock had a temper.

‘It’s fine, I’ll talk to him.’ You said as you stepped out of the elevator.

You pretended to be living in this hotel for the time being, so they wouldn’t find out who you were. A big con was that you didn’t see Sherlock tonight, and it felt strange, you two were never apart for such a long amount of time. You took your phone out of your purse and dialled his number.

‘Yes?’ He answered immediately and you sighed, he sounded annoyed.

‘Hey Spock.’ You said affectionately, trying to smother him with niceness so he would stop being grumpy.

‘(Y/N)’ He breathed out, sighing out of relief.

‘Didn’t think I’d be able to handle some idiots now, did you?’ You mocked him as you walked to your room, 601.

‘You never told me you could fight.’ He accused you and you laughed lightly.

‘I thought you’d already know, Mr. No-secret-is-safe-due-to-my-deduction-skills.’ You said and you heard him grin a little.

‘That’s certainly understandable, but you overestimated your own genius.’ He said back, and you felt a small smile creep on your face as he called himself your own genius.

‘How are you doing? Are you holding up okay without me?’ You asked, a little bit concerned as you opened the door to your room.

‘Well…’ You heard him say, but when you looked up to your room you saw him standing there with a sheepish grin and a phone by his ear.

‘About that, I’ve got a surprise.’ He told you and you laughed hard.

‘What is it?’ You asked still with your phone at your ear, Sherlock hadn’t moved either, but now he looked confused.

‘It’s me, I’m here.’ He said in an obvious tone and you chuckled.

‘No shit Sherlock.’ You told him with a smile.


Thank god you are.



Chapter Text

Your P.O.V.


You took off the heels that were actually killing your feet, and hung up your coat.

‘So anyways, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you.’ You asked him while walking to the kitchen, filling the kettle with water and setting it on the pit so you could have a tea before getting to bed.

‘Oh uh, Lestrade got mad at me, completely unnecessary, and I had to leave the van. I just wanted to check up on you before you went to sleep.’ He said, and you noticed that it was a big, fat, lie. You smirked a bit after you’d turned around, making sure he wouldn’t see it.

We’re just too used to each others company, I guess, I don’t mind. I like having him around, honestly.   

‘So are you staying?’  You asked him casually, walking over to your suitcase and opening it up.

‘Well, I would very much like so, but I didn’t bring any pyjamas with me.’ He excused himself, and without looking you took one of his pyjama pants out of the suitcase and threw it over your shoulders towards him.

‘Why on earth’s name did you bring my clothes with you?’ He asked you, stunned, and you shrugged. 

‘They’re really comfortable.’ You answered, grabbing an old shirt for yourself and making your way to the bathroom.

‘So you steal them?’ He asked offended, but you had already locked yourself in the bathroom to change.

‘I’d prefer you to use the word borrow.’ You said with a smile plastered on your face as you took off your dress. You were considering to take off your bra too, but then decided to keep it on. Sherlock would notice within a split second. You shrugged on your oversized T-shirt that stopped mid thigh. You stepped out of the bathroom and saw how Sherlock was about to pull on his own shirt but froze when he saw that you saw him.



Let’s just say you mentally freaked out, however, you had been learning from him how to control your emotions, and you were able to shrug it of with a smile while walking over to the king-size bed, throwing yourself on it and getting the TV’s remote.

All right sister, calm your tits down, breathe. BREATHE.  

‘Aren’t you going to wear pants?’ He asked you, and you noticed there was something off about him, he wasn’t acting Sherock-y.

‘Sherlock, what’s up?’ You asked him concerned. You were sitting on the left side of the bed and looked to your right to see him standing there in his grey shirt and plaid pyjama pants, it was cute. But he had a frown on his face, and looked worried, that had rarely happened when he wasn’t on a case.

‘I’m not sure…’ he mumbled, and you patted on the spot besides you.

‘Talk to me, and we’ll figure it out, that’s why I’m here for, right?’ You said to him with a smile on your face, being the most supportive you could possibly be. You wanted him to be less afraid of his own emotions, for his own sake though, you’d never want to actually change him.

‘Why do you tolerate me?’ He asked you, there wasn’t sadness in his voice though, just curiosity, and your heart broke.

He has friends, but so many people treat him so awful. He has a massive ego and at the same time he has none at all.

‘Tolerate you? What do you mean?’ You scoffed, not going to answer to a bullshit question.

‘You are certainly aware what I’m asking you, (Y/N). I’m a narcissistic arsehole and probably the worst roommate in the world, you could live with anyone you’d like to, why do you stick around?’ He said curtly, no emotions in his voice. 

‘Can’t you deduce?’ You asked him, knowing that he must’ve picked up some signs, he was a blimming genius for pete’s sake.

‘I see, but in your case I do not observe, there is no logical explanation behind this.’ He answered you and you looked at him sarcastically.

‘Really Sherlock? You out of all people can’t find an explanation, you’re full of shit, that’s what you are.’ You accused him and he grunted.

‘Just answer the bloody question.’ He snapped at you, getting impatient and you smiled at him.

‘You’ve got a nice apartment; I’d like to keep living there.’ You said dryly, humour glimmering in your eyes as you saw Sherlock’s expression turn to annoyed.

‘You did that thing you do when you lie, so tell me the truth.’ He shot back, and you sighed, Sherlock didn’t want to tell you what it was that you did.

‘I don’t really know how to explain it, my dear Spock.’ You said timidly, joking a bit to keep the mood light.

‘Just give it a shot.’ He said, not budging one inch.

‘Well, I think you could say living with you makes life interesting. I never know what’s going to happen and what we’ll be doing, that’s great…’ You looked at him questioningly, wondering if you could stop, this whole explain-your-feelings-thing wasn’t really your cup of tea. But he just kept his piercing eyes on you, and you knew you had to continue.

‘And with you I feel really comfortable, more than with other people. I think that I trust you the most out of anyone, and having you around keeps me calm and sane…something like that. But you yourself are cool too, honestly, I don’t know why people complain so much about you, you’re really kind if you want to be…’ You said and trailed off again, feeling really really uneasy with this whole thing.

‘Okay…’ Sherlock said just as uncomfortable, you suspected that he hadn’t really expected that from you, it was so soppy.

Oh shit, I don’t want things to become uncomfortable…fuck…

‘But the main reason I stick around is because your clothes are extremely comfortable, honestly.’ You said with a smirk and Sherlock looked at you annoyed.

‘I’ll have a lock installed on my door the moment we get home.’ He said dryly, while getting under the covers, you did the same.

‘I’ll pick it within 5 minutes.’ You answered back and Sherlock rolled his eyes, knowing that you were right. 

There was some distance between you, and even though you wanted to close that distance, you didn’t, it would make Sherlock feel uncomfortable. You knew he cared about you, but he also struggled a lot with emotions, it would take him some time to figure everything out. And he probably just cared about you as a friend anyways. 

You closed the lights and made yourself comfortable, lying on your side, facing Sherlock, who was lying on his back. For some while thoughts kept spooking through your head about everything that had happened that same day, but you felt Sherlock’s presence and you knew you didn’t have to worry.


Sherlock’s P.O.V.


Go to your mind palace  

There’s approximately 6,2 inches between us right now, I feel her breath, It’s finally steady. She fell asleep after 14 minutes.

No don’t concentrate on her, you idiot, focus on the case

The case that she’s risking her life for.


But then again not that irrelevant, you need to protect her.

I’m not forced to do anything.

But yet you are, unconsciously.  

I don’t want to be.

You don’t have a choice.

Sherlock sighed and opened his eyes, he wasn’t going to sleep anyways, he just couldn’t, he was on a case. But then why did he lie down? Right, to make you feel a bit more comfortable. That’s another thing, when did he start doing things for other people?

No no no, not other people, just her.

It’s all about her the last month, the constantly worrying if he didn’t hurt her feelings unconsciously was wearing him out. Though when they were on a case, it would go perfectly, smoothly, she would understand what he was trying to explain to the others and she would occupy herself with the communication, that way he could think.

And then that stupid game they had invented, he loved it. Whenever he was bored she wouldn’t keep doing what she had been doing and scream at him that he shouldn’t do whatever he was doing. No she would drag him outside and make him do stuff, talk to people, help them, it was refreshing not to see death stares.

He did receive a lot of death stares, from her too, but she would be joking most of the time. People were hating on her too now, that pathetic group of idiots that gather to talk about his cases had threatened her. Not that she cared, she was tough, smarter than anyone he knew and every day a little bit less insecure about herself


I really should focus on the case, where could the mafia be?  

Where do they hide?

Do you think she’ll get hurt?


 Again he sighed, and looked towards her, her mouth was hanging open slightly and she looked relaxed, at last. She worried so much throughout the day, about him, about people, about the cases, but she always smiled at him. She was really what lore described angels as, even though she had many flaws. Like many. A lot.

Maybe he could sleep, she always told him he should. If she would wake up now and see him awake she would kill him, not really, but she would be pissed. Maybe he should stop thinking now, not possible, go to sleep. 

And then he fell asleep.


He slept for many hours, and in his unconsciousness he had shifted towards her, the same way she had shifted towards his warmth. So when he woke up, he found her laying on his chest, with her right cheek pressed against his collarbone, and her arm laying across him. He had wrapped one of his arms around her, he didn’t even know why.

 Waking up like this made him feel warm, not on the outside, but on the inside. He guessed that was caused by some sort of emotions, odd, but lovely. On the outside he was warm to, actually, because he had another human being laying on top of him. He was enjoying this probably more then he should, he had just never received this amount of affection from someone he cared about, because he did. He had wanted to stand up early and start the research but maybe he could lie down a little bit…relax, with you. Research could wait.


No it couldn’t

What you were doing to him wasn’t good.

I’m not being myself, I’m not solving cases, she’s distracting me. She must stop.

This must stop.  

So he roughly made his way from under her, pushing her arm away and getting up. The sudden movements had woken her up, but he didn’t care. He walked over to his pile of clothes he had laid down on the desk yesterday and started changing. He had put his pants on when she finally looked up to him, and she frowned.

‘Are you already off to research?’ She asked groggily, and Sherlock was struggling not to go back.

‘You’ve got until tomorrow to get all your belongings from the apartment, after that I’ll throw anything away that’s not of any use to me.’ He said coldly and saw how she got out of the bed, her sleepiness gone from her eyes.

‘What are you on about?’ She asked him, walking towards him, he just threw her the coldest stare he could muster.

‘Are you really so stupid you’re going to make me repeat myself again?’ He spat at her and she looked taken aback and hurt, he had never talked to her like this.

‘You want me to move out?’ She asked him, apparently struggling to comprehend what was going on. 

‘Yes, I do.’ He just answered, buttoning up his blouse.

‘Why? What is wrong, Sherlock? What’s happening? Have I done anything wrong?’ She asked him desperately, and he sighed, she wasn’t going to let it go anytime soon. He had to end it for her.

‘I’m done with you, (Y/N).’ He just said and now she just scoffed.

‘Yeah sure, you’re done with me, really funny. You couldn’t have been pretending this month, now tell me what’s gotten into you.’ She said to him, folding her arms and looking at him challengingly.

Break her spirit.

‘I got bored of you, you were nothing but a difficult experiment and you failed, so I’m done.’ He said coldly, looking her straight in the eye as he said it.

‘You’re lying.’ She said, but her voice was soft, and it broke mid-sentence.

‘Why would you think that?’ He said with a scoff, not showing that hurting her was devastating him.

‘I thought… I believe that you cared…we are friends…’ She said, unsure of herself, desperately looking for confirmation in his eyes, but he didn’t budge, he just raised an eyebrow.

‘I don’t have friends, like I said, you are a failed experiment.’ He said to her, and finally saw all the trust that he had built up with her, crumble in her eyes. Tears spilled over, but she was biting a lip not to make any sound, her fists were balled up and she was pressing her nails into her palm.

Even now, she wants to keep her emotions as hidden as possible, she won’t break down in front of me, just like I taught her. She’ll be fine without me, better.

He didn’t say anything, he just took his coat and left. That day he didn’t go home, or he might encounter her taking out her stuff out of her room, he might change his mind if he saw her. So he wandered around London, went to the morgue, and tried to kill time as much as possible.

When he came back that evening, he saw that her jackets weren’t hanging were they normally were, and in the living room, her piles of books were gone. He walked upstairs to the room and saw that she had left no trace of her time spend there, and he felt empty inside. Just like the room.

You are going to make yourself puke.

He walked to the living room again and sat down, looking around. Finally, he noticed, that (Y/N)’s painting had been replaced by another one, wrapped in white paper with a little not on it. He walked closer and saw that his name was written on it, with her elegant handwriting. He considered not opening it for a split second, but he was just too curious.




Thank you for the time you’ve given me, not anyone gets this opportunity, and I had the best month of my life.

I don’t know if it was all fake, or a façade, but you are not a bad person at all, even if so many people tell you you are. Don’t fool yourself into believing them.

I’m sorry it didn’t work out.

This belongs to you.



PS: I know you will scoff and roll your eyes at this, but call me if you ever need anything at all.


He read the card a few times over, and then breathed out. He hadn’t even noticed he had been holding his breath while reading the letter. She wasn’t even mad, she thanked him. Unbelievable, and she has taken the time to tell him he’s not a bad person after he had hurt her so bad? And she still offered her help to him, she was crazy. 

He huffed and threw the card in a corner, and then ripped the paper away from the painting.


All the air in his lungs got knocked out when he saw what it was.



Had he just made a mistake?

Chapter Text

Sherlock’s P.O.V.


It had been two months, 5 days and four hours since Sherlock had unwrapped the paper around the portrait. Not that he was counting or anything. 

A lot had changed in that time, yet nothing at all. 

It was empty in Bakerstreet, quiet, you could say. Sherlock didn’t have anyone to scream to, and he had become so focussed on the cases that he mostly kept to himself. Ms Hudson didn’t come up to bother him anymore, she was trying to protest against her leaving by not talking to him again, but he didn’t care.

He barely cared about anything, really, except for the cases. The cases had become his life again, but now worse then ever. It was like John had never come around, and like she had never taught him anything about people. He just wanted to solve cases, catch the murderers as quick as possible to go to the next one. Now he focussed even more on the cases because he knew what he was missing out on, the games you used to play and the talks you had weren’t there to fill his periods of boredom. 

John was around sometimes, but he was mad at Sherlock. He had declined to become his assistant again because he thought that it was ridiculous that Sherlock had send her away. Sherlock hadn’t really told him what he had said to her, he was a bit ashamed of it.

He wasn’t the only one who was unhappy with the way things turned out, Lestrade was also pretty pissed. He had asked Sherlock what had happened but he wouldn’t answer, then Greg had asked her the same question, and the only thing she had said was ‘It just didn’t work out’ with a sad smile. 

He hadn’t really been struggling, honestly, he had stopped it before he became co-dependent on someone. At least, that what he told himself. He did solve cases, he ate between them and slept too, but he didn’t really talk to people anymore. He just lived, survived and went on, trying not to think too much about what he could be doing… 

Today, he was excited. Lestrade had just phoned him that they needed him to be a main character in the next case, and he was just pumped. He had thrown on one of his suits and was rummaging through a pile of stuff to find his scarf. When he found it he held it in the air triumphantly, but as he looked at it he focussed on the painting that was standing in the corner of the room, it’s front turned towards the wall so he didn’t have to look at it. 

He hadn’t had the heart to throw it away, but he didn’t want to stare at it either, so now it was just laying there. And it reminded him of her every time he looked at it. He didn’t show it, or acknowledge it, but he missed her, he missed her a lot. But it was too late now.

Sherlock got to the police station and entered the conference room where everything about the case would be told. The room was filled with the regular group: some officers, the whole forensics team and the detectives. That meant She was there too, but it was okay, she always remained professional at work. 

‘Ah, let’s get to it then, good morning everyone, we’ve got a new problem. There might be a chance, a big chance, that the Italian art collector Giovanni Imponente has stolen some of louvres biggest works.’ Lestrade started off.

Louvre? Sounds French, don’t know what it is. What kind of works has he stolen? Statues, paintings…? I could ask (Y/N).

He turned his head to the right to ask her, but she wasn’t standing next to him anymore. Now she was sitting in the front row of the room next to Dave from forensics, Sherlock disliked Dave a lot. Just because.

‘He’s hosting a big event, and it will be our chance to investigate what’s in his home, but we’ll have to go undercover.’ Lestrade went on, and some whispers rose up in the room.

‘One of them has already been established by me, I want Sherlock on the team. He will be able to identify whether people are lying and what they are hiding on the spot. Okay?’ He asked and Sherlock nodded curtly, wondering who his partner would be. 

As long as it wasn’t Anderson, Donovan, Dave or (Y/N) he would be fine. Not that he would actually talk to the person he was working with, it was just a façade.

‘He’ll go undercover as an important art collector, visiting the event with his wife to meet Imponente.’ Lestrade read on and the four females in the room looked at each other wearily.

Sherlock tensed, he knew what was coming, and he didn’t like it one bit.

‘She’ll have to have great acting skills and she must collect some knowledge on art…’ Lestrade went on, reading what he had written on his note, and Sherlock saw how Dave poked (Y/N) with a finger, whispering something in her ear. She laughed at whatever he had said and quickly stifled it by putting a hand across her mouth. Sherlock felt the need to throw Dave out of the window.

‘So basically you all know who I’m talking about… (Y/N)?’ Lestrade asked, but she hadn’t been listening and only heard her name being called.

‘Yes?’ She asked, but Lestrade saw it as a hesitant acceptance so he clapped his hands.

‘Great, the next briefing will be in a few hours when we’ve worked the plan out, thank you all for coming.’ 

‘What?’ She said to Dave with a hushed whisper, she hadn’t understood that she was going to go undercover.

‘You’re Sherlock’s partner in this case.’ Dave answered with a certain disdain in his voice, Sherlock’s heart clenched a bit as he waited for her reaction.

‘Ooooh, I had already seen it coming, it’s fine.’ She shrugged it off as she stood up and walked over to Lestrade to grab her file with information. Sherlock breathed out, he didn’t know how he would’ve felt if you had made a mean remark towards him.

Now this is the reason why you send her away, you shouldn’t have to waste your time on thinking how you could be feeling, or anyone else for that matter.

Sherlock paced up to Lestrade, to hear what he would be doing, not that he would listen if he didn’t agree with it. 

‘…know something about art?’ Sherlock heard Lestrade finish his sentence.

‘Meh, a little bit.’ She shrugged and Sherlock cocked up an eyebrow.

‘She studied art and is up to date with all the news and artists of today.’ He said coolly and both her and Lestrade looked at him. Lestrade surprised, (Y/N) uninterested.

‘I just thought we should be honest if we would be working together.’ He said with a slight mocking in his voice as he got his file from the table.

Why am I being so cruel to her? Honesty? Seriously? I told her I lied to her for a whole month.

‘Back at you, Spock.’ She said coolly, pretending like nothing was bothering her.  

Spock… Haven’t heard that for a while…

‘So… are you both okay with this?’ Lestrade asked wearily, feeling the tension between Sherlock and his best forensic. 

‘Of course, back to the case. We’ll have to get in, act a bit and then look around the house during the party, and see what we can find, right?’ She said professionally, paying no attention to Sherlock at all, she was focussed on the case like she always was. 

She knows when to shut off her thoughts about what I’ve done to her and focus on the case, I should do the same thing.

‘Yes, the party’s tomorrow evening at eight, we’ll first gather here. You must make sure that they don’t find out that you’re looking around. This Is a legal mission but we have no official search warranty.’ Lestrade warned her and Sherlock nodded, this wasn’t too difficult.

‘I’ll be there.’ She just said as she swung her bag over her shoulder and walked away, not giving anyone a second glance. 

‘She’s been like this ever since she moved out.’ Lestrade said, and Sherlock turned to him, surprised.

‘Like what?’ Sherlock asked, he had been ignoring her as much as he could. Not deducing anything off her and not paying attention to her talking.

‘Just silent, short. She doesn’t make any snarky remarks anymore, she doesn’t say anything if it isn’t asked of her and her reports don’t obtain any extra details we’ve missed and don’t really need. She’s average now, you could say.’ Lestrade said, and Sherlock frowned. 

The anxiety was kicking back in, he guessed, and she didn’t dare to make any comments again like he used to do with her. 

‘And you’re also back to how you were. It’s a shame, really, she’s less of a genius and you’re more of a dick.’ Lestrade said lightly and Sherlock squinted his eyes to Lestrade.

‘I’ve solved cases quicker the last few months, Lestrade, you’ve got nothing to complain about.’ Sherlock snapped at him, not happy that a potential mistake was addressed to him.

‘No you haven’t, you’ve solved more, but only because there were more, the actual solving and rounding up of the case took more time because you failed to tell us in detail how you did it.’ Lestrade scolded back and Sherlock groaned a bit, being lectured while he was actually wrong was awful.

‘It doesn’t matter anymore; you’ll have to be happy with the cases I solve since you can’t do it yourself.’ Sherlock shot at him and paced away angrily, what he hadn’t anticipated that Lestrade wouldn’t give up. He ran behind Sherlock and grabbed his shoulder.

‘Stop being so bloody stubborn, Sherlock, and listen to me. You two were the perfect team, you solved cases quickly and neatly without any nasty incidents. Why did you send her away?’ He asked, and Sherlock knew he couldn’t ignore him anymore.

‘I had to focus on the cases, without the cases my brain rots, and she distracted me all the time. If I hadn’t make her move out, you wouldn’t have my help this very moment.’ He said curtly, not allowing Lestrade to tell him what he should’ve done. 

‘What do you mean, she distracted you?’ Lestrade said surprised, he wouldn’t have guessed that that was the reason you left.

‘I just couldn’t concentrate on the cases with her around, I kept thinking about her, it was too distracting, so I told her she had to leave.’ Sherlock explained calmly, knowing that telling the truth would backfire at him, but right now he just wanted Lestrade to back off.

‘Sherlock…’ Lestrade started, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly hanging open and he took his hand off his shoulder.

‘Were you in love with (Y/N)?’ He asked breathlessly and Sherlock’s face snapped towards Lestrade. 

‘No.’ He said evenly, not hesitating for a second.

‘Yes you were, or you are, you are, aren’t you? Sherlock?’ Lestrade said with a grin and Sherlock huffed turning around and walking away.

‘Let it go, Lestrade, sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side, I’ve said it many times before. I don’t fall in love with someone, those are just emotions playing a trick on you.’ He said seemingly uninterested, but inside he was boiling with anger. 

I’m Sherlock Holmes, I won’t fall pray to such a useless and stupid bodily reaction as ‘love’.  

‘You’re wrong.’ Lestrade stated with such certainty that Sherlock was just forced to a halt.

‘You two were much better together, much more efficient. I don’t know if it you were in love or not, but you have to apologize to her, Sherlock.’ Lestrade said to Sherlock, who just huffed indignantly and finally walked away.

I don’t owe her anything.  

Sherlock went back to Bakerstreet, the whole way pondering over what Lestrade had said.

Was he really better off with her?

The day went on and so did the next, in the blink of an eye the time had arrived for Sherlock to suit up (with a bowtie this time) and head to the police station to get in character. He was nervous, to say the least, to be pretending he was her partner. A few months ago, at the mafia case that had been exactly what he wanted, but right now, it would result in a lot of awkwardness.

He arrived to the station and went to Lestrade’s office, earning a few curious stares from officers who saw him actually fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. It was unusual for them to see Sherlock struggling with something, they wondered what it was.

She was already there, and when Sherlock walked in the small room he took the time to pay attention to her for the first time since he had cruelly send her away.

She has lost weight in these months, 5 kilos, that indicates a change in her eating routine. It looks unhealthy on her, though most people wouldn’t even notice, it’s too subtle for that. She looks more tired then before, dark circles around her eyes, her skin tone paled a lot. Her hands are trembling slightly…But still…  

…She’s radiant.  

She’s wearing nothing too flashy, her dress was subtle and black. It was tight around her figure and fanned out around her mid-thigh, a golden bracelet around her upper arm gave a slight modern tone to the combination, her hair was like always, just a bit smoother. She looked classy, rich and absolutely beautiful.

‘Good evening, (Y/N), you look beautiful.’ Sherlock said politely, trying to start the night off nicely.

‘Thanks, you look great yourself.’ She answered him with a small smile. Sherlock noticed her non-aggressive behaviour towards him and was relieved, but the distance in her eyes send a shudder through his spine. 

‘All right, your names are Amelia and Alistair DuPont. You live in the south of England in a great mansion, that way you have easily access to almost every country in Europe, you are filthy rich, you’ve got no children and… you’re madly in love.’ Lestrade read off the report that he and some officers had written, though Sherlock suspected that the other officers had thought up the last thing, just to annoy Sherlock. 

‘Amelia, sounds lovely.’ She said softly while nodding once.

‘Let’s head towards the party.’ Sherlock said as he held the door for her, she nodded in thanks and walked past him.

Outside a limousine was waiting to pick you up and drive you to the party. Sherlock held the door open for her and she smiled at him, and again he noticed that there was no warmth in it.

She doesn’t hate me like I thought she would, but she doesn’t care about me either.

Why does this hurt so much? I chose this myself.

‘So, you’ll be the expert out the two of us?’ Sherlock asked lightly in the car a while later, he didn’t know anything at all about art, he didn’t care.

‘And you’ll be the one who provides the support.’ She confirmed with a firm nod.

It used to be the other way around…

Shut up.

When you arrived, she gave him no time at all to open the door for her, but she did wait for him and enlaced her arm with his, leaning towards him as they walked. You really looked like a rich, happy couple. 

This would’ve felt better without those stupid microphones stuck to my chest and that idiotic earpiece.

You entered the seemingly boring house and were surprised by the interior. It was richly decorated and had a warm feeling to it.

‘This man really knows how to decorate a home, it’s beautiful.’ She said to Sherlock, looking around with her mouth hanging open a bit. Sherlock opened his own mouth to answer something but was rudely interrupted by a deep, male voice.

‘Ah, so the beautiful lady has also a great taste.’ The big, fancy dressed man said from behind them with a thick Italian accent. 

Sherlock and (Y/N) turned around to introduce themselves, but the man seemed to desire complete control over the conversation and butted in before any other word could be spoken.

Full of himself, very confident, borderline narcissistic. Not a full-blood Italian, he had an American mother, still bothers him to this day and tries to overcompensate for it. He wishes to be more than he already is, and will die in approximately 7 years and 4 months of a heart attack. Very rich, has multiple illegal bank accounts in Switzerland. Is planning on getting it on with (Y/N)... As if that was ever going to happen.  

‘I’m Giovanni Imponente, your host for tonight, to whom do I owe the pleasure?’ He said while stretching out his arm so he could take her hand and kiss it.

‘Amelia DuPont, this is my husband Alistair, we’re great fans of your collection.’ She politely introduced you two as he kissed her hand. Sherlock saw how she got Goosebumps all over her arm, she was clearly uneasy.

‘Some of it is displayed tonight, I hope you enjoy it.’ Giovanni said with a glimpse of humour in his eyes as he saw Sherlock’s possessive look over her. 

‘We most certainly will.’ He said with a harmless, polite smile, while slipping his arm around her waist to make sure his point came across. Giovanni looked sceptical until she leaned against Sherlock, giving him a loving smile as she laid her had on his, both of them wearing the same golden wedding ring.

Giovanni just nodded once and decided to give up, probably because Sherlock looked pretty menacing and there were enough girls around here willing to sleep with him without him having to risk a black eye. When he walked away she slightly pulled away from him, and he let her, but neither of them broke character.

‘Shall we get to the main room?’ Sherlock asked nicely but she shook her head. 

‘He’s too egocentric to install the stolen paintings around here, he would’ve wanted to keep it to himself and look at it every moment, knowing that it was only his.’ She explained and Sherlock nodded, he had figured out that much.

A waiter came by with glasses of champagne and she took two glasses, taking a small sip and then throwing it in the small rose bush that was placed for the occasion.

‘We are going to act drunk, head upstairs like we want to fool around like all these rich snobs and then look for some leads.’ She said to him and he nodded, his eyes wide, he wasn’t use to being commanded around. Usually he was the one calling the shots.

‘We’ll have to wait for a bit until we don’t stand out, so do you want to dance? To kill time?’ Sherlock asked politely, going along with her plan. But again she shook her head. 

‘There are too many people in there, I won’t survive it without an incident.’ She stated calmly, putting away her now empty glass and grabbing the next one.

‘So it’s back?’ Sherlock asked with a frown, they had trained it for a while and then her fear of being in a room with a lot of people had subsided, she was able to control her anxiety.

‘It never left, just stayed down for a while.’ She said casually, but her answer made clear she didn’t want to talk about it. He just nodded a bit and felt a pang of guilt go through him.

There was barely anything left from the girl she used to be. She didn’t look depressed, or like her world had ended though. She just didn’t smile at him so kindly, with that warm gaze that ensured him he was doing the right thing. She didn’t playfully mock him anymore, treating him like any other person. Her troubled stare indicated that she didn’t have the patience for him anymore, for his questions and rants, now she would tell him to shut up.

But he thought barely, not that was nothing left at all, because there was. She was still nice, she didn’t look at him nastily, or angry or accusing. She didn’t hate him for what he had done, and considering most people hated him for actually doing nothing at all this was remarkable. She was just hurt.

Then it hit him.

Did I hurt her?

She has been nothing but extremely kind to me and maybe I hurt her, badly.  

‘Alistair, dude, wake up, don’t tell me you’re in your mind palace.’ She said while snapping her fingers in front of his face, he suddenly returned back to reality and shook his head.

‘No no, I’m sorry. We just really have to blend in, and every couple here dances, so we should too.’ He said pushing and her gaze hardened.

‘I said no.’ She stated harshly, and he was mentally taken aback. 

*Sherlock might have a point…* Lestrade said through the earpiece, and Sherlock knew he was only trying to get them back together.

So Sherlock offered his arm to her and she took it hesitantly, squeezing it a bit harder then necessary to get rid of the fear that overcame her when they stepped into the room. Sherlock steadily walked through the room, making sure nothing would go too fast for her. When they came to the dance floor there was a slow waltz going on, and he offered his hand to her, she slipped hers into his and the started dancing. 

It had been a while, but You had danced many times after she’d found out that he was a pro at it in Bakerstreet, so this went pretty smoothly. You slid across the dance floor, twirling each other around without stepping on each other toes. It might have looked romantic to any outsider, but to Sherlock and (Y/N) it was just painful.

I missed this, I actually missed this.

The evening went on way too slow in your opinion, you had to pretend to drink, to dance, and (Y/N) engaged in several discussions about art.

Sherlock had been off getting more drink, and when he came back he saw (Y/N) make some expressive movements with her hands, clearly agitated about something as she talked to a rather handsome fellow. 

Born rich, has a great heritage, got his father’s company, again a narcissist, hasn’t gotten laid in a while, wants to kiss (Y/N) badly and invite her over to his place, he has a narrow minded opinion about art, three dogs and a girlfriend- no, fiancé. Goes to the gym, but spends more time taking pictures rather then working out.

‘No way minimalism can be seen as more influential as classicism, that’s ridiculous!’ She exclaimed and the man shook his head.

‘I never have heard a catchphrase based on the classics, but I’ve heard of ‘less is more’.’ He shot back and she laughed.

‘There are thousands of quotes about classicism, you just don’t know them. And ever heard about neo-minimalism? Didn’t think so, but there is Neo-classism.’ She argued, and Sherlock saw a passionate fire roaring in her eyes he hadn’t seen for months.

‘That’s because minimalism hasn’t been around for so long, besides, it will never need a Neo-minimalism because it will never die and resurface.’ He said triumphantly and she laughed.

‘Alright, those are great arguments, but I still don’t agree with you.’ She said lightly with a warm smile on her face.

She used to smile like that at me.

‘I don’t agree with myself either, but it was a great icebreaker, wasn’t it?’ He smiled cheekily, clearly flirting with her, and that was the moment Sherlock stepped in.

‘Here’s your drink, sweetheart.’ He said to her, while handing over the glass and smiling at her nicely, she smiled back, but he saw annoyance in her eyes. 

‘Thank you dear, may I introduce you to Clarence Smith? He’s a great art expert, specialised in modern art.’ She said politely, and Clarence looked quite pissed too.

‘Nice to meet you…?’ He said as he stretched his arm to shake Sherlock’s hand.

‘Alistair DuPont, I’m Amelia’s husband.’ He said with a tight smile, taking Clarence’s hand and shaking it firmly, squeezing tighter than what was necessary. 

‘Ah, her husband. Right, of course. If you will excuse me, (Y/N), It has been a pleasure.’ He said curtly with a nod as he walked away. Sherlock felt relieve wash over him as he saw the potential tread make his way far away from them, but it didn’t last long when he felt her hand grip his arm tightly and drag him to the corner of the room.

‘We need to talk.’ She said, with constrained anger in her voice.

She let go of his arm the moment they arrived at the corner, then she fumbled with the hidden microphone in her dress.

‘Sorry Greg, I need a minute.’ She mumbled, and before the detective could protest she switched the microphone and her earpiece off. Then she continued with Sherlock’s, who was too concerned to say anything about it. When they both couldn’t be heard anymore by the police she started talking.

‘What are you doing?’ She said fiercely, burning a hole in Sherlock with her gaze. You were almost standing against each other in the crowded room, and to bystanders it looked like you were just talking to each other intimately. 

‘What do you mean?’ He asked innocently, not really pinpointing what she was getting at. 

‘Why did you interrupt me while talking to that guy? It was completely unnecessary, and the whole evening you have been so…possessive.’ She hissed at him, for the first time actually mad.

‘We are pretending to be husband and wife, remember?’ Sherlock shot back, rolling his eyes at her, and she looked taken aback.

Pretend the annoyance is because the case, not because other people are trying to hit on her. Really smart. 

‘Seriously? It was bothering no one, everyone here is socialising.’ She said to him incredulously.

‘Oh please, socialising, he was flirting with you. You don’t need deduction to see he had other intentions.’ Sherlock huffed, wondering how she could be so blind. 

‘Sherlock, I knew he was flirting, I was too, so what?’ She said and Sherlock frowned, he didn’t see that one coming.

‘He’s not good enough for you.’ He said without thinking it over twice, and he saw her eyes widen with shock before they were filled with pain.

‘Really? He’s not good enough for me? Then who is Sherlock? Because the last time I actually talked to you, you made it pretty clear that I wasn’t even good enough to live in a house with you. Failed experiment, remember?’ She said, her eyes getting a bit glazy, but she showed no other sings of weakness. 

Oh you idiot.

You broke down the confidence you had built up with a girl with anxiety, you screwed up big time. You have really hurt her, actually hurt her.

‘I didn’t mean that.’ He said, shock written all over his face as the realisation dawned in on him for the second tie that evening. He had hurt her really really bad.

‘Then why did you say it?’ She said softly, her features showing her disappointment.

‘I couldn’t think clearly with you around, so you had to leave.’ He said breathlessly, he didn’t see the point in lying.

‘What?’ She asked with a frown, clearly taken aback.

‘I kept being distracted from the case, so I had to do something about it.’ Sherlock explained again, calmly, hoping she didn’t hate him. If she hated him it would bother him very very much, too much actually.

She opened her mouth to react to his confession, but a muffled sound came out of her purse. She opened it and saw that she had received a text on her fake phone she had gotten from the police station.

If you two don’t connect the wires again and go on with the case, I’ll fire you on the spot –Lestrade.

‘Looks like we’ll have to finish up later, let’s get back into character and end this, alright?’ She proposed and Sherlock nodded.

‘Let’s dance a bit, get a little bit uncoordinated and head upstairs. What are we telling the guards if they catch us there?’ Sherlock asked her, to get their stories straight.

‘That we were looking for a place to make out?’ She proposed casually and Sherlock’s nodded.

So they headed over to the dance floor with glasses in their hands, laughing, giggling and stumbling on each other’s feet. People seemed to buy it as they looked funnily or mad at the pretend couple. At last she tripped on her own feet and fell against his chest, he caught her quickly before she could fall any further.

‘Let’s go.’ He said with a wink, and she giggled.

For some strange reason I want this to be real… I never had that kind of urge before, not really.

She took his hand and stumbled up the stares, throwing flirty looks over her shoulder the whole way.

She’s really a phenomenal actress, to a normal person she really seems drunk and…turned on...?

They arrived to the first floor and heard giggling coming out of another room, (Y/N) rolled her eyes a bit and continued looking around for guards.

They searched the whole first floor, but there was no trace of the stolen art works. The rooms were all locked, so they had to step up their game somehow…

Sherlock walked over to a promising door, crouched down, and started picking the lock when they heard footsteps coming closer.

Heavy footsteps, regular sized steps for someone who’s 6 foot 5, male definitely, trying to come across as a true authority, so he’s the guard.

Sherlock quickly spun around and took (Y/N), grabbing her by her shoulder and wrist, pushing her against the wall, standing so close to her that their lips almost touched.

‘Hey, what are you doing there?’ The guard yelled, and both her and Sherlock turned around with guilty grins on their faces.

‘We just needed a bit of a quiet spot.’ She giggled as she tightened her grip on the front of his blouse.

Overweight, depressed, has a medium intellect but doesn’t use it because he hasn’t been stimulated by his parents. Recently divorced, because she didn’t like him anymore, but why...? What’s wrong with him? Hmm... oh, I see it now.

The guard groaned a bit and rolled his eyes, but after a second he continued walking down the hallway like nothing had happened. The two of you stood there for a second before letting each other go.

Sherlock went on picking the lock, but it proved to be harder than he had initially thought. Before he could open it the same footsteps came closer again.

Oh piss off, I knew I was right.

Sherlock had noticed the change in behaviour of the guard when he’d seen you two against the wall. He had showed every sign possible of being…aroused…by the scene he had come across. He was probably hoping to find you two actually make out, and he would walk by several times more if he didn’t get what he wanted.

So again, Sherlock got up, took his ex-roommate and pushed her up the wall, but this time he placed his hands gently on the sides of her face, cupping her jaw. And for a second he looked into her widened eyes, before he kissed her.

He kissed her slow, and softly, just enough to make it believable, and he hoped that she would follow his lead. She slid her hand behind his neck and put one of her hands in his curls, kissing him back in the meantime.

He’s still standing there, watching.

God her lips are so soft and nice.

She’s a great kisser, I’m actually enjoying this.

A lot.

The guard was still standing there, and Sherlock decided to step up their game. He got even closer to her then he already was and slid his hands down to her waist, but not any further than that, that would be inappropriate without her consent. She wrapped her leg around him lightly while the kiss sped up, going back and forth quicker and getting more heated.

He’s moving on, pity.

Maybe we need to go on for a minute, just to make sure he’s gone.

No, focus on the case.    

He pulled away from the kiss, but waited for a second to step back, in case the guard came back, he caught her questioning look and realised he had to explain.

‘He’s into Voyeurism.’ He just stated, knowing that she would understand it immediately.

But she frowned a bit, looking confused before realisation dawned down on her about what he had meant. Then she pursed her lips and straightened her dress, giving a curt nod while looking down. Sherlock thought it was odd, but he didn’t bother to spend time on her reaction, he had to open the door.

He rummaged a bit with the lock and managed to open it. When they walked into the room they knew they had hit the jackpot. Three enormous paintings were hanging next to each other on the wall in front of the bed.

‘Are those from the louvre?’ Sherlock asked curiously looking at the paintings.

‘Yes…’ (Y/N) said breathlessly, her eyes wide as she looked at the paintings in front of her.

Sherlock took his phone out of his pocket and took some pictures of the paintings to send it to Lestrade as proof that they had found what they had been looking for.

*Great work, it took you a while but you found it. Now leave without being suspicious. * Lestrade said through the earpiece.

Sherlock locked eyes with (Y/N) and you both nodded, looking determined to get as fast as you could out of this lame-ass party. You left the room, locked the door and clung on to each other while descending the stairs. No one cared that you left early though, it was a big party and you weren’t important guests.

Once you were in the car an awkward silence seemed to determine the atmosphere between you.

‘The only reason you made me move out is because you couldn’t concentrate on your work?’ She suddenly asked, and Sherlock sighed, he had been hoping that she’d forgotten about that.

‘Yes, I noticed I was willing to postpone my duties in order to have more spare time with you so I ended it.’ He explained and she nodded a bit, a frown spread across her face, she seemed to be in deep thought.

‘Can you be honest with me?’ She asked him and he nodded, honesty wasn’t an issue in this matter.

‘Did you mind, me leaving?’ She asked wearily, peeking from the corners of her eyes.

‘At first, not at all, I was too relieved to actually care that you were gone.’ Sherlock said, completely honest with her, as he saw her features harden, and her biting her lip.

Only people on the verge of tears do that. Great job, Sherlock.

‘But then I really started missing your company, and it has been different this few months, in a bad way.’ He continued, and he saw the surprise written on her face. She however remained silent, so Sherlock decided to take a chance.

‘I am sorry, for what I did, I wish I wouldn’t have done it.’ Sherlock said to her, his gaze piercing trough her slightly watery eyes.

‘I wish you wouldn’t have either.’ She responded quietly, and the car came to a stop in front of the police office. You both thanked the driver quickly and got out, (Y/N) was already pulling at the hidden microphone, trying to get it loose as You walked to Lestrade’s office.

‘Great job you two, it might have taken a little more time than necessary but you managed to investigate without getting caught.’ Lestrade praised the both of you the moment you stepped into the office.

‘Thank you, will that be all?’ She asked Lestrade with a polite smile, and Lestrade nodded, his features showing slight traces of disappointment.

‘Have a nice evening.’ He said to her and she nodded once and walked away. Sherlock wanted to follow her but was stopped by Lestrade.

‘Sherlock, listen to me. I know you tried to patch tings up with her tonight but it isn’t that easy, you need to think of something that will make her forgive you.’ Lestrade urged and Sherlock frowned.

I missed her, I want it to be like how it was a few months ago but those are just emotions and hormones, I still think I need to concentrate on the cases. That’s the best thing to do, right?

‘Why would I want her to forgive me?’ Sherlock asked and Lestrade looked stunned.

‘Are you bloody kidding me Sherlock? You’re in love with her! I may not be as good as detective as you are but I’m not bloody blind!’ He exclaimed, now getting a bit mad.

‘Oh thank you for your elaborated insight on this situation but I highly doubt that you have a valuable opinion since you don’t base your view on facts.’ Sherlock sapped at him with a lot o sarcasm, Lestrade threw his hands up in the air.

‘For fucks’ sakes, you bloody kissed her, really kissed her! If that’s not a fact, I don’t know what is. And you two work together perfectly, like you were made for each other, that’s another fact! So stop whining about your short attention span, blaming it on her, and man up to win her back!’ Lestrade almost yelled angrily, and Sherlock looked shocked to say the least. A silence descended upon the room and Lestrade seemed to realise he actually screamed at Sherlock.

‘Sorry, that was inappropriate, just, clean up your mess.’ He said breathlessly, a bit surprised himself as he walked out of the room, leaving Sherlock alone.

He’s right.


I have to get her back.




Chapter Text

Your P.O.V.


Let’s just say…

…Sherlock had been annoying the holy motherfucking shit out of you.

That’s not exaggerated, really. 

After that stupid undercover job, where you had to be al smoochy with him even though he didn’t actually give a flying crap, and where you had considered going back at the party after it had been done to find the small broken pieces of your heart that had been scattered all over the place, he hadn’t stopped bothering you for a single god for-fucking-saken minute.

It may sound like your very aggressive but you aren’t.

You’re just fucking frustrated.

Shut up.

Frustrated? Oh yes, very much so.

Why? Oh I don’t know, maybe because the man you had more than a major crush on, told you you didn’t mean shit to him and that he was playing with your emotions for fun and that everything he had told you was a lie. What obviously fucked you up. Then you start getting your shit together, and it was starting to work a little bit, and you were being more like yourself every day, and then he decides it’s the right time to act jealous and tell you that he had lied about that he had been lying (that makes perfect sense). So you start doubting every little thing. Is he lying about lying? Does he give a damn? Would explain a lot though? Is he just screwing with your head again? I DON’T KNOW.

Is that the end of it? Ooooooohhhh no we’re just getting started. Then you have to act that you love him and that he loves you, to pretend that you’re fucking married okay?! And that’s honestly fine, actors do it all the time, no biggie. But he kisses you, and that wouldn’t have been a problem if that hadn’t been the sweetest motherflipping kiss you had ever had and it was so much more than you ever could’ve imagined and it was perfect and you swooned and freaked out and damn. But it was to distract the guard so you pull yourself together.

Can It get shittier? Yes, ma’am. Because he kisses you again, but this time you actually feel passion coming from him, like he really wants to kiss you. Again it’s sweet, again you lose yourself, again you realise it’s fake. But then he deepens the kiss, and that was it.

‘It just can’t be fake’ You thought-stupid.

‘Sherlock must really care for me because this is just too passionate’ Another thought- fucking naïve dude. Damn.

Because when he pulled away, he told you within three words that the kiss had been to get the guard away from your own little break-in. And boom crash, your heart went all Primrose Everdeen on the place, so you couldn’t find the remains of your exploded heart back even if you wanted to.

And believe me you didn’t want to, because: fuck feelings.


Well only the unanswered, painful and depressing feelings, the rest may stay.



Yeah, pretty hard-core huh? (Ironically. Please.) Well, not so hard-core. Why? Well, you cried a lot because the one guy that had you had the courage to open up to had thrown you away. And you went on wondering and pondering hours and hours what you had done wrong for him to dislike you so much, you had gotten along fine the month before that so what happened?

You didn’t know, and after the kiss you didn’t care. You were done. No more late-night spiral of depressing memories that made you cry yourself to sleep, no more feeling sorry for yourself and avoiding the things you loved doing. Sherlock may have been a dick to you, but that was done, finito.

You were going to work your ass off, go out with your friends, read, paint, game, dance, sing and all that other stuff that people do. You would be trying to get over him, over it all, it would take a lot of time but you would do it, you weren’t a lame-ass wuss that let her happiness depend on other people.

What brings us to the scene you were currently sitting in.

So It’s a Saturday morning, almost afternoon maybe (who even gives a shit) and you’re sitting in your own living room in your pretty awesome apartment. You had the comfiest couch ever and you had brought dozens of pillows to make it even better, so no butt-pain for you. You were dressed in a big shirt that reached until your mid-thighs, so it kind of functioned like a dress. You were sitting crossed-legged and you were concentrated on the screen in front of you, where you were gaming.

Were you playing a high-quality, awesome, new game! Like Uncharted 4 maybe? Nope, you were playing one of the most legendary games of all times, Mario kart. This game wrecked friendships, marriages, homes, tv’s and whatever you can come up with, it’s bloody amazing.

You were going to take a break in a minute to eat some home-made (Pour some boiling water in a bowl and add the contents of this package) ramen, and you were feeling okay.

Mostly because you had blocked Sherlock on every platform or communication form there was. That might seem dramatic if he hadn’t tried to contact you, but he did, constantly. He started off with texting that he needed help with a (non-existing) case, and that you needed to come over. When you told him to piss of because he was lying, he started coming up with all this random excuses why you two had to meet up. Again, you wanted him to shut up so you blocked him, you were in no mood for actual fights.

But he had tried to reach you in every way that was known to humans except for actual, physical contact… like face-to-face, not that other physical contact, though he didn’t do that too, fyi. And you were happy he didn’t, because blocking in real life is just a lot harder, and maybe illegal.

So you were cool. Enjoying a nice, lazy Saturday staying in and being highly not-elegant, when BOOM. The doorbell rang.

‘WHO IS IT?’ You screamed, not wanting to pause the game, you were currently second-place and that Peach-bitch deserved to get her ass whooped after throwing three fucking red shells at you.

No answer. So you shrugged, anyone you would open your door to knows they just have to text you or yell back so you knew it was them, it’s that simple. If the person didn’t respond, they shouldn’t be here.

*Ding-dong* the doorbell rings again and you groan a bit, still too caught up in your game to get up, if he or she didn’t identify itself, the door wouldn’t open, it’s that simple.

*DIIIIIiiiiiiiiiiinngggggg-dooooooooong* The sound was getting more and more persistent and annoying, but now you were just being petty and stubborn by not standing up and checking it out. You just wanted to escape your responsibilities as an adult for one day, so this person that was going to ruin that should piss off.

You just went on playing, and assumed the person had left because you didn’t hear anything from the outside of your apartment for another ten minutes. So you were playing quite aggressively again, trying to eliminate anyone in your path when you heard some say:

‘Well, I don’t care much about manners, but I thought it was considered rude to yell at potential visitors and not even letting them in.’ A deep, male voice said, and you knew exactly who it belonged to.

So without further ado, you took one of the pillows next to you and flung it with full force into Sherlock’s face. Who stumbled back a bit from the impact, but you knew it wouldn’t hurt. On his face was displayed the most humorous version of surprise you had ever seen, and if you weren’t so pissed/freaked out right now you would’ve laughed.

‘That was rude too.’ He just stated, ruffling through those amazing, lovely and frankly quite sexy curls.

Haha did I even think that? Oh my god I actually did. I thought his curls were sexy. Out of all things.

At least I’m damn right, and wrong at the same time.

‘Says the guy who broke into my house even though I made clear I did not want to talk to him.’ You hissed and Sherlock rolled his eyes, walking over to a chair in the living room and sitting down like he was just at home.

‘Please, if you really didn’t want to see me you would’ve bought a decent lock.’ He stated while placing the tops of his fingers against each other, like he had done so many times before. This time it was your turn to roll your eyes, and you got up to make your noodles.

‘Well, I guess I don’t know a lot about decent locks, SherLock’ You threw at him, emphasizing the last part of his name to really make sure he understood the message. You wanted to pat yourself on the back, but you were too busy pouring boiling water in your noodle-bowl.

‘Really? A pun?’ He asked without blinking, sounding slightly disappointed. It made you absolutely furious but you decided to stay calm, emotion is a dangerous thing and you couldn’t let yourself get guided by it.

‘Yes Spock, a pun.’ You said back dryly, using his old nickname out of habit while slurping at your ramen with those Chinese or Japanese stick things.

‘Your sense of humour has certainly not improved in the past few months.’ He sighed while rubbing his temples, everything he did was pissing you off.

‘And you haven’t become any less annoying the past few months.’ You shot back, sitting on one leg and stretching the other out, it was a strange position but you thought it was comfortable.

‘You never thought I was annoying.’ He said, now a little bit more intense, you knew you’d hit a weak spot with him, and you felt a little bit guilty.

Guilty? After what he did?

But he did it with a certain argumentation behind it that made sense to him. You can’t be mad at someone for being themselves, that’s not logical. You can’t change the very essence of someone being so if you don’t like it you should go away.

But there’s more to Sherlock than only his incapability of being socially average, you know that.

‘What do you want, Sherlock?’ You asked him softly, trying to get this over with.

‘I just wanted to talk with you.’ He said gently, noticing your change in behaviour.

‘Then talk.’ You answered and looked at him, at his beautiful but cold eyes, who you thought had warmed up just for you. Guess you had just flattered yourself.

‘Not in here, people usually go buy something to drink when they want to talk, right?’ Sherlock stated and you rolled your eyes.

‘Stop talking about people like you are not one of them, you are a person too, an extraordinary one, but still a person.’ You said to him and a humorous glimmer appeared in his eyes, and you realized you had called him extraordinary. 

Before he could say something back you stood up and placed your bowl in the sink, then walking over to your bedroom. 

‘I’m going to change and then we’ll go. But after this talk, will you promise you’ll leave me alone?’ You asked while slipping out of your oversized shirt and taking a more appropriate one out of your closet. It was still hanging loose around your body though, but it matched perfectly with your skinny jeans.

‘If you want me to, of course.’ He said smartly and you rolled your eyes, of course you wanted him to stop annoying you.

Did you? Did you really want to stop talking at all to Sherlock?

You aren’t mad at him, you don’t hate him, you just wanted to go back to what it once was, right? But if he leaves you alone, will he actually miss you? Or will he go away without looking back.

No, he still cares, or he wouldn’t be bothering me so much.

‘Let’s go.’ You said to him as you walked back into the living room, grabbing your jacket and walking out the door. You were pulling a Sherlock on him by walking out rapidly and leaving him in charge of locking the door. Of course, when you looked back he hadn’t closed it.

‘Haven’t you heard of closing the goddamn door?’ You chimed in, and Sherlock rolled his eyes, walking back and closing it behind him.

You went to a little coffee shop down the road, it was cute and small, a bit hipster-like. Just like Starbucks, but less expensive. The moment you walked in the smell of coffee hit you, and you felt yourself relax by this familiar aspect.

‘I’ll get a table, take this, I want an English tea.’ Sherlock said curtly while shoving enough money in your hand to buy it, and you became rigid.

That asshole knows I hate ordering and he just bails on me. It’s on Sherlock, you’ve just made an enemy.

I mean not really but I’ll have my sweet revenge.

Focus, he wants an English tea and I’ll have… Black coffee? No no, too boring. I’ll take a caramel Frappuccino, that sounds sophisticated.

There were about 5 people in front of you in the queue, but you already started rehearsing what you were going to say.

Hi! I’ll have an English tea please and a caramel Frappuccino.

Yes, that has a nice ring to it, okay, I’ll say that.

So you nervously started repeating the same sentence over and over again, fiddling with the money in your hands, hoping you wouldn’t screw up.  Finally it was your turn, and the barista smiled at you nicely.

‘Hi! What can I get you today?’ She asked with a smile and you prepared yourself to die.

‘Hi! I’ll have an English tea please and a caramel Frappuccino.’ You said without stuttering, and you felt so, so, pleased with yourself.

‘Okay, would you like the tea boiling or just a little bit hot?’ She asked while scribbling down the order, but your mind went blank.

Omg you freak answer her you’re making an ass out of yourself geez.

‘Ehm, b-b-boiling p-please.’ You said nervously with a stutter, grabbing the sleeves of your jacket tightly and squeezing tight.

‘Sure thing, it’ll be right up love, we’ll bring it to your table.’ She said reassuringly, and you just nodded and walked to the table where Sherlock had sat down.

Once seated, you let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding and you relaxed, though your mind was still shooting in every possible direction, cursing yourself for being a goddamn potato. When you looked up, you saw Sherlock stare at you intently, one eyebrow a bit raised, you blushed.

‘Have you been living in your current apartment the whole time?’ He asked lightly, probably to get the conversation started and you shook your head.

‘After I packed my things and left I realised I had nowhere to go to…’ You said casually, trying not to enlace too much emotions with the words. Sherlock frowned a bit and the corners of his mouth turned downwards.

‘…So I asked molly if I could stay with her temporarily. The sweetheart offered me the spare bedroom and said I could stay as long as I would like, but I guess I wasn’t really comfortable with an exact clone of you walking around the house, so the moment I found an apartment I left.’ You chuckled a bit, remembering the moment you had met her fiancée, it had been quite hilarious you thought.

‘Replica? What are you talking about?’ Sherlock asked and you scoffed a bit.

‘Her fiancée you twat, dark curls, pale skin, scarf and coat…?’ You said to him and he rolled his eyes.

‘His appearance may resemble mine but that doesn’t make him a replica.’ He scoffed and you rolled your eyes, another manner of speech that flew over his head.

‘You’re right, he was less a pain in the arse.’ You shot back at him and you grinned, only to be subsided to his burning gaze, you shrank a bit and rolled your eyes weakly.

‘Fine, he was a bit more annoying than you, but he really has the best intensions with Molly.’ You defended him, and you saw Sherlock’s whole pose soften.

The guy brought you your coffee and Sherlock his tea and you thanked him with a weak voice, you didn’t notice how Sherlock squinted his eyes.

‘It’s worse.’ He said, and you knew what he meant.

‘I like to think I have it under control.’ You defended yourself, taking a sip of your cold coffee.

‘But you don’t’ He contradicted you and you started tapping your fingers on the table, trying to find away to get rid of the tenseness in your mind.

‘I’m fine.’ You said, tapping a complicated rhythm and looking down at your cup.

Suddenly Sherlock placed his hand over yours and stared at you intently, you froze. He looked slightly annoyed, but above all, concerned and your mouth fell open a bit at his intense gaze and touch.

‘There’s no reason to be nervous (Y/N), you’re really fine.’  He said to you, and trapped in his gaze you just nodded, and noticed how all the nerves left your body and your other hand stopped trembling. You blushed a bit, you didn’t like him having such an effect on you.

‘Thanks.’ You said, your face red as a beet.

‘So what are you doing now?’ He asked you, probably to distract you and steer the conversation in a less awkward direction.

‘Same old, actually. Working on forensics, trying to get those morons work a little bit more efficient and just enjoying myself at my apartment.’ You shrugged, you though you had done pretty well after he’d thrown you out. You were living the exact same life you had with Sherlock, but without all the fun parts… I mean you still had fun, but it’s just not…fun? Right.

‘Ah, are you trying to make Dave do his job?’ Sherlock asked smugly, and you guessed from his tone that he disliked Dave very much, so you decided to take your small-scale revenge.

‘Dave? Oh no he has real potential, it’s great to work together with him. I really enjoy the time we spend together on the cases, he’s really special.’ You said as serious as you could be, while sipping at your Frappuccino.

‘(Y/N), you’re lying.’ Sherlock deadpanned and you groaned a bit, you’d forgotten you couldn’t lie to him.

‘He’s so bloody dumb.’ You sighed, expecting a witty answer, but Sherlock threw his head back and laughed out loud. You were left speechless with a small grin on your face, it had been more then two months that you’d actually managed to make Sherlock laugh, and apparently, you were the only one that could.

‘Pardon, excuse me, I just found that quite humorous.’ He excused himself while trying to pull himself together. You just chuckled at how relaxed and different he now seemed to be.

‘I was afraid I would never see the real Sherlock again.’ You said with a small smile, and all the joking just disappeared from his face.

‘Most people think that right now I would be pretending or acting, and that normally I’m really my asocial self. Why do you believe otherwise?’ He asked you, looking a bit sad. You smiled at him gently, and laid a hand on his wrist on the table.

‘Because I like to think I really know you.’ You said to him with a sweet smile, you had missed him like this so so much.

The past few months he’d been running in and out of the station with a grimace on his face, never stopping and never smiling, just looking for another case to solve, it broke your heart to see him like that. Now that he was laughing again you saw that he had actually missed this too, and you two just needed each other.

‘You do?’ He asked you, the corner of his mouth slightly turned upwards and you just nodded with a grin.

‘Yeah, you pretend to be all high and mighty, but actually you’re a sweet guy.’ You said to him with a devilish grin on your face, you knew he hated it when you said something like that. But he just smiled back, chuckling a bit.

‘Watch yourself, Love, before you know it you’ll be accusing me of being a loser.’ He said with a small smile, and you chuckled to hide the wave of happiness that coursed through your body when he called you love.

‘Well Spock, you are a loser.’ You said to him smugly, planning your elbows on the table and resting your head on your hands.

‘Is that so? Why exactly, if I may ask?’ He asked you challengingly, and he bowed forwards, closer to you with a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. You used to challenge each other all the time, and honestly, Sherlock always won.

‘Because I’m a bloody Mario kart Legend.’ You said confidently, positive that you could win this time and finally redeem yourself.

‘A what?’ He asked you with a frown, and you noticed your faces were barely inches away from each other since both of you were now leaning forward.

‘Don’t you know Mario kart? The game I was playing when you broke into my apartment?’ You asked completely stunned, sometimes his ignorance towards life was shocking.

‘No I don’t.’ He said grumpily, pouting a bit and folding his arms, looking like a mistreated toddler. He hated it when you pointed out his lack of knowledge on certain subjects.

‘Well then, I have a proposition for you.’ You said with a devilish grin spreading on your face.

‘Oh really?’ He asked interested, a smirk of his own gracing his features as he leaned forwards again, too little space was in between you.

‘If I win you have to answer any question truthfully.’ You said to him, and he raised his eyebrows a bit.

‘What’s in it for me?’ he asked softly, and you knew he was messing around with you, not that you were show any signs of being bothered by him.

‘What do you want?’ You said back, and he took a second to think about that.

‘Same thing, truthful answers.’ He decided and you nodded, that was fair.

So you went back to your apartment, walking in a peaceful silence. There was no need for mindless chit-chat, neither of you enjoyed that. You opened the door and threw your jacket on one of the chairs, and motioned for Sherlock to do the same. You sat down on your sofa and started up the game, barely noticing how awkwardly Sherlock sat down next to you and took a remote.

‘Alright, so you want me to explain how this works?’ He said, looking slightly nervous to the buttons on the controller. You smiled at the fact that you were about to actually explain Sherlock what to do. So you put your hands over his, even though his were bigger, and guided them to the right position on the remote.

‘Hold it like this. These buttons are for steering left and right, this one is for drifting, that means you take a sharper corner by using your breaks. This is to pick special items up and throw them, they can make you go faster or beat the contestants in front of you. This is the gas button, it’s in fact just a race with special items.’ You explained, your finger tops brushing over his hands as you explained the controls, Sherlock nodded every time you’d address something and a small frown was placed on his forehead, indicating that he was very concentrated.

You started the game and came to the screen where you had to choose the tracks.

‘So I suppose we’ll start off easy…’ You said absently as you scanned the different courses for one that would fit Sherlock’s skill.

So that’s no skill at all, since he never played a video game before.

‘Please, anyone could play this game, choose the hardest level.’ He scoffed and you chuckled a bit as his ignorance.

‘As you wish.’ You answered, as you decided that you were going to wreck Sherlock. So you went to the rainbow road and chose that one.

You both chose your favourite characters (Sherlock chose Mario because he was on the home screen of the game so he had to be good) and started the race. You had the best start, but soon Sherlock started to catch up with you, he was in the fifth place while you were first.

‘TOLD YOU I WAS BETTER.’ You chanted as you leaned to the right when you went around a corner, what you didn’t realise was that you were leaning towards Sherlock, who thought of a genius plan. He sneaked one arm around you and grabbed his remote again, so he was practically hugging you while playing, on top of that he rested his head on yours.

‘Sherlock what are you doing?’ You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

But let’s be real here, you didn’t mind at all, you even thought it was incredibly cute. Not that you would show that, you knew that Sherlock was trying to take away your concentration so you would loose.

‘I’m beating you.’ He said, tickling your sides when he had a little bit of straight road again. You kind of freaked out and let your gaze drop from the screen to bat his hand away, in that exact moment you flew off the track.

‘Sherlock you dick!’ You exclaimed when you realised you had fallen back to sixth place while Sherlock was now first. He was laughing out loud, but he hadn’t won yet, you weren’t going to let that slide.

You continued on racing, acing every little bit of the track, until you got the special item you had been hoping for, a blue shell. You started grinning maliciously and threw it, waiting for his reaction.

‘What the- Bloody hell which bastard threw that?!’ Sherlock raged as he saw three of the CPU players pass him by, now you were right behind him.

‘SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKER.’ You yelled as you laughed loudly at his frustration.

You got another item, a mushroom and used it, while you were busy with surpassing Sherlock you bumped him to the side, resulting in him falling off the course.

‘(Y/N) that’s unfair!’ He exclaimed while he waited for his kart to be put bag.

‘Oh please, you just assaulted me just to win, don’t go whining about what’s unfair you big wuss.’ You huffed without taking your eyes off the screen.

‘I reckon you didn’t like it then?’ Sherlock asked, his lips brushing your ear because he had come closer to you to tease you once again. Your heart started beating faster and you pulled your mouth in a straight line, trying to hold onto your concentration.

‘Stop flirting and start driving, you suck.’ You said grumpily, trying to not be that affected by his closeness.

The race went on with swearing, throwing each other off the tracks, throwing things at each other and a lot of physical contact. In the end Sherlock won, you came in second.

‘Oh but you cheated sooooo much!’ You said as you threw your hands into the air. Sherlock was grinning smugly.

‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’ He told you with raised eyebrows and you started muttering swears to him.

‘So, I get to ask questions. Right?’ he asked you while clapping in his hands once, extremely delighted by the fact he had been able to win.

‘Yeah yeah. Hold up for a mere second.’ You groaned at him while you got up, opened a cupboard in your kitchen and took out a bottle of whiskey, you also grabbed a glass and walked back to the living room.

‘Whiskey?’ He asked you, with a disapproving expression and you rolled your eyes.

‘You wanted me to answer truthfully, here’s my truthjuice.’ You joked with a grimace on your face. You took a big sip from your glass and swallowed the burning liquor.

‘Come on, shoot.’ You said to him, already feeling the effects of the alcohol setting in, you were a bad drinker.

Sherlock looked at you sceptically, as if he was wondering if you were actually ready to hear the question he was about to ask you. But he probably decided it was okay, since he asked you a question you didn’t expect.

‘Do you want to come back to Bakerstreet and live there again?’ He asked you seriously, and you almost choked on your Whiskey. An awkward silence descended upon the room as you thought about the question.

‘Yes.’ You stated, while downing your glass and filling it up again. You were already feeling warm and a bit fuzzy, but you knew you needed to be further gone when you saw Sherlock’s delighted expression.

‘Are you going to be back tomorrow?’ He asked with a smile on his face and you sipped again, working down as much of the stuff you could handle in the moment.

‘Nope.’ You said, popping the p. Your head was feeling warm and you were relaxing more and more as the alcohol was setting in, you knew that you were being irresponsible but then again, fuck it.

‘Why not?’ He asked with a frown. You just had to sigh, fiddling with your glass.

‘What I want to do doesn’t really matter right now, Spock, because it may not be the best thing to do. Imagine if I go back, how long will it take for you to get fed up with me and send me away again?’ You asked him ruefully, smiling sadly as you looked at him, something in his expression broke.

‘I won’t.’ He said resolute, and he really seemed to be sure of it.

‘Won’t you? How can you be sure?’ You asked him, feeling the sadness set in deep in your heart.

‘I… I need a minute.’ He said, looking overwhelmed and walking to the bathroom, probably wanting to escape through the bathroom door. You laid on the couch and closed your eyes trying to somehow get everything together.

Sherlock’s P.O.V.


Breathe, focus, concentrate.

How can you persuade her to come back?


Thank god I walked away, being with her in the same room is terrible for my thoughts.

That’s the reason I send her away.

It is apparently still relevant.

In that case…

Do I really want her to come back?

Yes, I do want it, but like she said, is it the best thing to do?

No, most definitely not.

I have to go back and tell her it’s okay that she doesn’t want to come back.

She was right all along; I would send her away eventually.


Sherlock sighed, dreading what he had to do, but he got out of the bathroom, and was greeted by a strange sight. You had laid down on the couch, and you were trying to balance a half-empty whiskey glass on top of your nose, it was clear that you were in fact intoxicated.

‘(Y/N)?’ He asked, trying to measure how far gone you were. You jumped a bit and almost dropped the glass, but you managed to clumsily catch it before it fell.

‘Hey Spock.’ You grinned while sitting up, your face lit up with the most adorable smile he had ever seen. Clearly you were a cute and funny drunk, and probably an honest one.

‘So I’ve made-’ Sherlock started saying but he was shushed by you.

You were looking a bit strangely at Sherlock. He thought he could detect wonder, admiration and some other emotions he couldn’t place.

‘You know, Sherlock, you- you, are a very very beautiful person.’ She said, her voice was still clear, but she pronounced the words worse then usually.

‘Thank you, but I think the topic of conversation wasn’t my aesthetics.’ Sherlock answered dryly, sitting down on a soft chair in front of your sofa, where you were violently shaking your head.

‘Nononononooo, I didn’t- wasn’t talking ‘bout your face, but your face is very pretty too, it is, and your belly is also very attractive, and when you do stuff it’s very sexy but I’m- I’m not talking about your outside beauty, not the prettiness I see but the one you feel with your brain.’ You said with a big grin on your face, stuttering at some points in your story. Sherlock frowned.

‘What are you talking about?’ He said with all the patience he could muster, just because you were being so adorably cute. 

‘THE INSIDE, SHERLOCK.’ You exclaimed loudly, throwing your hands in expiration up, looking like you were having the most difficult conversation ever.

She must be imitating me, that little shit, I just can’t hate her.

‘I mean-what I wanted to say, is that you’re the best guy- person I know, because you are so so so thoughtful. Like the tea the first day you met me –great cup of tea Just when I needed it, and you always respected my feelings and you helped me even though you- you- you’re really smart and you can survive on your own. And you’re sweet to me- and you’re like really funny and just I care about you, so you’re beautiful.’ You said, tumbling over your own words, trying to express how you felt and when you couldn’t really say it you were left with an adorable pout on your face, your hands laid open in front of you, the wheels in your mind spinning.

She is speaking the truth…I’m speechless.

‘You’re the only one who thinks that.’ He said softly, looking concerned at your frustrated figure. You jumped up and pointed at him with great passion.

‘EXCACTLY. I don’t know WHY?’ You said, the volume in your voice changing whether you thought that part of the sentence was important.

‘Maybe because I treat other people badly?’ Sherlock said with a smirk, wondering what your reaction would be. You stopped for a minute, looking stunned and then you stepped to where Sherlock was sitting and you shamelessly sat on his lap, bridal style, preparing yourself for your next rant.

‘No- Just- Listen to me, Sherlock, to me, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), I’m social smart, I’m professional expert in people socials.’ You started off, trying your best to stay serious, but Sherlock raised his brows.

‘A girl with social anxiety expert in peo-’ He couldn’t finish his sentence because you had put a finger on his lips and you were shushing him again.

‘Less of the whole genius smarty-pants thing and more listening to the real genius here.’ You stated stubbornly, and Sherlock almost laughed out loud. But he just nodded, and you took your finger of his lips.

‘See, other people they think- or don’t think at all but they think that you’re mean. But you’re not mean.’ You said confidently, like you were explaining what the best kept secret in the universe was.

‘Oh?’ He asked with a grin, playing along, enjoying your silly behaviour.

‘Yes, you’re like really sweet, but they are stupid so they don’t know! But the nice people know, they do, they love you, Molly, Gregory, John, Misses H, meee. But you can be mean to the nice people but that doesn’t make you mean person, but stop being mean to the good people. Please.’ You said, ending your story with a pleading look in his way, he frowned a bit.

‘When am I mean to them?’ Sherlock asked, taking advantage of your intoxication.

‘Well. When molly is trying- is being sweet and very awkward you sometimes say things that hurt her, but she knows you care so it’s okay. And you never remember Greg’s name, poor greg, Gregory, Gregson… and you’re not very mean to John, I haven’t seen that yet, and you’re also fine with Misses H. And you were awful to me, but that’s okay, I can handle it, worse things have happened in my life.’ You said thoughtfully, not realizing all the things you were telling Sherlock in your drunken state.

‘Did it really bother (Y/N)? What I said to her?’ He asked you, knowing that your drunken self wouldn’t identify yourself with (Y/N) directly.

‘You can’t tell her, because she- (Y/N)- that idiot hates showing off emotions and weakness. So you have to keep a secret.’ You said whispering, leaning even closer to Sherlock, even though you were still in his lap. He just nodded, and you took a deep breath.

‘She cried a lot, Sherlock, at night- when the sun was down and people-annoying and cool people were gone. Because- she trusted- trusts you and she let you see who she was and then you said things that hit, close to home, and it hurt. But she knows that you aren’t a bad person, she knows, or else she wouldn’t talk to you. Like her last boyfriend.’ You said with a sigh, leaning closer to Sherlock and resting your cheek against his collarbone.

‘Her last boyfriend?’ Sherlock asked, his curiosity peaked by the small remark, and he clearly didn’t respect the boundaries of your privacy.

‘Yes, he was very hot- very pretty- very cool. She really liked him- no loved him, she loved him because she wanted to be with him forever, but the life got very though and he went to another girl, and did things with her- they had sex, and that’s not cool when he was in a relationship. It hurt because he said- he said she wasn’t special and that- that- that- she was replaceable and that he didn’t really care about her, but it’s okay now, she doesn’t care about him at all, he’s a real, true arsehooolee.’ You sighed, your consciousness already slipping away, you were falling asleep, and the last word was stretched because you had to yawn.

‘Sherlock, you’re a good nugget.’ She said sleepily, before fully slipping away.

Sherlock stayed silent, tapping his fingers on the arm rests of the chair, he was processing all the information you had given him about yourself without knowing it.

It definitely explains the anxiety, she had self-esteem issues, and I resurfaced them, that’s why her anxiety was so bad this afternoon in the café.

She… really really cares about me, and she just said it.

But what was that about a good nugget? A bit strange to say.

She wants to go back to Baker street, so I just have to make her believe it’s a good idea, I can’t let her go away again. I think I might love her? I care about her? I don’t know.


I know one thing:


I have to hold on to her.




Chapter Text

Sherlock’s P.O.V.

It was a late afternoon, Sherlock had spent his time pacing around the apartment and muttering ideas and theories out loud. Sometimes he would sit down and try to work everything out in silence, but he would find himself agitated again.

I don’t know what this means.

Finally, he gave up and grabbed his phone, dialling John’s number.

‘John, It’s Sherlock.’ Sherlock said curtly, he wanted to go on right away but John reacted too quickly.

‘Did you actually introduce yourself on the phone?’ John asked, completely surprised and caught off guard.

‘Yes-’ Sherlock already wanted to start talking to John, but John was too shaken up.

‘No wait a second Sherlock- MARY! YOU KNOW WHAT SHERLOCK DID? HE INTRODUCED HIMSELF ON THE PHONE! YES- JOHN, IT’S SHERLOCK. JUST LIKE THAT.’ John had already started laughing while yelling at his wife what kind of miracle had happened today.

‘John, pull yourself together.’ Sherlock said, knowing that he had probably deserved this.

‘Yes, yes, of course, sorry Sherlock. Why are you calling?’ John asked, a bit out of breath.

‘I need your help with something.’ Sherlock said, a bit embarrassed actually.

He’s probably wondering now why I didn’t text him like I usually do, let’s see if he can figure out himself what’s happening.

‘Oh… Is it something about (Y/N)?’ He asked Sherlock and he smirked a bit.

Ah John, how I love it when you think, you are really bright sometimes.

‘Yes, a bit of an emergency. Can you visit me in Bakerstreet?’ Sherlock asked nicely, but it honestly took all his nerves not to just order John around.

‘Yes of course, I’ll be there in a second…’ He trailed off and stayed silent.

…He’s waiting for me to say goodbye, bloody moron.

‘Don’t push it, John.’ Sherlock said grumpily and hang up.

Sherlock had laid her in her bed, provided her with some water and an aspirin, for the obvious headache the next day, and he had left. He knew it would be considered creepy if he had stuck around. Well, that was just an excuse to leave, because he knew she would be furious at him for asking her everything when she was drunk, if she remembered it at all.

John arrived faster than Sherlock had initially expected.

‘What can I do for you?’ John asked Sherlock as he hung up his coat and looked around the apartment.

‘Close your eyes.’ Sherlock ordered him, and John’s excited face fell.

‘I swear to god Sherlock if you have tricked me with naming (Y/N) I’ll break your bloody nose.’ John said grumpily, but he closed his eyes anyway.

‘I haven’t “tricked” you, I was at her apartment yesterday.’ Sherlock said as he quickly grabbed the painting and put it on the wall where Ellie’s painting once had hung.

‘Yesterday? What happened?’ John asked alarmed, now curious what has happened in the time he had been away from Bakerstreet.

‘Nothing really, I broke in, she got mad, we bought coffee, we gamed, she got drunk, I brought her to bed, I left.’ Sherlock said evenly, caring more at that moment if it was hanging straight.

‘I wouldn’t call that nothing.’ John scoffed, as he got grabbed by the shoulders and led to a place straight in front of the painting, just a few meters in front of it.

‘Open your eyes, and tell me what kind of emotions you feel with seeing this painting.’ Sherlock said, and waited patiently, leaning on the side of the desk, looking at John’s face intently.

John opened his eyes, and apparently spotted the painting, because his mouth fell open wide, his eyes widened and he made some… strange strangled noises.

‘Sherlock, where did you buy this?’ He asked Sherlock, and looked at him completely shocked. Sherlock groaned and shook his head.

‘No, John, FOCUS. Tell me what do you feel?’ He said frustrated while ruffling his curls with both his hands and emphasizing the last word.

‘Oh okay. The painting is warm, friendly, homely and happy I think, judged by the colours. It’s very admiring, the person thought your best pose was when you did something where you didn’t talk, very fitting-sorry I just meant that she chose something you loved, where you were concentrated, so the person knows you I think. It’s full of positive emotions, I would say love, but that’s exaggerated for just a portrait- Sherlock are you going to tell me who made this?’ John asked with a frown on his face. Sherlock stayed inclined to the desk for a few seconds, staring at the floor and processing what could be deduced from this painting.

‘(Y/N)’ He just told John, whose eyes widened again.

‘(Y/N) made this?’ He asked and Sherlock didn’t react to that, he was trying to understand emotions, but it was so hard.

‘I needed you to tell me what it meant. Sometimes being a sociopath isn’t very useful.’ He said frustrated, pacing around the apartment.

So it is positive, that much I could’ve told that myself. But I hadn’t thought about the way she portrayed me, why is that important? And colours represent emotions? What is this, a whole new branch of science? God this is so useless.

Think of it like a game, like a puzzle. What do the clues tell you?

Go to your mindpalace.

Sherlock went to his mindpalace, and opened the dusty box with your name on it, and looked through it. He opened the memory where he had caught you drawing him.

Her gaze pierced through me, no one had looked at me with that much interest since John. She had a spark in her eyes, a small curled up mouth corner, but her stare was serious. Her shoulders, her perfect and elegant shoulders slightly turned inwards, her delicate fingers wrapped around a pencil, scribbling in her little book again, just like when I had tried to take it away from her. I felt naked, honestly, there was no one in the world who knows me so well, or thinks she knows me. Now she wants to draw me, and she seemed so determined-

‘WILLIAM SHERLOCK SCOTT HOLMES.’ John’s shouting voice snapped him out of his trance, he looked up with a slightly panicked look, he didn’t want to stop seeing her with that much affection in her eyes. Still wrapped up in the way he had felt when he had received such adoration from her he said the first thing that came to his mind.

‘I need her to go back to how she thought of me before I send her away, John. I need her.’ He said, for the first time showing his incapability of handling life on his own. John’s features softened.

‘She still cares for you, Sherlock, you know that.’ He said calmingly, putting a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder and squeezing a bit. Sherlock shook it off and started shaking his head.

‘No, John, It’s just not like when- She just used to- ARGH I JUST CAN’T EXPLAIN IT PROPERLY.’ He shouted, incredibly frustrated, before John could say something Sherlock looked around quickly and spotted the painting again. He walked over to it and pointed at it aggressively.

‘IT’S NOT LIKE THAT. I SCREWED UP, JOHN.’ He said, his eyes wide and his chest heaving, he was really mad, sad, desperate and he didn’t know how to handle all this emotion. He used to be so cold and filled with apathy to this kind of stuff but then she came around and messed it up.

‘Sherlock calm down.’ John said, still able to keep his cool, but he was excited and Sherlock noticed.

‘I can’t, and this isn’t enjoyable, John.’ He said angrily, sitting on the couch and curling up his legs in front of him.

‘You know what? You keep sitting there, I’ll figure it out for you.’ He said with a spark in his eyes, while grabbing his jacket and flying out of the door, before Sherlock could say anything back.

Is he being serious? Or is he using sarcasm?

And for two days, Sherlock was left alone to figure out what he had meant. Then he was called in to the police station for a ‘special project’. He didn’t want to go, but he had nothing to do, and this way he could maybe talk to Lestrade again.

So he went there, and he stood there between all the other officers, secretary’s, directors, business men and detectives that had been called to the conference room. Just after had Lestrade walked in, Dave entered, followed by (Y/N). Sherlock raised his eyebrow at her, his eyes shooting to Dave and back.

Dave? Didn't you think he’s stupid?

She had her hands in her pocket, and she just huffed and rolled her eyes. 

Still do.

Sherlock grinned and focussed on Lestrade, who was planning on starting his pitch.

‘Well, so the bosses have decided that we have to have more “solidarity” or “teamwork” so some of us have thought of a project to enhance this.’ He said curtly, rummaging with his papers, and taking one out.

Well, this is interesting, why is he lying to everyone?

‘We have paired you up, and you’ll have to work together on different tasks we give you so you’ll learn to be less egocentric. The couples are based on two people who might have chemistry together.’ Lestrade said, and Sherlock almost groaned out of boredom, but he stayed for a second to hear who you had been paired up with.

‘Donovan with Martin, Anderson and Benedict, Mark and Dean, Brendon and Will, Dave…and Julia, (Y/N) and Sherlock, Molly and Serge, Spencer and Claire, Maggie and Glenn. I think that’s it, there are three more groups who will be working separately. This project will take a week. We’ll brief you more later.’ He said, ending his story with a curt nod and leaving the room, looking intently at Sherlock while walking out.

I don’t understand…



John has set this all up, that genius bastard, Lestrade his helping him out, great work, great.

She turned around to Sherlock, catching his gaze. He raised his eyebrows, like he was asking for her opinion on all of this, to his relieve she wore a big grin as she threw him a malicious smile full of promises of problems.

At least she’s not mad at me for interviewing her in a drunken state…

‘So, the bosses paired us up together, huh?’ She asked him after she had said her goodbyes to her own team.

‘Obviously.’ Sherlock shrugged, not wanting to stimulate her tendency to start talking gibberish whenever she was nervous.

‘Really, Spock? Obviously? Do I have to get you drunk too in order to make you use more than two words with me?’ She said casually, but with an obvious edge in her voice.

Sherlock didn’t move, but he looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. She stood next to him with crossed arms and raised eyebrows, her weight leaning on her right leg, she looked sceptical and a bit pissed.

‘You got yourself drunk.’ He defended himself but she rolled his eyes.

‘No need in pointing fingers, Holmes, you didn’t respect my privacy and that’s a fact.’ She huffed while shaking her head, now he was a bit nervous.

‘Are you mad?’ He asked, a bit timidly, and she spread her arms challengingly.

‘Come on, deduce it.’ She said, he rolled his eyes.

‘Emotions are hard.’ He said, while walking over to the exit and grabbing his and hers file along the way they got however snatched out of his hands within a second by his partner.

‘So is life.’ She said while opening the file and looking at their first task.

‘So you’re mad?’ Sherlock scoffed, getting annoyed by her.

‘Nah.’ She said with a sly smile, and he knew she was just messing around with him. Getting him worked up about nothing at all and laughing about it.

‘So what’s the first test?’ He asked her while they walked out of the building together.

I really don’t care about the project; I just have to persuade her in coming back to Bakerstreet.

‘You’re actually participating? You don’t even work at Scotland yard, officially.’ She asked him curiously and he didn’t look at her.

‘Well, everyone’s in pairs, I couldn’t leave you alone.’ He said and she laughed a bit.

‘Yes you could…’ She said, and Sherlock remained silent at her statement.

I would leave anyone to their own fate, except for (Y/N)…

‘…But you probably wouldn’t.’ She added and Sherlock smirked a bit, she was probably the only one with this kind of faith and trust in him.  

‘Where to?’ The cabbie asked once they got in.

‘Industrial platforms at the southern outskirts of the city.’ She said vaguely, frowning at the police papers spread across her lap. Sherlock didn’t even look at them; he was planning his next move.

‘What’s it?’ He asked a bit bored, the test itself would be stupid.

‘Fake crime scene, murder of some worker in a chemical factory.’ She said absently as she looked through the papers for any clues.

‘Your thoughts?’ He asked, looking over to her frowning and concentrated face.

‘Probably murder by a co-worker, because the victim slept with his wife.’ She said waveringly and Sherlock agreed.

‘It’s actually: slept with his husband, though.’ He corrected her and she sighs.

‘Damn, my gaydar is absolutely rubbish. I always like the gay ones.’ She said while shaking his head.

She likes the gay ones? That means she probably doesn’t like me, though.

Well, everyone seems to suspect that John and I had a thing so maybe…

What is she doing to me…

They arrived at the so called crime scene and Sherlock was already annoyed.

‘I’ll interview the victims; you take a look at the body.’ She said, not really sounding bossy, just decisive. This is how they always did it, she had more talent for sensing emotions and getting information by playing with them. He was better with deductions, and could find more information on the body than she did.

So they split up, and tried to do their job. The police department was however apparently better at solving crimes rather than to mimic them, since there were so much mistakes made in the evidence that the murder and his motives were unclear.

This is that stupid game ‘Cluedo’ all over again, nothing fits.

‘Goddamn bloody fucking idiots.’ He heard her mutter under her breath.

He turned his head towards her voice and saw her sitting on the floor, her legs crossed and her elbows resting on her knees. She had placed her head in her hands and she looks very much pissed.

The actress probably didn’t give the right reaction to her words. She exactly knows what to say to make someone feel the way she wants them to, but these people are actors so they will never get the most natural emotions right.

Sherlock stood in front of the sitting girl, and stretched his hand out to her. She saw it and smiled at him, taking his hand and letting him help her up.

‘Thanks Sherlock.’ She said with a fond smile, and Sherlock found himself smiling back automatically.

‘Anytime, now, what do you say we go out and eat something?’ Sherlock proposed and she nodded a bit, following him to the exit of the crime scene.

‘HEY!?’ They heard someone yell and the turned around.

It had been Lestrade, who was running towards these two with an agitated look on his face, panting and red.

‘You haven’t solved it yet.’ He said out of breath, and you two looked sceptical.

‘What is there to solve? It isn’t like there’s an actual murder.’ (Y/N) scoffed, raising an eyebrow at Lestrade while Sherlock grinned.

‘You have to pretend like there is.’ Lestrade exclaimed, looking absolutely desperate.

‘Well, so do you. All the facts don’t add up together. I have to eliminate the impossible and whatever remains, however improbable is the truth. But with this badly imitated evidence there’s nothing that remains, they contradict each other.’ Sherlock explained calmly and Lestrade rolled his eyes.

‘What about the witnesses, you haven’t been able to calm them down.’ Lestrade accused (Y/N) and she huffed.

‘That’s because your actors bloody suck, Lestrade, if I had to read their emotions and find out what relationship they have with the victim I could say they all killed him, because none of them act natural, or like an average actor should do.’ She said, trying to not sound mean, she was always nice to Lestrade.

‘So you’re just going leave?’ He exclaimed, looking completely incredulous.

Lestrade, your plan is working, just not the way you wanted to.

‘Most definitely, we’re going to solve an actual case.’ Sherlock said as he offered his arm to her, she enlaced hers with his, and send a wink to Lestrade.

With locked arms they walked away, and got a cab. Once they had gotten in, a short silence dawned upon them, which Sherlock chose to break.

‘We solved that pretty quickly.’ He stated jokingly while measuring her behaviour towards him, he didn’t know how, but he had a feeling she was coming around.

‘Yeah, we actually did.’ She said with a smile, fiddling a bit with her sleeve.


‘I know you still don’t trust me, but we make a good team, we solve cases quickly. You don’t have to forget what I said if you don’t want to, but maybe you could come back and we can work together again… to eh, help people.’ He said, ending his two sentence speech he had thought of the night before while googling what people like to hear.

‘That doesn’t sound very Sherlock-y…’ She accused him and he sighed.

‘Just come back for god’s sakes.’ He sighed, tired of this whole beating around the bush thing he was doing.

‘Okay.’ She said, and his head snapped towards her.

‘Excuse me?’ He asked, caught off guard by her willingness.

‘I’ll be back in a few days; I need time to sell my apartment.’ She said simply, picking her phone out of her pocket to text someone.

‘So you’ll move back into Bakerstreet?’ He asked again, not really grasping that after two and a half months of being completely separated, life would go back to normal… Almost normal.

‘Yes, I mean, you practically used fricking Scotland yard to get us together on a case, even it was fake.’ She said with a small smirk, revealing that she knew all along that it wasn’t just coincidence that Lestrade had put them together.

‘How did you know?’ He asked her with a frown.

‘I took some extra classes in psychology and other stuff while I was away to keep myself busy, I could deduce that Lestrade was lying when he explained the project.’ She shrugged.

Oh, how could I forget that she’s a bloody genius?

‘So, where to?’ Sherlock asked her.




Chapter Text

Sherlock’s P.O.V.

A silence had dawned upon 221B Bakerstreet.

A comfortable, calm silence. 

(Y/N) had moved back in a week ago, and life was good. Cases were solved, jokes were made and it almost seemed like nothing had happened. Sherlock was glad that she didn’t hold a grudge against him, it would’ve driven him insane. She still teased him with what he had done, using it to guilt trip him into doing things for her, and even tough he knew that he really didn’t have to do those things, he wanted to. Not that he would admit.

Something had changed though, she had probably noticed that he cared about her too, or needed her, because she was much more comfortable around him. This resulted in much more physical contact between the two, and both of them didn’t really mind. Leaning against each other, Sherlock grabbing her middle to drag her to some files, her grabbing his hand and pulling him behind her when she saw something cool… you know.

At this very moment he was busy reading a book with detailed descriptions about fingers. He had found out that there was much more to be discovered from people’s fingers than he had initially thought. His flat mate was lying on her back on the couch, reading some kind of adventurous story, she was a sucker for those. He always told her they were useless, but she would just roll her eyes and point out that everything she did didn’t have to be useful. It could be just for ‘fun’.

(Y/N) got up, laid her book on the ground and stretched for a second before standing up and walking down the stairs. Sherlock figured she was going to collect the mail and see what kind of bills they had to pay. He didn’t pay any attention to her anymore, she always took care of those things.


*Thump* *Thump* *Thump* *Thump*


Sherlock looked up and saw that (Y/N) had already gotten back, now furiously throwing hits towards the punching bag in the living room. John had brought her that bag as a joke when she decided to move back in, he said she would need it if she had to put up with Sherlock again.

Her stance was professional; her hits were angry but controlled. It was clear that she had taken multiple classes in self defence and she succeeded in it. But with every hit she got sloppier, and more frustrated, that much Sherlock could see. Her face was scrunched up in an angry mask, she looked like she was about to kill someone, or something.

She spun and kicked the bag incredibly hard, her chest was heaving and her eyes were spitting fire. She turned away from the bag with balled fists, a bit hunched over, looking dangerous.

‘ARRGH, THAT STUPID BLOOD-SUCKING BITCH’ She screamed, spinning around quickly and resuming her spit fire of attacks on the poor bag.

It was clear to Sherlock that something was very much wrong with (Y/N), she never lost control over herself, he never saw her this mad in the time he had known her.

‘(Y/N), you should calm down.’ He said calmly, and she paused shortly to look at him.

‘You should shut up.’ She spat at him and continued her erratic punches at the bag that looked like it wasn’t going to last much longer. Sherlock decided that she really should get a grip on herself, and that she wasn’t able to do that on her own.

He stood up, calmly, put away his book and stood behind her, grabbing her shoulders.

‘(Y/N), stop.’ He said, trying to be more persuasive this time, but she only shrugged off his grip and went on molesting her victim.

Sherlock wrapped one of his arms around her middle and the other one around her shoulders, so he could pull her away from her target, but she kept moving and trying to get out of his arms. He decided that there was something very, very, very wrong, and he changed tactics.

‘Listen to me right now.’ He said with a dangerous, low voice in her ear, her struggling faltered a bit but it wasn’t gone.

‘If you keep punching that bag your problem isn’t going to solve itself, pull yourself together and tell me what is wrong so we can solve it, together.’ He said, his voice a bit nicer at the end. She stopped her attempts to get loose and just stood there with her back to Sherlock, breathing heavily, her arms at her sides. 

‘Read the letter.’ She said with a small voice, and Sherlock nodded, looking around the apartment for an unusual looking letter. He spotted it, laying open at the table with a baby-pink colour and he released her, walking over the object that had caused her so much anger.

He picked it up, and started analysing it.

A woman made this, obviously, very nice handwriting on the front. The way she has written (Y/N) name indicated she hates her, or dislikes her deeply. It is cheap stationary, but it is masked by little decorations, so the person is frustrated with their live, not content with what they possess. What leads me to believe they have narcissistic tendencies and a strong will to let others believe they are superior to them. (Y/N) would hate her for sure.

He looked over to her, and she looked like a mess, biting her lip and rubbing her shoulder, she looked like she was about to cry, or kill. He had to read the letter.


Beloved friend,


You are invited to attend a memorial in Ellie (Y/L/N)’s honour.

Our angel passed away a year ago, and to remember her we will have a gathering with everyone who knew her.

She was a light that warmed our hearts, now she shines it on us from above.

I’ve volunteered to use my house as the location for this event, and it will start at 10 o’clock in to morning.  

I hope you will all come,


Dorothy Abott.


Sherlock stood for a second with this letter in his hand, trying to figure out why it had upset her so much. But he couldn’t figure it out, he wouldn’t care himself, he would…

Bloody hell, I wouldn’t give a rat’s ass. Would I? THINK.

How would I feel if somebody else gave a memorial in honour of (Y/N) while that person pretends that I was just an average guest even though I was the closest…?

His blood already started boiling with the thought of it, but he realised that that couldn’t be the reason why she was so mad, she doesn’t care how people treat her. There was probably more to this than he knew.

He turned to look at her, and his heart broke. She was standing in the same spot where he had left her, but she was slouching, her arms hanging next to her body and her weight leaning on one leg, she looked so fragile. 

Her face. She was biting her lip so hard that a little speck of blood had appeared, her eyes were glassy, waiting to spill over with tears of sadness and anger. She looked so down and broken, the only thing Sherlock could do is open his arms to her, initiating for her to hug him.

She almost ran to him, crossing the room in a few steps and crashing against his chest, wrapping her arms around her while she finally let go the sobs that she was holding back. Sherlock hugged her back, making soft shushing noises while he pressed his cheek to the top of her head.

They stood there for a while, he rubbed her back while making soothing noises, and she cried in his shirt.

She has never shown such weakness to me, to anyone probably. She needs me right now.

Finally, the sobbing fade away, and she pulled away a little bit. Her eyes were red and puffy, she looked ashamed of herself, but a small frown reappeared on her face.

‘She doesn’t have the right.’ She whispered, her voice breaking a bit, indicating that she almost had to cry again. 

Sherlock cupped her face with one hand, wiping away her tear stains off her cheeks with his thumbs. She calmed down a little bit and tried to steady her breath. 

‘Who is she?’ He asked her, trying to make sure she was too busy thinking about how to explain the situation so she wouldn’t think about her feelings towards it. 

‘Our ex-neighbour, she hated us because she wanted our house. She always came by to pretend to care about Ellie but she loathed her, always trying to persuade her to die in the hospital. She likes to be important and fancy, she isn’t doing this for…’ She got the words stuck in her throat, and she looked so incredibly frustrated, mad and sad, Sherlock felt bad for her.

‘Do you want to go?’ He asked her softly, pushing her thoughts to the next thing.

‘I want to choke her.’ She whispered, trying to make a joke to hide the fact that she was on the verge of tears again, Sherlock kept silent, knowing that she needed a second to figure it out.

‘I have to go, but I don’t know if I will be able to handle it.’ She said with a soft voice, again sounding ashamed of herself.

‘Do you think you could do it if there was someone with you?’ He asked suggestively, keeping his voice calm and steady. She looked confused for a second but then got the hint, her eyes widened a bit but she nodded. 

‘I think so, but only if it’s you.’ She croaked, wiping away the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

Sherlock stepped a bit forwards and gave her a kiss on her forehead. 

‘Anything for you (Y/N), now go pack your suitcase, we’ll be leaving in an hour.’ He said curtly, trying to hide the fact he actually just kissed her.

She didn’t move for a second, completely shocked, but then nodded a bit, her cheeks blushing crimson. She quickly ran up the stairs to her room.

What have I gotten myself into?  


Your P.O.V.

‘Holy fuck, Sherlock, that was illegal!’ You almost shouted as you held on to your chair as tight as you could.

Sherlock had insisted on driving so you could sleep a bit, he was convinced that would be necessary. He however forgot to mention that he fucking sucked at driving and ignored every traffic rule there was.

‘But not dangerous.’ He stated calmly as he surpassed the speed limit with 40 miles an hour.

‘I beg to differ.’ You laughed, still holding on for your dear life.

Sherlock was amazing. He had calmed you down and made you feel better faster than anyone ever could. Now he was sitting next to you on your way to a house filled with people you didn’t want to see, he really was a good man. You wanted to thank him, hug him, kiss him, but you didn’t know how you could do that without making it weird.

And with making it weird you meant accidently showing that you really liked him and that you wanted to be way more than friends. You knew he felt a certain kind of affection towards you, but you were afraid that if you got too close he would freak out again.

You arrived in the street where you had grown up, and you felt a heavy weight pressing on your chest. Nothing had changed. The lawns were looking the same, with the same cars parked next to them. The relatively small houses were still like how you had left them, except for the one that had been yours once. New people lived there now, and you hoped that they were happy, and that they didn’t know what had happened to the old habitant.

You got out of the car, the weight still heavy on your lungs, making sure that you weren’t at ease. Every time you tried to breath in, or out, it just didn’t feel enough oxygen in your body, so you tried again.  

You felt a hand on your upper arm and you saw Sherlock looking down at you with a concerned look in his eyes. You smiled up to him, mentally thanking him for everything he did for you. You were standing pretty close to each other, and when Sherlock looked the other way without moving from his spot, you saw his defined jaw and cheekbones that made your heart skip a beat.

You gathered all of your courage and stood on your toes, planning on planting a kiss on his cheek, but your plan turned out pretty different. At the same time you leaned in for the kiss he turned his head back to you, so the spot you had chosen to kiss (his cheek) was replaced for his lips. So you kissed those, and quickly pulled back when you realised what you had just done.

‘Oh, shit, sorry Sherlock I was eh aiming for your… eh…cheek.’ You stuttered, completely panicking in your head, waiting for Sherlock to say something that’ll make you want to jump into the Grand Canyon.

But Sherlock just stood there for a second, looking a bit taken aback, and then he laughed, pretty hard. He shook his head and smiled at you.

‘No problem, love, let’s just “choke her”.’ He mocked you, you rolled your eyes and huffed, pretending to be offended by him.

You walked up to the house and rang the bell, within seconds the door was opened by someone you hadn’t expected to see. 

‘(Y/N), Cherry, Great to see you!’ The guy standing in the doorway exclaimed, but you didn’t respond.

You were shocked, and the weight was back, worse than before. So you stood there frozen, lips slightly parted and your eyes wide, looking at the one guy that had caused most of the misery in your life.

‘I believe I’ve startled you a bit.’ Ben laughed obscenely, and you felt all kinds of emotions course through your body.

Sherlock didn’t get what was happening, so you decided to solve it on your own.  

‘Ben, it has been a while.’ You said with a huge, fake smile. He grinned back at you, and you saw Sherlock stiffen from the corner of your sight, apparently he understood who was the guy standing in front of you.

‘That’s because you couldn’t wait to see dead people in London.’ He said, with a mocking voice. But when he did it, you could feel the disapproving and slightly angry undertone.   

‘May I bring to your attention that it’s fairly easy to see ‘dead people’ also in small towns such as the one we are standing in right now?’ Sherlock asked, with masked anger but a shitload of suggestion in his voice. 

You had to hold yourself back from laughing at his hidden threat, Sherlock could tell someone he wanted to kill him in style.

‘That’s nice. You brought along a… friend? From…work?’ Ben stated a bit asking.

Your blood started to boil, he was doing it again. Like he had done in the years you had been together, he implied often that there was no possibility in you getting a boyfriend except for him. Now he basically told Sherlock that there was no chance you two were together. 

‘We’re actually living together.’ Sherlock said dryly, and Ben looked angrily at you, his cheeks becoming a bit redder. He seemed to recollect himself when a smile reappeared on his face, but there was a mean edge in it.

‘Oh. Really? Okay, well, everyone will be ecstatic that you’ve finally moved on.’ He said, not even bothering to introduce himself to Sherlock.

‘Now he thinks, and so will everyone else, that we’re together.’ You whispered at him calmly, bringing the side-effects of his words to Sherlock’s attention.

‘Oh I’m aware of that, but I suspected that he would be the kind of person that would harass you because you’re not in a relationship.’ He huffed and your eyes widened a bit at his concern for you.

You stood on your tippy toes and pecked his cheek with a grin. He looked a bit taken aback again but then he sends you a warm smile. 

‘You’re brilliant.’ You said to him.

‘I was aware of that.’ He answered with a wink and you rolled your eyes, stepping through the front door.

Everyone you knew was already sitting in the living room, calmly chatting with each other, Ben was nowhere to be seen. Everyone quieted down the moment you set foot in the room.

‘Hello.’ You said awkwardly, adding a small wave to your introduction.

You saw the people that had had a great influence on your life, and most of them looked surprised to see you, some of them openly disapproving. You remembered the anger when you had told the neighbourhood that Ellie would be staying at home in her last moments, they had other opinions. Like Dorothy, who sat in the corner, eying Sherlock suspiciously.

‘(Y/N)! Lovely to see you!’ Said Ellie’s old teacher, she had always been close to Ellie and had supported you in defending the decision.

‘Likewise, how have you been?’ You asked her with a smile after hugging her quickly.

‘Oh I’m all right, just boring old me, but I’ve got a feeling you have been up to more interesting matters, haven’t you?’ She said, making a sly face towards Sherlock, who was standing behind you with his hands behind his back and a bored expression. 

‘Oh yes, may I introduce you to my eh… boyfriend, this is Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes.’ You introduced him, and he smiled politely, shaking her hand.

From that moment on the mood in the room changed. People were intrigued to know how you had ended up in a relationship with possibly the smartest person alive, and a celebrity. So the next hour was filled by you laughing at Sherlock’s smartass remarks and sarcasm with every stupid comment that was made, but you noticed he was secretly enjoying himself tremendously because of people’s “oooh’s” and “aaahh’s” when he explained how he solved the cases.

Dorothy tried to make small talk with Sherlock, she also tried to flirt with him. He offended her, and insulted her multiple times, you loved it. After that she backed off. 

After a while you excused yourself to get some drinks from the kitchen, and Sherlock went with you. You had noticed that he was slowly getting agitated and nervous, he was probably aching to do something useful. There was only so much he could handle.

‘What do you say, I kill someone in this house and you’ll have to find out how I did it.’ You whispered at him while you grabbed a bottle of wine. 

‘I’ll probably figure it out within 5 seconds, and maybe alcohol isn’t answer.’ Sherlock said pointedly, leaning against the table in the centre of the room. He was probably thinking of the last time he saw you drunk. You felt his gaze on you as you turned around to the bottle and huffed. 

‘That’s true, alcohol isn’t the answer, it’s the question. Yes is the answer. And for your information, I know more about forensics than you do, mister Holmes.’ You sassed at him, he was probably already formulating his witty retort but he was interrupted by someone you didn’t want to see.

‘Holmes? As in the Holmes?’ A male voice came from the corner of the kitchen.

Ben had been standing there for a while now, probably listening to your stories in the other room. You knew him well, and you just knew that he had been standing there waiting for you, for a moment alone.

‘Ben.’ You said, a smile plastered across your face as you noticed the way he looked at Sherlock, he was fucking jealous.

‘So you have brought a celebrity with you.’ He said disapprovingly, waiting for you to introduce them to each other. You saw Sherlock’s gaze shoot over him, probably deducing.

‘Well, to me he’s just Sherlock.’ You said, emphasizing the fact that you hadn’t brought him because he was famous.

‘Pleasure.’ Sherlock said curtly, not even bothering to shake his hand, you smiled internally.

‘So you’re the famous detective from London?’ He asked, almost spitting out the words. You were surprised at how little he tried to hide his jealousy.

‘Consulting detective, actually.’ Sherlock said coldly, not letting himself get worked up by the hostility.

‘Ah, well, that’s kind of the same thing.’ He dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand, and you saw Sherlock’s face change to annoyance within a second.

‘Of course it is.’ Sherlock almost spat, his voice as venomous and sarcastic as it probably could ever be. He was restraining himself for your sake, and for you only, so you walked over to him and gently took his hand in yours, squeezing it softly.

‘What are we going to do on this… memorial?’ You asked him to steer the conversation to the reason you were here.

‘We will go to her grave and some of us have prepared a little speech, about Ellie.’ He told you smugly, and you felt ice take over your heart.

‘And on what qualifications did you base the selection for the group of people that may give a speech?’ Sherlock asked, already ahead of you, though he didn’t probably realise that it was bothering you tremendously. 

‘Oh, just some people that were important to her.’ He said, again with a dismissing motion of his hand, and you were even more pissed than you had been a second ago.

‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but I assume that the most involved person in Ellie’s life was (Y/N), so does she get to give a speech?’ Sherlock asked icily, and you snorted a bit.

‘Oh no, would you like to?’ Ben asked innocently, and you almost killed him right there.

‘No thank you, I told her already what I needed to tell her when she was alive.’ You said coldly.

He nodded while pretending to be sad.

‘It’s such a shame that she passed away, she shouldn’t have died so young.’ He said, and it sounded so flat that even Sherlock realised that he was faking his emotions. 

‘It is, she however wanted people to be happy when they thought about her, so that’s what I’m going to do.’ You said, done with the bullshit, done with feeling sad and mad about people that where so stupid.

‘Right, it’s just that I can’t…control myself when it’s about Ellie.’ He said, a little smirk tugging at his lips as he tried to get you worked up.

You weren’t going to burst out angrily, you weren’t going to yell and you certainly weren’t going to cry because of this asshole again. You would remain cold, collected, just like how Sherlock had taught you to be. 

‘That’s probably not the only thing you haven’t got control over.’ You said, keeping a straight face and a steady voice. You heard Sherlock snicker.  

‘Excuse me?’ He asked you, looking offended, you just shook your head.

‘I need to catch some fresh air.’ You said, glancing around for the door that led outside. You found it quickly and escaped the source of your annoyance.

You found yourself in the backyard of the house, which consisted of a large field of grass with some flowers planted by the fence around it. It was a slightly chilly day, and you wrapped your arms around yourself to stay a bit warm. 

It relatively silent for a few moments, you heard the bass voices of Ben and Sherlock, but you couldn’t hear what they were saying. You heard the birds, cheerfully chirping and flying around, not having to deal with drama and idiots. It maybe took a five-minute conversation between the guys before the door opened, and you prayed that Sherlock would be the one stepping through you.

‘Already done with the party? It has just started.’ Ben’s cocky voice came from behind you, and you sighed, the lord was testing your patience. 

‘It’s a memorial for my dead sister, you dick.’ You answered monotone, not even bothering to turn around.

‘Oh yeah …’ He said awkwardly, but you knew he didn’t care about that at all, he was just a bit bummed that he had pissed you off.

‘I wanted to ask you something.’ He said, as you heard footsteps approach you, you closed your eyes, you were so tired of his bullshit.

‘That’s nice.’ You said, sighing, already knowing which direction this conversation was going to. You also heard how he paused a bit, wondering if he should go on. Apparently he chose to do so, because he suddenly stood next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours. 

‘Are you and Sherlock really already living together?’ he asked you, and you remember how it actually took multiple months for Ben and you to sleep together, he thought you and Sherlock had already crossed that line.

‘We are.’ You just said simply, with your hands in your pockets, staring to the beautiful garden that brought you some kind of peace.

‘How long have you known each other?’ He asked you curiously.

‘I would say a little bit over three months.’ You said, not really caring if you were being accurate or not.

‘An how long have you been living together?’ He asked you again, and you just went with it, not giving any fucks anymore.

‘Again, little over three months. The day I met him was the day I decided to move in.’ You told him and he turned to you, looking surprised.

‘Really? That’s really quick and really impulsive.’ He said, his tone disapproving, you just shrugged.

‘I had a good feeling about it, and I was right.’ You said with a small smile, thinking back at what you had been through with Sherlock. It wasn’t peaceful to live with him, but you had never been more at ease around someone like you were with him.

‘Sooooo…ehh… you two are serious?’ He asked you carefully and you almost sighed again, here it comes.

‘We’re both very serious.’ You said, mentally laughing at Ben’s stupidity.

How could it be that little over a year ago, you were actually sure that you were going to marry him, while right now, you felt no attraction at all to this guy?

And then it kind of hit you. You realised all the changes you had gone through since you had met Sherlock. And not the material ones, on what you had been focussing all this time, but mentally. 

If you hadn’t met him, you would’ve gone to this gathering nervous and alone, stuttering while answering questions shortly and letting everyone walk over you. Because many people back there actually didn’t like you, they blamed you for letting your sister die at home. You would’ve let Ben make snarky remarks, and let him insult you. 

But right now, your mind was working completely different. You weren’t afraid of these people anymore, for their opinion or for their view on you. You had walked in and talked to them with little trouble, and you had kind of stood up against Ben. You considered yourself now unworthy of their hate, without even knowing it. 

And it was because of Sherlock. His attention, his care and help with keeping you grounded had actually changed you in the best way possible. He had never treated you like a fragile baby, he had sternly told you to get a grip, without ever being mean, and you had always listened to him. He had trusted you with many things he did not trust anyone but himself with, and he had seen the person you could be before you even knew it yourself.

You loved him for that, for giving you that kind of care and trust, you had never received it before from anyone but your sister.

You loved him more because who he was himself. The way he was driven to reach his goals, solving the murder was truly inspiring to be honest. Sherlock would never pretend to like you on the long term, he would tell you if something was bothering him and he was just so damn clever, it kept stunning you. And he fought for the sake of people even though most of them didn’t know, or didn’t care, he was a good man, a great man.

And another part of you just liked the way that he was a dick, his sarcasm and irony, all his peculiar little things were pretty attractive or hot, to be honest.

‘Eh, (Y/N), are you alright?’ You suddenly heard Ben asking while he shook your arm, you shrugged his grip off you and looked at him.

‘Oh I’m great, really. Just a question, what do you want to achieve here?’ You asked bluntly, and Ben looked surprised, he had been expecting the old you, one that wouldn’t dare to ask anything.

‘Well, since you were here I thought… that maybe you could, eh, like stay maybe, and eh maybe we could try again, you know?’ He said, the scenario where you would agree with him and have sex the same night together crumbling in his mind as he saw your disgust. 

‘Honey, are you missing your bloody brain or have you gone blind? I’m clearly here with Sherlock, aren’t I?’ You said to him seriously, your arms crossed while looking at him pointedly.

‘Yeah, but, eh… I just figured-’ He started but you cut him off.

‘Unlike you, I would never cheat on the person I am with. Sherlock is the best man I know, and I can’t imagine me ever deliberately hurting him by betraying him, especially with you.’   You scoffed, spitting the words out rather quickly.

You had never come around to tell him how much you despised him, and you weren’t going to, you were over him. But you had to make clear that you would choose Sherlock over anyone, any day.

‘Especially me? What do you mean by that? Have you taken a look at yourself? You aren’t the smartest person I know, or the prettiest, or the nicest, or the funniest. You’re nothing.’ He spat at you, and you nodded. 

‘I don’t have to be, I’m very glad being myself, because I’m not weak, nasty or despicable like you.’ You said, making clear that you were immune to his harsh words.

‘Yeah well you’re a bitch anyway.’ He retorted and you almost laughed at his ridiculous comeback. Almost.

‘Well, thank you for proving that I made a good decision when I left you.’ You told him, and your complete and utter emotionless stance had him actually leaving. He probably decided to go back to his own girlfriend, who was easier to seduce.

He walked back and slammed the door of the house behind him, taking all his hatred with him when he left. You could hear the birds again.

You smiled a bit, feeling satisfied with the way you handled things, you felt fresh, courageous and happy. Really happy, so you sat down, in the grass, and just enjoyed your surroundings.

The door opened again, more quietly this time.

‘That was interesting.’ Sherlock said behind you and you grinned a bit, interesting was an understatement. 

‘I guess you could call it that.’ You said with a small smile.

You were content, you didn’t feel the urge to impress someone or actually do something. You were feeling at peace by sitting in this grass, happily thinking about the way the sun shone on the flowers and made everything shine a bit.

‘So I noticed something.’ Sherlock said, sitting down next to you.

‘Well that’s unusual.’ You answered with a grin, and he rolled his eyes.

‘What are you doing, Spock? Looking for your brain?’ You sassed at him, and when you realised that that was actually funny you started laughing loudly, freely. You let yourself lay back on the grass as you grinned a bit. 

‘hehehe…looking for your brain, I’ll have to remember that one.’ You said with a shit-eating grin on your face.

‘Are you feeling all right?’ Sherlock asked you with a small smile, he clearly noticed how happy you were.  

‘I don’t know, a bit wobbly, but good at the moment.’ You sighed, while sitting up.

‘Okay, well I’m no expert on all of this unnecessary stuff, but I think this might have been considered by people as a difficult day for you, so you shouldn’t worry.’ He said, shrugging a bit and showing his complete and utter disinterest for emotional development.

‘I know you don’t give a shit about these small things, and that’s why I appreciate it even more that you put up with me every day.’ You said with a grin.

Because a lot of people felt bad for you that you had to ‘put up’ with Sherlock’s outbursts and erratic way of being while he was on cases, or even when he was in between cases. But no one ever considered that Sherlock would have to deal with stuff too, that he didn’t encounter usually. You got sad sometimes, you cried during movies, or you got mad at something, you were just a human. And even though he was helping you to get better at restraining all of this, he too knew that you would never push them away.

‘That isn’t hard at all honestly, but I’m surprised you haven’t attempted to assassinate me yet.’ He scoffed and you huffed at him.

‘Liar liar pants on fire, you do think it’s hard, don’t lie to me Holmes.’ You said to him, and he just threw you a death stare, you laughed at that and put your head on his shoulder.

You stayed like that for a while, just silent, looking at the garden. Though you just knew that Sherlock’s mind was working overtime.

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ You asked, the only reason Sherlock could be silent and not moving was because he was thinking of something that held all of his attention.

‘You seem rather affectionate lately.’ He said, not looking at you, just stating what he had noticed. Your heartbeat picked up, you knew he would’ve noticed it, but you didn’t know he actually cared.

‘Why would you say that?’ You asked him, not denying anything, just wondering how he came to this conclusion.

‘Well, for instance, you kissed me twice today.’ He said pondering, now looking at your face that you had taken off his shoulder.

‘You’re doing me a great favour by coming here.’ You shrugged, trying to play it off.

‘Most certainly so, however, I’ve noticed multiple signs of the usual attraction. I thought that was possibly platonic, since you couldn’t be actually - how do I put this? - in love with me, rationally speaking-’ he started explaining his theory but you held up a hand, forcing him to stop talking. 

‘Wait a minute, what do you mean, I can’t be in love with you “rationally speaking?”’ You asked him seriously, he just raised an eyebrow.

‘I’ve been reading several books, and the characters that fall in love are always very similar to each other.’ Sherlock explained bluntly, as if it was the most logic thing in the world.

‘You and I are pretty similar, if we don’t mind the IQ. Both solving murders for an instance.’ You defended and Sherlock shook his head.

‘No, I meant that you are too nice and a good person to be with me.’ He stated, and you thought you caught a sad tone in his voice.

‘That’s ridiculous, you’re just as a good person as I am. And if your theory were to be true, that would mean that you couldn’t like me either.’ You said, a sly smile slipping on your face as you leaned closer to him, Sherlock just slightly squinted his eyes when you took his wrist lightly.

‘Delated pupils, your pulse has quickened, so has your breath, maybe I can even detect a slight blush on your usually marble complexion…?’ You said, while you had leaned in closer and closer, your lips were almost touching.

‘Definitely signs of attraction, or love.’ You breathed out.

‘I taught you too well.’ He said with a smirk on his face, his eyes locked on your lips.

‘I taught you too little.’ You smiled as you thought back at all the moments he had tried to somehow persuade you to come back and failed because he was a cute and awkward idiot.

You wanted to kiss him, this was the perfect moment, so you leaned forwards and…

Found nothing. Sherlock had pulled himself away, god fucking damnit.

‘What do you mean? You taught me to little?’ He asked you, and you just froze for a second.

Is he fucking kidding me?

That was the movie-worthy kiss moment.

That was it.

Fucking Sherlock, always doing things his way.

I love him.

‘This.’ You said, a grin slipping on your first shocked face.

‘What?’ He asked you, completely oblivious, you laughed.

‘This, I should’ve told you more about romantic things. That moment, seconds ago, had been the perfect moment to kiss.’ You said with a smile, you didn’t really mind though. You had expected that nothing would be normal with Sherlock anyways.

‘Believe me, any moment where we kiss is perfect.’ Sherlock said dryly, and your eyes widened, the daredevil grin spreading on your face as you felt your heart become ten times as big.

‘I take it back; I don’t need to teach you anything.’ You said, closing the gap between you, almost throwing yourself forwards and catching his lips with yours. 

Sherlock immediately steadied you with his hands, holding you by your waist and setting you down in his lap, both your legs laying to one side as you held him by his jawline.

His arms around you, your lips already moving against each other, recalling the last time this happened. But then again, this was nothing like last time.

There was no pressure this time, no other goal to the kiss than the kiss itself. And it was absolutely amazing. Sherlock was a great kisser, and his lips mended perfectly against yours, pushing slightly for more. You noticed how this was possibly the first time he had opened himself up to his feelings, since he was truly letting himself go. 

He let go of your hips with one hand while he tightened the grip with the other. He placed his hand on the side of your jaw, as you had let your hands down, now placed against his chest. You pushed him away slightly to catch your breath, but the moment you were loose he kissed you again. 

You laughed, pulling away again.

‘Sherlock, please, I need to breathe.’ You said breathlessly, laughing softly, your face still an inch away from Sherlock’s.

‘Breathing is boring.’ He murmured while he kissed you again, and you let him.

After a while you broke the kiss, and looked him right in the eyes.

There were crinkles next to his eyes, because he was smiling brightly. His eyes were shining with happiness as his gaze shot over your face. He leaned in again and starting placing random kisses all over your lips and mouth, while grinning.

‘What are you doing?’ You giggled, catching his lips again and kissing him shortly, but sweetly.

‘I’ve wanted to do that for ages.’ He said, still smiling.

He looked much younger like this, much better and happier. You traced his happy features with the tips of your fingers. Touching his brows, nose, lips, cheekbones, you giggled at that.

‘Your mysterious cheekbones.’ You said softly, with a nostalgic smile all across your face.

‘Hmm?’ He asked with a small grin, knowing that whatever you where thinking would be entertaining.

‘One of the first things I noticed about you, your cheekbones.’ You said with a small voice, your thumb tracing along it.

‘And then?’ He asked curiously, almost back at his normal state. 

‘Your eyes, your awesome coat, and then that you were kind of clever.’ You said, and he raised his eyebrows.

‘Clever?’ He asked, not happy with the mild way of putting his intelligence.

‘Kind of.’ You said, showing off all your teeth in a shit eating grin. You heard him chuckle and felt his chest rumble with it.

There was a sort moment of silence.

‘Let’s go.’ Sherlock just stated, and you got up from his lap, he quickly followed you.

You paused and looked up at him, wondering what would come next. But he just held a dangerous glimmer in his eyes while he stared back. You realised nothing was going to change, Sherlock was going to remain Sherlock and you were you, you would just have to deal with a lot more physical contact right now.   

So in silence, you followed him outside, walking past all the other guests, who did not notice you passing by. You just strolled out of the front door, not looking back at the house or the people in it. You got into the car, shotgun, and glanced one last time at your old house, not planning on ever seeing again. That was a chapter you had closed in your life.

Now it was time for the next one.


Sherlock’s P.O.V.

Sherlock had been driving for a while now, not really paying attention to the road, there was nobody there anyway. He was looking at (Y/N).

She had turned on the radio, some kind of channel that only played very loud and simplistic music. But she seemed to like it, she was dancing and singing along.


She was beautiful, like a light.


Such a shame, that by looking at his personal light, he didn’t see two other lights rapidly approaching.


Because those made everything black for the both of them.

Chapter Text

Sherlock’s P.O.V.




Bloody hell, whatever (Y/N)’s doing should stop because those annoying sounds are almost waking me up.


My bed has become much more uncomfortable to lie on since yesterday


What a strange smell, rubber and disinfectant?


It smells like a Hospital.


Oh, I’m in a hospital.


Sherlock opened his eyes and was greeted by an unwelcome sight.

White ceiling, kind of bleached with TL-lights placed in it. It seemed to mock him as he stared up at it, tantalizingly lighting up the room but not all his questions. He tried to move his limbs one by one, in case he was tied down or paralyzed. Everything worked, except for his right arm, probably broken and casted.

He sat up, slowly, or else he would get dizzy or tired. He looked around himself, taking in every little detail in the room.

The deteriorated paint in the corners of the room, indicated that little people decided to take away their gaze from the bed with the patient in it. The same bed that Sherlock was lying in at the moment. But what had brought him there?

He thought for a long time, skimming through his most recent memories for something that could’ve harmed him. The only thing that came to his mind was that beautiful garden in that place where he had never been, though his mind hadn’t really stored an extended file of information about the garden. It had focused itself on her.

She had been the first girl he had felt so…so…he didn’t know. At peace? Passionate? Comfortable? Attracted? He didn’t even care. He knew that that was happiness, only because in his life had gotten multiple tastes of it.

The warm feeling he had gotten from thinking back to that wonderful moment was quickly ripped away from him by a concerned voice.

‘SHERLOCK? Can you hear me? Sherlock?’ John was almost shouting, bowed forwards towards the bed.

‘Yes, John, I can hear you. Now stop shouting please before you give me an even worse headache.’ Sherlock spoke with a rasping voice, slowly sitting up.

‘I’ll call the doctor.’ John said rapidly, turning around and pressing the button that would alarm the nurses before Sherlock could complain.

‘John, why am I here?’ Sherlock asked sighing, really looking at his best friend for the first time that day.

John looked worn out, probably hadn’t slept well that night, not for a fun reason, obviously.

‘Well… How do I put this…’ John pondered, his complexion looking worrisome.

‘Just talk.’ Sherlock said, leaning back in the bed and closing his eyes.

‘(Y/N) and you got into a car accident, a drunken driver didn’t see you and hit you full speed.’ John said in one breath, bracing himself for the detectives reaction.


The heart rate monitor went mad the moment John had finished his sentence, Sherlock’s eyes shot open and he propped himself up on his elbows, looking frantically at his best friend.

‘(Y/N).’ He exclaimed, already swinging his legs to the side of the bed to walk to wherever you were.

‘Is currently unconscious, and in the other wing of the hospital. Please sit down until the doctor comes to check up on you, Sherlock.’ John pleaded and Sherlock’s mind was racing, deciding what the best next step could be. The moment he decided to search for (Y/N) on his own the doctor walked in, looking at Sherlock’s file and taking in the scene before him.

Ah, he looks weary, he must’ve hear of me. That will speed this affair up.

‘Mister Holmes, how are you feeling?’ The doctor asked without looking up from his paper sheet.

‘My arm is numb, I feel tired and slightly dizzy because of the side effects of the medication but I’m not feeling anything that I shouldn’t feel.’ Sherlock shot back, hoping that the doctor would just let him go, then he wouldn’t have to argue with all the people.

‘All right, we think you are fine, no signs of concussion so you can go as soon as you like.’ The doctor told Sherlock, who continued getting up and pulling all of the tubes out of his arms.

‘In that case, I’d like to see (Y/N), and hear her diagnosis.’ Sherlock said, stating this more as a command rather than a question, and the doctor raised his brows.

‘Follow me.’ He stated simply, walking out of the room, Sherlock quickly followed him with John.

‘How long have I been out?’ Sherlock asked quickly, not minding his bare feet on the cean hospital tiles.

‘A day, Mister Holmes, you’ve been lucky.’ The doctor said, mumbling some directions to nurses that were passing by.

The walls were closing in on him, he could honestly swear it as he came closer to her with every step. But it took an eternity before they arrived to the room where you were lying.

He stood in the doorway, and waited there. The doctor had walked in to check up on your current state. John was standing behind him, his arms crossed, waiting for the explosion of anger that would inevitably come.

But it didn’t.

Sherlock’s shoulders hang down, his arm useless against his side as he looked into the terrible scene before him. She was lying in the bed, as if she was already dead.

Tubes came out of her body, her skin was pale and bruises littered her arms. There was a large cut that went through her left eyebrow, almost scarring her eye. She looked so small and frail lying there in her hospital gown with giant machines around her. Molly was sitting at her side, her usual worried expression more evident than ever, she looked up and seemed to be startled.

‘Sherlock, you’re awake, how are you?’ She said quickly, standing up and stumbling over her own words.

She has been crying, sweet sweet Molly.

‘I’m fine, Molly.’ Sherlock said, as he, to everyone’s surprise engulfed Molly in a hug.

He had remembered how lovingly (Y/N) had spoken about Molly. How she had helped her when Sherlock kicked her out. From that moment on Sherlock told himself he should

‘Thank you for looking out for her.’ Sherlock said lower and softer, next to her ear.

‘Of course.’ Molly said with a smile, blushing brightly but looking content.

Sherlock pulled back and finally turned all his attention to (Y/N), or her body at least. He walked over to her bed and just stood there, looking at her.

‘She’ll be fine, Sherlock, really. She’s a tough one, that’s what she is.’ John said reassuringly, placing a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder while standing next to him.

‘When will she wake up?’ Sherlock asked the doctor, ignoring John’s useless statement.

‘We don’t know yet, it could be today, could be in a week. There is a chance she will slip into a coma, but that is by far the worst-case scenario.’ He stated professionally, obliged to prepare the people for the hardest cases.

‘Is there anything we can do for her?’ Molly asked quietly, standing on the other side.

‘Well, in multiple cases there has been said one wakes up quicker and with less damage when one’s loved ones talk to him on her while unconscious.’ The doctor said, his statement was immediately followed by a scoff by Sherlock.

‘I only speak in facts, Mister Holmes.’ The doctor sneered at him, and walked away, apparently insulted.

‘Molly, maybe we can give Sherlock a moment.’ John said slightly awkwardly, and Molly nodded furiously.

‘Sherlock maybe you can tell her how…ehm…she turned the tables for you.’ John said with a pat on Sherlock’s immobile shoulder before he and Molly left the room.

When they closed the door behind them, Sherlock walked over to the chairs, sitting down in them. Staring at her seemingly lifeless expression.

How she turned the tables for me, oh please.

‘You heard it, I should talk to you.’ Sherlock said mockingly, not taking it seriously. However, there was something about that idea that unconsciously attracted him, so he decided to give it a go.

‘Of course you decided to turn on the radio with those noises they call music these days and dance to it, if you want to call it that…’ Sherlock said, his annoyance and anger caused by his incapability to help her coming out the wrong way.

‘We had a car accident, (Y/N), some moron that I will find eventually decided to drive while he was drunk and hit us with his car… I didn’t see him because I was looking at you… and yet you might not wake up ever again and my arm is merely broken…’ Sherlock pondered, pouring out his frustrations to her.

‘And you know. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, really. No no, you just had to be like…that.’ He said, making some indignant movement with his hands towards her.

‘Like what? Like what.’ Sherlock ruffled through his curls, trying to express himself in words.

‘You had to be nice. Not just nice though, you just had to be so incredibly good, and pure that you wanted to live with me. WITH ME. And you just had to be intriguing, didn’t you? I was all right before you came along and decided to invade my life and change everything.’ He was getting agitated, talking faster and more aggressive with huge movements of his hands and arms.

‘Noooo, you just had to care about me, you just wanted to make me a better person without changing me. That’s RIDICULOUS, I’m an arsehole, a dick, that’s what it is. You’re just completely blind and oblivious for thinking that I’m not because IT’S MY FAULT THAT YOU’RE HERE.’ He almost yelled to her, now really mad.


‘YOU DIDN’T TURN THE TABLES, YOU CAME IN AND THREW THEM AROUND LIKE A BLOODY HURRICANE, YOU HEARD ME? NO YOU DIDN’T BECAUSE YOU’RE UNCONCIOUS. BECAUSE OF ME. AND MYCROFT WAS RIGHT, SENTIMENT IS A CHEMICAL DEFECT FOUND ON THE LOSING SIDE AND BECAUSE OF YOU I’M LOSING.’ He said, finally rid of his anger, now he was just panting, tears were stinging in his eyes, almost falling over the edges. He stood at the end of her bed, leaning against it, gripping the edge.

‘I’m losing, (Y/N). And I just need you to wake up. I need you to wake up because I need you, I don’t care if I’m losing, we’re better together. Please.’ He begged, not letting himself actually cry.

A few moments of silence went by, and she didn’t move, the machines screens didn’t show any change at all, you didn’t wake up. Sherlock waited for several minutes before breathing out, choking back the lump in his throat and sitting down. Defeated.

‘Take your time, love, I’ll wait.’ He just said, for the first and the last time in his life an emotional mess.

And he did wait, for a few days, always sitting next to your bed, never leaving your side. John and molly would give him food; he would eat it. They would talk to him, but after the first day he had become as responsive as you were. He didn’t have the energy to share his affection with anyone other than you. There was a chance you might never wake up again, so he would enjoy your presence while you were actually kind of alive.

Then, on the fourth day, while Sherlock had been staring for the fifth time at your hands, figuring out as much of the secrets that you held on your physique, something finally happened.

There was a spike in her heart rate, a moan escaped from her lips as Sherlock saw her eyes move behind her closed lids. He walked over to her and leaned forward, waiting for her to open her eyes, but they kept being closed.

‘I swear *coughs* to god, Sherlock, *coughs* if you shout like that ever again, I’ll slap the living shit out of you.’ She threatened with a weak, small and broken voice.

‘(Y/N)’ Sherlock breathed, shooting up from his chair and taking her hand.

‘Can you open your eyes?’ He asked worried, the doctor had told him that they didn’t know in what state she would be in when she woke up, she might be paralysed from all they knew.

‘Yes, just…give me a second.’ She said, her breathing was ragged and shallow, and her hand was squeezing lightly in Sherlock’s hands. After a minute her eyes fluttered open, and focussed on Sherlock.

‘Hey handsome.’ She said softly, smiling weakly, a tube giving her extra oxygen through her nose.

‘You’re awake for less than a minute and you’re flirting.’ Sherlock said, too relieved to actually add sarcasm to his comment.

‘Well I found out I’m so pretty I cause accidents.’ She joked, and a dry chuckle escaped from her throat.

‘That wasn’t your fault. It was mine, I should have watched out for you but I just couldn’t concentrate myself again…with your presence...’ Sherlock was trying to put into words what she did to him but the heart rate monitor distracted him.


(Y/N)’s hand gripped his hand tighter and she had opened her eyes wide, sheer panic shining out of them.

‘Don’t leave me alone again, please, just-’ She started stammering, tumbling over her own words out of desperation, but she was cut off by a short kiss on her lips.

‘I won’t.’ Sherlock just assured her, and she calmed down, her heart rate dropping to the adequate amount and her breath steadying.

‘I’m sorry, but the last time, when you made me leave, you had the same argument and I just…’ She tried to explain herself but she was tired and her brain wasn’t working properly anymore.

‘I’ll be here, I need you.’ Sherlock said softly, placing a kiss on her knuckle as he watched her close her sigh, a small smile gracing her beautiful lips.

‘I need you too.’ She breathed happily, but he saw how she was fighting the fatigue.

‘Go to sleep, I’ll tell the doctors you’ve woken up, then we can go home.’ He assured her and she nodded sleepily, already far gone.

Sherlock got up, placed a kiss on her forehead and left the room for the first time in four days. (For the record, the door to the toilet is in the hospital room, so he was able to take a piss without officially leaving the room, okay?)

That day was filled with excitement. The nurses came to (Y/) quickly after your nap, because if they treated her quickly, they might get rid of the rude detective any sooner. Though deep down they all loved how attached he was to her. The doctor came to check up on her and decided that she had a concussion that shouldn’t be messed with, so he recommended acting with a lot of care, and Sherlock should wake her up multiple times at night to check if she was actually sleeping.

Sherlock had stood by her side the whole time. He helped her up and down, held her hand, her middle to stabilise her when she was standing. He gave her water when she was talking to John and Molly and asked her every five minutes if she was okay.

Finally, they decided to let her go, because there was nothing left to do and no major problem had occurred while running the tests. So Sherlock and (Y/N) hauled a cab and headed to 221B Bakerstreet. Once arrived they were greeted by a happy Miss Hudson who shoo’d them upstairs.

‘Are you tired?’ Sherlock asked, already knowing the answer, he had seen the sleepy look on your face, but then again, it was already 9 in the evening.

‘Meh, a bit, I’m going to go get changed.’ She said while yawning, hanging up her coat on the hanger at the entrance while slowly going up the stairs to her own room.

Sherlock smiled to himself while he quickly changed, brushed his teeth and laid down in his bed, happy to be there after five long days. The moment he wanted to close his eyes and actually drift away was the same moment the door opened, revealing her silhouette as she walked in the room and closed the door behind her. She continued walked over to the bed and laying down next to a very stunned Sherlock.

‘What are you doing?’ He asked a bit perplexed, seeing her figure in a pair of extremely short shorts and an old shirt. She was lying on her belly, her head turned to Sherlock but eyes closed.

‘I’m going to sleep.’ She said, adding a soft yawn to the statement.

‘Yes but this is my bed.’ Sherlock explained, thinking that you had messed it up because of the concussion.

‘I know, but else you’ll have to go up the stairs six times a night to check if I’m not dead, and this is much easier.’ She said, murmuring a bit because of the drowsiness.

‘Oh, allright then.’ He said, laying back, not knowing what do to. When he was laying on his back, she shimmied towards him, laying her head on his chest and her arm around him.

‘What are you doing now?’ He asked quietly and she sighed, lifting her head from his chest without moving the rest of her body and glaring at him through half-closed eyes.

‘I was cold, you’re warm. Now shut up and go to sleep.’ She said, and laid her head back on his chest again.

Well, we’re a bit demanding, aren’t we?

But he didn’t say anything, he just put an arm around her and softly caressed her back, quickly following her to sleep.

Chapter Text

Your P.O.V.

And then the screen went black. 

Oh no. 

I have a shred of dignity. 

Not going to ask for help. 

No way. 

Then the curtains moved a bit. 

It probably was the wind. 

But Sherlock never opens the window at night. 


‘Sherlock?’ You asked, your voice slightly shaky and muffled because you were sitting on the couch, hugging your knees and hiding your face behind them. 

‘Yes?’ Sherlock asked, his voice coming from the kitchen, he had been doing experiments all evening and hadn’t been really communicative. 

‘It ended.’ You said with a small voice as you were hoping that Sherlock would be able to protect you from whatever was in the dark. 

‘That’s nice.’ He said, not really paying attention to you, he was probably mutilating some kind of body part. 

‘It was scary.’ You went on, hoping he would get the hint and give his girlfriend some attention. 

‘Oh really? That’s not something one would expect from a horror movie.’ Sherlock answered sassily, you just ignored his statement. 

‘Can you come over here?’ You asked, trying to sound as sweet as possible.

‘I though you wanted me gone.’ He said dryly and you almost sighed at his pettiness. You wanted to watch the movie with him, but he kept ruining the atmosphere with comments about how impossible everything that happened was, so you send him away. 

‘I would never.’ You said gasping, trying to come across as innocent. 

Sherlock didn’t react to that and you knew he wasn’t going to budge. 

‘Sherlock?’ You asked again, but the only answer you got was the high pitched sound of glass bottles colliding against each other. 

‘Spock?’ You asked again, giving him one last chance to answer you before you became an annoying little shit. He kept on ignoring you. 

‘Sheeeeeerlyyy.’ You chimed, trying to get a reaction out of him, but nothing. 

So you went over you plan B. You crouched on the sofa, and stabilised yourself with your hands, then you stepped on the coffee table. From that point you swept the room with one look, to locate the object you were looking for. 

There you are. 

Lying on Sherlock’s desk, perfect. 

The best way to get to there was to jump on Sherlock’s chair and grab it from there. 

You can do this, remember, you’re the greatest British ninja in the nation!


Or the living room, that’s more realistic. 

You prepared yourself for the jump, but you leaped too far and clashed against the back of the chair, causing it to topple over with you still on it. You gripped it tight, and when it came down, you were standing on the part where you usually would rest your back. 

You looked up triumphantly to Sherlock, hoping he would’ve seen it and give you some kind of praise but he was ignoring you, not even glancing your way. You huffed, and went on acquiring the object you had been looking for. Your Nerf gun (that’s a plastic toy gun that looks badass and shoots foam darts with plastic tops).

You loaded it softly, and were happy to see that Sherlock was too engrossed with the literature in front of him to notice anything you were doing. You aimed the gun professionally and breathed out, softly, and before you breathed back in you pulled the trigger and shot. 

The dart wheezed through the air at a high speed, hitting your target perfectly. So an unknowing Sherlock suddenly felt something collide with the side of his head, with a loud *thump*. 


So you aimed again, and shot off about five darts in the same direction, all of them hitting target. The last one even got stuck in his gorgeous curls, and you giggled. 

‘Geez Sherlock, how much information did you throw out of your mind palace? I think I heard the last one echo.’ You said with a shit-eating smile, because Sherlock was finally paying attention to you. He was still sitting in his chair, throwing you a death-stare.

‘Why are you still sitting like that?’ He asked you, probably trying very hard not to sound interested. 

‘My chair fell.’ You said as you put away the gun, it only had one dart left and you needed to save it. 

‘Why didn’t you get up?’ he asked, his tone indicating that he expected something weird from you. 

‘That would require me to touch the floor.’ You huffed, crossing your arms. 

‘So?’ Sherlock asked. 

‘So if I touch the floor demons will pull me away from my ankles and you would be robbed from your precious girlfriend.’ You stated as if it were obvious, looking at your nails in the process. 

You heard the chair make a scraping sound as it was pushed backwards by Sherlock, who was finally getting up to be your saviour and carry you to the fridge, but when you looked up, you realized that was not going to happen. Sherlock was looking mischievous, his face neutral but his eyes revealing his true intentions. 

‘If you value your life. Don’t.’ You warned him, but he stepped even closer you, and grabbed your wrists, pulling you off the chair. But before you could touch the ground you wrapped your legs around the chair, dragging it with you. 

‘Don’t be so bloody stubborn.’ Sherlock grunted as he pulled harder, and you huffed.

‘You’re one to talk.’ You shot back, and felt how Sherlock let go of your wrists. You climbed on the chair that had become your isle of safety, and prepared yourself for the next attack. 

When nothing came, you stood up, still standing on the fallen chair and you turned around to where Sherlock stood. He looked at you with a fond smile and a happy shimmer in his eyes, you grinned. 

‘giving up?’ You asked him, and didn’t move when he stepped closer. 

Sherlock placed one of his hands on your lower back and got closer and closer, finally kissing you. You hummed happily into the sweet kiss, feeling a shudder of content go through your body. Right then you felt a hand between your shoulder blades. 


Sherlock hooked his leg between yours and pulled back, causing you to fall back, he however made sure you didn’t really fall by holding back your weight with his arms, then he lowered you on the ground.

‘I don’t give up, love.’ He said, bowing forward with a triumphant grin on his face. 

You hooked your arms around his neck and pulled him down, at the same time rolling over so you were lying on top of him. 

‘That was a mistake, love.’ You sassed back with an equally smug grin. Sherlock was still smiling at you, looking incredibly proud. 

‘Remember that shy, insecure girl I met at the beginning?’ He asked you and you rolled your eyes with a smile, giving him a peck on his lips before getting up and offering him a hand. 

‘Don’t go soft on me, Spock, save that romance for later.’ You teased him as you helped him get up. 

At that moment both of you received a text, what only could mean one thing. 

‘Case.’ Sherlock said, immediately distracted. 

‘I’ll grab the coats.’ You answered, changing from mindset to a more adult one, focussed on solving a case that hadn’t even started yet. 

Both of you were up and out in no more than a minute, sitting in a cab on your way to the crime scene. 

‘Thoughts?’ You asked, wanting to be prepared for the case when you got there. 

‘Murder, probably with multiple victims or a badly assaulted one. They asked you in so they need an expert on identifying corpses.’ He said, quickly typing in some things on his phone, you just nodded, knowing that you shouldn’t bother him anymore. 

You arrived at your destination fairly quickly, and you told the cabbie to wait for you since it wouldn’t probably take long. When you got out, you felt ice take over your heart. 

There where five police cars parked around the entrance of a high school, police tape was placed around them and there were a lot of people walking in and out of the crime area with grim faces. 

Fuck, I can’t stand it when kids are involved.

Sherlock knew that you hated cases involving kids, and that you would have panic attacks and nightmares for days to follow. He put a hand on your shoulder. 

‘Focus.’ He just said, and you nodded, taking your first strides towards the entrance. You let Sherlock take the lead, making sure you were here just for the supporting, but important role.

In the hallway, there was a small group of officers talking with each other, each one of them looking rather badly. One of them was Lestrade, who immediately turned around when you called his name. 

‘Sherlock, (Y/N), thank god you’re here.’ He said, a bit out of breath, motioning for you to come along with him. He paced through the hallways to an overcrowded classroom. 

‘Everyone. Out.’ Sherlock said, raising his voice just a bit. He was standing with his back towards you, taking in all the details of the room. Lestrade wanted to leave too, but you grabbed his arm and shook your head, telling him that that order wasn’t meant for him. 

There were two bodies in the room, a man and a woman. The man was lying on his side, a knife sticking out of the side of his head, his face covered in blood. He was positioned next to the desk. The woman was laying on her stomach, her head turned to one side, though there wasn’t much left of it. Her face had been bashed in, leaving a huge hole in her head the covered up half of her face. 

Holy shit, that’s not even a pool of blood, it’s an ocean. 

‘(Y/N), do the guy, I’ll get the woman.’ Sherlock said curtly and you shook your head. 

Ahh, he tries to protect me, or else he would’ve gone for the body that lied the closest to him, the man. 

‘I’m specialised in violent deaths, I’ll analyse her.’ You said professionally, already crouching next to her body. 

Let’s see, female, mid thirties, enjoys standard beauty shows which she frequently watches on her old television. She hasn’t got any kids, probably because of the insane amount of stress caused by her students, she’s a teacher. She’s got chalk everywhere, and a limp, probably couldn’t get away too quickly because of that. Her fingernails indicate no actual sign of struggle. 

Now, the head. 

Jesus christ, I can even see her teeth through this hole. 


Bashed in with a large object, the bones have been shattered in small pieces, that means that the object must be wood, very hard wood though, like a baseball bat. If it had been iron or anything like that it would’ve broken straight off and been pulverised, furthermore the murder object didn’t have any weird shapes and things, because no particular dent was left. Again it could be a baseball bat, but there are too many similar objects to be sure. 

I don’t know for sure whether it has been an adult or an adolescent, both of them are possible since this murder happened in school. 

They were sleeping together.’ You stated, noticing the same male deodorant smell on her that the man was wearing. 

‘Obviously.’ Sherlock answered, engrossed in all the hints he was getting from the corpse. 

‘Witnesses?’ You asked Lestrade, going through your list of information you two needed to solve this case. 

‘Not really, there was no clean-up crew active today and these two were the only ones in the building. Probably doing some late night stuff after the parent-kid talks.’ Bestride said, reading off the notes he had received from the other officers. 

‘Parent-kid talks?’ Sherlock asked without looking up. 

‘Yes, this is Mister Hughes, who gave chemistry here, today he had scheduled for all the parents to come at a certain time and discuss their kids’ progress.’ Lestrade explained, and Sherlock nodded. 

‘For every student?’ You asked, and Lestrade nodded. 

‘They are all being checked now, but there are only three family’s left, and every one of them has had a correct alibi.’ He continued, and you just hummed a bit. 

Sherlock started rummaging through the man’s pockets, finding what he had been looking for, the keys to the teacher’s drawers. He opened them and took out a stack of notes. You got closer and looked at them, they were comments he had written about every student and their parents whom he had talked today. 

This guy was a strange fellow, what kind of notes are these?

‘Nice mom, very pretty, nice rack, pay more attention.’ 

‘Has to stop talking, voice very annoying.’ 

‘No future, just plain stupid, but rich, stay nice.’ 


‘How many student files are there?’ Sherlock asked, and your gaze shot towards the stack of papers. 

’16 files.’ You counted and Sherlock nodded. 

‘There are 17 students.’ Sherlock said, and you caught on that idea. 

‘So he must’ve been busy with that talk when he was murdered.’ You said, happy that you could follow Sherlock’s train of thoughts. 

‘No.’ He just said, and started throwing around different kind of papers and files he had found in the drawer. Finally he pulled out a report with a short background explanation about every student in the class. After maybe a minute of flipping through the papers he put that away too, and shot out of the room. 

‘Where is he going?’ Lestrade asked you, and you shrugged. 

‘I guess he found a lead, and he’s following it, like always. I’ll look around and head home, he might have the murderer by tomorrow, I’ll let you know.’ You said, turning around to analyse the man, but a yelling voice stopped you. 

‘(Y/N), I DON’T HAVE ALL DAY, ARE YOU COMING OR WHAT?’ Sherlock yelled, and you turned to the doorway, surprised. 

‘He really did change. Go.’ Greg said with a small smile, and you grinned, sprinting out of the door. 

A half hour later you were completely elsewhere, a rough neighbourhood in London, occupied by the less fortunate. You were standing in front of a huge flat, which looked neglected and old, the habitants probably had a much harder life than you would ever have, and you felt grateful. 

However, it was no good time for feeling. You had a plan. 

Sherlock had deduced who the killer was, or whom he thought it might be. The seventeenth student in Mister asshole’s class, a girl called Natalie. There were a lot of obscene notes in her file kept by him, and he had also mentioned that she, in fact, had no parents at all.

You knocked on her door, placed on the fifth floor, a pot of dead flowers was planted next to it, making everything look even duller. 

The door opened just a wee bit, enough to see two pair of curious and sceptic eyes. 

‘Yes?’ The girl asked, not opening the door any further, she was weary, good. 

This is a quality that any girl should have when she lives on her own. 

No, don’t feel sympathy for her, she might be a psychopath. 

‘I’m detective inspector Lestrade, that’s our psychologist (Y/L/N), we need to have a talk.’ Sherlock said professionally, flashing his badge at the girl, who looked at it intently. 

‘Why?’ She asked, distrust evident in her voice. 

‘Your chemistry teacher, Mister Hughes has been murdered recently, we’re doing a check-up round with every student to make sure they’re okay.’ You said slowly, playing your whole ‘kind-hearted-psychologist’ role. 

‘What happened?’ She asked softly, taken aback, and you analysed her behaviour, trying to match it to a psychopath. It didn’t quite fit. 

No psychopath, that doesn’t rule out the chance of being the murderer.

‘Can we talk inside?’ Sherlock asked politely, and Natalie nodded while opening the door. You two walked in, and Natalie closed the door, locking it behind her. 

‘You’re Natalie Singer?’ You asked, looking at your list where you had crossed a few of the students name, as if you were really visiting all of them. 

‘Yes, how did Chris react?’ Natalie asked suspiciously, and something told you she was trying to find out whether you were telling the truth.

‘We are not allowed to discuss the patients current state, I’m sorry.’ You said, sounding professional.

‘So, you play baseball?’ Sherlock asked, pretending like he was chatty.

He was standing next to a table filled with baseball ornaments, pictures, trophy’s and posters about baseball. It was the only decoration that this bare and depressing apartment had. 

‘Not anymore, school and work leave me with little time for extracurricular activities.’ She explained, and you analysed her. 

Has had a very traumatic accident in her youth, probably resulting her parents death. She has developed a very dangerous form of anxiety from it, she sleeps way too little for someone of her age. She’s on edge, but very sharp and intelligent, she has had everything in life against her… o dear. 

We understand, let’s discuss your relationship with Mister Hughes.’ You said, sitting down on one plastic folding chair in the room. Natalie froze, her brows furrowed as she turned to you.

‘Relationship?’ She asked, and you noted her weird reaction, there must be something behind it. 

‘Yes, was he a good teacher to you?’ You asked, grabbing your notepad and pretending to actually care about the details.

‘He was all right, never bothered me much, I’ve been an honours student for multiple years now, there was no need to pay attention to someone who already knows what she’s doing.’ Natalie said, desperately making clear that she was a good student and that she had nothing to do with the victim.

All signs of being guilty, please Natalie, prove me wrong. 

‘Hmpf.’ Sherlock huffed indignantly from the other side of the room, and Natalie frowned. 

‘Pardon you?’ She asked, clearly offended, but her muscles tensed even more, as if she was afraid that he knew something she didn’t want him to know. 

Here we go, Sherlock, behave, she’s unstable. 

‘Never bothered me much, you say, though I think that sexual assault is definitely bothering for a girl.’ He said, almost looking down on her, her face changed to a scowl as she balled her fists. 

‘Sure is, but what makes you think he assaulted me?’ She said, her voice restrained. 

Unstable but smart, must’ve read a lot of books. 

‘Well, that’s one of the reasons you killed him.’ Sherlock stated calmly, gauging her reaction. Her brows shot up and she looked defensive.

‘Killed him? Why the fuck are you accusing me?’ She asked, and you knew this conversation was going the wrong way, Sherlock was being too straight forward. 

‘Well because you are the killer, obviously. You have no parents, so you weren’t invited to the parent-kid talk with your teacher, but after everyone had visited your teacher you came around. I think because you wanted to ask him if he could give you extra credit for your grades, who aren’t as good as you claim to be.’ Sherlock started off, and you saw the skin on Natalie’s hands turn white from the pressure she was putting on them. 

‘You have no access to my grades, you’re making this up.’ She said, barely able to constrain her voice from anger. 

Sherlock, be smart, stop now

‘I looked anyway, so don’t assume anything about me, this is about you. You were with him in the classroom, along with the other teacher whose name I forgot, the woman. And he was making fun of you again, insulting you and your parents, perhaps he made another move on you?’ Sherlock asked, and you saw a teardrop fall down on the car[et, you looked up and saw that the seventeen year old girl was shedding tears, while biting on her lips, holding back any sound. 

‘This has happened before, him assaulting you, but this time you had enough, so you stabbed him, and then you eliminated the remaining witness.’ Sherlock said simply, and you slowly got up, preparing yourself for conflict. 

‘That’s not true.’ She said, her voice cracking, aggressively wiping away the tears that were falling down. 

She can freak out at any moment now. 

‘O, did the woman help him? There’s always something.’ Sherlock pondered, slightly disappointed with himself. 

‘No, I- I didn’t kill anyone.’ She stammered, stepping backwards, appalled with how calm Sherlock seemed to be. 

‘O but you did, didn’t you, you stabbed your teacher and bashed in the other teacher’s head.’ Sherlock said darkly, and you knew that he was proud of himself for figuring this all our. 

Natalie started shaking her head slowly, she was losing it.

Fuck, an unstable adolescent who just killed two people and might still have the murder weapon lying around. Sherlock, shut your cakehole. 

‘Greg.’ You said low, still pretending that he was actually Lestrade. 

‘No I- I didn’t plan it, it was- it was an accident, I swear.’ She said, her voice hoarse as she stumbled over her own words, panicking and crying. 

‘You accidentally stabbed someone?’ Sherlock said sceptically and you looked at him unbelieving. 

‘Greg!’ You whisper shouted at him, but it was as if you weren’t even in the room. 

‘No, I was- was there and he wanted- again and I just couldn’t g-go through that again. Not again, so I told him- asked him to stop but he wouldn’t. he wanted more, and I… I panicked.’ She sobbed, stepping back even more, almost hitting her back against a small closet. 

‘So you stabbed him with a knife you wear with you for defence.’ Sherlock stated, and you felt the need to throw something at his head. This girl was an unstable bomb, and who knew what would happen if she exploded?

‘It happened, it happened, it just- just happened and he was on the floor, and there was blood, and them she ran away, and I didn’t-didn’t know what I-I, I had to do so I swung- hit her with my bat. I wanted-had to knock her out but she, she was dead too.’ She said, now really breaking down, you saw Sherlock’s face and knew that he was about to say something that would fuck everything up. 

‘SHERLOCK.’ You hissed at him, a venomous look on your face. 

‘Sherlock?’ Natalie asked through her tears, surprise written over her face, which quickly took place for realisation, followed by panic. 

‘You’re Sherlock Holmes, you knew all along- you knew what I’ve done, o god o god o godofuck i KILLED SOMEONE.’ She shouted, completely freaking out. 

She turned around and opened the drawer, her hand disappeared in it, and when you saw it again, you saw a gun. A gun that was now pointed at you, the point of it shaking, an unstable finger on the trigger. 

‘NATALIE, listen to me, you’ve made a mistake but you are not a killer, don’t do this.’ You said sternly, but softly, your voice steady as you raised a hand. 

‘I am- I killed them and you’ll put me in jail and I- can’t- won’t go.’ She said, tears streaming down her face as she put the barrel against her head. 

‘I am sorry.’ She said, closing her eyes as she took off the safety of the gun. 

‘NATALIE DON’T.’ You screamed, stepping forwards, but as a reflex closing your eyes when you saw her pull the trigger. You heard the loud bang, nd you breathed out, tears forming in your eyes, your body in shock.

She killed herself. 

Then you heard someone sob, right in front of you, and you opened your eyes. 

Natalie was sitting there, held by Sherlock, the gun thrown in a corner. There was a hole in the wall where the bullet had hit, Natalie was intact, but completely broken down, she was sobbing violently and had lost all control over herself. 

You seemed to be moving in a daze when you took out some handcuffs from your bag, and placed it around her wrists, gently. Then you picked up the gun and tucked it in the waistband of your pants, so only you would be able to grab it. After that you took your phone out of your pocket and dialled Lestrade’s number. He picked up after the first ring. 

‘Hi, (Y/N), did Sherlock make a breakthrough?’ He sounded excited, and you bit your lip, gathering all the self-respect you had to make your voice sound somewhat steady. 

‘Greg, we’ve got the murderer. Trace this call please and come a.s.a.p.’ You said, somewhat relieved that you didn’t sound as weak as you felt. 

‘Be there in a sec.’ Was the only reply you got. 

The next hours went by like a blur. Police arrived and arrested Natalie, you had to explain the whole affair because Sherlock was busy fighting off paramedics who tried to give him a blanket. After that you called a cab and got in, with Sherlock, within half an hour you were home, and you hadn’t said a word to Sherlock yet. 

You hung up your coat by the entrance of your apartment and sat down in your chair, rubbing your temples while sighing. 

‘That’s another case, solved.’ Sherlock said triumphantly, taking his phone to text John about the case, probably making an appointment at the same time to discuss it so he could write a new chapter for his blog. You looked up angrily, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes, and you saw Sherlock’s face change completely. 

He dropped his phone and stepped towards you, sitting in front of your chair on his knees, so he was on your level, and cupping your jaws with his hands. 

‘Love, please tell me what’s wrong.’ He said softly. He looked so heartbroken at your furious look, and so concerned at your tears that you broke, you threw your arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder. Sherlock kept silent, caressing your back and making soothing noises, after a while you started recollecting yourself. 

‘You’re the most stupid genius I know.’ You said while pulling back, wiping the tears of your cheeks. 

‘What did I do?’ Sherlock said, and he almost looked desperate, sadness taking over his features. 

‘You just had to show off with an armed, unstable killer in the room, didn’t you?’ You sighed, calming yourself down, trying not to hiccup between your words. 

‘I didn’t know she was-’ but he didn’t finish his sentence when he saw how you were looking at him, he averted his gaze, bowing his head. 

You knew Sherlock very well, too well you might say, and you knew what he was thinking right now. He was thinking why you were staying with him in the first place, and he was assuming you would now tell him he’s a giant pain in the ass who you never loved and that you were going to leave him. He had done this some times before. 

‘Hey.’ You said softly, bowing forwards as you slightly touched his cheek, he looked up to you with sadness evident in his eyes, sorry for being the man he was. Your heart broke at that sight and you kissed him quickly, sweetly, surprising him. 

‘What would I have done if she shot you, huh? What if you died because you were running your smart mouth?’ You whispered with a small smile on your face, as you saw the sadness fade away. 

‘You would kill me.’ He said, chuckling a bit, you grinned at the joke. 

‘I sure would kick your ass, but killing? I think I’d like you to stick around a bit more.’ You said, kissing him again. 

This time he pulled away, and he got up. He walked over to an old cd-player and hit the play button, immediately the first music notes flowed through the room, a mellow melody setting the mood. He offered you his hand and you took it, expertly placing your other hand on his shoulder as you began to dance through the little room. 

You laid your head on his chest and sighed. 

‘Don’t leave me, Spock.’ You pleaded softly, and placed a kiss on your head.

‘I’ll make you regret you ever asked me to stay.’ He stated, and you chuckled. 


‘Probably.’ You answered, but you knew that that day would never, ever come. 

Chapter Text

You stepped outside the old building and a chilly breeze hit your red cheeks. It was becoming colder and colder, winter was coming.

Not that you actually minded, you actually liked the cold season the most, time to warm up by the fire and not die of a massive heatstroke. But at this moment you regretted not taking your coat with you. It was a quick trip home, and you would be sitting in a cab for most of the time, so it wouldn’t really be a problem. 

If I catch a cold, Sherlock will lose his shit.

Well, if he notices it.

Maybe I can wipe my nose off on his jacket, he will get so pissed.

Damn that's disgusting, maybe I shouldn't. 

Hehe, or maybe that's the reason I should. 

It's not like he is going to hate me for it, he's too kind. 

The past months had been… incredible. And now I could write a whole paragraph about how many sweet thing Sherlock did for you, but I would be lying. Sherlock is Sherlock, and will always be, Sherlock. There was no point in romanticizing him, because you would be lying to yourself.

Sherlock would never bring you a breakfast in bed, he thought it was pointless. He would never buy you flowers, because they would die. He would never send you a sweet message while you were at work because at the end of the day, you would see each other anyways.

But you didn’t need that, all of that crap. You didn’t fall in love with Sherlock because had been such an amazing gentleman the first time you saw him; you fell in love with him because he was so honest. Not in the way that he would never lie, because he obviously would, but because he took people for how they were and he expected them to do the same for him.

Not that they did. Honestly, people did suck, but there were some nice ones. You were trying to do something to show your appreciating for them, and not even Sherlock could know, that’s why you rented this extra space.

You walked down the road to a more crowded part of town, where you could grab a cab, but a car pulled up next to you. You stopped and stepped back from it, already preparing yourself to give someone a serious kick in the balls. But when the backdoor flew open you relaxed.

‘Good evening (Y/N).’ A somewhat arrogant voice said and you forced a smile.

‘Evening to you too, Mycroft.’ You said politely, Sherlock’s brother and you didn’t get along, and you hadn’t really talked much since the time you’d send him away.

‘Do you mind joining me for a minute?’ Mycroft said, his voice slightly restrained, he knew how fast you could get pissed off at him.

‘I do.’ You said, knowing that he would get annoyed at that.

‘It’s about Sherlock.’ He said seriously, looking straight into your eyes and a shudder went across your spine.

He is a dick… but if this is about Sherlock I want to know what’s up.

So you nodded, elegantly took his hand as he helped you in the car, where you slid next to his assistant. You didn’t bother saying hi to her, she was already looking at you somewhat mockingly. You didn’t have time for pleasantries with a bitch.

‘Where are we going?’ You asked, not sounding too interested or else he wouldn’t tell you on purpose, just to annoy you.

‘You’ll see.’ Mycroft just said, not showing any emotion.

After a while you stopped in front of some rich and beautiful looking villa house in the centrum of London. You got out and followed the oldest Holmes without a word, but before you entered he turned around.

‘You are not allowed to utter a word in here, understood?’ He ordered you, and you just nodded calmly. You liked getting him riled up, but you were not as bad as Sherlock.

So you walked in, and Mycroft was elegantly greeted by a butler in sign language.

*Welcome again, may I offer you something to drink?*

Mycroft politely declined in sign language too, but then his face got a slightly mocking edge.

*I would like to ask my guest whether she would like something but I’m afraid this is above her capabilities. *  Mycroft signed, and you raised your brows offended, tapping him on the shoulder so he would turn around.

Bitch please, above my capabilities.

* First of all * You signed, following it with raising your middle finger to his face, almost making the butler faint.

*Second of all, a black coffee would be marvellous, I’m afraid I will need to stay awake. * You ‘said’ to the man, who just looked up scared to Mycroft and huddled away.

Mycroft raised one eyebrow and almost rolled his eyes at your temper as he walked on to a small office. When he had closed the doors he sighed.

‘Really, (Y/N), sometimes you remind me of John, he was so quickly agitated.’ Mycroft said with a disappointed voice and you shrugged.

Being compared to John is no insult at all, even if he thinks it is.

‘What did you want to discuss?’ You asked him, hoping he would get to the point so you could go home.

Mycroft walked to his luxurious desk and sat down, pressing a few buttons so a tv screen in the corner of the room turned on. There you could see the inside of a florist’s shop, with all different kind of flowers across the room. But that wasn’t probably what you should look at, it was probably the man standing in one of the isles, dressed in a long black coat.

‘Why are you showing me footage of Sherlock?’ You asked, frowning, it was an unusual place for him to be, so you assumed he was on a case.

‘What do you think he’s doing here?’ Mycroft asked you intently, folding his arms on his desk and leaning a bit forward. You walked over to one of the seats in front of him, not taking your eyes off the screen.

Sherlock looked kind of frustrated as he paced through the isles, shaking his head and examining the flowers. Sometimes he would take one in his hand and turn it around, before putting it back with a scowl on his face. You chuckled a bit when the shop assistant walked over him to ask him something, and he scared her away.

‘I think he’s busy on a case.’ You said lightly, looking back at Mycroft who hadn’t moved an inch.

‘No, (Y/N), he was planning on buying flowers.’ Mycroft said, his tone indicating that he was highly displeased with this even, his gaze was almost disgusted.

You felt your heart swell a little, even if you never had asked for it, and you never actually felt the need to receive romantic gifts from Sherlock, you were touched by the fact that he wanted to do something for you. It was the thought that counted, and you thought it was incredibly sweet.

The small smile on your face and the unfocused loving look created a scowl on Mycroft’s face.

‘Now, why would he buy you flowers?’ Mycroft asked, and you snapped out of your daze, immediately suspicious.

‘I hadn’t thought about that; my guess is actually that he broke or burned something of mine.’ You said, your mind racing what it could’ve been, but you didn’t really come to any conclusions.

The only object you were really attached to was Ellie’s and Sherlock’s paintings, but Sherlock knew that it would take more to make it up to you than flowers if he had broken those.

‘Wrong, try again.’ Mycroft said almost stoically, and you sat back in your chair, deeply thinking about what Sherlock was planning with those flowers. 

‘Just tell me, why did he want to buy me flowers?’ You asked him, feeling frustrated with the fact that you had no idea what your boyfriend was up to.

‘He is going to propose.’ Mycroft said, his eyes trained on your face, and your mind went blanc.

‘Propose what?’ You asked dumbfounded, you had no idea what was happening.

‘Oh good lord, I wonder how Sherlock puts up with this.’ Mycroft pinched his nose before he looked back at you.

‘He’s going to ask you to marry him.’ Mycroft said, and you froze, looking at him as if he had just told you the apocalypse had started yesterday.

He’s whut.

Marry him.


‘What?’ You asked him, your mouth hanging slightly agape as you worked your hardest to process this news.

‘Shocking, isn’t it?’ Mycroft said dryly, actually giving you the time to react.

Sherlock is going to propose to me.

What the hell…

Slowly the shock began to wear off and a small smile slipped on your face, quickly replaced by a huge grin. You gripped the sides of the chair to make sure you would start jumping up and down, because a fully consuming happiness was taking over you.

‘So I reckon this is what you wanted?’ He asked and you breathed in, trying to calm yourself down.

‘Well, actually I never expected to get married to Sherlock, I thought he thought that it was kind of pointless. I didn’t really need it but… it does make me happy.’ You said with a huge smile on your face, you felt that your cheeks were bright red and you were shaking slightly.

‘See now that’s what I wanted to talk you about.’ Mycroft said while standing up and pacing away dramatically. You kept silent, shoving your happiness to the back of your mind as you walked Mycroft’s icy behaviour, something was wrong.

‘Sherlock did, and I suspect he still does think that marriage is pointless. Even so he had been consulting John about how to keep you happy.’ He said, his face a mask of disapproval as you felt yourself melt a little, you never knew that Sherlock asked John for advice, you were fine with the kind of relationship you had.

Mental note: tell him not to worry so much, even though it’s pretty cute.

‘Sherlock is changing, (Y/N), and it is your fault.’ Mycroft said accusingly, and your mouth fell open a bit.

‘Excuse me?’ You asked him offended, giving him a chance to take that back.

‘Sherlock’s behaviour is changing, he has been doing many things that are completely useless and unnecessary and it is your fault.’ He said again, and you looked at him unbelievingly.

‘Sorry to break it to you, your royal highness, but I’ve never asked Sherlock to change anything about himself, this just happens when two people are in a relationship.’ You defended yourself, and the iceman raised one eyebrow.

‘That’s another thing, he’s in a relationship with you, too long for it to be a mere experiment. He used to be only interested in his work.’ Mycroft stated and you huffed.

‘But he’s better at being a consulting detective than ever, and he’s happy, what’s the problem?’ You asked agitatedly, no longer keeping in your frustration.

‘The problem is I doubt that that happiness will last.’ Mycroft sneered as he stepped closer to you, you stood up and looked him dead in the eye.

‘And why would that be?’ You challenged him, with your head held high.

‘Because you are going to leave him some day, and what will happen with him when you’ve left? Especially after all the emotions you’ve forced upon him.’ He hissed angrily, and you balled your fists.

‘Listen to me you big arsehole, you are dead wrong. I haven’t forced anything upon him, he loves me because he wants to do so himself. Second of all, I will never, ever leave him.’ You spat back, feeling the urge to punch Mycroft in the face.

‘You might not understand because you are too stupid to form a coherent thought, but it will happen.’ Mycroft decided as he sat back behind his desk.

You were still standing, actually fuming with anger because these ridiculous accusations. You wanted to scream and yell, but you knew you had to stay rational if you wanted him to listen to you.

‘Listen-‘ You started, but Mycroft held up a hand to cut you off.

‘No you are going to listen to me, miss (Y/L/N), you have a chance to do as I say and walk away from this without any trouble or I’ll take matters into my own hands.’ He proposed. You wanted to tell him that he could go to hell, but he just continued talking.

‘You go home, wait for Sherlock to give you the flowers and propose to you and then refuse it and leave, going on with your silly life so he can be who he was, or I’ll solve this situation in a less pleasant manner.’ Mycroft said, staring you dead in the eye. You felt yourself suddenly become cold, and calm, you stood perfectly still as you looked at him in disgust.

‘You can try, son of a bitch, but I’ll never forget about him.’ You said, ready to give him a much harsher piece of your mind, but he just sighed.

‘Always making the worst decisions, but I want you to know that I want the best for Sherlock, you're poison to him, you need to go.’ He said, and you were already stepping forward when you felt a sharp pain in your neck. You looked surprised and grabbed the dart that was sticking out of it.

‘What-?’ You started, but then fainted, falling on the floor with a loud thump.

Mycroft looked down at your motionless body, wondering if he really was doing to best for his baby brother, but then recollected himself.

‘Take her away, follow the plan.’ He ordered to the man who had just shot you with the tranquilizer. He nodded curtly and picked you up, throwing you on his shoulder and carrying you on his shoulders to the backdoor.

Mycroft moved back, sitting down and stopping for a second, trying to repress the horrible feeling that he had done something wrong. But it didn’t go away as he thought of everything that was still waiting for you.

This was the beginning of the end. 

Chapter Text

Why isn’t she home yet? She should be done with her secret project thing for today.

Maybe something bad happened, though the odds of that are pretty slim.

I’m probably worrying about nothing.  

This woman will be the death of me.  

Sherlock was sitting in his usual chair, tapping impatiently a complicated rhythm on the arm rest. He was waiting for her to come home so he could propose. He glanced towards the painting on the wall, the one (Y/N) had made of her sister and sighed, looking back at his watch.

She’s never late, and if she is she text me.

He wasn’t nervous about the proposal, he knew she would say yes, he just wanted to get it over with so he could move on to more important stuff, like that yeast effect on the fresh eyeball.

He heard hurried footsteps approach from the staircase and he groaned, he had no patience tonight with dealing with miss Hudson. Especially if she was upset, like right now, it almost seemed as if she was in tears.

Oh dear lord, she has probably lost something again.

‘Sherlock- It’s terrible! Tragic! Horrible!’ She panted, making large and exaggerated movement with her arms, Sherlock rolled his eyes.

‘Breathe, and go to your other neighbour to complain about whatever has happened.’ He said, his voice bored while making a small waving movement with his hand to indicate she should go. He also moved in his chair so his legs were hanging off one armrest and his head was hanging off the other.

She’s not running away.

‘No! I just got a call from the hospital, they’ve brought (Y/N) in!’ She said panicked, and Sherlock bolted upright, standing up with the speed of light. He didn’t even bother to grab his coat, he practically jumped off the stairs and flew out the door, hauling a cab and bribing him with 150 pounds to drive twice as fast as the speed limit.


Once he got to the hospital he ran inside to the counter, where a shocked assistant was staring at the dishevelled man with big eyes.

‘What can I-’ She started asking, but Sherlock cut her off.

‘(Y/N) (Y/L/N), where.’ He demanded, and she quickly typed your name into the system.

‘Third floor, room 3.’ She said and Sherlock ran away, bolting up the stairs with three steps at a time. There was no time to spare. He slammed the door open and looked frantically to his left and right, immediately spotting the shiny ‘3’ next to one of the doors.

He paced over it and pulled the door open with such strength that the handle left a hole in the wall behind it, not that he noticed. His eyes where glued to her unmoving figure in the bed.

It was as if she was sleeping, again. She was dressed in the white paper-y dress thing the hospital gave to every patient, her skin was paler than he could remember, but that may be due to the lighting in this room. She was hooked up to a few machines, but none of them indicated that she was gravelly injured.

This is the second time I see her like this.

The doctor was standing next to her bed, noting the measurements on the machines next to her. He had his gaze fixed on Sherlock, frowning a little at the panting and panicking man.

‘What happened?’ Sherlock just asked, now slowly approaching the bed, as if he was afraid that moving too fast would hurt her even further.

‘We have no idea, a resident called from her apartment that an unconscious lady was lying on the pavement. When the police came by to check up on the tip they brought her here, we’ve been running tests for several hours now.’ He said professionally, he knew that the patient and Sherlock were together, he had seen them many times.

‘What’s wrong?’ Sherlock asked, already drawing his own conclusions based on your looks.

‘Probably fainted and hit her head, there is no trace of anything else found in her, and we think she just has a minor concussion.’ He said, slightly soothingly, he needed to calm down this man because he looked like he was about to smite a nurse.

Sherlock just nodded, pulling a chair from the side of the room and placing it next to the bed. There he sat, fingertips leaning against each other and his eyes trained on her face. He was going to wait until you woke up.

He had looked at her complexion many times before, it fascinated him how someone with so many imperfections could still look absolutely perfect to him, it made no sense. He didn’t have many moments to actually look at her, she was still pretty shy and didn’t like having so much attention. Sherlock was positive that he wanted to unravel every single mystery that made her who she was, so he kept analyzing.

Though secretly he was hoping that his gaze would force her to wake up and tell him to sod off.

But after several hours, at 3 o’clock in the morning, she still had showed no signs of being conscious. Sherlock had grabbed a little box from his trousers, and was now fiddling with it, occasionally opening it, taking a glance and closing it again. It was the box with her engagement ring in it, it was simple, elegant and with all your favourite elements.

It had been John’s idea to propose to her, he had insisted that somewhere deep down she would like it. Sherlock had first proclaimed that that was ridiculous, unnecessary and pointless, but after much bickering he gave in. It wasn’t too much effort, and if it made sure she enjoyed being with him, he would do it.

His mind was so busy with planning out different kind of scenarios as to what could have happened to her and who could’ve done it, that he hadn’t noticed the spike in her heart rating. She opened her eyes and groaned a little, and Sherlock’s eyes shot to her face.

He immediately stood up and bowed closer to her, quickly pressing the button that would alarm the nurses, with her he wasn’t taking any chances. Her eyes fixed on his face, and he got confused, because she looked at him panicked and a bit… afraid?

What have I done to scare her?

‘Can- May I have some space?’ She asked, her voice raspy and distant.

Sherlock nodded and moved a bit backwards, she never had had a problem with personal space. He was worried, his mind told him there was something to discover that he would not like at all.

The doctor walked in and looked relieved to see her awake and sitting up.

‘Great, Miss (Y/L/N), pleasure to see you up and with us again. How are you feeling?’ He asked. Sherlock crossed his arms as his eyes shot all over her, he was determined to find out himself what was going on.

She looks very uncomfortable with this. That’s uncharacteristic.

‘I’ve got a slight headache…’ She said, sounding unsure of herself, the doctor caught that too.

‘That’s all?’ he asked her, and she looked thoughtful, glancing at her hands, to Sherlock and back to the doctor.

‘Where am I?’ She asked, and the doctor furrowed his brows a bit, he had seen her before around here, he knew she had been here for multiple blood donations.

‘You’re at Saint Bart’s hospital…’ He said, looking at her face with a concerned look.

‘You’ve been here a lot, (Y/N), what’s wrong?’ Sherlock asked, confused.

‘I don’t know…’ She said, her eyes a bit glazy, tracing over his figure as if she saw him for the first time.

The air got knocked out of his lungs, and he felt a complete state of panic take over him. But he was Sherlock Holmes, and he made sure that to others he looked composed. He tried to calm himself down a bit, he had no actual prove that his suspicion was true, he needed to find out. Fast.

‘Tell me, what’s your name?’ He asked intently, and the doctor’s face changed completely, first understanding and then very concerned.

‘Ehm… (Y/N)… (Y/L/N).’ She said, but she didn’t say it right. Sherlock knew that a person had a much smoother way of pronouncing their own name because they have done it so many times in their life. She was saying this as if she had never heard it before.

She has gathered that much from what we have called her, and is pretending that she knows. I guess she hasn’t lost her wit.

‘And what is mine?’ Sherlock asked quietly, his jaw clenched as he saw how her eyes were brimming with tears.

‘I don’t know.’ She confessed in a whisper, a single tear running down her face. She turned to the doctor, who just looked heartbroken.

‘I don’t remember anything.’ She whispered, as more tears spilled out of fear, her hands were shaking and she looked incredibly frail.

I have to soothe her, she always liked embraces.

He wanted to step forward and hold her hand, but he caught himself right before he moved.

I can’t hold her, I’m a stranger to her right now.

‘That is strange, the blow to your head should only have caused a minor concussion.’ The doctor frowned as he shook his head.

‘Is there anything you can tell me about yourself?’ Sherlock asked as he walked to the chair, pulling it back from her bed and sitting down on a respectable distance, her eyes shot towards it and she looked thankful.

‘I’m a woman, I’m straight, I do not enjoy talking to people… no offence… my name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N)…’ She said, gathering all the information from how she was being and feeling right now, but there was nothing that indicated that she had still memories.

‘Do you recognise this man?’ The doctor asked, and Sherlock noticed how she ruefully shook your head.

‘Can you please tell me who you are?’ She asked Sherlock quietly, and her words sank deep down his heart, nestling in a place between his deepest fears.

‘My name is Sherlock Holmes, we’re in a relationship, we live together here in London.’ He said quickly, sounding neutral and reserved. She slowly nodded your head, taking in all the information that was being shared with her about herself.

Sherlock saw how she closed her eyes, breathing in and out, and again.  He had seen her do that before, whenever she got a panic attack back when her anxiety was a big part of her life.

Strange, this habit should be gone if she really, completely lost her memories.

So she lost her complete memory of who she is, but she has still got her anxiety caused by a traumatic relationship, that should mean that not everything is actually gone, just faded.

‘Mister Holmes, I’m going to have to ask you to leave this room so I can do a routine check-up on the patient. I’ll explain the results later to you.’ The doctor said, and Sherlock froze a bit, debating whether to actually listen.

If I’m in the hallway, at least I can call John, and I think she wouldn’t appreciate a strange man sticking around all the time.

I’m a stranger to her now.

Keep it together.

So Sherlock nodded, standing up, slowly. His gaze slowly went to her body, and he saw how she was fiddling with her fingers nervously, her face looking as if she had seen a ghost. She was pale, and very very afraid. But what Sherlock concerned the most is the way she looked at him, he couldn’t remember once in the whole time that you two knew each other that she had looked at him like that.

The first time she had seen him, she had looked irritated because they had wanted to send her away, but she had also showed some signs of interest towards Sherlock. Slowly and steadily that interest had been replaced for affection in the time you spend together. Sherlock then stole that away and replaced it for pain and a feeling of betrayal, and that was exactly what her eyes showed when they made contact with his, back then.

But he fixed it, and the spark came back, the bright and radiating kind of aura around her had returned when she was around him, reassuring him of her affection. Later on you had confessed your feelings to each other or something like that, and that resulted into moments where Sherlock would look up to her and see only something that could be love or admiration.

Her gaze now was scared, but she looked at him as if he was a stranger, and a plausible danger to her. He felt a stab of pain go through his heart as he turned his back to the back and walked out of the room.

Once in the hallway he leaned against the wall, taking a second for himself, pushing away the actual sadness taking over him.

I shouldn’t take this personal, her memory must be damaged, she forgot everyone.

She forgot me.

She forgot. Me.

In that case it’s my responsibility to get her memory back.

He felt determined, at least he could do something. So he took out his phone and called John. He had to wait for about a minute before John picked up

‘Sherlock. It’s bloody 4 O’clock in the morning.’ John groaned, and Sherlock waited a second before answering.

‘John, I’m standing in the hospital.’ He said, and slightly noticed his own dramatic intro.

‘Jesus fuck- Why?’ John asked seriously.

‘They brought (Y/N) in a couple of hours ago, she lost her full memory.’ He managed to say with a steady voice.

There was a silence that lasted several seconds before Sherlock heard something. There was some shuffling with bed sheets and then a muffled ‘Mary, Mary get up. Something’s wrong.’ A groan proceeded and some more little noises were heard.

‘Sherlock, explain.’ John said, and Sherlock assumed he had put his phone on speaker.

‘A lady called the police telling them that she saw a woman laying on the pavement, unconscious. They brought her in, identified her quickly and called me, she has been out for a few hours and just woke up. She has a minor concussion and… she has lost all her memory.’ Sherlock said, holding himself together desperately, it was no time to break down.

‘Bloody hell, Sherlock.’ Mary breathed out, and at the same moment the doctor walked out of the room.

‘Minor concussion and total loss of her memory, that’s all, she asked for you.’ He said sternly, and Sherlock nodded.

‘I’ll call you tomorrow morning.’ Sherlock said to John.

‘No, we’ll come by Bakerstreet, we want to see her in person.’ John said and Mary made a small agreeing noise.

‘I’ll text you when we’re home.’ Sherlock said curtly and hung up the phone. He shoved it in his pocket and walked back into the room, where you were sitting up.

Sherlock walked in slightly wearily, not having any control over how this situation was developing.

‘Hi. Uhm, have a seat.’ She said awkwardly, and Sherlock almost smiled.

Still an idiot, lovely. Maybe I’ll have to help her order a cup of coffee again.

 ‘Do you mind answering some of my questions?’ She asked politely, and it hurt Sherlock that she was being so formal with him, but he just nodded, waiting for whatever he would have to answer.

‘Okay. Great. Great. So, you’re Sherlock Holmes and you’re my…boyfriend?’ She asked, sounding unsure of herself. Sherlock just nodded, frowning a bit while he tried to figure out her emotions.

‘For how long’ She asked quickly and Sherlock had to think about it.

‘For a little bit less than a year now, I would say.’ He told her, and saw how the corners of your mouth slightly turned upwards.

‘What?’ He asked, feeling a bit of hope rising up in him.

‘No, no, nothing- It’s just, I think I’ve done pretty good, you sound very…ehm… intelligent and you’re freaking gorgeous.’ You said, your face as red as a tomato, stumbling over your own words. Sherlock smiled a little, he hadn’t seen your flustered and adorable side for quite some time, it was amusing to see you like that again.

‘People usually say I’m the lucky one, which I agree with, but thank you anyways.’ Sherlock said with a small smile, and saw how your mouth fell a bit open as you were rendered speechless.

‘(Y/N)?’ He asked with a frown, and you shook your head a bit.

‘Sorry, just, you sure we’re together? You can back out now, I won’t have a clue.’ You said, looking a bit awed and freaked out at the same time, Sherlock laughed a deep laugh at you, and saw how your mouth even fell more open.

‘No I’m fine, thank you. Many have told me that we’re perfect together and I shouldn’t let you go, so I am sticking to that plan.’ He said confidently, secretly enjoying how you were almost drooling over him. She just nodded your head now, and regained her posture.

‘Okay, lovely, well, how did we meet?’ She asked him, and a small smile reappeared on his face.

‘You were a new asset to Scotland yard’s forensics team, and you weren’t supposed to be in the actual crime scene, but you had been able to sneak in by kissing a team member’s butt and being extremely stubborn. There you were analysing the body when I walked in, planning on solving the case within minutes, only to have that plan ruined by some innocent girl. We talked a bit, or bickered, and I asked you to tell me what you thought. You proved to be incredibly smart in comparison to the others, and the same day I offered you to work together and live together, you accepted.’ He said quickly, and when he was done he saw that she was only blinking rather stupidly at him.

‘So I’m stubborn, smart, impulsive since I moved in with you after I barely knew you and you’re a cop? Or detective?’ She asked, and Sherlock nodded.

‘Consulting detective, but the rest is correct.’ Sherlock said.

And they talked until the sun came up again, like in some sad, sappy romantic lovestory. Sherlock told her as much as he could tell her, and she reacted pretty well to all the news. When it was 11 o’clock she asked whether she could take a nap and Sherlock nodded, explaining that he had some work to do but would be back.

He paced out the room and closed the door behind him gently, as his soft features hardened. He was going to find whoever caused this, because there was no way that she had randomly fainted and lost your memory. He took his phone out of his pocket again and dialled a little used number.

‘Ah how nice of you to call, but I’m afraid I’m too busy to catch up with my little brother.’ Mycroft said arrogantly, but Sherlock didn’t even listen.

‘Mycroft, you know that (Y/N) has just been found on some pavement and is now lying in the hospital. I need to find out who did this.’ He said quickly, pacing up and down the hallway.

‘Well isn’t that in fact your job description? Get going, the game is on or whatever. Go avenge your pet.’ He said indignantly, and Sherlock stopped walking, squinting his eyes.

‘Your lack of cooperation is appalling, Mycroft, and suspicious.’ He said evenly, and heard his brother sigh on the other end of the phone.

‘Don’t be so dramatic Sherlock, and don’t get me involved with your social affaires, you know I have no interest whatsoever with what you’re messing with now.’ Mycroft said, and Sherlock felt the need to punch him in the face.

‘Are you going to help me, or not?’ He asked through gritted teeth, pulling himself together so he wouldn’t throw his phone against the wall out of anger.

‘I think that you should focus on your experiment first, and maybe end it, Sherlock, I might be repeating myself, but you know what happened to Redbeard.’ He scolded a bit, and Sherlock froze.

‘Mycroft, compare my girlfriend with a dog again and I will kill you. Furthermore, she is not an experiment, she is a human being, and she will not just drop dead or leave.’ He stated furiously, and heard some weird sound from Mycroft.

‘Eh, I’m doubting about the latter.’ He said, and Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose.

‘Tell me what you know.’ He demanded, out of patience.

‘I have no insight on this situation, I didn’t actually care about her particular case.’ Mycroft said.

He’s lying, probably because he just doesn’t want to help me, he never liked the idea of me interacting so closely with people.

‘Talk to me again when you do, if not, don’t bother me with your existence.’ Sherlock said curtly, and just heard Mycroft starting to complain before he ended the call.

He started pacing around in the hallways, thinking about what would be coming next. He could be doing an excessive amount of research on what could have happened, but even then it could take days to find out every single detail. He didn’t have the time to do so, he had to make sure she would regain her memory.

She’s nice, but she’s not herself.

First: Force her to remember everything.

Second: Kill the bastard who did this.

Third: propose.

Sherlock found the doctor and asked him when he could take her home, the man answered that there was no more reason to monitor her, and that it would be best if she got a psychologist to regain whatever there was left of her memory. His theory was that something traumatic had blocked the way her mind worked and that she just needed to punch down the wall.

Sherlock thanked the man and continued to call everyone you knew and liked, telling them the story and asking them to come over later. Thank god there weren’t a lot of people, that meant that he still had some time left. He quickly took a cab and went to the exact spot where she had been found.

He talked quickly to the woman who had called the emergency number to report that (Y/N) had been lying on the street, but she didn’t know anything else than what she had already told the police officers. Sherlock continued to investigate the street, but decided to go back after ten minutes.

She was put there, that much I know, by someone with hurtful intentions, probably towards me. I suspect that this was the work of a professional. Bloody hell, this is going to be somewhat harder than I had anticipated.

He kept pondering all the way back to the hospital, just until the door of her room, there he stopped, laying his hand on the door handle, and he hesitated. He always felt comfortable around you to act as he pleased, not needing to keep himself in check, but right now, he would have to treat her as a victim and put up a front.

So he knocked first, and when he heard a muffled ‘Yes?’ he entered the room, seeing that Molly was sitting besides her bed, looking rather nervous.

‘H-Hi Sherlock.’ She said, looking a bit guilty, Sherlock just smiled.

‘Hello Molly, you couldn’t wait until tomorrow, could you?’ He said, no accusing tone in is voice, he didn’t really mind.

‘Yeah, I mean- I just wanted to, eh, see her for myself and I was working anyways, so.’ She said, smiling and sounding unsure of herself.

‘Really nice of you.’ (Y/N) said with a kind smile, but Sherlock noticed that it was different than the smiles you used to give her. This one was just nice, with no more affection than mere politeness.

‘No problem, but I’ll have to head back now- downstairs. Get well soon…’ Molly stammered, and Sherlock knew that she had also noticed the small change. Or else she wouldn’t be stuttering so much, she never did that around (Y/N).

Molly got up, muttered a quick goodbye and left the room, silently closing the door behind her.

‘She’s a bit… eh… I don’t know.’ (Y/N) said, pulling a face as Sherlock’s heart sank a bit more.

She always thought of Molly as someone with potential, now it seems as if she doesn’t look past her insecurities.

‘She’s Molly, you two are pretty…how do I put this? Hmm, close? Yes, you two are close friends.’ Sherlock explained, shrugging off his coat and draping it across the chair next to her bed, where he sat down.

‘Really? But Sherlock, I think she has a huge crush on you, her fiancée even looks like you.’ She said, looking slightly taken aback, and Sherlock frowned.

‘Yes, she has, why?’ He asked, not comprehending why she was addressing this.

‘Well, seems a bit strange to be close friends with a girl who’s in love with my boyfriend.’ She shrugged, and Sherlock nodded a bit, not knowing how to answer.

She has never been bothered by this, that wasn’t in her character, jealousy.

‘How are you feeling?’ He asked quickly, changing subject, she waited a few seconds before answering, thinking.

‘I don’t know, it’s a strange sensation, you know? I still know how to spell, count, talk. I know the history of England and all the cities in it, I know everything someone knows after leaving high-school. But I have no personal memories at all. I don’t remember anything about forensics, even though it has been told that I’m not too shabby at what I do, I don’t remember my height, weight, birthday, nor any family members.’ She explained, throwing Sherlock a helpless look. Sherlock nodded a bit, taking this information into account with what he already knew.

‘I think that you still have those memories in you, but you just can’t access them for some kind of strange reason. We’ll have to bring you in contact with everything from your life, and your wall will break down.’ Sherlock said, sounding determined, but somehow, she didn’t look impressed or enthusiastic, just a bit concerned.

‘And what if it won’t?’ She asked, looking up, fear swimming in her eyes.

Sherlock threw her the most soothing look he could muster, and smiled.

‘Then we’ll start again.’ Sherlock said simply, and a smile spread on her face.

‘Okay. Let’s practise. I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).’ She said, holding out her hand. Sherlock took it and grinned.

‘Sherlock Holmes, Consulting detective, are you prepared for everything that’s about to come your way?’ He asked with a smile on his face.

It’s going to be okay.

‘No sir.’ She said, laughing. Sherlock smiled at that and let her hand go, pausing.


Chapter Text

Sherlock's P.O.V.

‘This is our place.’ Sherlock said, opening the door that led to the living room of 221B Bakerstreet.

(Y/N) was standing nervously behind him, fiddling with her fingers and catching glimpses over his shoulder of the room. Sherlock moved out of the way and let (Y/N) enter the room on her own, maybe it would refresh her memory.

But as she walked in, her brows just furrowed, her fingertips tracing across the wall, bumping with all the stuff she encountered on her way to the kitchen. When she arrived there she turned around, facing Sherlock who was still standing in the doorway.

‘It’s homey, but also very messy in here.’ She said, looking a bit disapproving.

‘Well, I’ll like it more when I’ve cleaned up most of the stuff here.’ She said, adding a sweet smile to the end to indicate that she meant no harm, Sherlock just nodded at that.

‘I’ll make you tea.’ He muttered, walking past her into the kitchen.

‘Oh no thanks, I’m more in the mood for some lemonade.’ She said, and Sherlock stopped.

I’ve never guessed wrong; I always know when she needs a cup of tea.

‘Then lemonade it is.’ Sherlock nodded slowly, preparing a glass of lemonade for his supposed to be girlfriend.

She looked around the room in the meantime, picking some objects up and looking intrigued or repulsed by the décor.

‘Is this a real skull?’ She asked, her voice interlaced with pure and utter shock.

‘Uh yeah, I used to talk to him, his name is Billy.’ Sherlock said casually, slightly annoyed that he had to explain literally everything, again.

Wait, again?

She never asked about Billy, she just accepted it. This is the first time she questions the interior.

‘That’s, uh… unusual.’ She said awkwardly, putting the skull down rather quickly, she didn’t look like she was at ease.

‘Here you go.’ Sherlock said quickly, giving her the glass of lemonade.

She took a sip while looking around a bit more, and almost spat it out. She stood there in the middle of the living room, coughing, and thumping her chest.

‘Geez, this is way to strong.’ She exclaimed after she had cleared her throat.

Really? Geez? (Y/N) would have said fuck or shit or bloody hell, what’s wrong with her?

‘That’s how you always take it, one fourth of the glass filled with syrup and the other parts water. I know because you’ve told me several times.’ Sherlock explained, and her eyes went wide.

‘One fourth? O dear, that can’t be healthy, can it?’ She muttered while walking to the kitchen, emptying her glass a little bit and refilling it with water.

Healthy. She suddenly cares about what’s healthy.

Sherlock decided not to answer to that, just sitting down in his chair and thinking about the most logical explanation to her strange behaviour.

She’s should be the same person, just with no memories, so what’s the problem?

He went through his mind palace, which had taken a slightly different form in the past few months, thanks to (Y/N). Now, there wasn’t a box with a few files about her, the two windows had been dedicated to her. When he walked over to the left window he could see every slightly important conversation that they had, with little bits of important information about her. The right window only contained memories of her.

Her looking at him, her dancing, her sleeping face, her crying and so much more. He was holding on even tighter to those memories because of everything that was happening.

He chose the left window and searched through every conversation they had had, searching for something where she explained the reason why she was who she was. Finally, he found a conversation that might be useful to this situation, he decided to run through it again.

She had been sitting in the corner of the police office, her hands locked around the chair she was sitting on by some handcuffs. She was looking incredibly, utterly pissed, and Sherlock smiled at himself, he loved her rage face, it meant someone was going to be in a great amount of trouble.

He walked over to her small figure and took a chair, pulling it next to her. She didn’t acknowledge him, she kept staring angrily to the wall.

‘Did you get her?’ He asked, and saw how all her muscles softened, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

‘Most certainly.’ She answered, a little bit of pride shining through her angry voice.

‘Nice.’ He nodded, figuring how to go on.

Her body deflated completely and she sighed, rolling her head left and right before looking at Sherlock.

‘I’m sorry.’ She said, and Sherlock chuckled.

‘No you’re not.’ He countered with a smile and she shrugged.

‘You’re right, I’m not, but I’m sorry you had to stop your experiment to pick me up.’ She said, and Sherlock noticed that she was speaking the truth.

‘How come?’ He asked, wondering how he could’ve encountered someone who was so in sync with him.

‘Can you get these off first?’ She asked pissed, rambling the handcuffs against the chair.

‘Nope, answer first.’ He said, liking this position of power over her, she was one of the only people he usually couldn’t boss around.

‘Because I said so, now get me loose.’ She said impatiently, and Sherlock pushed back a grin.

‘No, answer properly.’ He insisted, and she sighed again.

‘Then ask properly.’ She said, her eyes closed and her head leaning against the wall.

‘Why are you…’ He trailed off, not knowing how to ask what he had been thinking.

‘You?’ She finished for him, and he nodded, annoyed at her need to finish his sentence.

‘I think someone’s character gets changed and formed by everything they’ve been through. If I hadn’t grown up with certain people around me I wouldn’t have been sitting here talking to you, I will even go as far to say that I wouldn’t be doing forensics!’ She had answered quickly, summarizing her thoughts so Sherlock’s attention span could handle it.

‘So it’s your old neighbour’s fault you’ve punched Donovan a black eye?’ Sherlock asked mockingly, but secretly getting the point.

‘Broken nose, actually, but yes.’ She stated coolly, then there was a small pause, and then both of them had started laughing incredibly loud, (Y/N) almost falling out of her chair.

When they had both caught themselves they looked at each other with smiles on their faces, Sherlock even remembered thinking-

‘SHERLOCK! SHERLOCK, ARE YOU OKAY?-’ The (Y/N) from now was screaming as she was shaking him, looking frantic.

‘Yes, stop screaming.’ Sherlock said annoyed, batting her hands away from him, she looked offended.

‘Well sorry, but you didn’t respond for an hour.’ She huffed, looking down with a frown.

‘Apology accepted.’ Sherlock said curtly, pushing her away and walked to the sofa.

So she isn’t herself because she didn’t go through everything she went through. Interesting.

So there are two possibilities.

  1. She remembers who she is.
  2. I have to re-enact her whole youth, inclusive the tragic death of her sister.

At the moment I’ll try option one.

‘I actually wanted to ask what that is.’ She said, looking more uncomfortable with the minute. She was pointing at little Ellie’s painting.

‘That’s a painting.’ Sherlock death panned, hoping she would let it go and that he wouldn’t have to explain everything to her.

‘No shit Sherlock, but of who? Who made it and why is it hanging there? It is a bad place for a painting.’ She said, looking deep in thought.

‘Of your sister, you made it.’ He said curtly, and felt sad when he saw your face lighten up.

‘My sister? Where is she now?’ She asked happily.

Old (Y/N) would’ve noticed that something bad happened to Ellie, because of my reluctance to talk to her and a bloody painting on the wall.

‘I don’t know.’ Sherlock said, crossing his arms and looking mad, your stupidity was tiring him.

‘Can I go talk to her?’ She asked, her smile lessening a bit because of Sherlock’s stubbornness.

‘You can, but you won’t get an answer.’ Sherlock shrugged, turning his back on her.

‘Don’t you turn your back on me, Sherlock Holmes, turn around and tell my why she won’t talk to me!’ (Y/N) demanded stubbornly, stamping her foot and crossing her arms. When Sherlock turned around again he was highly annoyed to see she was pouting.

She isn’t creative nor funny, like that time I wanted to see her sketches and she attacked me. She is throwing a tamper tantrum. Like a big baby.

‘It’s not that she won’t, she can’t.’ He said, hoping that she would drop it.

‘Why!’ She whined, sounding absolutely desperate.

‘Because she’s dead.’ He spat, his frustrations had taken a peak and he hadn’t been able to control himself.

She stepped back, placing a hand across her heart with big eyes, her mouth gasping for air.

‘Sherlock!’ John suddenly exclaimed from the doorway, he was standing there, steam almost coming out of his ears. He was mad, but composed himself and walked over to (Y/N), placing an arm across her shoulders.

‘Come on, let’s sit you down. I’m John Watson, I’m a friend.’ He said softly, leading the shocked girl to her chair, sitting her down and crouching next to the seat.

‘Thank you, it’s just a bit of a shock, but then again, everything right now really is.’ She said shakily, threading a hand through her hair.

‘I get it, you just heard you’ve lost a sister, that’s a lot to take in.’ He said calmly, using a soothing voice.

‘Well, I know that I should be hurting… but I’m not, really. It feels like you’ve told me a total stranger has passed away, that happens all the time… I’m just… scared.’ She said, looking guilty at her hands.

‘That’s understandable, dear.’ Mary said, walking into the room with a sad smile on her face.

‘I’m sorry…?’ (Y/N) asked, looking puzzled as of why all these people where suddenly walking into her living room.

‘Oh of course, stupid, I’m Mary, John’s wife. We’re friends too, if I may say so.’ She said, taking place on the sofa.

Sherlock looked at this exchange annoyed.

This isn’t (Y/N)

This is a girl who looks like her and sounds like her, but she doesn’t talk like her nor think like her, therefore it’s not (Y/N).

And I’m not going to treat her like she is, because only (Y/N) deserved to be special.

That there isn’t special, it’s average, boring, stupid, useless.

So he sat down next to his desk, seething with anger, not mingling with the conversation.

He had talked to her about more specific things, her job, how she did it, how good she was, details about forensics. His job, how famous he was, thing she had gone through. But not about her family, her friends, her hobby’s.

All that was being discussed now by John and Mary, they told her about her friends, their names, what she liked to do, what happened to her family. After five minutes Sherlock had already drifted off with his mind, so he didn’t notice that they were now talking about their relationship.

After a few hours he looked up, and saw that it had gone dark already. (Y/N) was sitting on the sofa, her eyes glued to the screen of the television. Sherlock cleared his throat and she looked up.

‘Oh hey, John already told me that you would snap out of it after a while.’ She said with a shy smile, and Sherlock just nodded, ruffling through his curls and trying to ignore her stare.

‘You hungry?’ She asked, and Sherlock just shrugged, acting downright petty.

‘I’ll cook something, am I the one who usually cooks?’ She asked, probably thinking that a direct question will get a reaction.

‘I can’t cook, you’re too stubborn to learn so we always order something.’ He said curtly, not wanting to be remembered of the old (Y/N).

‘Ah well, I guess it’s never too late to learn, right?’ She asked with a nervous laugh, obviously trying too hard to get Sherlock in a good mood.

Last time I didn’t want to talk to her she poured water down my shirt, saying that if I hadn’t had a good reason for being grumpy I should suck it up. Now she’s trying to get me into a good mood. No. just stop it.

So Sherlock just shrugged, falling back to his chair, grabbing a book and burying his nose in it.

‘Sherlock, look. John and Mary told me that I’ve been acting way different than I did before all of this happened, and that that might be the reason you’re being so distant. I’m really sorry but I can’t help it, I don’t know how I was, but I do want to find out, it’ll be okay.’ She said nicely, and Sherlock sighed, giving in to her arse kissing.

‘There are some ingredients in the fridge, I can make some tea if you want to.’ He said reluctantly, and she smiled.

‘That would be marvellous.’ She said happily, clapping her hands delightedly as Sherlock suppressed a groan.

Everything about her is annoying me, literally everything.

Then Sherlock heard a high pitched scream that made his hairs stand up, he looked at the source and saw (Y/N) standing in front of the now open refrigerator, frozen.

‘THERE’S A HEAD IN THE FRIDGE, THERE’S- SHERLOCK! A-’ She was cut off by his hand on her mouth, and his stare burning into her soul.

‘A severed head, yes, thank you but I’m aware of that. Now stop yelling.’ He said quickly and dangerously, he was done with her constant state of panic.

‘Are you kidding me? How can you be so calm about this? Who put it there?’ She exclaimed, her face red and her chest heaving, she was on the brink of having a panic attack.

‘Calm down, there’s no need to worry, breathe.’ Sherlock said, falling back into old habits. This had happened quite a few times before, and he knew exactly how to calm her down.

She started breathing slowly in and out.

‘Good, good, now close your eyes.’ He said, his voice low, gravelly and soothing.

She closed her eyes and balled her fists. He gently took her hands and opened them with his, stroking along the palm.

‘Relax, love, there’s nothing to worry about, as long as you keep breathing.’ He said, stepping closer, looking if she really was relaxing as he had said.

‘Will you be here?’ She asked with a small voice, and Sherlock almost froze.

That’s what she always said. What we always said.

‘Probably.’ He chuckled, and she laughed along softly.

‘I remember this, Sherlock. Not exactly but, I remember this feeling, I remember you telling me how to breathe and I… the only reason I could is because you were holding me.’ She said softly, as her voice broke at the end.

Sherlock didn’t let her go, he wanted to hold her a little bit longer.

‘Bollocks, you could do great without me if you wanted to. I left you alone for quite a while and you were just fine, I’m just here for the nudge.’ He said with a smile, remembering the time he had found her in her own apartment, playing that racing game with ambition. She hadn’t been great, but she was surviving and living all by herself.

She pushed a little and he let go the embrace, she smiled up sadly. He cleared his throat and stepped back, the moment broken.

‘About the head…’ He started as he scratched his head, not really knowing what to say.

‘As long as you weren’t planning on eating it, I’ll be fine.’ She said, her old self shining through some cracks of her wall.

‘No, no, it was pure for experimental purposes. I’ve never eaten a human body part. Though I have to admit I had tea with an eyeball once, but in my defence, I was shaken up that moment.’ Sherlock said, way to casually.

She took a moment to process that and just shook her head at the end, deciding that it wasn’t worth it.

‘I’ll order something.’ She said, walking over to the phone in the living room.

She remembered something.

Maybe she just has to do something we have done a hundredth times.

…A case.

‘(Y/N), tomorrow, I’m taking you on a case!’



Chapter Text

That peaceful evening had fired up Sherlock’s spirits, she had remembered already something. She had shown that there were little bits and pieces left from who she had been.

‘What is appropriate to wear on a case?’ (Y/N) asked while sipping her tea.

It was 9 o’clock in the morning and life outside of 221B Bakerstreet seemed to move on like nothing at all had happened.

They were annoying Sherlock, the people who walked past the apartment with nothing at all to worry about. Or well, in his opinion, nothing important to worry about, their little irrelevant lives didn’t matter.

He was sitting behind his laptop, refreshing the news page and unlocking his phone every thirty seconds, there had to be a case around here somewhere.

‘Sherlock, did you hear me?’ She asked again. He almost groaned, but caught himself just in time, happy that he had just avoided a scolding where he might lose his shit.

Not my fault that I’m annoyed, she shouldn’t be so bloody obnoxious.

‘Yes, a suit, a dress, just clothes.’ He answered curtly, wanting to stab or shoot something.

‘Okay, cool, why are you upset?’ She asked nicely, sitting on the sofa.

‘No case.’ He answered again, not wanting to notice even more how she wasn’t herself.

She would’ve known why; she would’ve chased the boredom away.

‘Well, why don’t you just entertain yourself in the meantime?’ She asked with a sweet smile, and his expression darkened as he looked over her.

‘People seem to get awfully upset over me amusing myself, miss Hudson didn’t speak to me for a week.’ Sherlock said, deep inside amused by the annoyance he had caused. That amusement was however overshadowed by his annoyance.

‘What did you do?’ She asked again, apparently insisting on a nice conversation.

‘I decorated that wall.’ He said, lamely pointing to the huge smiley face above her. She looked up and nodded.

‘Looks cute, it’s made of paint and…?’ She wondered as she looked at the holes in the wall.

Fairy dust, obviously.

‘Bullet holes.’ Sherlock said, not noticing how her skin went completely pale, and her body rigid.

‘Bullet holes? You have a gun?’ She squeaked, looking very afraid of Sherlock. Sherlock didn’t even care that much, he had accepted that she was a regular person now and that she would react like anyone of them.

‘Obviously.’ He said with a slightly condescending voice.

‘Why?’ She asked, still looking like he had just scared her socks off.

‘Why does it matter?’ He backfired, and she frowned a bit.

‘Because I need to know, so tell me.’ She demanded, on the brink of pouting, Sherlock just groaned, letting out his frustration.

‘Ugh, fine- Protection, mostly, I sometimes use it for experiments.’ He said not seeing why she would waste oxygen in asking all these ridiculous questions.

‘Protection?’ She asked shakily, Sherlock closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

‘Of course, people don’t like being outsmarted.’ He said, and she just nodded slowly, taking in all the information.

There fell a short silence in which Sherlock refreshed the page 4 times and checked his phone on missed messages 8 times. His frustrations subsided as he calmed his own mind, repeating over and over again that once there was a case, she would get back to normal. His shoulders relaxed and he blinked a few times, returning to his much cooler and chiller self.

‘What kind of experiments do you do?’ She asked, and Sherlock was a bit surprised, he hadn’t expected her to be interested, maybe she wasn’t so average after all. Again, the emotion was clouded by a much larger desire to stop this conversation.

‘Well, I try the reaction of different kind of substances on the human body.’ He said, not wanting to elaborate.

‘Okay, and because of that you get body parts from the morgue?’ She asked, trying to catch on, Sherlock just nodded, uninterested. She looked lost deep in thoughts before she sucked in some air and faced Sherlock again.

‘But what if the body has to be alive for the poison to work?’ She asked, and Sherlock shrugged.

‘Then I let someone drink it, if it’s not lethal.’ He said, not looking up from the screen.

‘Who?’ She asked completely stunned, not believing that anyone would be stupid enough to drink poison just for Sherlock’s experiments.

‘Last time it was you.’ He answered, and missed how her jaw dropped open.

‘I agreed into taking poison?’ She asked, and Sherlock chuckled.

‘No, I just put it in a cup of tea.’ He said, thinking back at the experience.

‘You’re kidding, right?’ She asked, and he shook his head.

‘I don’t make a lot of jokes.’ He said grimly, glancing over his laptop and seeing a completely freaked-out (Y/N).

‘What happened to me?’ She asked with a shaking, fearful voice.

‘You got really mad and put pink ink in my shower gel, so I had to walk around with pink patches on my skin for a week.’ He said, his mouth quirking up at the memory.

‘No, with me, what did the poison do to me?’ She asked, her breath picking up as the worry on her face increased.

‘You had explosive diarrhoea for a day.’ He said, grimacing at how horrible it had smelled.

‘That’s disgusting.’ She exclaimed, looking utterly horrified, she seemed to be lost in thoughts as she formulated what she wanted to say next.

True, I hadn’t seen it coming in the slightest, it was exiting.

‘But-’ She started, but was cut off by Sherlock suddenly standing up with an enormous grin on his face.

‘Case! Let’s go.’ He grinned, moving to the door, ready to grab his coat.

She kept sitting on the bank, not making any movement except for her fingers tightening around her mug. She was staring at the corner of the table with a frown on her face, a war was waging behind her eyes.

‘Come on.’ He insisted, not understanding why she wasn’t moving. Normally she was up and out right after he had said the word case.

‘You know, I’m still a bit wobbly, maybe you should solve this one, I’ll go the next one.’ She said with a small smile, and the skin right above the right corner of her left eyebrow twitched, indicating that she was lying.

Why is she lying to me?’

‘I know when you’re lying, why?’ He asked, still using Molly’s advice on just asking why someone did something.

‘I’m a bit scared to be honest, everything is so…violent. You’ve got a gun, you poisoned me, and now we’re going to see dead people, I don’t like any of this.’ She said honestly, still frowning, nibbling on her bottom lip.

She’s so bloody boring and average… Just like those witnesses.

I should treat her as one, following boring answers to boring questions.

‘You made me promise I would never try the poison on you again, so I won’t. I would never shoot someone if it wasn’t necessary and we’re going to help the people that have died, (Y/N). Are you coming?’ He asked intently, his Icy blue eyes staring into hers, he knew for a fact that that was her favourite physical aspect about him, not that she would’ve admitted that.

‘O-okay, fine, but I’ll leave if it gets too much.’ She said, trying to sound as if she knew what she was doing, but her shaky hands gave her away. Sherlock noticed it quickly, and frowned, still standing in the doorway as she gathered her things.

Anxiety again, she’ll have to get over it.

Strange, now that she’s different I feel no need to help her…


‘Come on.’ He urged, turning around quite dramatically and exiting the apartment, flying off the stairs while keeping tabs on the girl’s movements behind him. She was struggling to keep up with him, but he didn’t slow down, she had to prove herself.

Once on the street he hauled a cab and they got in, he quickly gave the address Lestrade had texted him and they were on their way.

She didn’t speak during the whole cab drive, neither did Sherlock. He couldn’t be bothered with an annoying conversation with an annoying person in an annoying situation if the real (Y/N) would be back at his side in mere minutes.


Your P.O.V.

The cab stopped and the duo got out, pacing over to the place that was swarmed by sirens and police tape. At the edge some grey haired guy was waiting, nervously tapping with his fingers against his upper leg.

The area was boring, just another London suburb with the same houses over and over again. It would’ve been peaceful if there hadn’t been a crime scene. Multiple neighbours were standing next to the tape, hugging themselves and each other, looking shocked and afraid, they were trying to talk to the officers, but they seemed to refuse to give any information.

‘…Not until Mister Holmes has given his thoughts ma’am, it’ll only take a minute once he’s here- Ah! Talking about the devil, there he is!’ (Y/N) heard a cop say, you were so distracted by the respect the officer seemed to have for Sherlock, that you didn’t notice Sherlock had stopped walking, and you bumped into him.

That resulted in you falling on your butt, with a loud ‘oof’ kind of sound. Sherlock merely gazed back before continuing his conversation with the silver-haired guy.

‘Hey, I’ll lend you a hand.’ A man said.

He had a bit of a beard and didn’t look that much of a strong character, but he was the only one who seemed to care about you, so you smiled and took his hand.

‘Thank you very much, it is stunning how rude Sherlock can be.’ You said with an angry gaze at the back of his head. You may have lost your memories, but you still knew some basic manners.

‘Oh believe me, I know.’ He grinned, looking a bit as if he were in pain.

‘I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).’ You introduced yourself politely, sticking out your hand.

‘Yes of course, my name is Philip Anderson, I’m in your forensics team.’ He said with a nice smile, shaking your hand almost eagerly.

‘Ah, right, I was the head of forensics, sorry, I forgot.’ You said, grinning at your own joke.

‘Well, you still are.’ Anderson said, chuckling a bit himself, you decided that he was nice.

‘Technically I am, but honestly, I don’t remember anything about forensics, so if I don’t get my memories back I’ll have to resign.’ You said sadly, and were happy to see that Anderson looked somewhat touched too.

‘I heard what happened, a shame, but I was the head of forensics before you came in so take your time in recovering, the team is in good-’ He was talking proudly, but was cut off by a low, booming voice.

‘Anderson, sod off and leave her alone, she’ll be back by tomorrow.’ Sherlock snarled, stepping in front of you. You frowned and tried pushing him to the side, but your attempts were futile.
Anderson huffed, sending Sherlock a mad look before stomping off towards one of the vans with all the materials. You followed Sherlock inside the house.

‘Geez Sherlock, he was just being nice.’ You snapped at him, really getting tired of his moody behaviour.

‘Just focus on the case please.’ He said evenly, walking in a calm, ordinary living room.

Only this one had a body lying in the middle, of a man. A dead man.

How did you know he was dead?

Well first of all, his skin was unnaturally pale. Second of all, there was an enormous pool of blood around him.

Wow, I didn’t even knew a person could have so much blood in his body.

That was your first thought, but not your last. You were unable to move as you saw each and every disgusting little detail off the body.

In the meantime, Sherlock was giving specific information about the case. Something about the wife going mental on this poor guy and stabbing him numerous times with a kitchen knife. But you didn’t hear him, you were too fixated on what was laying in front of you.

This is a body. The body of a dead man. This man is dead. He has wounds. There is blood. A lot of blood. God that blood looks red. Bloody red, now I get it. His eyes are open. Dead. They’re empty. They should be closed. Because he is dead. There are blood splatters on his forehead.

You noticed someone stepping in front of you, grabbing you by your upper arms.

‘She’s fine! She’s getting her memories back!’ He exclaimed, probably Sherlock.

You really wanted to move away, but his strong grip on you didn’t let you. So you bowed over and threw up all over his shoes, after that you fainted.


You woke up quickly after that, but now you were lying on the ground. 

You saw the ceiling, and immediately knew that you were still in the living room where that man had been brutally murdered. A small part of your brain told you that you were now also lying on the ground, just like the corpse. That thoughts surged a wave of energy through your body, urging you to get up as fast as possible.

You were dizzy and held on to a corner of the wall, afraid to fall again. Two strong hands gripped your shoulders, helpfully steadying you. You turned around and saw Sherlock, a concerned look in his eyes.

‘(Y/N)?’ He asked, a bit of hope in his voice, and it occurred to you that he thought you remembered everything now.

You lowered your head and shook it ruefully. Sherlock took his hands roughly off you, as if touching you actually burned him. He had already turned around and was pacing, actually stepping over the dead body whilst ruffling through his curls, looking absolutely desperate.

‘That should’ve worked.’ He shouted aggressively, looking at you as if you were a disease.

Oh my god, really? I’ve been so patient with him and now he’s looking at me like that? No way, this is not my fault.

‘Oh I’m sorry, are you blaming me?’ You shouted back, a roaring fire flaming up in you, you were done with his rude behaviour.

‘Well you are the one who should want to recover her memories right? And still you’re making no effort whatsoever.’ He accused you, pointing a slender finger at you while spitting fire from his eyes.

‘Why would I want my memories back? This whole thing is crazy, the life I used to have was mental, how could I wish to go back to something that sucked?’ You shouted, still gripping the wall as if it was the last thing that kept you standing.

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Sherlock growled in a low voice, looking really dangerous.

‘Oh no? I think I do because you have told me plenty about it, Sherlock.’ You said, letting go of the wall, standing straight while holding up your hand, counting the things you listed on your fingers.

‘You have a gun, and you shoot it when you’re bored. You drugged me, even though something terrible could’ve happened to me when I took it. You want disasters to happen, you get happy when people are being murdered just so you’re not bored anymore. You take drugs, I’ve seen the instruments in your bedroom. And you didn’t even blink when you saw a body, Sherlock that isn’t normal, it’s insane.’ You exclaimed, your eyes brimming over with tears. The last few hours had been so incredibly overwhelming for you, and you were acting and talking right now without thinking, the filter was gone.

‘You didn’t mind that before.’ Sherlock said coldly, unfazed by your little list.

‘Well then I’m happy I’m getting a second chance at not being like… that.’ You exclaimed, struggling with the use of your words. 

‘Like what?’ Sherlock said, venom dripping of his words as he looked down on you, his face as if it was set in marble.

‘Like some kind of freak.’ You ended your sentence, immediately regretting your words as you saw something snap inside his eyes. He stood there, his face not showing any emotions, his eyes glazed over, as if he was shielding them from showing anything at all.

A heavy silence descended in the room, and neither of you moved. You know it was up to you to figure out what to do next.

‘Look, I’m sorry Sherlock, I really am, but I can’t do this. I think it’s better if I find some place of my own and start figuring out what to do, if one day my memories return you’ll know, I think, but until then…’ You trailed off, not knowing what else to say to the man who should mean the world to you.

‘Sherlock?’ You asked, waiting for some sort of reply, but he didn’t even look at you as he moved over to the front door, walking through it with steady paces, leaving you on your own.

You waited for a few minutes, catching your breath and closing your eyes, you couldn’t see the corpse. You followed Sherlock’s footsteps and found yourself outside again, staring into the sun.

‘(Y/N)?’ An unfamiliar man’s voice said, and you turned your body towards it.

‘Look, I might’ve known you but now I don’t, and I’m really sorry but I’m a bit shaken up right now and can’t help you.’ You said quickly, your voice soft, gentle and tired.

‘I understand, I just wanted to say that I’ve heard everything that just happened and I wanted to offer my help, you might need to move out your stuff and find somewhere new, that’s hard on your own.’ He explained gently and you relaxed, smiling.

‘Yes, thank you, I presume Sherlock won’t be much of a helping factor, will he?’ You asked, silently hoping to hear that he just had to come around, like John had said earlier.

‘No, he won’t, you hit a touchy subject in there, used some wrong words. You couldn’t have known but still, this is really hard on him too.’ He explained, and you nodded, guilt building up.

You hadn’t thought about it that way. He had lost the woman he loved, maybe the only one that understood him. He really didn’t get along with a lot of people, John had told you, and you two had been very happy.

That must suck, losing someone, but still having them with you.

‘I’m sorry about that mister...?’ You asked, following him to one of the police cars.

‘Lestrade, D.I. Lestrade.’ He filled in for you and you nodded, not feeling any emotions attached to that name, it was just another stranger to you.

He brought you to 221 B Bakerstreet with the police car, talking about little things that had happened to distract you. He was a nice man, but you knew you wouldn’t see him much after you started over again. You had to start over your life, no old strings could be woven through your new path.

‘I’ll go and just take some clothes, there are bags in my room. It’ll take a minute, I think it’s better to go alone, just in case.’ You explained, and Greg nodded, looking a bit relieved.

You were a bit scared as you turned the key into the lock of the front door, as you stepped inside you felt a chill go through your body, the house felt somehow colder. You heard the nice lady cry from her room, and say that something was a tragedy. You wondered if you should knock but you shook your head, she wasn’t any of your concerns anymore.

You walked up the stairs and didn’t enter the living room, you just went straight to your bedroom and packed as much clothes there could fit in a duffel back. You wouldn’t come back for the rest, you didn’t care that much, and it would be too painful.

You slung the bag over your shoulders and looked around the room. It was a boring room, but it felt good to you, it was a shame you should leave it behind. But you knew you had to, so you set a determined expression on your face as you descended the stairs and walked into the living room, planning on facing Sherlock one last time.

‘I’m going.’ You said, trying to put up a strong facade, talking to the motionless body that was gazing out of the window.

‘Where to?’ He asked, his voice raspy and low.

‘A hotel.’ You answered, not wanting to give any more details to some you barely knew and was a potential danger.

‘And you are going to pay that with what money?’ He sighed, and you frowned, he was treating you like a little child.

‘With the cash I have, which is enough.’ You answered truthfully, you had found a wad of cash in a little box in your closet, you were probably preparing for an emergency.

‘Ah yes, your emergency fund. Sorry, I forgot about that.’ He said bitterly, emphasizing the forgot.

He turned around and walked over to the desk, leaning against it whilst looking at you. His gaze wasn’t mad, or cold, just neutral, observing. It still gave you shivers.

‘I’m sorry.’ You squeaked, you knew it wasn’t all your fault but you felt like you caused all this misery upon this strange man. He might be a complete psychopath, but he had loved you once, you didn’t want to hurt him even more.

He just nodded, his face falling into a grim mask.

‘You have been renting an apartment elsewhere for a while now, the address is on the little note on the table. It will save you money.’ He said solemnly, nodding towards the table, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

‘Thank you.’ You said softly, walking over to it and picking up the paper, folding it and stuffing it in your jean’s pocket. You turned around to walk away but stopped.

You didn’t know why you stopped, you just did. Something told you that this wasn’t a good way to end this, he had meant something to you, you felt it in your bones. So you turned around and met his gaze.

‘In the house, I’ve said some pretty rough stuff, I didn’t mean it, Sherlock.’ You said softly, not succumbing under his neutral look.

‘From everything that I’ve heard, you’re a strange man, but a good one. I’m sorry that this had to end like this but I’m not cut out for this life, you know it.’ You said, almost pleading for him to forgive you. His face softened just a bit, as he breathed in slowly. 

‘Don’t you want to know what happened to you?’ He asked, his voice nothing like it had been back in the house, you almost felt nostalgic as he spoke in this gentle tone.

‘Yeah, but if I can’t find out I need to move on, and I’m no detective.’ You joked a bit, trying to light up the mood. No need to say that you failed.

‘I’m one, a consulting detective that is, I’ll keep looking for you.’ He said, the sternness in his voice indicating that he hadn’t given up on you yet. You didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, so you just went along with it.

‘Of course, but if you don’t find anything…’ You trailed off again, not knowing how to put it subtly.

‘No news, no contact.’ He said softly, steadily, not sounding upset, he was just stating facts.

You nodded, clenching your grip around the bag, deciding whether this would be a good idea.

What could go wrong?

You walked until you were standing in front of him, and kissed him on the cheek. You stepped back to see him with a stone expression.

‘Farewell Sherlock.’ You said simply, softly, before turning around and moving down the stairs.

You walked quickly until you were outside again, there, standing on the pavement in the middle of the day, you stopped and looked around.

Cars were passing by, people were walking quickly past you, on to their work, home, hobby or next problem. They were so caught up with what they were doing, they didn’t know that a whole world just had shattered. They didn’t know the ache you were feeling right now.

That’s the thing about people, you realized. They are too wrapped up into their own world, their own little solar system to notice anything out of it. A thousand hearts got broken every day, and yet 99,99 of the population won’t ever find out.

‘Ma’am, are you okay?’ A lady asked you concerned, that’s when you noticed that tears had been slipping down your cheeks, hanging unto your chin.

‘I’ll survive, thank you.’ You said politely, adding a shaky smile to your uncertain statement.

She just nodded grimly and moved on with whatever she had been doing whilst you wiped away the tears, taking a few shaky breaths to make sure you were steady again.

‘(Y/N)?’ Lestrade asked from the car, and you moved over to it, throwing your bags in the back and taking out the little note Sherlock had written out for you.

‘Yeah, could you bring me to this address please? I have some keys here and Sherlock said some apartment is mine.’ You asked once you were seated, sniffling a bit.

Lestrade looked concerned, but didn’t say anything as he drove away.

It only took twenty minutes to arrive there, and you looked at the building.

It was just a regular apartment building, from the outside all looking like each other. You turned around to Lestrade with a small smile, he was already looking at you, leaning against the car with a sad smile.

‘You’re going to be okay?’ You asked with a sad smile too, hoping that you could just make a joke out of this.

‘Not really…’ He answered, sending you a humourless grin.

You nodded at that, sighing, you had met a few people now, and they all seemed to be broken up about what had happened.

‘I’m sorry I’m leaving Greg, but I can’t live so closely with someone like Sherlock, especially if I don’t feel anything for him.’ You explained, wanting to create some closure for the nice detective.

‘But you do feel something for him, or else you wouldn’t regret leaving.’ He countered, and you just shrugged.

‘True, I remembered some feelings, but vaguely, it’s just not enough.’ You said, thinking back at how you had been feeling when he had calmed you down.

‘I understand, though I really think it’s a pity, you were…perfect for each other.’ He said, looking a bit uncomfortable.

‘A lot of people told me that… But to me it is like I am suddenly being paired up with a stranger, it’s just too much.’ You explained, feeling just as uncomfortable as him.

‘Of course… just give it another thought, okay? And you’ve got a friend in Scotland yard.’ He said slowly, smiling at the end.

You nodded, smiling back, he was really kind.

‘Sure, thanks Greg, for everything.’ You said, already stepping back, towards the building.

‘No problem, take care (Y/N).’ He said seriously, and you nodded, saying a goodbye before disappearing behind the door of the building.

It wasn’t really a new place, you saw when you walked in, but it was pretty neat. There was a big map on the wall, showing which rooms were on which floor and where the fire escapes were placed. You moved over it and studied it, gazing at the number attached to the keys.

‘Sixteen…’ You murmured, looking at which floor your apartment was placed.  

‘(Y/N)!’ A happy voice yelled from the other side of the room.

A woman who had apparently been looking at her mail walked over you with a big smile, you obviously didn’t know her, but you just went along with it, too tired to explain all that happened again.

‘Hi! How are you?’ You asked nicely, the woman looked friendly enough.

‘Great, great, but don’t you dare to avoid this subject like you did last time. How’s the project coming along, you were done, weren't you?’ She asked, her eyes sparkling and her foot tapping impatiently.

‘Uhm, well, I just have to add some finishing touches.’ You said, trying to lie convincingly.

‘That’s absolutely amazing! I’m so curious as of how it turned out, promise me you’ll show it once it’s finished!’ She said, grapping your upper arm and shaking you gently.

‘Yes of course, I will.’ You laughed, liking this lady’s energy.

‘Good, good, now off you go, the sooner you finish the better, but take your time, dear!’ She exclaimed, walking out of the building with a huge smile on her face.

Before you could even answer her she was gone, and you sighed.

Why is everyone I am associated with so strange?

You pushed the thought away as you climbed up the stairs, looking at the little decoration in the hallways. When you arrived at the fourth floor you looked around, and easily spotted the door you were looking for.

It was the same colour grey as the rest of them, but yours had a huge 16 painted on it in red. Beneath the number hung a small note, with some handwriting scribbled on it.


Sorry for the smell, have a nice day. – (Y/N)



You held your head up and sniffled a bit, and then it hit you.

O sweet potatoes, the smell.

That strongly smells like all kind of chemicals, almost as if it were paint.

Hmmmm, maybe I’ll walk through that door and find some body parts completely mutilated, just like in Sherlock’s apartment.

But that wouldn’t fit with the enthusiasm of that nice lady five minutes ago… or maybe she’s crazy too… I wonder…

You breathed out, deciding that the only way to find out was to take the leap and walk in, you didn’t have any other place to go anyways.

So you put the key into the lock, gave it a firm twist and pushed the door open with the tips of your hands. Once standing in the hallway you looked up, and your eyes widened.

You dropped your bag and keys next to you, not giving them a second thought. Your mind was too preoccupied with the scene in front of you, which made no sense at all.

The floors were covered with newspapers, all of them splattered with every possible paint colour you could imagine. Five paint covered canvases were standing across the room, one even still on the easel. You walked over to the one closest to you.

It took your breath away, looking at this finished painting made your mind go crazy. The nature of this woman, caring and worrisome were captured perfectly in the features, and you immediately recognised her as the crying lady from downstairs, but you didn’t quite remember her name…

 ms hudson


Martha Hudson, our landlady, not housekeeper, makes Sherlock and I coffee every morning. 


Your eyes widened and you stepped back, that thought had popped into you without you doing anything.

… Oh my god….

I’m remembering something!

 Your heart started thumping loudly as you almost ran over to the next one, ready to dive into the next memory. You were hoping with every fibre in your being that it would work, you didn’t know why you now changed your mind, but the urge to become how you were was controlling every move.



Greg Lestrade, I call him Gregory. He tried persuading Sherlock into persuading me live with him, and when he tried, Greg helped him by faking a whole police department project… They almost took his badge away.


Your mouth plopped open at the memory, delighted that this one contained more information than the last one, but you weren’t getting anything anymore so you moved over to the next.



Sweet Molly Hooper, always worried about me, looking out for literally everyone. She’s been a lovely friend to me so far, and she is capable of so much more than she let’s everyone see. Just a bit insecure, but it was lessening as time passed…


You were panting right now, the flood of new information making you a bit dizzy, but you wanted to know more, you wanted to knock down the wall that was set up in your mind.

The next painting was a bit more different than the others.



Too many memories overflowed your mind, you couldn’t even keep up with them, you remembered almost the whole persona that John was, and with that memory got built up in your mind, leaving you with a sense of serenity.

But you weren’t satisfied, there were too many holes in your mind, you remembered virtually nothing about Sherlock at all. And after all this information, you wanted to.

So you walked over to the easel, to the final painting, that was covered with a white sheet. On the ground there were five boxes of pencils and chalk, with some of the contents rolling away when you moved the newspaper. You took the sheet away and relaxed.



That was all that you needed.


The wall got knocked down and everything just flowed back into your mind. You got nauseous while processing everything so you sat on the floor, your head between your knees while taking deep breaths.

After about fifteen minutes you laid back on the ground, closing your eyes and trying to put everything into order. Your mind palace had been utterly destroyed when your memory had been stolen. Once you cleared your mind, you sat up, not even thinking. You took your keys, slammed the door behind your back and ran as quick as you could outside.




You took a cab, paid him off double to break the speed limit and raced towards 221B Bakerstreet. Once there, you took your keys, slammed them into the front door and bolted up the stairs.

Strangely, the door to the living room was closed, even though you were positive Sherlock was still here.

You knocked on the door, but got no reply.

‘Sherlock?’ You asked, knocking urgently, you had to get in, god knew what he was up to.

He didn’t answer so you just started slamming your fists against the door. 


There was still no answer whatsoever, so you stepped back, taking in a deep breath and shaking your head.

At least I warned the damn asshole.

You took one quick step and kicked the door open with great force, you ran inside and saw just what you had been expecting.

Sherlock in the middle of the living room, his back against a chair, his tools spread around him on the floor. The needle he had used to inject whatever he used now was lying on the floor next to his right arm, and your heart broke at the sight of his knocked-out face.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you realised that you had pushed him so far that he was getting fucked up again. You walked over to his side and crouched down, gently shaking his shoulders.

‘Sherlock, hey, hey- spock, are you there?’ You asked softly, biting your lip as you felt the hot tears land on your own skin.

Sherlock didn’t open his eyes, but he murmured something to you, probably in too deep to realise that you were with him.

‘We’re going to get you cleaned up, okay? I’ll take care of you.’ You said poorly, sniffing away your tears, wiping the wet trail off your face as you hooked your arms under his, dragging his body through the kitchen to the hallway into his room.

You barely managed to get him on the bed, but somehow his limp body didn’t slide off the mattress. You got a shirt out of his closet, a pair of pyjama’s and quickly changed his clothes.

When he was properly dressed you dragged his body to the pillows, laying his head down on one of them and covering his body in the bed sheet. After that you got some cold water and an aspirin and put in on his dressed, as well as a bucket next to his bed.

You stood there in the room with no clue what you had to do now, John had already told you that Sherlock had done this before, but he had promised that he never would use it with you around.

He’ll be fine, he’s Sherlock.

But maybe he lost is this time, outdone himself, maybe this was an overdose.

The only one I could call would be Mycroft

You fired up just at the thought of his name, you would kill that bastard for what he had tried to do.

But right now, Sherlock is more important.

So you took out your phone out of your pocket and dialled the eldest Holmes’ number.

‘Yes?’ He said professionally, knowing that there must be something wrong if you dialled him.

‘Sherlock’s at it again, what should I do?’ You said, your voice remaining completely neutral.

‘…’ There was no reaction from Mycroft, and you grew impatient, now was not the time to shut up.

‘Quick.’ You urged him, a hint of anger seeping into your voice.

‘Nothing, but when he wakes up, ask him about a list.’ He said, sounding the tiniest bit shaken up, you said nothing and hung up.

You go girl, being an adult and all.

You were happy that you had handled that without screaming bloody murder and crying like a two-year-old, so you tossed your phone onto a desk and took off your shoes, taking place on a chair next to his bed.




You would wait, until he woke up.

And then you would take care of her majesty himself. 

Chapter Text

You couldn’t sleep, but you actually didn’t want to, so that was fine.

You were sitting on a chair, your feet propped up against the end of Sherlock’s bed, while he was still lying in it, knocked out. You had been watching him, this last couple of hours, making sure that nothing bad would happen while he was in his drugged sleep.

You sighed for the thousand time this night, your gaze tracing every little feature in his face, comparing it to the ones you’d gotten used to. He mostly looked the same, but now a bit harsher, less relaxed or peaceful.

You felt the need to lie next to him, hold him, maybe caress his cheek or something like that but you couldn’t bring yourself to it, these days had been too rough on him to just fall back in old routine.

And you were dealing with quite a mess too. Your head, your thoughts and memories were chaos, and you just wanted to have everything in order. But it was difficult to get everything in place, the decisions you had made a day ago had an entirely different ratio behind them than your actions now.

And you felt scared.

Scared, because for multiple days, you had become a stranger to the man you loved the most. This was the guy that right now, you knew you wanted to spend your life with, but when you had lost your memories, you hadn’t felt anything. You had seen him as a crazy psychopath with strange and dangerous tendencies, because of that you had treated him poorly.

You decided to go to your mind palace, that was now nothing more than a mind box, and start expanding it.

You had always lost track of time when you did so, going in to some kind of trance just like Sherlock did, too concentrated to notice anything from the real world. When you snapped out of it, happy with the progress you had made, you noticed that it had become morning.

The world seemed a friendlier place, with the light peeking through the little space that the curtains didn’t cover, revealing the dust that was dancing around the room. You relaxed and smiled at it, realising that the world was still turning, the sun was still hanging bright and warm in the sky. This was just a temporary problem that you would have to fix as soon as possible.

You were dreading to look back at the bed and see his unconscious form laying there, knowing that it was your fault that he had done this to himself. Running a hand through your hair you sighed, staring at your shoes.

Woman up and clean up your mess (Y/N).

So you looked up, and for a second there wasn’t anything wrong, then your brain registered what it was seeing, or well, what it wasn’t seeing actually.

Panic made your heart beat faster when you saw that the bed was empty, the sheets carelessly thrown to one side, like Sherlock always did when he woke up.

You stood up, and waited for a second, trying to get yourself on track again. The moment your heart wasn’t almost beating out of your chest you walked over to the door, slamming it open and flying through it to find him.

Probably gone off to the morgue, or John’s? Maybe Scotland yard? A drug dealer? I DON’T KNOW.

You ran into the hall and pushed yourself off the wall to sprint into the kitchen, you had already passed the kitchen and living room, planning on leaving the house when you just stopped. You turned around, standing in the doorway and looked at his chair, where he was sitting.

He was looking at you with that sharp gaze of his that made you go weak in the knees, tapping the armrest whilst analysing you.

‘I know who did it.’ Sherlock said neutrally, trying to mask his triumphant smile.

You really wanted to interrupt him and tell him that he was nothing more than a big bag of arrogant dicks who you had missed dearly, but he held up his hand and started explaining his oh so genius theory.

He stood up while talking and paced around the apartment, laying out every thought for you whilst agitatedly moving his hands.

‘So there were thousands of possibilities of who could be the one that kidnapped you and took your thoughts. First I had to find out how it would be possible to take your memories in the first place. I stumbled upon many theories of which about 91% were completely impossible and the other 9% just speculations, which were actually not fitting your profile of memory loss, so I figured that it would be an unknown process. This unknown process could be developed by many organizations with the right kind of sources. A government would have no reason at all to hurt me through you so it possibly is a terrorist or mafia group. I once revealed one of the members of the Swedish mafia gang, who are known to be experts on the field of witness demolition-’ He wanted to rant on but you interrupted him quickly.

‘You think I’ve been kidnapped by Swedish mafia?’ You asked incuriously, making him look up in annoyance.

‘Yes, let me go on, so-’ he picked up where he left off but you interrupted him again.

‘Isn’t that a band?’ You asked, squinting your eyes in concentration.

‘What?’ Sherlock asked, looking so annoyed that his eyes might roll out of his head.

‘Swedish mafia, that’s a band, or was it Swedish house mafia? Doesn’t matter. You think they kidnapped me because they’re good at wiping memories?’ You asked, wanting to be sure of his ridiculous theory so you could annoy him later.

‘Yes, glad that you kept up with that simple explanation, are you surprised?’ He asked, looking a bit smug, you just snorted.

‘Well, Ikea furniture never made me forget anything, but what do I know?’ You said, sarcasm dripping off your word as you shrugged it off.

Suddenly Sherlock’s head whipped towards you, his eyes squinted as he looked at you up and down. Just a fraction of a second went by before he paced towards you, cupped your jaw and slammed his mouth on yours, pushing you against the wall next to the door.

Guess he recognized me.


He kissed you desperately, as if he had missed oxygen instead of a girlfriend the last couple of days, and you knew that he wouldn’t admit it, but he did need you. You smiled into the kiss, relishing the feeling of loving him again, relieved that it was back. Looking at him and not feeling the familiar tingle had scared the shit out of you.

‘Stop smiling and kiss me properly.’ He murmured, breaking the kiss for a short second, but it was already too long. You kissed him back passionately and heard him hum happily at the affection.

‘Sherlock being bossy, I like it.’ You grinned quickly after a few moments, and groaned away when he pulled away from the kiss.

‘You ruined the moment.’ He growled, looking pissed at you, you just looked surprised.

‘There was a moment?’ you asked innocently, and he rolled his eyes.

‘No, of course not, if I kiss you in five minutes it wouldn’t make any difference.’ He contradicted himself, and you knew he was oppressing his slightly emotional side again. So you grabbed the front of his blazer and threw him an angelic smile.

‘So there will be more kissing in five minutes?’ You asked, your eyes twinkling as you stared right into his. He seemed to melt as a smile appeared onto his face and he ran a hand through your hair, leaning in and kissing you again.

The kissing went on for a while, and let’s put it this way, it didn’t go any further than that, you didn’t need anything else at the moment. He just picked you up and brought you to his seat, placing you on his lap once he was seated, your legs dangling off one armrest, your head leaning in the crook of his neck, your hand in his hair, moving through his curls.

The both of you didn’t say anything, you were still a bit shocked. How close it had been to losing each other had been horrifying, and the relief and happiness were taking over now.

‘So that was scary.’ You said breathlessly, hiding the fear it with a small chuckle.

‘Not really, I knew you would recover your memories, that’s why I sent you to your other apartment.’ He said, trying to sound self-assured, you just huffed.

‘Of course, Einstein, you knew all along. That’s why you were high out of your mind when I came back.’ You sassed, and the words had left your mouth before you had time to process what you were actually saying.

A deep silence descended upon the room, and you knew you had something rather touchy.

‘I’m so so sorry, Sherlock.’ You said after a few heartbeats, feeling a bit choked up.

He grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him, your eyes were becoming wetter with the second, guilt was now taking over you.

‘Don’t cry, just tell me why you would be sorry.’ He said calmly, using the same voice he used to soothe you with whenever you got an anxiety attack. You nodded and breathed in.

‘It’s my fault that it almost went completely wrong, I was horrible to you.’ You said, feeling ashamed of how you had acted towards Sherlock. He just shook his head, kissing your forehead before looking back at you.

‘Think, (Y/N), just remember to think. You had lost lost the essence of who you are, and may I add with that also your intelligence, could you have done anything to stop yourself?’ Sherlock asked you sternly, kissing you on the corner of your mouth.

‘No.’ You said with a small voice, feeling relieved that he wasn’t mad at you.

‘So stop worrying then.’ He commanded you, kissing you on the lips, shortly, sweetly.

You smiled and went back to enjoying being in his arms, running your fingers around his scalp. Wondering why Sherlock hadn’t yet dragged you to the bedroom yet, you knew that was his way to show normal human affection and that he probably had wanted to do that since he found out you were back.

But he was silent, his arms around your middle as he pressed a kiss somewhere on your face or hands every minute or so. After about eleven kisses you finally realised there was something wrong.

‘Sherlock. What are you thinking about?’ You asked wearily, knowing that he wouldn’t be so silent if he hadn’t got something on his mind.

‘I’m planning my trip to Sweden.’ He said seriously, trying to tone down the fact that he was planning how to take down a whole mafia on his own. You shifted in his lap and wrapped your legs around him, sitting now straight in front of him, still on his lap.

‘Listen to me you bloody moron. You are not going to take down anyone on your own, I just got you back.’ You told him seriously, knowing you would need to persuade him.

‘Love, I am going to take very last man down for what they did.’ He said coolly, as if it was no big deal. You stored this sentence in your mind palace, wanting to watch it over and over again because maybe it turned you on a little bit.  

‘That’s great, but your too emotionally invested in this to be effective.’ You countered, using the argument Captain Kirk used with Spock after his mother had died.

‘That won’t work on me.’ He said, unimpressed at your argument.

‘It worked on Spock.’ You shrugged, going on to your next point in your mind.

‘Yes well, I’m not of another species nor a science fiction character.’ He said grumpily, pissed that you were opposing to his wishes. You bowed forward and kissed him shortly.

‘True, you’re just a human man of flesh and blood, who makes mistakes like any other one of us.’ You said gently, slowly getting to the horrifying news.

‘Mistakes?’ Sherlock asked, as you had expected, clearly alarmed.

‘Mistake, actually, I know who kidnapped me, and it was certainly not the Swedish mafia, though I do appreciate the imaginative conclusion.’ You said, attempting on keeping the mood light, but with the way that Sherlock’s eyes opened wide and he tightened his grip on you made clear that the time for jokes was over.

‘Who?’ He asked, looking at your face for clues, you opened your mouth to tell him, but the name got stuck in your throat, you didn’t want to hurt Sherlock.

‘Who?’ He asked again, looking even more serious, mad, determined and panicked.

‘Was it Moriarity?’ He asked when you didn’t answer immediately, and you shook your head.

‘Was it maybe the OPM?’ Sherlock asked, almost shaking you, you shook your head again, knowing it wasn’t some top secret organization that Sherlock knew about.

‘No, Sherlock, listen. You have to promise me you’ll stay calm.’ You said carefully, knowing that you were about to throw the mentos in the coke bottle, shit was about to explode.

‘Yes, yes.’ He said hurriedly, nodding his head quickly, urging you on.

‘It was Mycroft.’ You said softly, gauging his reaction.

You tightened your grip around his waist with your legs and laid both of your hands gently on his shoulders, slowly massaging them. You knew it would take a minute before that came in.

His face went from completely stunned to neutral, to ice cold within multiple seconds. He stood up, making you fall off his lap, he didn’t stop to get you up, he just walked towards the entrance with big, heavy strides. You quickly scrambled up and ran behind him, putting a hand on his upper arm

‘YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD STAY CALM.’ You exclaimed loudly whilst holding him even harder, trying to make him stop.

‘I’m calm.’ He said coldly and a shiver went down your spine.

‘You can’t kill him.’ You shot back, knowing that bloody murder was on his mind.

‘Why?’ He growled, walking out of the apartment.

‘Because he’s your brother.’ You argued, receiving strange stares of people passing by, it wasn’t usual for them to see a couple argue why murder would be a bad thing.

‘I don’t see why that matters.’ He almost spat as he got in the cab he just hauled, you followed him as fast as you could, not giving him the time to shake you off.

Sherlock told the driver where to go as you shuffled over to the seat next to him.

‘Sherlock, listen to me, you can’t kill him, it isn’t right.’ You urged him, trying to catch his gaze, but Sherlock was looking out of the window.

‘It is only fair, he tried to kill you.’ He mumbled, and you sighed, shaking your head. Sherlock’s feelings were very much hurt and he was acting in on it.

‘Don’t be a drama queen, he just took my memories, Sherlock, he didn’t end my life. And don’t you think I’m mad? Because I am, in fact, furious.’ You argued, and were startled when Sherlock’s head whipped towards you.

Just took your memories? I didn’t know you thought so light about being completely alienated of everything you know.’ He said angrily, his eyes spitting fire, you relaxed instantly.

‘Don’t be stupid, you can’t even imagine how that was for me.’ You said lowly, leaving little room for argument. Of course Sherlock had enough with that room.

‘Oh I know, because it was worse for me.’ Sherlock said, crossing his arms and looking out of the window again.

‘I’m sure it was very bad for the both of us, but that doesn’t mean we have to risk a lifetime sentence incarcerated. Sherlock, listen to me.’ You urged him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He roughly pushed you away and glared at you angrily.

‘Stop being so bloody annoying and piss off.’ He spat at you, and you were taken aback.

You had fights before, of course, it was inevitable with someone as stubborn as Sherlock and as explosive as you, but you hadn’t expected it, and his harsh side always hurt you.

You pulled back, kept your hand you yourself and took a few deep breaths to shake of the stab you had felt at his action and words.

He’s shaken up, emotional, taking it out on you, he doesn’t mean it.

He won’t apologize either, so just deal with it.

‘I’ll go in and take care of Mycroft, I won’t kill him. You stay outside, you shouldn’t get hurt again.’ He said calmly, smoothly with a nice hint to it, and you nodded, knowing this was his apology. You smiled at him a bit before giving your sassy answer.

‘I’m sorry, you don’t think I can take on her majesty?’ You asked, a bit jokingly. Sherlock just rolled his eyes.

‘Obviously, you got kidnapped once by him, didn’t you?’ He sassed and you huffed, mumbling some curses under your breath because Sherlock, as always, was right.

The cab stopped and Sherlock quickly paid the driver and got out of the car. You followed him silently, knowing that there was no way you could persuade him to leave Mycroft alone. That, and you also wanted to kick his ass, so you just were going to follow Sherlock and support him in almost everything he would do.

Almost, murder is in every situation wrong.

You entered the big white house and passed through the quiet corridor, straight to Mycroft’s room, he obviously knew you were coming, he had a surveillance team set on the two of you every single hour of the day, but he hadn’t warded himself.

Sherlock burst through the door dramatically, you at his side, the both of you furious at the man who was now smugly drinking some tea behind his desk.

‘To what do I owe this tremendous pleasure?’ He asked calmly, taking a sip from the fancy looking mug.

Your mouth plopped open at how unconcerned he looked, regarding the fact that he probably was aware that Sherlock was going to murder him, or at least attempt it. He was relaxed, as he let down his cup and stood up, smoothing out his suit.

Sherlock was standing next to you, seemingly relaxed, but by the clenching and unclenching of his jaw you knew that he was restraining himself. He wanted to attack Mycroft, but he wouldn’t, maybe because it wasn’t the right moment, or maybe because you had asked him not to. You stepped closer and slid your hand in his, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

‘Mycroft.’ Sherlock said, his voice colder than you’d ever heard.

‘I suppose you’re here for an explanation.’ Mycroft said, his voice haughty, as if he was doing you a great favour.

‘Not really.’ You growled, growing more agitated by the second yourself. You knew that one of you should at least stay calm, but the burning fire that had been there since the moment you had gotten your memories back started roaring.

‘Ah yes, because I already told you. Interesting few days, wasn’t it?’ He said, his disdain towards you evident.

You just growled lowly, now really pissed, he showed no sign of remorse at all, even after he had almost destroyed your life. You wanted to punch him in his stupid face.

‘Piss off.’ You managed to spit, balling your fists as you bowed a bit forwards, ready to launch yourself towards the asshole and break his nose.

‘Well that’s not very polite, isn’t it? Keep your pet on a leash, Sherlock, she might hurt herself.’ He said dryly, not caring whether Sherlock would become even angrier.

‘Mycroft, shut up.’ He said, his voice calm and clear. In the time you had gotten angry, he had calmed himself down.

‘You’ve always been stubborn, little brother.’ Mycroft said, changing his attention.

‘And you have always been jealous.’ Sherlock said back, not showing any signs of annoyance or anger.

‘Jealous?’ Mycroft said, his mouth quirking upwards as if it was nothing but a mere joke.

‘Obviously, remember redbeard? He liked me better than you, and you couldn’t stand that.’ Sherlock said, almost looking down on the situation. He was calm, reserved and deadly, this way he mastered the situation. 

‘I think your deduction skills have been damaged badly, but that happens whenever you mingle with… them.’ Mycroft sneered, giving you a nasty look, you balled your fists, but for the sake of Sherlock you held back.

‘Mingle?’ Sherlock asked, not understanding the choice of words.

‘Oh yes, mingle, since you have been getting more than platonically involved, haven’t you? You gave in to a basic primal urge, and you required someone to satisfy it.’ He said, and the silence grew thicker in the room.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Wait… primal urge? Oh fuck no.

I’m gonna punch this guy I swear to god.

‘You think he’s just horny and he uses me?’ You asked him, eyes wide, nostrils flared and balled fists.

‘Well… I can’t see any other way you would be useful.’ He said, and in a fraction of a second, you had launched yourself in front of him, and punched him straight in his face.

His head snapped to one side as he stepped back multiple times to regain his balance, after that his hand shot up to cradle the side of his face that had been hit. You had aimed under the eye so it would be swollen and black the next day.

‘Since you can’t see anything.’ You spat, throwing him the most poisonous look you could muster and pacing back, standing behind Sherlock.

As you passed by him you looked him in the eye, seeing that he already had been looking at you. His mouth had twisted the slightest bit upwards and his eyes were twinkling, you were glad to see that he wasn’t mad.

After maybe a minute of regaining his posture, Mycroft turned his attention to you, now looking really really mad.

‘You’ll regret that, I promise.’ He swore, but before you had even the time to react, Sherlock was right in front of his face, string at his brother intensely.

‘I’m going to promise you something, Mycroft. Lay another finger on her and I promise I’ll kill you. She doesn’t want me to, so it won’t happen right now. Why, is a mystery to me. Since I can’t murder you I’ll pretend you’re dead, and you’ll have to seize any contact with me and (Y/N). I don’t want to hear a word from you, Mycroft, or I’ll promise you’ll be dead.’ Sherlock said dangerously, fast and low, sending shivers up your spine, this was a side of him you didn’t like at all, the one that tended towards a psychopath.

‘Those were a lot of death threats.’ Mycroft said dryly, trying to play it off, but he was affected by his brother’s words, that much was clear.

Sherlock didn’t respond, he just grabbed Mycroft’s shoulders and slammed his head with full force in his face, breaking the arsehole’s nose. He immediately let go and stood by your side as you watched Mycroft for a second, he then took your hand in his and gently pulled you out of the room.

You followed him out of the building and to the street, where he hauled another cab.

The car ride was silent, but Sherlock held your hand the whole time. He was staring out of the window and looking concerned, you just caressed the side of his hand with your thumb, knowing this was harder for him than he would ever admit.

When you arrived in the apartment you decided to break the silence.

‘Sherlock, are you okay?’ You asked softly, staring at his silhouette standing in front of the window.

He didn’t answer, as expected, but he turned around and looked at you with a bit of a sad look in his eyes, combined with a hard one of anger. You stepped closer and hugged him tightly.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t let you kill him.’ You whispered, as you felt his arms wrap around you.

‘You said I couldn’t because he’s my brother, I don’t understand.’ He said evenly, and you sighed, pulling a bit away so you could look at him while you spoke.

‘He cares about you, Sherlock, a lot. That’s why he wanted me gone, he thought that I was changing you on purpose. And I guess that’s why he didn’t let the special forces in when you broke his nose.’ You said to him, a sad smile on your lips.

‘I’m not changing at all.’ Sherlock huffed, rolling his eyes dramatically.

‘Right, because you knew four years ago that you would propose to a girl.’ You chuckled a bit, shaking your head as you felt Sherlock go rigid.

‘Mycroft told you.’ He stated, his face hard and very very mad. You just nodded a bit timidly, knowing that Sherlock would be furious.

Sherlock started walking towards the door with big strides for the second time that day, and you knew that he was actually going to assassinate Mycroft now.

‘Sherlock if you go now I might change my mind about saying yes!’ You exclaimed in panic, not wanting him to do something he was going to regret.

Sherlock stopped walking, and after a few seconds he sighed, relaxing his shoulders and turned around again, walking back to the spot in front of you.

‘Sometimes I really hate you, woman.’ He sighed, looking affectionately down at you.

‘I know; I love you too.’ You said with a small smile, kissing him softly on his lips.

You were really distracted by the kiss, and didn’t notice how one of Sherlock’s hands slipped into his pocket, took out a little box, opened it, removed the ring from the box and sneakily shoved it across your finger.

After a minute or so of making out Sherlock stepped back with a shit-eating grin on his face, you looked at him in confusion as he took your hand and held it up for you to see a beautiful ring.

It was very simple, a thin white sterling silver ring with a single diamond in the middle, embedded in the silver. It was extremely practical, so you wouldn’t get stuck in anything and very very beautiful.

You stared at it in amazement and then frowned, looking back at Sherlock with a ‘so-wtf-is-this’ look.

‘We’re engaged now.’ He said, looking very pleased with himself.

‘Dude no, you have to ask me first.’ You shot back, feeling a bit weird that you were now getting married before saying yes.

‘Please, why would I ask something I already know?’ He huffed, not backing out yet.

‘Maybe because of tradition?’ You laughed, not really caring about it, just wanting to annoy Sherlock.

‘Pfff, fuck tradition.’ He said with a smirk on his face, knowing that once again, he managed to surprise me.

You shook your head a bit, and kissed him. You pulled back before the kiss could deepen and looked into his mischievous, still mysterious eyes.

‘I do.’ You said, smiling, happiness bubbling in your whole body, urging you to dance, sing, kiss or… well.

‘Of course you do, you couldn’t ever leave me, I love you too much.’ Sherlock grinned giddily, looking like a little boy right now.

‘Eehhhh…’ You said in an unsure tone, pretending like you were thinking about it.

‘Admit it, you love me.’ Sherlock said, a twinkle appearing in his eyes as his hands sneaked closer to your waist.

‘Still thinking.’ You mused, looking challengingly as you decided you were going to tease him.

Suddenly you bowed over and clamped your stomach, because Sherlock was tickling you like crazy. You couldn’t help but laugh uncontrollably as you lowered yourself to the ground, trying to get out of his grip, but he just sat down and pulled you to his lap, never seizing his torturous activity.

‘Sherlock- Don’t- Fuck off!’ You managed to wheeze between laughs, tears were streaming out of your eyes as you tried to push him away, but this was your worst weakness.

‘Nope.’ He said, making a plopping sound at the ‘p’ as he calmly continued systematically destroying your self worth.

‘Please.’ You begged, as your stomach began to hurt because of all the laughing.

‘Then admit it.’ He said simply, smiling at how incredibly cute you were being. You just were wallowing in your own misery inside, whilst you exclaimed shaky laughs, still rolling around in his lap.

‘Never!’ You said dramatically, trying to control yourself and not letting the tickling get to you. You failed, and Sherlock just continued.

‘It hurts.’ You said, feeling how a fresh pair of tears streamed down your cheeks, your abs were burning, you were clutching them as the torture went on.

After just a few minutes Sherlock stopped, and you relaxed, stretching yourself while still sitting in Sherlock’s lap. You closed your eyes and steadied your breath before opening them again. You saw Sherlock, who had plastered some kind of puppy-look on his face, trying to get a reaction out of you.

‘Not working, being a victim doesn’t suit you, Spock.’ You said, poking his cheek, trying to get him to laugh.

He did, laugh, his eyes laughing with him. He looked so bright, so brilliant, so nothing like the first time you had seen him. You loved both versions of him, the cold, rational genius that did everything he had to do to solve a case. Then there was the part that just a few people knew, and of which you have seen the most of them all. The warm man, the kind one who just shone through one in a while. The one who would make jokes, make bets, race, game tickle you. The one who would laugh with his whole body, and lighting up the room with it.

You felt so incredibly… blessed, or lucky if you prefer that, that you could be with him. Especially after all that had happen with the two of you, and between the two of you. You had almost lost him too many times.

You sat up, placed yourself between his crossed legs, yours wrapping around his back as you gently held his face and looked at his genius eyes.

‘I’ll never love someone as much as I love you.’ You promised him, as you leaned in for a kiss.


You meant it with all of your heart, that’s why you didn’t blame yourself later.


Blame yourself for telling him a











Chapter Text

----six years later----


‘Would you please stop moving?’

‘I’m bored.’

‘Tough shit.’

‘Still bored.’

‘Well look at something, entertain yourself.’

‘The only thing to see here is the wall, a painting and wedding pictures that I’ve seen and analysed about a 1000 times. Not very distracting.’

‘I don’t care what you do, just sit still and let me finish this.’

‘Are you almost done?’


‘It takes long.’

‘I know, but you wanted this.’

‘I’m aware, thank you for the effort.’

‘Of course, love.’  

‘Are you done now?’


‘Have you ever done this before?’

‘Don’t get sassy with me, you know what happens when you do.’

‘O yeah, sorry.’

‘Right, all ready now, take a look.’

The little girl jumped off the small chair she had been sitting on and stumbled to the mirror.

She was about 6 years old, though she didn’t look like the average kid of her age. Her stare, with which she was analysing now every hair on her head was way too intelligent, or advanced for how little she was. She was staring at herself with big, light, blue eyes, framed by long black lashes that touched her cheek whenever she stared down.

Normally she looked like a mess because of her hair, a dark pile of black curls that literally could defy gravity. When she would wake up it looked like a big thunder cloud wrapped around her head. Everything about her reminded you about Sherlock, except for her complexion, that was more like you. She had your nose and your lips.

In short, she was gorgeous.

And very frustrated at the moment. Her little eyebrows were knitted together as she frowned at her own reflexion.

You had just braided her hair back because she had seen it in a magazine, and she had wanted to know what she looked like with a braid. Now, she was probably wondering if it had been good idea.

‘You look cute.’ You stated honestly, thinking your daughter looked a little bit younger with a braid, you did miss her curls though.

‘Obviously…’ She stated, as if that wasn’t the problem at all. You cleared your throat and raised an eyebrow at her.

‘I was just stating a fact!’ She exclaimed innocently, and you raised your eyebrow even further.

‘Okay okay.’ She grumbled, nodding whilst walking to the door down the stairs.

You smiled at yourself, sometimes the Sherlock-ness rubbed a bit too much off on her, but she was a lovely kid that could get on with almost everybody. Not that she actually liked everyone, she thought most kids were below her level (they were) and pretty stupid. But they weren’t bad people, so she treated them right.

‘Daddy what do you think?’ She asked with a brilliant smile, making a pirouette so Sherlock could see her perfectly.

Sherlock had been sitting behind his desk, looking through papers he had received from Lestrade, there was a possible serial killer on the loose and Sherlock had to catch him as quickly as possible, or else he would be able to strike again.

‘I think there is no obvious pattern.’ He said, rubbing his temples and groaning whilst staring at several pictures of the victim.

You just stood in the doorway looking at the two people you loved the most in life, being absolutely different and yet exactly the same.

(Y/D/N) walked around him and dragged a chair to the table, she clumsily climbed up said chair and stood on it, so she could see the evidence. She was concentrated, her little hand tapping her chin as if she was already 50 years old.

‘They’re all parents.’ She said slowly, not as if she had discovered something, but as if she was telling Sherlock what the colour of the sky was.

‘Obviously.’ Sherlock just said, not taking his eyes off the pictures. You walked over to the table and put your head on Sherlock’s, gazing at the papers.

‘They all went to the same toy store down the road where we bought you that Barbie doll.’ You said to the little girl that was adorably trying to solve a murder. She looked at you with big eyes, and her mouth hung a little open before she smiled brightly and stretched her arms out to you, you picked her up and held her against your hip as she planted a kiss on your cheek.

‘You’re way smarter than daddy, mommy.’ She said with a grin, knowing that her father would get riled up from that. Sherlock sighed annoyed and threw his daughter an annoyed look, however, at the moment he actually laid eyes on her his face melted into one of pleasant surprise.

‘You look beautiful, sweetheart.’ He marvelled, taking over the little girl from you and holding her in his lap. She giggled happily, loving the attention her father sometimes gave her.

Sherlock could get really ignorant during cases, not coming home for a whole day, not calling or not speaking, or getting so agitated he started screaming at the walls. But when the case wasn’t so difficult, or when he had nothing on his hands, he was the kindest father that ever fathered.

I swear, he was down with literally anything.

Want to dress up as a hotdog to go to school? Done.

Want to skip school all together to watch a movie? Fine, it’s stupid anyways.

Want to help on a case? Grab a chair sweetheart and tell me what you think.

Want to stay up all night? Sleep is boring, let’s go for a walk.

As long as she didn’t cry unnecessarily, whine or act like a basic 6-year old he would tolerate almost anything. That’s why she enjoyed annoying him once in a while by sneakily insulting him or whine about nothing at all.

But they had a great bond together, you all had actually. Each one of you understood the others perfectly, and you worked together like a well-oiled machine.

‘Thanks dad, mom did it for me.’ She said, proudly twisting her braid in her small hands.

‘Of course, your mother has very skilled hands.’ Sherlock said with a slight undertone in it, looking at you sneakily with a smirk. You crossed your arms and tried to give him a ‘shut-up-moron-we’re-in-front-of-our-6-year-old-daughter’ look but you had to smile yourself at that well-placed innuendo.

‘Can I help with the case?’ (Y/D/N) asked, demanding your and Sherlock’s attention whilst throwing you both pleading looks.

‘I thought you would be going to the pool today?’ You asked, walking over to the kitchen to make a cup of tea for yourself.

‘Pool? Boring.’ She said in a monotone voice, sitting back down in the chair she had been standing in. You filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, smiling to yourself.

‘With the Watsons, remember?’ You added, knowing that she would change her mind.

‘Ooo, I do remember now, yes, of course, the pool. I’ll go and change.’ She said quickly, climbing off the chair and skipping all the way to her room upstairs.

‘She’s as transparent as a clear puddle.’ You grinned, sitting next to Sherlock, giving him a kiss on his cheek.

‘Enjoy it, within a few years she will be too fast to understand.’ Sherlock sighed, looking back at the papers.

‘For the both of us?’ You asked, your eyebrows raised, this might be the only time Sherlock had ever admitted someone to be faster than him.

‘Yes.’ He groaned, shooting you a quick death stare as he stood up.

‘I’m going to talk to the shop owner.’ He declared, and you nodded.

‘Wait five seconds until John’s here and I’ll come with you.’ You proposed, your head leaning on your hand.

‘Weren’t you busy with that other disappearance?’ He asked you, readjusting his blouse, rolling up his sleeves. You loved it when he did that.

‘Solved it, she had an affaire and just left, tried to make it look like a hopeless kidnapping. Kind of sad, honestly.’ You murmured, looking up at the man you could call your husband.

He was looking down at you with an adoring smile, he stretched out his hand to you and you took it. He lifted you from your chair and gripped your waist with his other hand, before you really knew what was going on you were slow dancing through the living room.

Sherlock was looking at you with a smile on his lips, and you felt yourself blush a little bit. After all this time you still surprised each other, adored each other, he never failed to flatter you.

‘It’s unbelievable.’ He said softly, guiding you around the room steadily.

‘What?’ You asked, looking into his beautiful eyes.

‘If I told myself eight years ago that I would be married to the smartest and most beautiful woman on earth and would have the brightest daughter that ever existed, I wouldn’t have believed myself.’ He answered, and you laughed lightly, delighted.

‘Maybe you would’ve laughed, and then started ranting about how ‘Love slows you down and is useless.’ You said, imitating his low voice jokingly. Sherlock laughed to and spun you, catching you just before you slammed back to his chest and kissing you on your lips.

‘Eeeeeeeewwww.’ A small voice exclaimed from the doorway, where your daughter was standing with your hands in front of her eyes.

‘Please (Y/D/N), kissing is a natural and completely acceptable thing to do with the person you love more than just family.’ You laughed, as you felt the vibrations of Sherlock’s low chuckle against your chest. 

‘But it looks gross.’ She whined, and you knew she was pulling your leg.

‘Then look away.’ Sherlock laughed, pulling you closer to kiss you again.

‘Unbelievable.’ She exclaimed, throwing her cute arms in the air and walking to the kitchen.

Your lovely moment got interrupted by the sound of someone walking up the stairs, and you smiled at Sherlock before pulling away entirely. John appeared in the doorframe and you smiled.

‘Dr. Watson.’ You said, feigning to be all formal and serious, he straightened himself and looked at you just as professional.

‘Ms. Holmes.’ He answered back, before his features change into a face splitting smile and he opened his arms. You walked over and gave him a quick embrace.

‘And Mary?’ You asked after you had stepped back.

‘Had to finish some things for work, she’ll be there a bit later. Is the little one ready?’ He asked, looking around the corner into the kitchen. (Y/D/N) finally saw him and her face lit up.

‘Uncle John!’ She exclaimed, running towards him and jumping into his arms so she could embrace him properly.

‘Hello little monster, want to go to the pool?’ He asked with a big smile on his face, she started nodding furiously and looked over his shoulder.

‘Where’s Emma?’ She asked excitedly as she looked around.

‘I’m coming!’ Another girl voice said from downstairs, followed by small but quick footsteps up the stairs. Within seconds there stood another girl in the room, a few years older than (Y/D/N), they looked at each other as they squealed excitedly.

Your daughter jumped out of Johns arms and hugged the other girl, she pulled away but still held her hand with a big grin.

‘Your hair is so pretty!’ Emma exclaimed with wonder on her face as she examined (Y/D/N)’s braid, she grinned a bit.

‘I can make your hair like that, you’ll look super pretty too!’ She answered with a big smile, dragging the older girl upstairs.

‘Love seeing them get along like that.’ John smiled seeing the two little girls stomping up the stairs.

‘They really love each other, don’t they?’ You said sneakily, throwing Sherlock a knowing look.

‘Hmmmhmmm.’ Sherlock nodded as he chuckled a bit. John looked confused, but after a few seconds he caught on and his face changed into one of surprise.

‘Really? Are you sure?’ He asked, looking completely flabbergasted.

‘Of course not, she’s six years old, Emma just a little bit older, they’ve got a lot to learn.’ Sherlock smiled, and you nodded.

‘Indeed, but these days she has been speaking incredibly highly about Em, a bit too highly, get it?’ You said with a loving smile, thinking about how cute your little girl was, how smart and strong, already so young.

‘We’ll see I suppose, that wouldn’t be the Sherlock/Watson combination most people would’ve expected, right?’ He laughed and you and Sherlock chuckled with him.

‘Would be fun eh, then we would be officially family.’ You wiggled your eyebrows as you poked John playfully.

‘Dear lord please have mercy.’ He exclaimed, feigning to be desperate as all of you laughed.

‘Nice to have chatted with you, but we have to go, someone’s bashing in skulls and I want to know who.’ Sherlock said, making his way to the door.

‘Right, of course. GIRLS!’ John screamed, already walking out of the apartment.

You moved towards the door but stopped yourself, looking at the wall that has endured so much over the years. You saw the smiley with the bullet holes, Ellie’s painting, Sherlock’s painting and photographs of the wedding, picnics with the family and fun times with the Watsons.

You knew that that wall would even get fuller with the years with more pictures.

At the moment you didn’t know what kind of pictures, but they would include Sherlock solving his most difficult case.

Sherlock and you winning a ballroom dance price.

(Y/D/N) graduating high school, even multiple universities.

Her first solo-case.

All the friends and family together with Christmas.

Emma and your little girl, who wouldn’t be so little anymore both dressed fancily, holding hands and beaming into the camera as people wiped tears away, throwing rice at the newly wed couple.

You smiled, as you heard Sherlock call you from downstairs. You were so happy, so content with the life you had build with the most stubborn man in the universe.


You closed the lights as you turned around,


on to the next adventure.




Chapter Text

Hi guys!

So it's been a while (a full year lmao) and a lot of stuff has happened.

World's gone to shit, uni is making me pay for mental suffering, and season 4 of Sherlock actually came out, so that's cool.

I've been thinking. Shall I write a small extra series (short or extra long idk haven't thought of the details yet) on some cases and adventures of the Holmes's? You, Sherlock, Little kid and her crush? I'm kind of torn on whether to do it or not in fear of it ruining the memory of the story or straight up becoming my own cursed child. (and i can tell you i have no fantastic beasts kind of series up my sleeve to make up for it lol.

Please please please, if you are all still alive and even remotely interested, let me know!

Whatever the decision may be i'm sending you all my love and let you know that if you ever want to hit me up on what subject you can think of, I'm here.

Me (haha i suck shut up)