SOCIOPATH'S ROMANCE // Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Sherlock persisted in his utter refusal to wear any clothes even though it was painfully obvious that their presence was requested at Buckingham Palace. His toddler-ish and impetuous ways finally made the men relent, so Y/n and Sherlock both boarded the tinted car, one properly dressed in pants and blazer, the other in his bedsheet. The drive was smooth and relatively quick. Soon, the large palace overloomed the pair of detective with its cream tiles and bright Union Jack flapping proudly in the wind. 

The heart of a nation. 

They were escorted to a large ornate room with wall length windows, crystals chandeliers twinkling in the light, tailored carpets and lavish furniture. It glinted in regal tones and everything seemed so expensive, wherever their head turned. Sherlock was bored: riches never fascinated him or interested him. The men placed Sherlock's attire on the table between two couches and gestured for them to take a seat on one of the sofas.

Not long afterwards, John arrived too, very impressed and wondruous. When his eyes set on the pair, his confusion was stark but they just shrugged in unison, both completely unfazed. He treaded carefully and sat himself next to Y/n, occasionally sneaking glances at the detective still wearing his sheet. 

At length and the question burning his mind, John blurted, "Are you wearing any pants?" 

"No."

"Okay.", he nodded a little. Then, hazarded a glance at his companions. Looked back at the palace grounds. But as soon as his eye even twitched, they all doubled over in loud laughter, nearly guffawing. 

"At Buckingham Palace.", John exhaled to calm himself, failing at the beginning, "Oh, I'm seriously fighting an impulse to steal an ashtray." 

They chuckled again casually. 

Y/n tapped her chin and said in her most professional tone, which also sounded quite posh, "Then I'd have to arrest you Mr Watson. For grand theft in Buckingham Palace with premeditation and extremely malicious intent. All that under aggravating circumstances." 

Sherlock threw his head a little back before asking between two chuckles, "What would we be looking at, Constable?" 

She turned to glare at Sherlock who, from the amused glint in his eyes, knew he was annoying her, but in a teasing manner. "Detective Inspector.", Y/n corrected, "Two hundred years of emprisonment in the Tower of London, give or take, and thirty God save the Queen per days, under careful scrutiny." 

The three of them snorted loudly, Sherlock wiping the corner of his eyes with his linens.

"Careful or I'd think you were mocking our royal family.", John warned with a smile, whilst looking at the large doors left and right, as if the Queen might just appear from one of them. 

Y/n tutted, "I would never mock the Queen. I respect her far too much. It would also be idiotic to insult them whilst we're basically in their home." 

"I insult people in their homes.", Sherlock asked with a frown, his head turned towards John and Y/n. He clutched his sheet around him like some sort of toga and Y/n wondered if he wasn't cold. 

"Yeah but you're Sherlock Holmes. People know you're a prick.", said Y/n with a large grin, ruffling his silky black curls. His gaze burnt at her under his hair, even though he didn't shake her off. John simply pretended not to see anything.

"I'm going to act as if I didn't hear that, Officer.", Sherlock countered, emphasising the last word, downgrading her job even more. Y/n tugged at a large and loose part of his sheet that he tightened even more, with a corner smirk. 

After another moment of silence, John exhaled loudly and questionned, "What are we doing here, guys? Seriously, what?" 

"I don't know.", Sherlock shrugged nonchalently, not bothered in the slightest.