His Great Game (Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter 27: Home is Where the Heart Is

He sucked in a breath. "Tea?" There was no emotion in his voice. Even his eyes were emotionless: glazed and far-away.

"Sure." I answered hesitantly, taking a seat opposite from him as he sat down and poured some out of the kettle. I looked him up and down. He seems fine, physically. Why does it seem like he doesn't want to talk to me?

I thanked him awkwardly as he handed me the cup. Silence fell between us, setting my nerves on edge and making me feel anxious. "Good to see you, Sher." I piped up softly, having worked up the courage to break the silence.

His face pained for reasons unbeknownst to me. "And you as well, (Y/n)."

I was taken aback at his too-formal attitude. More silence. He didn't say a word, just drummed aimless rhythms into the table with his long fingers.

"Talk to me." I said suddenly.

He glanced up, startled. "What?"

"Talk, scream, tell me what's wrong, tell me you hate me, I don't care. Anything. Just don't make me endure the silent treatment for one second longer. I've nearly died, Sherlock, and I'll not have you acting this way when I just wanted to say hello and make sure you were okay."

He quirked an eyebrow and drew in a deep breath. "(Y/n), I understand you're upset at me for nearly letting you die. Well, for killing you, really."

"I'm not."

My reply seemed to surprise him. "Sorry?"

"I'm not mad- I don't blame you." I said plainly.

He nodded, unsure of himself now, but continued. "And... I also understand if you want to leave, because you no longer want to be around me-"

"I don't."

He hung his head. "Yes, I know." He whispered, crestfallen.

"No." I shook my head, my voice full of conviction. "I mean I don't want to leave."

His head snapped up, but not a muscle on his face moved. "You... you want to stay?" I saw a glimmer of hope in those blue eyes I so adored.

"Yes." Of course I did, what would make him think otherwise?

"B-but it's extremely dangerous for you to do so, between Moriarty and concussions and the fact that you've just had a near-death experience..."

"I knew it would be dangerous." He seemed disbelieving, so I elaborated. "On the night I met you and you invited me here, you said it could be dangerous. I still came. I knew what I was getting into, Sherlock. Still do."

Ever still, his face remained inanimate. But he looked different now, better, and it was easy to see he was pleased. His eyes twinkled and his skin glowed; overall, he radiated happiness. A long silence ensued before the corners of his lips inched upwards into the smile he was trying to conceal.

"So... you definitely want to stay here?"

"Yes." I didn't hesitate.

"Permanently?"

I giggled and shook my head. "My, my, my, Holmes. Look how far you've come."

His brow scrunched in confusion. "Sorry?"

I tilted my head to the side as I fondly remembered my first minutes with Sherlock and John. "Remember the night I met you?"

He actually laughed as he recalled the events. To be honest, I nearly laughed as well. The circumstances seemed so ridiculous now. The biggest thing I had to worry about that night was getting shot at. Now? Been there, done that. I'd been through far worse, and I'd only been living with Sherlock and John for barely more than a month. "Of course." He said. "What about it?"