His Great Game (Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter 27: Home is Where the Heart Is

And he just stood there. Stood there, looking down at me fondly, eyes sweeping every inch of my face. It was as if he were trying to commit every detail to memory- something I had done with him long ago. I hadn't done it on purpose. But every time he had his eyes closed, I couldn't help but stare.

There were so many pictures of him in my head now. There's one with him absentmindedly plucking the strings of his violin, his face a handsome expression of relaxation. There's one where he's in his mind palace- in this one, his brow is furrowed and you can practically see his mind working through his marble complexion.

Then there are also ones with his eyes open, of course. Those are my favorite. There's one from the first time we met, with the fire blazing in his eyes as the two of us argued. There's one from a few nights later, an immeasurable amount of pain in his eyes as he realizes he's hurt me. There's his proud smirk after I say something snarky to Anderson. And the last one- the best one- is one where he's smiling at me, pure joy etched across his features. His eyes crinkle when he smiles- I don't think he ever does it enough.

When he seems satisfied, he opens his arms and engulfs me in the hug I had been needing since I walked in the door. Immediately, I respond, reaching up and wrapping my arms around his neck. Sherlock leaned down and buried his face in my neck, keeping his arms firmly around my waist, drawing me closer still.

And it's right here, right now, that I feel the safest I have ever felt in my entire life. Yes, I had just nearly died. Yes, Sherlock had as well. But something about that made it feel even better. Like maybe, just maybe, if we stuck together, we'd both turn out alright.

"Welcome home, (Y/n)." He mumbled contentedly. I smiled into his neck- I liked the sound of that. Even when I had to leave, I knew 221B would always be home.

--- (time skip brought to you by The Purple Shirt of Sex™) ---

It was late evening by the time Mycroft came around for a surprise visit.

"Brother mine." He called out in a singsong voice as he waltzed in the door. Well, as close to waltzing as one can get when one is a stiff-backed government agent. "I heard you nearly got yourself killed... again." John was the first to look up. I could see how much he wanted to groan and hide himself in his newspaper again, but he sighed and attempted to look pleasant. Mycroft noticed immediately. "Hello, John." He said with a condescending edge.

Sherlock looked up from his book, actually seeming happy to see his brother for once. I don't know which surprised me more- the fact that he was happy to see Mycroft, or the fact that I had actually gotten him to settle down and read a book. "Ah, brother dear. Concerned, were we?"

"Ah, well, less about you and more about (Y/n)." I suppressed a giggle at the frown this merited from Sherlock in response. Mycroft's gaze moved over to where I was, sprawled across the sofa with a book in hand. He gave a half-smile, hiding his amusement. "And how is the lady in question? You gave everyone quite a scare there, Miss (L/n)."

I stood and made my way over towards him, grinning. "Aw, I'm sorry. I hope I didn't worry you too much, Mr. Holmes?"

He gave a fake scoff. "Not at all, I couldn't be bothered."

We both held in our laughter before chuckling simultaneously, shaking our heads. I wrapped my arms around him for a quick hug, which he returned. "Good to see you, Mycroft."

"And a pleasure it is to see you, Ginger Snap." He said warmly as I pulled away. He called me that now. At first, I was confused, because I'm not even ginger. (If you are... #1 lucky you, #2 Oops just roll with it. Look, now you have a cool nickname :D ) But when he explained to me that it was because of my frequent quick temper with idiots and 'I don't put up with any of your crap' attitude, I had to agree with it.