The Consulting Detective's Apprentice (Sherlock x Reader)

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.