You're in Sherlock (Sherlock × Reader)

The Blind Banker: Chapter 5

"Y/n? Are you okay?" Sherlock called from the other side of the flat. You heard him hurrying your way and he was soon at your side, studying you. He didn't notice the body at first, but followed your gaze. Once he saw the body, he pulled out his phone to call who you assumed was Lestrade.

While Sherlock talked to Lestrade, you went to the door and finally let John in. You filled him in on what you and Sherlock had just stumbled upon, trying to push away the feeling you had felt earlier. It didn't help with the brain scans in your pocket, you felt like they were weighing you down. You adjusted your coat again, taking a deep breath.

It didn't take long for the forensic team to show up to the scene and start their business. Surprisingly, the police still hadn't arrived yet. But it was a long enough gap to where you started to feel normal again, which was good. You guessed the fact that you were on the other side of what you usually expected is why it was different. You'd never been the one finding the bodies, only analyzing them for evidence.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" You whispered to Sherlock as the two of you stood back watching a forensic member take photos of the body. You let them do their work, knowing you'd get the chance to step in.

"Murder?" Sherlock asked, glancing at you. You nodded grimly at him, showing him you were on the same page.

"Well, want to examine the body?" You finally asked pulling two pairs of gloves from a pocket inside your jacket as John made his way back over to you and Sherlock. John had just finished his once over of the apartment.

"Of course." Sherlock replied, taking a pair of the gloves from you and starting to pull them onto his hands.

John furrowed his eyebrows at you. "You carry gloves around with you?" John watched as you and Sherlock snapped the gloves easily onto your hands.

"Of course I do, you never know when you might find a dead body." You told him, turning to Van Coon, starting to look over his bullet wound.

"Um, okay... well, do you think he'd lost a lot of money? I mean, suicide is pretty common among city boys." John stated, crossing his arms as he watched you look over the body.

"We don't know that it was suicide." Sherlock told him, kneeling down to look at a suitcase that had been placed beside Van Coon's bed. It was full of what looked like business clothes.

"Yeah, I personally think it was murder." You shrugged, lifting one of Van Coon's hands to look at it, before you carefully looked over the gun that laid beside him. You then began to look in his coat, looking for anything unusual.

"Come on. The door was locked from the inside, you and Y/n had to climb down the balcony." John pointed out.

"Been away three days judging by the laundry." Sherlock told you, as he studied the clothing. "Look at the case. There was something tightly packed inside it." Sherlock said, standing and pointing towards the case.

"Thanks. I'll take your word for it." John chided, crossing his arms and he looked back at Van Coon's body.

"I was talking to Y/n, but you can take a look if you'd like." Sherlock stated to John before looking over at you. You hurried over to take a look at the case, Sherlock was indeed correct. The suitcase was heavily packed with clothes, but they were all pushed down to make room for something that was no longer there.

"You two are sharing a lot of information for being in a 'competition'." John stated. You both ignored his comment and John's look of unease returned as he watched you digging through Van Coon's suitcase.

Sherlock looked over at John furrowing his eyebrows. "Problem?" He asked, curious with John's behavior.

"Yeah, I'm not desperate to root around in some bloke's dirty underwear." Sherlock ignored this and walked around John to the opposite side of the room to analyze the body. You finished looking over the case, and looked to where Sherlock stood; a hint of a smile spreading across your face. When you noticed it, you quickly put your poker face back on, quietly cursing at your brain to let you control your own face muscles.