You're in Sherlock (Sherlock × Reader)

The Great Game: Chapter 7

"Out. Out! Out! Out!" Mrs. Hudson left reluctantly, a bit flustered Sherlock had quite literally pushed her from the flat. John watched as Sherlock slammed the door behind her then took a survey of the flat. John's eyes finally stopped on you, noticing your dressing gown for the first time. He cleared his throat awkwardly as he cast his eyes away from you.

"Oh stop John, I just took a shower. If it bothers you that much, I'll go get dressed." You quickly left the room, entering the bathroom to get dressed. You could still hear John and Sherlock's muffled conversation as you dressed.

"Carl Powers was murdered?" You heard John ask. That must be who the shoes belonged to. You didn't recall the name, meaning you had never heard about his murder. The way they were talking it sounded like he was murdered quite a long time ago.

"Remember the shoe-laces? The boy suffered from eczema. It would be the easiest thing in the world to introduce the poison into his medication. A few hours later he came up to London for the swimming competition, the poison took effect, paralyzed the muscles and he drowned." Sherlock quickly explained.

"Of course!" You shouted from the bathroom, laughing at Sherlock's brilliance.

"Then how come the autopsy didn't show-" You rushed out of the bathroom, still pulling your shirt on as you hurried to answer John's question.

"It's virtually undetectable! And no-one would've been looking for it. Wow, that's brilliant! And you found it on his shoes?" You asked Sherlock, flattening out your shirt.

"In his shoes. There were still tiny traces from where he'd rubbed the cream into his feet. That's why they had to go!" Sherlock was pumped, he hurried to his computer quickly typing in something.

"So how do we let the bomber know?" John asked, you watched Sherlock. You knew he already had a solution.

"We get his attention." Sherlock finished typing, standing back to wait. "Stop the clock."

"The killer's kept the shoes? All these years?" John asked, shaking his head.

"Yes, meaning..." Sherlock started.

"He's our bomber." John finished, sighing. The pink phone chimed and the three of you all gave each other looks before Sherlock quickly picked it up and put it on speaker.

"Well... done you. Come... and get me." The woman slowly said, obviously still reading off of something the killer was typing for her to say. Suddenly, her voice changed and she sounded panicked and if possible, more terrified. "Help me! For God's sake, please help me!"

"Where are you? Tell us where you are!!" Sherlock yelled, looking between you and John.

***

You sat in between John and Sherlock in the back of a cramped taxi. The three of you on the way to meet up with Lestrade. You squirmed in your seat, your foot tapping without you really realizing it. Sherlock did, however, notice it.

"It's killing you, isn't it?" He stared straight forward and you turned to him, your foot quickly becoming still once you realized you were doing it. You cursed your body for showing your impatience.

"What?" Of course, you knew exactly what he was talking about, but you wouldn't admit it- not to him.

"You lied to me. Molly never convinced you to sit out on these cases. She's not that convincing. It's driving you insane you can't help." You narrowed your eyes at him, glancing at John, who was awkwardly adjusting his collar while suddenly taking an interest on the sidewalk flying by.

"I never lied, it didn't bother me then..."

"But now?" He asked, his eyes meeting yours, scanning you intently. You shuffled in your seat. You thought back to the calmness you felt when you didn't know any details on the case, but after hearing about Carl Powers and the poison, who wouldn't be intrigued? You decided you didn't want to admit that to Sherlock, he'd probably just brag about it.

"Now? Well, I'm bored. Beyond bored. It's eating away at me and practically driving me insane. Why does the killer despise me? This is torture!" You wanted to say, but you didn't. Instead, you opened your mouth to give a fake reply. Before you could say anything, your phone rang. You answered it, rolling your eyes.

"Hello?" You answered softly, noting Sherlock's gaze on you as he watched you speak into the phone.

"Dr. Y/l/n, it's Emma. Listen, I can't discuss details on the phone but something has come up. We need you in the office immediately." Emma's voice sounded urgent. Your eyebrows creased as she said that and Sherlock took notice in your change of expression, looking interested in what was happening. What Emma had said intrigued you greatly. She was always calm and collected, so what had happened to make her sound so uneasy? Why did she call you, you didn't work there technically, and you hadn't agreed on part time, not yet. Something big and exciting might have happened, but it couldn't be as exciting as Sherlock's case. There was no way.

"Where's my replacement? Can you contact them? I'm in the middle of something at the moment." You lied, knowing well Sherlock's little fan wouldn't want you to have anything to do with Sherlock's 'tests'. You honestly just didn't really feel comfortable leaving Sherlock with this killer and his unknown motives, just like he didn't want you to be alone until this case was done. Now that you knew Moriarty could be the one behind the whole scheme, it didn't sit right with you. Something felt off. It didn't feel safe.

"No. It's urgent." She repeated, you told her you'd be there before snapping your phone shut.

"Emma, some emergency." You sighed leaning back in your seat, pouting.

"At least you'll have something to keep you busy." John tried to look on the bright side of things.

"Make sure you don't head back alone when you're done, remember-"

"Yes, Sherlock. I won't be alone, now stop worrying." You told him. He looked over at you and searched each other's eyes. Sherlock gave you a small nod before turning again, his eyes glazing over. It was his signature 'I'm not here right now, please try again later' look. You'd lost him, again.