You're in Sherlock (Sherlock × Reader)

The Hounds of Baskerville: Chapter 9

"D-did you hear that?" You asked them, gripping tightly onto John so you wouldn't fall as you slowly began to regain normal feeling in your legs. Sherlock didn't even glance at you but stormed ahead, like he was on some sort of mission.

"We saw it. We saw it." Henry spoke in disbelief, his hands shaking so badly you were surprised he didn't drop his light. Thinking back you realized you'd lost your torch when you came tumbling down the hill.   

"My torch..." You spoke in a whisper, still a bit shook up.

"Y/n it's fine." John told you, casting you glances as you both continued to walk.

"We saw it!" Henry again breathed, shaking his head.

"No. I didn't see anything." Sherlock told him as he marched away. Henry ran after him, not believing what Sherlock had just claimed.

"What... What are you talking about?" He stuttered, Henry had clearly seen something. Had Sherlock? Whatever it was must've been was following right behind you, how hadn't you seen it?

"I. Didn't. See. Anything." Sherlock told him harshly, rushing away. You looked at John for a moment before you both continued behind him.

You made it back to the small inn where John left you with Sherlock to clean up while he made sure Henry made it home safe. You winced in pain as Sherlock let warm water drip over the broken skin on your hands. He was silent, but still helped you tend to your wounds as he thought to himself. He seemed to be on another planet.

"Can you, um, help me take my coat off?" You asked shyly, your body now too sore to even wiggle it off. You thought you'd been fine at first, but now you realized the only thing stopping your pain before had been adrenaline. Now everything hurt. He complied, helping you slip your arms out of the jacket. You winced as the thick material slid off your arms. He sat your coat aside and you groaned seeing one of your best shirts was now covered in dirt, your jacket was even worse. It had a few tears in it and was also coated in a thick layer of dirt. "Why am I so clumsy?" You pouted, wincing again as Sherlock dabbed at a few cuts on your face. He remained quiet, you didn't like that. "Sherlock... I know you must've seen something out on the moor... something unexplainable, but maybe if you tell me we can figure it out-"

"No." He quickly shot you down and you frowned. You tried to reach out to touch his face but he flinched, pulling away from you. You blinked at his sudden actions and you couldn't help but wonder what had gotten him this worked up. You watched as he sat the warm flannel aside, turning away from you.

"Sherlock." You knitted your eyebrows together, ignoring your pain to focus on him. He was under some sort of emotional distress that you couldn't quite read. You thought of what you should say to him but nothing came to mind, you were never good with words when it came to trying to get Sherlock to talk to you about something he didn't yet want to be said. "I..." You trailed off, not coming up with anything.

"I need a moment." Sherlock replied, his voice hollow as he walked from your room. You watched him go, leaning back into the closed toilet you were sat upon. You began to cry silently after he left, the pain truly sinking into your skin. Once you had calmed down enough, you tried to get unclothed to take a shower and wash all the dirt and blood off of your body, but you couldn't even do that with your hands so cut up. You ended up giving up after several attempts. You sunk to the floor, lying there just looking blankly up at the ceiling. Your brain analyzed all the many patterns it saw in the speckled twirls that decorated it. You laid there for what seemed to be hours before you heard a soft knock on the door.

"Come in." You told them, hoping it was Sherlock or John with a key. You heard the door click open and you waited for one of their faces to pan into view. You were surprised to see Sherlock looking down at you with a blank stare. You expected it would be John, not Sherlock coming back.