"Sir, please let me through! I live here!" you exclaimed, exasperated at the armed police officer stationed in front of the black door. Letting out a huff, you fished in your pockets to pull out a set of keys, dangling it in front of the officer's stoic face.
He took a long look at your haggled appearance and with a low grunt, moved aside to let you in.
Finding the door to your residence unlocked, you rushed in going up the flights of steps two at a time. It could not have been that long since you frantically left work in response to receiving a short, concise text sent by your boss:
Emergency. Baker St.
Two words which never meant good news especially when they came in the same text. An "Emergency" could either mean he blew up the god-damn living room, or that he couldn't be arsed to grab a pen from the table beside him. There was no in-between.
Walking in tentatively, you found your boss, Detective Inspector Lestrade, seated on the sofa with his head held in his hands. You locked eyes with Sherlock Holmes, who was sat at the table with his laptop open in front of him looking particularly uncomfortable and at unease.
Sheet music was strewn all over the floor possibly as a result of the open window. Apart from that, nothing looked out of the ordinary. You let out a breath you didn't know you had been holding in.
"What the hell is going on here?!" Your eyes moved between your boss and the detective in search for an explanation.
"Tell him Y/N," Lestrade spoke out, his voice muffled through his hands.
"Tell him what? That you have all of London's police units stationed outside? You would think you have Mycroft himself held hostage here in Baker Street!"
"Tell him," Lestrade started slowly, this time looking up with his eyebrows creased in annoyance, a look you knew all too well, "why it is not OKAY, to send out SOS texts -"
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I did say please."
"- like the over dramatic damsel-in-distress he thinks he really is when in reality all he needs help with is writing a bloody Best Man's speech!" Lestrade went on, completely ignoring Sherlock.
Letting out a sigh, you walked over to close the window shut in hopes of drowning out the blaring of the police sirens from outside. You turned to look over at Sherlock with an eyebrow raised, "You did what?"
"All I did was ask nicely, for a little help and he shows up with all of..." he paused to flap his hands about, " this ."
"Sherlock, I have been following the Waters gang for months now and I was this close to arresting them," said the Inspector, who was now completely red in the face and was becoming louder with every word he uttered. "And after everything that has happened with the -" Lestrade paused to look away and rubbed a hand across his forehead. He continued, this time his voice softer, "You need to know the difference between asking for help when you really need it and asking for help when you need help with something like writing a speech."
"Oh where's the fun in that!" Sherlock scoffed.
Finally getting a grasp of what actually transpired between the two, you could not help but ignore the comedic nature of the situation you walked into as the two continued to bicker. Two of the smartest men you knew, how were they this bad at communication?
Lestrade stopped mid-sentence when he noticed the amusement you were failing terribly at hiding.
"How is this funny?" Lestrade looked at you in disbelief.
"No! I-It's not, it's just - this could have easily been avoided if you, I don't know, just gave him a call before calling maximum security and abandoning-"
"Oh yes! This is my fault for looking out for a friend!" cried Lestrade, obviously infuriated with how this situation turned around.
"Inspector -" you tried to argue as he got up.
"No, you know what, the two of you are fucking perfect for each other,' mumbled Lestrade. "Maybe it's your wedding we should have prepared for instead!"
"We're not-!"
"Get back to work. I have to disband security and hope that I don't get suspended," Lestrade muttered, brushing past you to the door.
Once the door downstairs slammed shut, you turned around to look at Sherlock with a passive look on your face, all traces of amusement gone.
"Sherlock..."
"That was a tad dramatic of him don't you think," Sherlock let out a huff, turning back to his laptop as if the last few minutes never occurred.
"Sherlock that was not very nice. This was his big break, the man's been following the Waters gang for about a year. Next time, maybe consider wording your texts properly to prevent such inconveniences, okay?"
Sherlock turned around in his chair to face you, holding up a book titled 'HOW TO WRITE AN UNFORGETTABLE BEST MAN SPEECH' .
"I need your help with this, pleeeease?" Sherlock pleaded, looking up towards you with a look in his eyes that could rival a six year old's desperate attempt at getting more toys.
You rolled your eyes at the Detective's childish behaviour; berating Sherlock now would just be a waste of time.
"I have to get back to work." You made your way towards the door.
"Oh don't be shy Y/N, you must have at least a dozen funny stories about John!"
"Apologise to Lestrade," you paused at the door, turning your head to look back at Sherlock. "Maybe this could be your funny story," you said with a smirk before walking out, glad that the roaring police sirens from earlier had started to simmer down.
YOU ARE READING
The Sign of Three: A Reader's Journey
Fan Fiktion"They're in love, they look happy," you said, sighing softly as you watched Mary offer John a bite of her canapés. "Cocaine is cheaper and would also induce the same effect." The man was brutally cynical and there was nothing you could say to change...
