A simple tune: Sherlock x Fem!reader

Chapter 3 - Not caring

It was risky to help Sherlock. Help Scotland yard in general but if you add in the Neon Paints club then you're in for a ride. Sketchiest figures in the game running the most exclusive club. Desperate to keep it secret from the police, the fact you just tipped their one 'enemy' on their whereabouts, time ticked away on when you'd meet your demise.

Paranoia started from the cans of aerosol paint being thrown through your window to the graffiti in your flat. 'Beware....' is what it said. Simple but the four dots after was originally thought to be a grammatical error. However, next day's attack left you with three dots, then two then one.

Pushing your door open with your foot, the slight shuffle in the carpet made you sigh. "Before we start, does anyone want to leave?" No answer. "Any song requests or last words?" Out came two figures with knives, another holding a bat and the tallest cracking their knuckle. "I'll take that as a no..." putting on a simple Electro swing song, there was confusion from the group as the music flowed out from a speaker.

"This is kinda nice," one admits.

"Lone Digger by Caravan Palace," you shrug, readying your fists. "Let's dance," dodging the first person's swing, you slide under and kick them down, snapping your head to the next.

Two jabs to their gut then jaw, they fell back. The sharpened blade was now in your hand, slicing through the fabric of each person's clothing. It wasn't long until a blow was landed to your side, the bat nudging you across the room, but before it could be brought down upon you again, you rolled out the way with a groan.

"Ow," you scowl.

"It's meant to hurt... but this will be worse," the largest landed a punch to your face, the ring slicing your lip whilst another bruised your left cheek. Blood trickled out with a harsh sting, but those hits were reciprocated as the bat was stopped, your hand twisting it out the person's grasp.

Swinging left and right in time with the beat there was a moment where one begged for mercy, trying to use it as a distraction for their friend to gain control. No use as you easily knocked them out. With a several broken bones in their bodies, you dropped the bat by your side, leaning down and grabbing your phone.

Contemplating each number, your thumb landed on a certain contact.

~~~

"Yeah?" Lestrade answered the phone. "Y/n?" He looks to Sherlock and John who snap their heads up. "Yes... I suppose- and ambulance? For who??"

"What happened?" John rushes over.

"Attacked by two-?? Are you- Yes, we will get there soon," Greg shut off his phone, looking to the two, noticing the slight flicker of worry on Sherlock's face. "We need to get to Y/n as fast as possible,"

~~~

"Y/n??" John was the first to call out, Sherlock keeping quiet and observing the stairs leading to your flat. "Y/n!"

"Y/n? Where-" Greg pushed open the door and saw all the intruders placed in a pile. "What the bloody hell?!"

"Hi," you walk out the kitchen with a calm smile, ice to your cheek and a cup of tea in hand.

"What... what happened?" John hesitantly kneels to the side of the pile. "Are they dead?"

"No... two more smacks to their skulls and maybe," kicking one of their arms, you settle in your chair. "Why are you two here? I asked for Lestrade,"

"They were worried," Greg explains.

"John was," Sherlock corrects, pacing the room.

"Typical," holding a deadly stare on the back of his head, you were able to catch a glimpse of his returning stare in the mirror on a shelf. Diverting your attention to Greg, you cross a leg over the other, "Neon Paints, they're very secretive and because I tipped you off about them they sent these idiots to deal with me,"

"But they failed," John laughs in shock. "How did you-"

"Not really important, John," you take out your phone and show them a photo of the body pile you took before hand. "Always planned to scare them somehow but this sends the message,"

"How are you in contact?" Lestrade takes the phone when you let him.

"Message system, servers with specific encryption for only members to access," Sherlock hums absently, looking around the flat with a bored look.

"Knowing them they'll have one more plan to pull. I'm not sure what, but it will be worse than this and if I survive... they'll leave me alone,"

Lestrade allowed a few medics to move the unconscious attackers. Two new officers enter with stares, one not on duty, the other in Lestrade's division. Obviously in an affair, the man married to a woman often on business trips. Too bad he doesn't know something about his wife.

"What happened here?" The woman asks, looking at Sherlock and scoffing. "Harass or put another person in danger, freak?"

You weren't fond of her before but now? She was definitely not doing well on your hate list. Was it her condescending voice? Looks? Or words? Maybe who it was directed to, but you were never one to ponder as to why, but rather taking action when you needed.

"Ma'am are you alright?" The man looks to you, suddenly very worried while looking at you unprofessionally.

"Oh, I feel awful!" You get into an act, letting water form in your eyes. The woman gave a death glare as the other men furrow their eyes.

"Why? What happened?" He takes your hand. "I'm Philip Anderson,"

"I just feel awful... that you're not aware you wife is having an affair too," you sniffle, wiping your tears away before lifting your middle finger. "Just divorce, asshole, save you both the trouble- though, she does know, she doesn't care considering her..." you look to his phone in his pocket when standing up, "lover is providing funds for her lavish lifestyle,"

"How did you- What do you mean she's having an affair?!" Anderson turns to follow you into your kitchen, John stopping him going any further.

"Who did this?" The woman, conflicted form the information, asks, pointing at the last body being taken away.

"Me," you raise a hand and smile to them. "Now, this has been wonderful, but your work here is done, you saved the day, yippy!" Clapping mockingly, you point to the door. "So, you can go ahead with your plans for the day,"

"You can't just-"

"Don't ask, Donovan," Lestrade sighs.

"No, this is a-"

"Waste of time," you lean against a wall. "So, leave unless you want to end up like them,"

Before Donovan could answer, Lestrade raised a hand to stop her, your smile growing. "Fine," she huffs, walking out and down the stairs with Philip. Greg and John followed soon, Sherlock still in the flat which made your fists curl up in annoyance.

"Do you need anything else?" He breaks the silence.

"Thought you didn't care," you counter with a downwards glare, the floor taking the brunt of the hate instead of Sherlock's piercing gaze.

"I don't-" his voice was cut off by a deafening blast, force shattering glass as the fire scorched through the flat.

~~~

Oh- cliffhanger??

- Anna ❤️