Sherlock One shots and Imagines

The Knave of Hearts - Part 11 - Sherlock x John x Reader

Sherlock watched as John and Lord Royston took the lady (Y/n) inside, before crouching down next to the lifeless corpse of the man that he had found to be really rather unpleasant. A lesser man might take all this at face value. Might presume that Caine had been peering into the window in order to see (Y/n), only to be caught by someone that had a grudge against him. A partner in his nefarious schemes, that he had tried to dupe out of his fair share of their ill-gotten gains. Or merely an opportunist, that had been gifted the right moment. But Sherlock was not a lesser man; he was a Holmes, and he knew that there was more to this than met the eye. That the death of this man, and his current position had been done to send a message, a warped and twisted message, but a message, nonetheless.

Sherlock continued to crouch there for a moment, examining the amount of blood covering the once pale shirt that covered Caine's torso; the consulting detective carefully opening the mouth of the victim, not surprised to discover that his tongue had been removed from its rightful position. It obvious that the killer had not appreciated something that the former head of Lord Royston's security, had said; and what better way to stop him from saying it again, than to take his tongue. Yet despite the amount of blood this injury had caused to be spilled, it was not the reason that he had perished; no, that due to the wound that was pushing some of the strands of white cotton into the depression. A single stab to the heart, being the thing that had done for him. Yet there was something more to the stab wound; the younger Holmes cautiously moving the scarlet drenched shirt away from the victim's chest to reveal an equally soaked playing card. The faces of the knave of hearts looking up at him.

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John quickly followed behind Lord Royston and his daughter, as the older man took his trembling daughter up to her rooms. The servant's scurrying around after them; all of them having heard the lady's terrified scream. He couldn't help but begin to think that the poor young woman was being punished for some reason; that it was bad enough that she had already been through what she had been through, but now, to add insult to injury, this had happened. (Y/n), out of all of them that were in the stately home, the one to find a body. The doctor kneeling before the lady, as her father sat her on the bed, before ushering out the servants that feared for the welfare of their mistress.

"(Y/n)..........." John said softly, as he took her wrist. Her pulse thumping violently against his fingers, as she looked up at him. The tears that had raced down her cheeks from her now reddened eyes, marring the fine layer of powder that covered her skin, but certainly not her beauty. The doctor still able to see why even crowned princes of Europe would be looking to claim her as their bride.

"I am going to give you something to help you to calm down; to help you sleep............."

"No.......please, Doctor Watson, I don't want..............."

"Please, my dear heart, let the doctor do what he must. You have been through enough; you need to rest." The lord beseeched. His eyes begging his daughter to listen. Her father breathing a sigh of relief, as (Y/n) reluctantly nodded.

"Very well...................."

"I will have Lucy come and sit with you until Bess returns in the morning.........." The lord assured, as he and the doctor helped his child lay out on the bed. John reaching into the Gladstone bag that he had quickly retrieved from his own room, to find the appropriate medication.

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"How is the patient............?" Sherlock asked, as he finally finished examining the body of Joshua Caine. The consulting detective not even having to turn to know that it was John that had just joined him.

"Better than he is. I gave Lady (Y/n) something to help her sleep............."

"Yes, I believe that Mister Caine is past even your skills as a physician, doctor.............and there is no need for you to examine him; for apart from the fact that he has had his tongue cut out, the deceased also has a deep, penetrating puncture wound to the middle mediastinum of the thoracic cavity, which would be obvious to even a layman." Sherlock explained. John well aware that he was a doctor, but still sure that it would have been easier for Sherlock to simply say that the man had been stabbed through the heart. But this was Sherlock, so.........

"Who do you think did it......................?"

"I do not think, John; I know exactly who killed Mister Caine............." The younger Holmes interrupted, holding up a crimson stained card.

"It............it's the knave of hearts..............."

"Precisely. It would appear that the Knave has now added murder to his long list of crimes. Though whether this is a message for myself, or the Lady (Y/n)............"

"Lady (Y/n).............why could this be a message for her.............?"

"I would have thought that that was elementary, my dear Watson. The Knave not only a jewellery thief, not only the one that held her for ransom, but also the man that she saw earlier today in the village. He has come for her, to reclaim her. He wants her back, and this is just the proof of what he will do anyone that might think to get in his way; that might do or have done her harm." Sherlock explained, sounding far cheerier about this than John thought he ought to sound given the situation. Given that (Y/n) was in far greater danger than he had thought. And given that this trip up from London, no longer entailed just stopping some thief from stealing a necklace, but a kidnapper and killer from once more stealing away with a much greater prize.

"Where are you going............?" The doctor called out, as Sherlock suddenly turned on his heels and made his way back into the house.

"To examine the card more thoroughly..............The game is afoot, Watson. The game is afoot................"