Bouquet of Thorns: Sherlock x fem!reader

Chapter 21 - Distraction

From afar, Sherlock watched with a weary eye at every movement Jim made. His hands flexed, waiting until he would need to intervene. This was one of Britain's most infamous criminals.

"Rockwell confirmed," he takes a glass of champagne for you, then for him. "You're not going to be happy, though. His sister will be there, apparently,"

"Oh lovely, just what I needed," your face falls.

"She will be around the meeting but not at the table, not after her little attempted treason," Moriarty recalls the incident in which Lucille, Rockwell's sister, had tried to kill him for his title but failed miserably.

"I don't know why he hasn't killed her yet," you sip, bored, unable to take your eyes off the crowd. "I bet you it's his mother telling him to involve her,"

"Who else," Jim gives a short laugh. "However, on the note of killing," his eyes drag over towards a man in the corner of the room, "Alexei Volkov, I've hired him for the night,"

Your eyes soon follow, careful not to seem obvious, "You hired the Marquis of hell? You know his name is all for show, he's a shit hit man,"

"He was the only one available; everyone is at the hitman convention in Venice," he explains, "The problem is, Sherly is watching," that wasn't a lie. Since you had left 221B, you had the feeling he was looking at you. He would move closer, perhaps finding a way to wrap his arm around you. You were surprised he couldn't hear your rapid heartbeat.

"You want me to distract him," you realise, "I suppose it's the least I could do,"

"Perfect," Jim nearly let you go back before taking your hand, "just keep it PG13," he notes, making your face burn up. "Or he dies,"

"Jim!" Whisper shouting this. The crowd still ended up being louder regardless of your volume. "I won't- we won't- oh damn you, leave me alone," you collect yourself before finding your way back to Sherlock, who was quick to spin you into his arms nearly.

"What did he say? Are you okay?" His chest flushed against yours, his hand on your waist, the other against your cheek.

"Sherlock, I'm fine," you place a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry so much," your hands move to his, pulling him towards the dance floor where people waltzed the night away. "Now, please tell me you know how to dance,"

"We should keep an eye out, Y/n," he looks at you, unable to move his eyes away.

"Oh, come on, just one dance," you see as he finally looks to the crowd around you both. Your hand pushes his face back to focus on you. "One dance, please? Just one," curling your fingers around his tie, you quickly tug him close.

He was taken by complete surprise, grabbing your hips to steady himself. "Careful," he warns, pulling you closer.

"One dance," you twirl the tie between your fingers. "Unless you can't dance, Mr Holmes,"

"Fortunately for you," he spins you around and into a slight dip, "miss L/n," his hand moved to hold you tighter while he leaned closer, "dancing is one of my many talents,"

"Is it now?" You took a quiet breath, "what other talents do you have,"

He pulls you back up, gently laughing before placing a finger under your chin, "You'll have to wait to find out,"

Your knees felt weak, his half-hooded eyes smugly looking at yours. His hand moved to your wrist, feeling the rapid beat instantly. It didn't take a genius to realise what he was doing, but you couldn't focus on anything else. Every touch felt like someone had ignited a bonfire in your chest, burning up your skin until you needed to let out a breath.