The Science of Sentiment (BBC Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter 21: Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

--

After a short cab ride, I found myself standing outside one of London's boisterous nightclubs. I stepped past the security, flashing them a flirtatious smile on my way in. The place is packed with gyrating bodies and the music is near deafening.
Perfect.
I slide up to the bar and pay for a drink- something strong. Tonight's a night to get smashed.
I tap my fingernails to the beat of the song as I wait for my drink. The bartender slides the glass over, and I take it eagerly. The first sip burns my throat, but the next few go down easier.
Before I know it, I'm ordering another. And another.
And another.
My mind feels foggy and silly by my fourth drink. The bartender is watching me nervously, but I couldn't care less. I feel unstoppable like this.
I scan the room, and my eyes lock with another man's. He's watching me from one of the side tables, making me feel a little bit uncomfortable. In a place like this, the guy sticks out like a sore thumb. His body language is stiff and uninviting, and he's clad all in black. He looks incredibly daunting, but undeniably sexy.
Despite the warning bells going off in my head, I smile at him and give a small wave. He smirks back and stands up from his chair.
My tipsy mind is spiraling into overdrive as he makes his way over. I can't deduce anything about him anymore with the alcohol taking affect.
He can't be that bad. Look, he's buying you another drink. Truly a gentleman.
He sits down on the stool next to me, ordering us both a glass of scotch.
He says something to me along the lines of, "You got a name, gorgeous?"
I blush slightly and open my mouth to answer, but a sudden volume shift in the music cuts me off.
"(Y/n). That's a nice name," he sips his drink and smiles. "I'm Daniel."
I cock my head in confusion. I was sure he couldn't have heard me- I hadn't even heard myself over the music. Besides, his name sounded familiar to me, but I couldn't exactly pinpoint why.
I shrug off the thought and down the scotch in a few gulps. I can feel myself growing more drunk by the second and a feeling like butterflies erupts in my stomach. I think like I could fight off a seven nation army like this- I feel like I could stay this high forever.
I smirk at Daniel flirtatiously. "You wanna get out of here?"
He bites his lip cutely and takes my hand. "I thought you'd never ask."

--

Sherlock is pacing the room, a worried expression etched into his face.
"And when does the next flight leave?"
John sighs, scanning his laptop screen. "Five hours from now. If we leave then, we can be back home by 10 am."
The detective chews his lip nervously and plops down onto one of the chairs. "That's too long from now- she could be in serious danger..." He trails off, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair.
"Have you heard back from Lestrade?" John sighs. He runs a hand through his hair.
Sherlock pulls out his phone and checks the screen. "No. They said they would try calling her though before getting back to us."
"Sherlock, she's probably fine," he replied, not entirely convinced of that himself, though. "We don't know exactly what that list of names meant."
"It was clearly a hit list. Even you can see that, can't you?" he snapped back. He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to concentrate on everything they had to go on so far. He couldn't even think properly- all he could picture was your smiling face and how much he'd love to torture anyone who wanted to lay a hand on you.
His phone chirped in his pocket and he ripped it out at lightning speed.
"Hello?" He snapped into the receiver.
"I'm sorry Sherlock," Lestrade's voice rang out. "She's not answering her mobile. Mrs. Hudson said she left The flat about twenty minutes ago."
Sherlock's heart plummeted and he nearly dropped the phone. "We're on our way." He replied and clicked the phone off.
John stood up quickly, having picked up on the bad news. "What are we going to do? The next flight doesn't leave for a while."
Sherlock heaved a defeated sigh, and dialed a new number. "I'm going to call my brother."

--

Hot lips met mine as his hands found the curves of my body. Daniel pressed my against my hallway wall, and suddenly he was all over. Kissing my neck, he slipped his hands beneath my shirt. I wrapped my legs around his waist, groaning slightly.
But, all of it- it just seemed so wrong. I was only going through the motions, wishing it could be Sherlock kissing me instead. Wishing it were Sherlock pressing me against a wall with drunk lust.
I tried to pull away, but the man only trapped me more firmly.
"I-I think you should leave..." I whispered as he kissed my neck.
"What for?" He murmured in reply, not bothering to look up at me.
"My roommate will be b-back soon..." I sober up a bit, realizing just how desperately I wanted to get out of this situation.
"Then let's go to your bedroom where we won't bother anyone," he replies casually. He lifts me up and carries me down the stairs to the basement level of the complex.
"How'd you know which one was my flat?" I slurred as I leaned onto his shoulder.
"Lucky guess."
My eyes widen and I stiffen in his arms, the warning bells sounding in the back of my mind again. Once the door clicks behind him, I shove myself off, trying to keep my balance.
"You need to leave," I say, hoping I sound confident. "You can't be here."
His soft, lusty expression from before turns into something harder. Something determined.
"Oh, I'm not going anywhere, (y/n). Your parents put our group into a lot of debt and I'm here to return the favor."
Before I can respond, he pulls a handgun from the waistband of his jeans.
I hold up my hands defensively. "Daniel...? What on earth-"
"I'm sorry," he sneers. "It's just business. It's a shame though. I really would've liked to take advantage of you first, but you're so stubborn..."
My breath sticks in my throat as I realize this was his plan all along. Go home with me and then murder me once he was satisfied.
Before he can pull the trigger, I dart past him, effectively tripping him in my wake. I pick up a lamp and aim it for his direction. It hits him square in the forehead, but he doesn't falter in the slightest. He opens his dark eyes, rage filling them.
"Pleasure doing business with you," he smirks, raising the gun once more.

The sound of the shot rings through my ears, and it takes me a minute to register what happened. Time feels like it's been slowed as I look down at my torso. A crimson stain is quickly spreading over my tank top from my lower abdomen, but I can't feel any pain. It feels like something's wrong- like I can't breath properly. It feels like the world is frozen still in the moment that I fall to the floor.
Sherlock's name passes my lips before blackness consumes me.