Dark Secrets (Sherlock x Reader)

A Great Game

You couldn't think! You couldn't bloody think!

''Seven...''

It was a fake. The painting was a fake, you knew it was. But how? What were you missing? What was Sherlock missing?

''Six...''

Sherlock had always been better at working under pressure. You had always struggled to deal with stress. So far, you had managed, but this... this was too much.

''Five...''

What were you missing?! What were you and Sherlock missing?!

Sherlock always knew things, he was the smartest man you knew, but here he was, as lost as you were.

Sherlock didn't know. How could you possibly know if he didn't! He was the better detective, he had proved himself to be. Why didn't he know?!

''Four...''

You tried to clear your head.

Things Sherlock doesn't know. What are things that Sherlock doesn't know?

Milk, he always forgets the milk. But that's not it.

Politics! He doesn't know about politics, but no! No, that's not it!

Relationships? Sentiment? Emotion? No, no, no. Not it!

''Three...''

Space... Sherlock doesn't know about space.

''The planetarium,'' you breathed. ''We heard it in the planetarium.'' The grip you had on your hair loosened, your eyes widening, your mouth stretching as you realised what the solution was.

''Two...''

''(Y/N)! Sherlock!'' Lestrade yelled furiously.

''God, that's brilliant!'' you exclaimed. You turned around, snatching the pink phone from Lestrade's hand. ''The Van Buren Supernova!'' you yelled.

There was a pause on the other line.

Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes terrified and full of worry.

Sherlock was staring at you, frozen in place, his mouth agape.

''Please. Is somebody there? Somebody help me!'' the boy begged.

You let out a relieved breath, shoving the phone back in Lestrade's hands before collapsing onto the floor. You pushed your head against your knees, trying to control your breathing as the adrenaline and fear began to settle down.

Sherlock was soon beside you. His hands were trembling, his voice was shaking. ''Brilliant,'' he heaved. ''That was brilliant. You're brilliant.''

You sat up and wrapped your arms around him, fighting the tears threatening to spill. ''A kid,'' you wept. ''He almost killed a fucking kid.''

He rubbed your back, resting his head on yours as he held you. ''You saved him. It was you. You solved the case, I couldn't do it. You saved that boy.''

''I can't do this anymore, Sherlock. In all my years of being a detective, I have never come across anyone so heartless and cruel. He's a monster!''

''A monster we're going to take down. We'll end this.'' He turned to Lestrade, still sat on the floor with you. ''You can take it from here, I presume?''

Greg nodded. ''Yeah, of course. Good work, (Y/N),'' he mumbled quietly before walking off.

''We still have to interrogate Miss Wenceslas to get a confession,'' you sniffled, breaking away from Sherlock's grip.

''I'll take care of that. You go home and rest.''

''Are you sure?''

He nodded. ''I've interrogated people before. I'm sure I can handle it.'' He shot you a small smile, telling you he was sure.

''Okay. Be careful.''

''When am I ever careful, (Y/N)?''

~

The tea in your hands had grown cold hours ago, but you hadn't noticed. You'd been sitting almost completely motionless on the sofa ever since you got home from the latest puzzle Moriarty had thrown at you and Sherlock.

It had shaken you up. You couldn't get it out of your head.

Sherlock was still out, presumably still interrogating the curator or helping Lestrade wrap up the case. Not that he was usually helpful in that way, but your boss was obviously as shaken up as you were. He could use the help.

You were lost in thought.

Ever since you'd found out about your father's murder, you had been passionate for revenge. You wanted to avenge your father, you wanted to finally face Moriarty and put an end to all the hurt and misery he had caused in the world.

You were sick and tired of playing along with his horrific games, you wanted the control. You wanted to take matters into your own hands.

You were fed up with his taunts and mystery. You wanted to know who he was and how he knew you. It was obvious that he did, he had made that clear enough with the Carl Powers case.

You had so many questions and you needed so many answers. And you couldn't wait for them any longer.

You snapped out of your thoughts, tea spilling on the floorboards as you harshly slammed the cup down onto the table. You grabbed Sherlock's laptop and opened the lid.

Once his website loaded on the screen, you began to type.

The Pool. Midnight.

You hit sent and closed the lid.

You weren't sure if he'd show up, but you knew for a fact he'd see the message.

Quickly, you gathered your coat and shoes and headed out the door even though you still had a few hours until midnight.

You knew that if Sherlock caught you, he'd try to stop you and probably succeed in doing so. You couldn't risk that happening.

You were doing this for him, too. Perhaps this way he'd be safe.