You're in Sherlock (Sherlock × Reader)

The Blind Banker: Chapter 7

You and Sherlock spent the majority of the day working on the case, but it seemed to be going nowhere. You needed more evidence to conclude anything and Detective Dimmock wasn't going to give you that until he realized you and Sherlock had been right about VanCoon's death not being a suicide.

You were currently deep in thought, pacing around the flat, thinking of who might want to kill Van Coon and what the cipher could possibly mean. That's all you had to go off of at the moment. But your mind kept drifting off, thinking about the scans. Scenarios kept playing in your head of what might happen to you if these problems persisted. You're not really sure how much time had passed, but you snapped out of your trance when you heard Sherlock shout, "Y/n!"

You gasped, turning to look at him, inches from your face. "Yes?" You asked, studying his features. His intense, blue eyes were scanning you, you unconsciously rubbed your scar as he did so, taking a step back.

"What's been up with you the past couple days?" He inquired, looking over you. It was a literal scientific question, he noticed an imbalance in your normal actions. Something was off its course. You dropped your hand from your scar as you tried not to show anything was wrong.

"What are you talking about?" You brushed off his question, knowing exactly what he was talking about. Playing dumb was easier than telling the truth sometimes. You didn't want Sherlock or John knowing about the scans. You knew that Sherlock knew, but you didn't want to talk about it. You hoped that it was just going to fade back to the way it was before. No emotions.

"I'm talking about you being wrong you had no emotions." He told you, his eyes squinted at you, making sure he didn't miss any movement that might tell him anything.

"What? No." You denied it. You really didn't want to talk about it. Sherlock would get all cocky telling you he was right all along.

"You had a worried look on your face just now. You were thinking about something that troubles you. Lets not forget the bank, nor that man you almost punched the other day. I could list more if you'd like." He didn't say this in a rude way, but you were still annoyed by his words. You didn't want him to be right. You knew he was, but you wouldn't accept it.

"Okay, I get it. I don't want to talk about it though. I've done a lot of thinking and it's nothing." You simply told him, ready to re-enter your thoughts and go back into this case.

"It's obviously something." He pushed, narrowing his eyes at you as if he could read your mind, he closed the distance you had created before and his piercing eyes stared into yours.

"It's not." You looked directly into his eyes and he took a step back.

"I didn't want to do this, but you leave me no choice." Sherlock said before grabbing your coat that was hung by the door.

"Sherlock, it's none of your business!" You shouted, reaching for your coat to which he pulled away so you couldn't grasp it.

"Yes it is, if something is wrong, I deserve to know." You studied his face a moment before you groaned, knowing he'd never give in. Might as well just let him.

"Fine, just whatever." You gave up, letting him pull the scans from your coat's pocket. He hung your coat back up with one hand, the scans in the other. You hoped he didn't make the whole situation worse than it already was. If you knew Sherlock, it could go either way. You turned your back as he cast his eyes towards the scans, studying them. You heard him shuffling through the pages, not saying a word. He slowly walked towards his chair, sitting down, not looking up from the images.

"I was correct. You have been experiencing emotions." Sherlock whispered slightly after a few minutes of studying the scans, his blue eyes showed interest, but also concern. You walked to where he was sitting in his chair, and sat on the arm of it, nodding. You were silent, but you could feel him looking up at you. "You're not taking it well."

You shook your head, scared if you talked about it, it might make matters worse. You felt Sherlock place his hand over yours and you looked down at him, surprised by his actions. "Don't be worried about it." Once Sherlock realized what he'd said he coughed awkwardly, glancing away. "Because it'll distract you from the case, can't have that."

A small smile formed on your face as you looked at him, squeezing his hand in yours before letting go. "Thank you." You told him seriously.

"Do you want to explain what you know about it? I might be able to help." Sherlock spoke, his interest in the situation clearly showing.

"Well, Dr. McClendon said that I always had emotions, like you predicted. I just stashed them away after the accident. He said there's a high possibility my brain will be effectively sending hormones to trigger emotion. There's a tiny chance it might stay the same, but yeah, I'm feeling emotions... yay." You spoke in a dull tone, with a hint of what you believed to be sarcasm.

You took the scans back from Sherlock, folding them back up. "Like you said, thinking about it is distracting me so I'd really appreciate it if we could just focus on this case and not me. And please don't mention it to anyone else, god I'd never hear the end of it." Sherlock nodded in agreement. You internally thanked him for being understanding of your situation. "And... thank you for listening, it did help to talk about it."

"This does mean I have the upper hand in the competition." Sherlock grinned at you and you pushed his shoulder. He chuckled lowly as you rolled your eyes at him. You returned to pacing the flat, your mind this time far from the scans. However, just as you had gotten deep into thought, thinking maybe you were onto something, you were once again rudely interrupted by Sherlock's voice.

"About an hour ago... besides, Y/n's too deep in thought. She never hears me." You stopped to look over at Sherlock and John.

"What?" You asked, looking as both of them stared at you. "What...?" You asked again seeing as John chuckled slightly.

"My point proven." Sherlock nodded and you shrugged, throwing yourself down on the couch.

"Didn't notice I'd gone out, then?" John stated, throwing a pen to Sherlock, who caught it.

"You went out? When?" You asked confused, not remembering John leaving. Was that why he wasn't there when you'd talked to Sherlock earlier? You honestly hadn't noticed.

"Hours ago." John hummed, walking over to the mirror where Sherlock had pinned up pictures of the painting from the bank. You noticed John's cheerful mood. "I went to see about a job at that surgery." John told the two of you as he studied the pictures intently, with much more enthusiasm than normal. He'd met someone hadn't he...

"How was it?" Sherlock quizzed, not seeming too interested.

"Great. She's great." You looked quickly at John, catching on his accidental 'she'. You'd been right.

"Who?" Sherlock asked, also picking up on John's mistake.

John looked back at Sherlock, a confused expression on his face. "The job."

"You said 'she'." You told him, a smile threatening to appear, that you desperately fought back.

"It." John stuttered, trying to correct himself but you weren't having it.

"John met a girl!" Your mouth suddenly perked up, and you slapped your face slightly so it went away. John looked at you oddly, before shaking his head, ignoring your behavior. You couldn't help it!

"Err..." John trailed off, not answering. You narrowed your eyes at him as you tried to read his thoughts. This lasted for a few seconds, before you could see John's awkwardness arising.

"Yeah, have a look." Sherlock finally interrupted, nodding back towards his open computer upon his desk. You, not having seen this either, hurried along with John to take a look. It was an article about a man that had been killed in his flat, all the doors were locked. It was much like the Van Coon case. In fact, it was almost identical to the Van Coon case.

"'The intruder who can walk through walls.'" John read from the article, looking up at Sherlock with a questioning look.

"It happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat. Doors locked, windows bolted from the inside. Exactly the same as Van Coon." Sherlock stated, still staring straight ahead at the pictures on the wall. His hands, as they always were when he was thinking, were folded in a prayer position.

"God. You think..." John trailed off, shaking his head.

"They've killed another one..." You whispered, scanning Sherlock's face.