You're in Sherlock (Sherlock × Reader)

A Scandal in Belgravia: Chapter 6

"This my fault." He bowed his head, taking in the red that soaked through your shirt and was smeared across your body. You looked up into Sherlock's eyes and he looked like he greatly regretted something. "I'm sorry." Sherlock apologized as he saw, for the first time, true horror and panic in your face.

***

You woke up at a hospital and John, Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, Molly, and Lestrade were all standing around you. You yawned, blinking at them. You felt much calmer now, but didn't understand what had happened. Not fully at least.

"Oh thank God." Breathed Mrs. Hudson, gripping onto your hand. You tried to piece together why you were still here, and your hand shot up to your chest, feeling new bandages around it. Your eyes went to Sherlock's and he cleared his throat, asking everyone to leave the room. Once you were alone, Sherlock began explaining things to you.

"Your wound was reopened with a sharp instrument. The doctors said it was pretty bad, they repaired most of it but they couldn't do much for scarring. They also found traces of propofol in your system." You nodded at Sherlock's words, feeling more confused than ever.

You looked up at him, taking a deep breath. "It was Moriarty, wasn't it?" Was all you said before leaning back into your pillows. You caught a glimpse of regret in Sherlock's eyes, not really questioning it. You fiddled with a thread on your blanket, staring into your lap. "I thought it was just a dream... it was a dream. He was there, digging into my wound, telling me that it was all part of his plan. That he never meant to kill me, only made it look that way. But Propofol? That explains why I felt like it was a dream... and why I don't remember everything." You told Sherlock, feeling numb. When he didn't say anything you looked up at him, seeing that his eyes were cast down on his feet. "What?" You questioned, squinting your eyes at him. He shook his head, turning away to gaze out a window. "It's something." You said softly, looking up at him. He looked conflicted, his face twisted in one that could be easily mistaken with pain.

"It's my fault." He told you finally. You tilted your head at him in curiosity. "I knew Moriarty would eventually come after you or John. I didn't protect you."

"Protect me? Sherlock, I'm fine. I'm still alive. Besides, the only thing you've been worried about recently is Irene Adler." Sherlock rolled his eyes at that, looking like he regretted saying anything to you. You just felt upset and angry... and you knew that you were angry. It was an odd feeling... anger. But this time, you were done. You just wanted to make Sherlock feel bad.

"Sherlock, I'm mad at you." You admitted, feeling good to let him know you were angry. "I'm mad."

"Because of Irene? Please, you haven't even met the woman." Sherlock spat back, defending himself.

"I've heard enough to know she's up to no good! Why are you so infatuated with her?" You raised your voice at him, not caring if he thought you were being unreasonable. Sherlock stood still, his piercing blue eyes scanning you. Deducing you. You glared back at him, not breaking his eye contact.

"You're jealous of her?" He asked, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. You leaned back into the bed, taking a deep breath.

"How could I be jealous of someone I've never met? I'm just curious as to why you want to solve her so bad. She's not a puzzle. I see right through her schemes. She's after you... I'm not sure why but she needs you. You can't trust her, Sherlock." You warned, your voice deathly low as you narrowed your eyes at Sherlock.

"What do you know?" Sherlock huffed, starting to turn his back towards you.

"You don't even know, Sherlock! If you knew anything about her-"

"I couldn't deduce her." He interrupted you, turning back towards you. You stopped at that, a bit shocked. You took a moment to recover before you looked up at him, then cast your eyes away.

"Nothing?" You leaned forward carefully, wincing as a sharp pain filled your chest. You were still mad, but now curious about Irene. That couldn't mean anything good if Sherlock couldn't even read her. It just made matters worse.

"Nothing." He confirmed, raking a stressed hand through his hair.

"Well, that's hardly my problem. That just makes her more dangerous." You fought.

"Oh, Y/n. Admit it, you're just as interested in her now." Sherlock raised an eyebrow at you and you shook your head turning away from him. He'd said that only in an attempt to gain advantage of you, make you not mad at him anymore. It wouldn't work, not on you.

"I'm not discussing it any further. My point stands." You spoke harshly. You became silent, waiting for him to leave.

"I will never understand you." Sherlock said through gritted teeth before you heard his footsteps softly patter away. You laid down in the bed, facing away from the door. You sighed, shaking your head as tears welled up in your eyes. You just wished that Sherlock understood where you were coming from. He was going to get stabbed in the back by Irene eventually, and then he would know you'd been right the entire time. You whipped the tear that began to stream down your face quickly, wrapping your arms around yourself in comfort.