(Your POV)
Murdered. Three men murdered right before my eyes. But why not me? I sat on the steps of the apartment building, staring at the ground in shock. I hardly registered the police and paramedics buzzing around me. A pair gentle hands wrapped a bright orange blanket around me. I flinched at the touch, shrugging the blanket off. I needed to think- a shock blanket would only mess with my thoughts. As much as I tried to focus on something else, the same question ran through my mind over and over, never relenting. Haunting me. Why not me?
"(Y/n)? (Y/n), can you hear me?"
The voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I jerked my head up to look at the man standing before me. A quick glance was enough to tell me that this man was the Detective Inspector. He slowly sat down next to me, his graying hair reflecting the pale moonlight. "(Y/n)," he continued, "my name is Detective Inspector Lestrade, and I need you to answer a few questions." His voice was soft and sympathetic. "Can you do that? You don't have to just now if you don't feel up to it."
No. I thought. The last thing I want to do is answer more questions. I had already been asked a few basic identification questions by a woman called Donovan, who was relaying the information to other nearby officers. She had seemed rather nice, but something about her was off. You squinted at her, but you couldn't pinpoint what it was. Lestrade, however, seemed genuine enough. I sighed. Just a few questions, then. I softened my features after I realized I had been full-out scowling at the woman.
"Yeah, that's fine," I said, giving Lestrade an unconvincing smile.
"Brilliant." He said. He was clearly worried that I was going to refuse, which made me feel all the more better about accepting the questioning. "First thing's first, then. Are you, in fact, (full name)?"
Simple enough. "Yes."
"Age and birthdate, please."
I had already given this information to Donovan, but I supposed he was just double-checking. I sighed, answering. "June 4th, (y/age) years old."" (If you're a teenager, use 19 because I'm not about to make Sherlock Holmes a pedophile. Carry on.)
"And you aren't from England?"
"No sir, I'm an American citizen."
Lestrade closed his notebook, where he had been reading my information to make sure it matched. He seemed satisfied. "Well then, Miss (L/n), sit tight while I make a call. Someone will be over to ask you some more questions in a few minutes." With that, he turned and walked away, pulling out his mobile phone and dialing a number. "Hey," you could hear him say as he walked off, "I've got a weird one for you... Yes, I know it's late. Just..." He turned and looked back at me, a concerned look on his face. "...Just come quickly." He hung up and walked over to the Anderson fellow who was inspecting the bodies.
Another pair of hands picked up the shock blanket behind me and placed it over me again. "Keep this on, miss." A woman's voice said. I didn't bother turning around to see who it was. Instead, I waited until she had walked off and removed the blanket again. I didn't want the blanket, no matter how cold I was or how much shock I was in.
I had shed my hoodie earlier, after realizing it was covered in blood. I had decided that I didn't appreciate the strange looks coming from the policemen. Now, I was left in a tank top, which I had been wearing underneath. I shivered in the chilly air- this was far colder than I had been with my hoodie. I decided to suck it up and wait for the mystery questioner. Where was he, anyways?
No sooner had the question crossed my mind, a cab pulled up to the crime scene. A man stepped out, about 5 foot 6 with blonde hair and... gray eyes? It was hard to tell at this distance. So this is the mysterious questioner. He wore a collared, plaid button-down and a gray cardigan, sporting jeans and a pair of black oxfords. Probably mid-thirties. At least he didn't seem intimidating. This will be easy, I thought, as he began to walk over to Lestrade.
I had been so busy detailing the first man that I didn't see the second man until he was walking over to Lestrade as well. Oh God, I thought, now that's an intimidating man. His appearance was striking, with visibly bright blue eyes, ebony curls, and possibly the highest cheekbones I'd ever seen. He was quite tall, at least 6 foot, and took long, confident strides. Late twenties, maybe early thirties, I guessed. He wore a dark gray trench coat and a blue scarf over his white button-up shirt and slacks. Was this one the questioner? Not gonna lie... this one's pretty good-looking. Not to say that the first one wasn't good-looking as well. Well isn't this just my lucky day, my own sarcasm ringing in my ears. It had sure been one hell of a rollercoaster, today. First James, then multiple murders, then more attractive strangers. Okay, this is getting ridiculous- behave yourself!
I shook my head, clearing my mind of any other crazy thoughts floating around as the pair of strangers walked over, Lestrade preceding them. I stood to greet them, not wanting to remain seated.
"(Y/n)," Lestrade began, sidestepping so you were in full view of the pair of gentlemen. "This is-"
"Thank you, Lestrade, but we are capable of introducing ourselves." The tall man cut him off abruptly. He glared at Lestrade, conveying something between annoyance and disgust. I wrinkled my nose. I didn't like this one very much. The shorter one sent Lestrade an apologetic look as Lestrade turned on his heels and strode away.
"Um, right then." The blonde man began, sticking out his hand for me to shake. I took it. "I'm Doctor John Watson, and this is my friend-"
"Sherlock Holmes." The taller man cut John off just as he had Lestrade. Is that all this man does? Interrupt people? He didn't offer his hand, but instead simply nodded and began to look me up and down, taking in every detail with his piercing gaze. When he seemed satisfied, he continued after a brief moment. "Consulting detective."
"Pleasure to meet you both." I tried to sound as polite as possible. Sherlock didn't seem pleased.
"Don't fake flattery, please. I know you're not exactly pleased to meet us, but the least you could do is be truthful about it."
I blinked, startled. Who the hell did this man think he was? I'd met him not two minutes ago and I already hated him. "Right. Sorry." There was an awkward silence for many long moments as Sherlock and I both attempted to stare the other down.
John cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Okay then! So um, (y/n), can you tell us what happened?" I shot one final glare in Sherlock's direction before turning to John with a much more pleasant face. I liked John. He was polite and much easier to talk to.
I nodded. "One moment, please." I closed my eyes and started to think, reliving the horrible events and making sure to remember every detail. I felt someone wrapping the shock blanket around me again. I shrugged it off, eyes still closed. They tried to put it back on again. I took it off, forcefully this time. Again they tried to make me wear it. My concentration broke and I whirled around to yell at the paramedic.
"STOP IT. I don't need a bloody shock blanket! I'm trying to think, and that thing will just make it difficult." The poor woman looked shocked and utterly embarrassed. She didn't speak- she simply hung her head and walked away. I turned back around to Sherlock and John. John looked utterly horrified. I couldn't tell if Sherlock was amused or impressed. "Erm... Sorry about that." I muttered.
"The events, please." Sherlock pressed, waiting for information.
"Right." I closed my eyes again, concentrating.
"Stop that."
I opened my eyes. "Stop what?"
"Closing your eyes like that. You look pathetic, trying to remember something so hard. It's only just happened, even an idiot would remember something." He looked down at me and smirked, obviously marking me as an idiot. I wasn't going to stand for this.
I raised my chin so I was looking him square in the eyes, and recited the event in exact detail from memory. With each word, Sherlock's smirk faded a little bit. Apparently I wasn't as idiotic as he had presumed. By the time I was finished, it was I that wore the smug smile. "Satisfactory enough for you?"
Sherlock replied, visibly miffed. "Yes. What did you get from that, John?"
John looked up from his notebook where he had been jotting down details. He breathed out slowly and raised his eyebrows, scanning his notes as he spoke. "Well, (Y/n) was clearly under an immense amount of emotional and physical stress. For her to remember everything in such detail is, truly, quite remarkable." I smiled a bit at that part. "We have more than enough information for you to track down the sniper."
"No, John, we don't." Sherlock said passively, gazing off down the street.
John looked up in genuine surprise. "We don't?"
"We don't need to find the sniper, John. That's not the point. Start asking the right questions."
"Sorry, I don't follow."
Sherlock scoffed and turned to me. "What do you think?"
I raised my eyebrows, surprised he was asking for my opinion. After all, he did pass me up as an idiot not two minutes ago. "Me?"
"Yes, obviously." He said, rolling his eyes. "Prove to me you're not an idiot. Work it out for yourself."
I went to stand a little straighter, but I quickly changed my mind after a chill moved through my body. I decided to cross my arms tightly against my chest in an attempt to keep warm. "Well..." I said, my voice shaky as I was unsure of myself. "The sniper didn't shoot me, and probably had no intention of shooting me in the first place. He only shot my attackers, and only after I cried out for help." My voice grew stronger as I gained confidence with every sentence. "So clearly he was protecting me. So if the point isn't to find the shooter, it's to find out why I was being protected." I nodded, satisfied with my inference.
Sherlock and John exchanged a look, both clearly impressed. "Lestrade!" Sherlock called out to the Detective Inspector, never looking away from John. "Come quickly."