Thank you for 35K reads! Here, have a oneshot!
This chapter is just me having some fun while writing something that randomly popped into my head. It's odd, but I uploaded it nonetheless.
I hope you like it ;)
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''Hurry up, (Y/N). We don't have all day,'' Sherlock sneered as he speed-walked towards the yellow tape indicating the crime scene.
You rolled your eyes and huffed, running the last bit to keep up with the detective's fast pace and long legs. ''It wouldn't hurt to be nice once in a while, Sherlock,'' you scolded. ''I could easily go back to the flat and leave you by yourself.''
He looked at you from the corner of his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. ''You could. But you won't.''
You scoffed. ''Really? I won't? How did you make that deduction, Mr Almighty Detective?''
He chuckled quietly and focussed his eyes on the dead body a little further down the road. ''You enjoy the adrenaline you feel when you're with me. Every case has something you can't predict, and you're attracted to that. You won't leave because you enjoy the thrill of the chase just as much as I do.'' He briefly glanced your way and winked before stepping closer to the victim and examining him.
You stayed back as you felt a hot blush coat your cheeks. He wasn't wrong. Of course, he wasn't. But still, it felt odd having him point it out like that. You always hoped he wouldn't notice that secret yearning you felt for adventure.
Though, this was Sherlock Holmes, and when one was with him, a thing such as keeping secrets didn't exist. It was the price you paid for the titillation that was the consulting detective.
You cleared your throat and slowly approached the body, opting to stay silent this time around. You let Sherlock ramble as he fired deduction after deduction Lestrade's way. The poor man could hardly keep up, but obviously, Sherlock didn't notice or care.
You were pulled out of your thinking when the curly haired sociopath suddenly gasped. Your head snapped up into his direction, your worried eyes scanning his astonished expression. ''What? What did you deduce?''
''Forget everything I just said,'' he murmured.
Lestrade audibly sighed and ripped a page out of his notebook. He readied his pen for a new chain of deductions, but none came.
Sherlock slowly stood up and looked around, muttering to himself.
''Sherlock, you alright?'' you wondered, following his slow movements with your eyes.
''Yes, yes, totally fine,'' he said absently.
The wheels in his brain were turning and you could hear their every squeak and chirr. You had no idea what went on in his head and now more than ever, you were desperate to find out. ''Sherlock, could you please enlighten us? It would be greatly appreciated. I can't read minds, you know.''
He waved his hand in front of your face, shushing you. ''Your whining is interrupting my thoughts.''
''Excuse me?'' you called out, feeling slightly hurt by his words.
''(Y/N), just stop talking,'' Lestrade interrupted.
''Yes, thank you, Gary.''
The DI sighed. ''Greg.''
''It's Sherlock, idiot,'' the detective sneered. ''Gosh, you sound like Anderson. Fire him before he eats the remainder of your brain cells.''
''Alright, enough!'' Greg yelled. ''I've had enough of your ridiculing behaviour, Sherlock. You're obviously onto something, so stop trying to distract us and tell us what on Earth is going on in that stuck up head of yours!''
''I agree with Gavin,'' you piped up.
''It's Greg!'' He fumed.
''Could you both shut up for just one second?'' Sherlock snapped. You both closed your mouths, drawing a sigh from Sherlock's lips. ''Thank you.'' He fell silent again as he stared off into the distance.
You knew he was thinking, so this time, you kept quiet and let him.
For weeks, you had been chasing after one of the most wanted serial killers in London. He had been inactive for many years, but as of recently, he had decided to fall back into old traditions.
It only took one murder for Sherlock to recognise the pattern, and Scotland Yard immediately set up one of the biggest cases Lestrade had ever witnessed with his own eyes. It was hectic, unorganised and there was still so little certainty.
You couldn't seem to figure out what had sparked the killer's bloodlust again. All that Sherlock had been able to deduce so far was a pattern in the appearances of the victims.
He knew that with every murder committed, the serial killer could possibly become smarter, more careful and even more dangerous. He had to be caught as quickly as possible before even more people became a victim.
Though, that wasn't the only thing on Sherlock's mind.
Ever since the case emerged again, he had been working on it day and night. You were no stranger to the labour either. And it was because of your involvement that Sherlock began to notice something.
Something that didn't settle well with him at all.
All the victims so far had similar appearances. Whether they were identified as male or female, they all had the same trademark looks; (H/C) hair, (E/C) eyes, (S/C) skin.
At first, he didn't really notice. You were with him all the time, he had gotten used to you. But as more bodies seemed to pile up, he noticed their resemblances to you. It hadn't left his mind since.
He had become paranoid and afraid that someday he'd receive a call from Lestrade, notifying him of yet another body. He became afraid that that body would be you. So the urgency of catching this notorious murderer became even more apparent. You were his best friend and he couldn't bear to lose you. It was why the detective had become so snappy towards you. He was trying to create some distance between you to save himself the pain of ever losing his friend.
For weeks, Sherlock was frustrated that he got absolutely nowhere with the case. It seemed like this killer was some sort of evil mastermind, unable of messing up.
The essence of catching a serial killer was always to wait until they made a mistake. And finally, after so many years, this mastermind had done it. He had messed up, and now Sherlock was going to put him behind bars once and for all.
He was going to save you and countless of other people. And he was going to do it today.
''He made a mistake,'' Sherlock muttered, his back turned towards you.
''What was that?'' Lestrade asked.
The detective slowly turned around, a smile spreading on his face. ''The killer. He made a mistake.''
Your eyes widened. ''He did? How?!''
''The killer got cocky. His record was off the charts and he took it for granted. He didn't plan the murder out this time as carefully as he has done in the past. And that was his downfall.'' Sherlock noticed your clueless expression and rolled his eyes. ''Look at the crime scene. Really look at it. It's messy, not clean like all the other ones. He had to rush and left behind bits and pieces of evidence.''
''So- So you can find him then?'' you stuttered, shaking in anticipation.
He grabbed your shoulders and stared into your eyes. ''Are you ready for some more adrenaline, (Y/N)?''
''Yes,'' you gaped, unable to say another word.
''Good.'' Sherlock straightened up, a smirk on his face. ''Because the killer is still here and we're going to catch him.''
Your mouth fell open and you gaped at him. ''Are you- Are you serious?''
''Yes, isn't that obvious?''
''Oh my God...'' you whispered. ''He's actually here? Around us? Close? Like about-to-cut-off-our-heads close?''
Sherlock grinned. ''Yes! Isn't it exciting?''
''You're mad!'' you shrieked. ''I knew you were a little crazy, but you're actually insane!''
''Are you done panicking? We have a murderer to catch.''
Your widened eyes stared straight into his. Your fear clouded your judgement and at seeing Sherlock's eyes of steel and confidence, you agreed. ''Okay.''
Sherlock grinned widely and swiftly turned to Greg. ''We need all the back-up we can get. We shouldn't underestimate who we're up against.''
The baffled DI hurriedly grabbed his pager as he tried to make sense of the situation. ''Are you sure he's actually here?''
''Positive,'' Sherlock answered.
''And you know exactly where he is?''
''Obviously.''
''Alright then. Let's arrest the bastard, so I can finally go on a holiday.''
<>
After thirty anxious minutes of waiting, back-up had finally arrived and everyone, including you and Sherlock, were now surrounding the abandoned building where the criminal was hiding in.
The detective grabbed your hand and put his finger to his lips as he gently began to guide you towards the back entrance. You kept your breathing under control and stayed absolutely silent to maintain the upper hand in the situation.
By taking him by surprise, you hoped to successfully arrest the murderer without anyone getting hurt.
Sherlock let go of your hand and raised the handle that kept the metal door locked. With a deafening screeching noise, he pushed the door open. ''Shit,'' he mumbled. Immediately, Sherlock took a hold of his gun, you following suit.
Together with three officers, you stormed inside, guns aimed and ready to shoot. ''On your hands and knees!'' Sherlock shouted, aiming at the armed man.
You all surrounded him, leaving him no room to escape. He was trapped. But it didn't seem to faze him.
Instead, he started laughing. ''I guess my streak is over now, huh?'' His eyes scanned the people around him and eventually landed on you. ''Or maybe not yet,'' he muttered.
''Sir, get down on your knees or we'll shoot,'' one of the officers commanded.
But he didn't budge. His ice-cold stare sent shivers down your spine. He licked his chapped lips and tilted his head, looking you up and down. ''You're perfect,'' he whispered.
''Sir, I'm not warning you again. Get down on your knees!''
The killer's shoulders shook as he chuckled. In the flash of an eye, he had his pistol aimed at you.
Five guns went off, creating an ear-splittingly loud noise. You felt a heavy impact in your stomach and fell to the floor. Your ears were ringing, muffled screams surrounding you as you lay there, gasping for air.
The officers hurried towards the criminal to check his pulse.
Sherlock smiled triumphantly as he turned to you. He wanted to share this victory.
But then he saw you.
The slam of his gun falling on the concrete floor barely reached your ringing ears as he rushed towards you. You felt his hand push on your stomach as his other hand cupped your face. His skin was cold.
''(Y/N)?! (Y/N)! No, no, don't close your eyes. Stay with me. Come on, you have to hold on. Stay with me.''
It was as if an invisible wall blocked out all the sound around you. You saw his frantic face above you as he tried to stop the wound from bleeding. His lips formed words you couldn't understand as his face read pure terror.
You let your body go limp in his arms as he continued to beg you to hold on. And all you could think was...
What an amazing actor.
''CUT!''
The lights went back on and the entire crew started clapping.
''That was great, guys! Fantastic job. This season is going to be an absolute hit!'' Steven gushed as Mark nodded approvingly behind him.
Benedict smiled proudly and thanked Steven for his kind words before he turned back to you. He grabbed your hand and pulled you up. ''Great job, (Y/N). Very convincing.''
You laughed. ''Thank you. You were great, too.''
''What can I say? You bring out the best in me.''
You giggled. ''Don't give me credit for your amazing talent. It was all you.''
He grinned at you before embracing you briefly. ''It's too bad that filming is over,'' he sighed.
You nodded. ''Yes, but we had an amazing last day on set, right?''
''I guess we did.'' A faint blush coated his porcelain cheeks. He cleared his throat. ''I've been wanting to ask you something.''
''Go ahead then,'' you encouraged.
''Well, since this is the last day of filming and we won't be seeing each other for a while, I was thinking maybe we could eh- maybe we could grab dinner sometime? Just the two of us.''
You giggled. ''Is Sherlock Holmes asking me out on a date?''
He copied your giddy expression. ''No, but I am. So what do you say?''
You nodded. ''Sure. That sounds wonderful.''
Benedict sighed in relief. ''Great! That's great. I'll be looking forward to it.''
You smiled. ''Me, too.''