"So, what's this unexpected meeting for then?" You asked the woman who sat in the car, furiously typing away on her mobile phone.
"Well, you must already know." She stated, not looking up from her phone.
"Mmm, this one was unexpected. Still piecing it together." You turned towards the window, the rest of the car ride silent as you thought.
You figured this meeting would have something to do with the case, probably about his kid brother, Sherlock. You'd never met him because Mycroft never mentioned him, you knew they were related once you heard his name back at the crime scene.
Mycroft usually asked you favours about things such as this, whether it be about a case or some specific person he needed info on. He didn't like doing that work himself, he always refused to do anything but office work. You were basically his undercover fieldwork 'agent'. You had agreed to help Mycroft because it kept you out of your flat when you didn't have any work. You constantly kept busy.
Soon, the car pulled into a large hidden warehouse and stopped. You could see Mycroft standing a few meters in front of the car, leaning on his umbrella. You suspected he'd look intimidating to those who didn't know him, however, as much as he tried, he couldn't intimidate you.
You exited the car, approaching him.
"You know, you don't always have to arrange unexpected meetings like this to talk to me, Mycroft. I do have a mobile." You told him irritably, showing him you did indeed have a phone. You liked Mycroft, but he was wasting your time. He must know you were busy at the moment.
"You know I prefer talking in person." Mycroft told you in his boring, monotone voice.
"Yes, but I have pressing matters at the moment. I have a murder to solve. You know that by now." You told him as you stopped in front of him, crossing your arms.
"I thought it was a suicide?" Mycroft questioned.
"Oh use your brain, Mycroft. If it was a suicide I'd already be off this case. Suicides are boring. Please continue so I may get back to work." You told him, already knowing he was testing you as always. You were unsure why, he knew he couldn't get anything past you.
"As always, Y/N. I brought you here because of Sherlock." He said. You looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes, I knew this had something to do with your kid brother. What do you want from me?" You sighed, surely he could handle his younger brother himself.
Mycroft was silent for a moment, his face holding stoney displeasure. "You've seen him- he's trouble. I can't have you working near him."
Your eyebrows creased as you studied him. "What? Why?"
"If you're seen near him, which you will be, you're no longer of use to me." He explained.
You pondered this a moment. "I'm afraid I will be of no longer use to you. I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding someone to replace me."
Mycroft seemed annoyed by your answer, but you didn't care. You were figuring out his brother whether he liked it or not. He couldn't stop you.
"I'm afraid you're making the wrong decision."
"And you think I care?"
At that Mycroft studied you. "No, of course you don't. I knew this would happen sooner or later. Once the two of you met, you'd be drawn to one another."
Your eyes shot to his upon hearing that. "Drawn to one another?" You weren't sure where he was going with that.
"Yes, you both want to figure each other out. Which means you'll be spending quite the amount of time together. I'm confident you'll form some sort of... bond." Mycroft looked unsettled as he spoke the word, 'bond'.
"You know who I am right?" You said this monotone, searching Mycroft's eyes.
"Of course, but I think I know more about you than you'll accept about yourself."
You narrowed your eyes at him. What was he getting at with all this weird deduction stuff? Was he trying to throw you off?
"I'm unaware of what you mean." He had you hooked now, you needed to know more.
"You'll understand in time. Now, as you said, you're timetable is quite full, you best be going." Mycroft waved you away, but your feet stayed planted. Once you made no indication of leaving, Mycroft spoke once more. "I have nothing else to say to you."
You hesitated, before you finally turned the other way, thoughts jumbling around your head. You were completely unsure of what Mycroft had meant. You knew his words had only made you additionally intrigued to learn more about Sherlock. Somehow you needed to figure out this thing Mycroft claimed you couldn't accept about yourself.
Without another word, you opened the car door and climbed in absentmindedly. You leaned forward to tell the driver your desired location. "Lauriston Gardens."
You leaned back into the seat, not even taking notice of the phone woman next to you as your brain was on full drive. There was more to solve than just this case.
Soon, you were dropped off right outside Lauriston Gardens as requested. The streets were dark and nearly empty, which made what you were about to do a lot easier.
You bustled to the closest alleway that held a skip and jumped up, pushing the lid open. You peaked in, sighing as there was nothing to be found. You continued on to the next alleyway.
After about a half hour of this, you finally found it. Lo and behold, a bright pink suitcase sat abandoned under a dark blue tarp, along with some other rubbish and things. You fished it out, hurrying to find a taxi to head back to the lab where you could examine it before you handed it over to Lestrade. You commonly did this, you wanted evidence to yourself before the little forensic minions tore into it. Specifically this case, if they had it first, they would ruin any potential things that needed deducing about the woman.
You couldn't help but think about how bothered Sherlock would be when he found out you found this case before him! Sometimes it entertained you to get under people's skin, just to observe how their emotions worked. You were eager to see if Sherlock would react the way you believed he would; you found yourself thinking as you hailed a taxi.
It pulled to the side of the road and you hopped in, telling the cabbie your desired location. As the car pulled away, you watched out the windows looking over the same old, city scenery. You weren't paying attention to the buildings passing by, but were continuing your thoughts on what Mycroft had said. Your thoughts were interrupted when your eyes caught Sherlock bending over a skip in an alleyway only minutes from where you had just been.
"Stop!" You shouted at the cabbie, an idea suddenly hitting you. The driver slammed on the breaks, cursing. You paid no attention to his foul words as you opened your door. "Stay here, I'll be back in a moment with someone else." You hurried over to Sherlock with the case in hand. This was going to be a fun experiment.
"Looking for something?" You called out to him. He jumped down from the skip to look at you. You held up the bright pink case in front of you and he looked at you, shocked. Just as you had suspected.
"How did you..." You noted his brief facial expression and identified it as confusion. Something told you this didn't happen to him that often. It disappeared as quickly as it appeared.
"Same way you did, I just beat you to it. Getting slow, I presume?" You observed. Sherlock's eyes opened a bit wider, you knew he didn't hear that often. Another idea occurred to you and you raised an eyebrow. "Now, if you want to take a look at the case then I suggest we go back to your flat. Unless you want me to hand it over to Lestrade?" You knew this would force him to agree with you. He needed to see what was inside the case. You could tell he was the kind of person who desperately needed the answer to everything. He was a man of science. Just like you were a woman of science. Rationality was key.
"Alright then." He quickly agreed, eyeing the case that was secured safely in your hands.
"I've already got us a taxi." You told him motioning to the taxi that was still waiting on the side of the road. He followed you as you climbed into the taxi.
"221B Baker Street." Sherlock told the driver, then you were off.
"I'd liked to know about your accident." Sherlock spoke.
"Excuse me?" You turned to look at him and saw he was looking out the window, watching the scenery pass. He turned to look at you, his eyes back on his calculating look.
"Your accident. The scar. You said I shouldn't waste time trying to figure it out, but it wasn't that hard to come to a conclusion." He shrugged, like it was no big deal he was able to find out about your accident.
"Enlighten me."
Sherlock grinned at that and you prepared for his rapid deducing. "A scar usually signals a simple accident for most people, but an ordinary accident to the extent of yours typically causes brain damage. The way you subconsciously touch your hand to it when you think. It signals your accident did quite the opposite. You gained something from it rather than lost. Tell me, what did you gain?"
You looked over him for a while. No one knew that. You'd never told anyone about how the accident had changed you. The only people that knew were your parents and your doctor's. Sherlock was rather good. "A better understanding of things. I was more able to pile information and remember it all. While you were mostly correct, you were wrong about something."
Sherlock titled his head, not seeing what he'd gotten wrong. "What?"
"I didn't just gain something. I lost something too."
"What did you lose?"
"I think that's fairly obvious, but I'll spare you time. My emotions were lost, deleted basically. I was left with no memory of them and a chemical imbalance in my brain. I'm incapable of feeling." You simply explained, this was something you had to tell often to jump through some hoops with angry people. You were used to sharing the story.
At that, Sherlock seemed more intrigued than ever. "How did it happen?"
You raised your eyebrows at him. "You want to know what happened? What will you conclude from that?"
Sherlock thought over this a minute before answering. "A better understanding of how you gained something that most people lose."
"I don't see how you'll find that in my story, but fair enough." You sighed, going into your routine telling of the story in a bored voice. "I was 16 years old and my parents surprised me-"
"No, no, no. I don't want your memorised speech, I want to know what you experienced." Your lips parted as Sherlock requested that, no one had ever asked you how you'd felt in the moments of falling into the icy cold rapids. You hadn't told anyone that the only emotions you could recall feeling was the immense fear you had as your lungs threatened to fill with water and the rocks collided into left and right...
Your gaze must have glazed over as Sherlock leaned into your view. You shook your head, coming back to reality. "I... I'm not sure-"
"You remember something about the accident you couldn't find anywhere else. I'd like to know what. The look on your face suggested you seemed to be scared." Sherlock pushed the subject on and you sighed.
"Listen, this is just a total waste of time." You turned away from him, ready for this to be done and over with.
Sherlock was silent a moment, but you could tell he was going to continue to push the subject. "You're avoiding the story... you haven't told anyone, have you?"
"No." You admitted, starting to get slightly annoyed with Sherlock.
"No one has asked. I did." Sherlock continued. He was in fact correct. He had a point there.
"True. Alright, then, as you wish." You sighed, your mind transporting you back to the day where you'd lost and gained so much.
You remembered the morning so clearly, it felt as if you were there again, reliving it all. How everything seemed to be going wrong that day, almost trying to warn you of the dangers to come. Your parents had pushed through in order to make your birthday one to remember. You'd always wanted to go white water rafting. You knew you'd love the joy of the thrill and possible danger. When you finally got on the raft, you couldn't focus on the fun. You were too worried about the blotchy rashes on your face. You'd been dumb enough to unstrap your helmet, then leap after the paddle before it fell into the water. You remember the rushing of the water, how unexpectedly loud it was. You could almost feel the panic rise in your chest as you frailed around, attempting to recall the safety training. You were too distracted by the piercing cold water and the way it jerked you back and forth and left you uncontrollably spinning into rocks, beating you up. "Yes, I remember the fear... it was like someone had punched me in the gut as hard as they could and I couldn't breathe. All I could do was helplessly frail my arms attempting not to give in to the pain as my lungs burned for air before I was knocked unconscious. A funny thing fear is, it tightens your chest and your heart rate goes soaring." You could feel the slight quicken of your heart rate and you cleared your throat, looking over at Sherlock. "Of course, I haven't felt anything like it since."
"Fascinating."
"Eh, kind of boring if you ask me." You shrugged.
Sherlock changed the subject after staring at you quite a long time. You could feel his eyes on you as you glanced out the window. "So, how'd you do it?"
You turned back to him, studying his face. "The suitcase? Same way as you did. I analysed the evidence, did some deducing and came to the answer." You shrugged, like this was no big deal. It was an everyday thing for you. The case was exceptionally easy.
"Yes, but how? I've never met anyone who could do that." Sherlock leaned towards you, eager for your answer
"Well, I'm not anyone, and now you have. Congratulations. Besides, we just talked about it. I thought you'd figure it out yourself. Just comes to prove I'm smarter than you." You answered bluntly. If you could still get angry, you would probably be close to it with the way Sherlock was acting at the moment. This was the main reason you worked alone, people were annoying. They always said the wrong things. Sherlock looked a bit taken aback by your tone, is this how he treated people all the time?
"Okay, then. If you're as good as I am... deduce me." Sherlock challenged, raising his eyebrows confidently at you.
"I'm not sure if you'll like what I'll see." You told him, making sure he wanted to tell him.
"Please, like it would affect me."
"Okay..." You didn't hesitate to fulfill his request after he claimed he wouldn't be upset. You had a feeling he would but he told you too, so it was fair game.
"Well, for starters I see a cocky man who wants to show off his talents to anyone and everyone around him. That's very obvious as you take any chance you can to tell everyone how you've figured any little detail out. The flipped-up coat collar doesn't help either by the way, it doesn't look as cool as you think it does. That's just a personal opinion though. I also know you share a flat with John Watson, or are about to. You're convincing him to move in. Of course, I could've asked him that myself but it was obvious when he asked me where you had went back at the crime scene. Why would a war doctor be at a crime scene if he wasn't invited? But you invited him. Why? Because you're thinking about being flatmates, of course. He loves danger and you're around it constantly. Perfect match. Then there's the awkward shifting around me. Which tells me you haven't had a lot of experience with women. Also, you play the violin; I can tell by the calluses on your fingers. It could've been a guitar, but you only have calluses on one hand, a guitar would cause calluses on both hands. Plus, you have a slight indent under your chin from many years of playing. I can also see that you hide away from many people. Maybe it's because you're afraid of what others will think if you tell them certain things or that you don't like what they have to say about you. In conclusion, no matter how many friends you may ever get, Sherlock, I see a man that's alone. Closed off ever since your childhood. Oh, and don't even get me started on the substance abuse." You finished looking over at Sherlock with a hard face.
"Anyone could've figured out everything you just said." Sherlock told you acting unimpressed, but you could tell you'd just hit a nerve, as Sherlock turned away from you in his seat. Your Sherlock experiment seemed to be working perfectly.
"No they couldn't. You're just upset I was right on point. You said you wouldn't be, yet you are." You let a smirk grow on your face at the fact he didn't think you'd be able to see right through him. He ignored your comment. "At least I think you are... I'd like to know." At the look Sherlock gave you, you were sure he was upset.
"Well, why not get back at me? People seem to like revenge, not sure why... I'm interested to hear what you have to say." You told him, that peaked his interest.
"Right, well we already know about your accident, and your difficult childhood. You grew up unable to make friends, many people hated you. You got picked on at school, many rumours about the girl with no emotions who came back with a huge scar. Your parents tried their best to help you, but you turned them away, moving out as soon as you could. When you went to university it seemed to be a waste of time, you knew everything they were teaching you- hence why you're a doctor, but young. You got to graduate early based on your exceptional skill set. You live in a small flat, although you're never there. You landed a job at the best institution in London. You bury yourself in work in order to compensate for the lack of a social life. Although, you say you don't care, I have a sneaking suspicion that deep down somewhere you do. You were said to have no emotions... yet you were actually reliving the fear you had as you plunged into those rapids. You can still feel, your brain just doesn't know how. Or maybe it's you who's holding it back because you're afraid what will happen if you let yourself remember." Sherlock took a deep breath after getting that out and you let his words soak in.
"Hmm... You say I can still feel? How did you figure that conclusion up?" You couldn't help but relay on what Mycroft had spoken to you earlier. When he said you couldn't accept something about yourself, had he meant you were refusing to accept emotion? Both of the Holmes brothers were wrong.
"Your bracelet, you keep twisting it on your wrist. It was a gift... you don't seem to want to wear it, yet you are. You subconsciously care about whoever gave it to you, but you're in denial." Sherlock gestured to your small, metal bracelet around your wrist. You glanced down at it before looking back up at Sherlock.
"Interesting conclusion, although I don't believe it's accurate." You told him seriously, the things he said about your emotions were preposterous, you didn't know how to feel. You weren't holding anything back.
"Mmm, who gave you the bracelet?"
You again looked down at the golden bracelet on your wrist before looking back up at Sherlock. "My mum... after..." You trailed off, not wanting to mention more about your past.
"After?" Sherlock motioned you to continue. You rolled your eyes.
"After I broke up with my high school boyfriend."
Sherlock's eyes widened at this new information. "Interesting..." He seemed to be entering a deep level of concentration. He looked straight ahead, his eyes closed, yet you could still see them moving back and forth. Sherlock finally looked at you, his eyebrows knitting together as he looked over your face, you knew the look.
"Stop. Don't look at me like that. Just don't." You told him, turning away from him, your eyes looking back out the window. There was nowhere else you could look but there. At the buildings and sidewalks flying by. He placed a soft hand on the inside of your arm but you didn't turn back to look at him. You didn't want to see the look he still surly had on his face. You just knew that Sherlock knew, he'd found out something no one ever knew except you, your mother, and your father.
"When you changed, your parents were accepting. They took your bluntness, they took the truth, they accepted the pain. They even helped you learn, they cared for you no matter what. They did better than helped you, they adapted, they understood you. That's why when they found out your boyfriend was-"
"No. Just... just stop." You interrupted Sherlock, pulling your arm away from him. You didn't want to talk to Sherlock about your ex, this was all a huge waste of time. There was more important matters at hand.
"You wanted to experiment, to try to feel something. You got a boyfriend. You knew what he was like, you chose him purposefully. I'd say it wasn't long into your relationship before he started beating you. He let your words get to him. He took offence to them. But you took his abuse, you took it all and didn't even tell anyone. That's why you're so scared to let anyone see that you still have-"
You cursed under your breath, turning to look at Sherlock dead in the eyes. "He was weak. He couldn't take the truth. I wasn't affected by what he did, I don't hold that burden. Like you said, it was an experiment and it was a successful one at that." You said this calmly and truthfully, your eyes searching Sherlock's. "Don't ever give me that look again. I don't need anyone's pity. I. Don't. Care." You spoke lowly this time and Sherlock nodded softly, getting the point.
"I believe that you feel bad about the things you spoke to him in order to provoke him. You think that you should've known the difference between right and wrong, yet you just told yourself it was an experiment. You think the abuse was your fault, that maybe you'd been wrong about him and turned him into a monster. I don't think you've come to that realisation yourself yet-" Sherlock continued on. He was making less and less sense the more he talked.
"Stop talking, you'll find the words you are speaking couldn't be more wrong." You leaned as close to him as you could manage in the car. You needed to make sure he'd get the point you were about to make. "I am not an emotional 16 year old any longer. I'm a rational adult woman who's the smartest forensic scientist in all of London. What my ex did, it never affected me. It was years ago. I walked into it knowing what to expect and I didn't care. The day of my accident, it rid me of my emotions. For good. The doctors on the case would agree with me. I never regretted anything I said. No matter the consequence."
He gave a smile before nodding. "Yeah, sure. We'll see who's right in the end." You gave him a confused look, really not understanding him. He whipped up some crazy idea just to impress you? Or maybe he was trying to irritate you like you had to him with your deductions. Either way, you weren't sure. You just knew he was wrong.
"Well, we're here." You announced as the taxi pulled to the kerb. You were quick to exit the taxi, not wanting to listen to the false facts leaving Sherlock's mouth. He couldn't be more wrong about you and your life.
You lugged the suitcase along with you as you walked towards the black door that in fancy gold letters read, '221B'. You let Sherlock pass you and he opened the door, stepping in with you right behind him.