His Great Game (Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter 4: A New Residency

(Sherlock's POV)

I watched her carefully as she made her deductions and came to the conclusion I had been hoping for. John and I shared an impressed glance. This one was certainly different. "Lestrade! Come quickly!" (Y/n) stared at us, nervously biting her lip, wondering whether or not we approved of what she had said. Well, she was about to find out. Thoughts floated through my head and I began to connect the puzzle pieces.

I turned and gave her an approving smile. She gave a relieved smile and relaxed her shoulders momentarily before scrunching them up again because she was cold. I heard Lestrade jogging over. With the few spare seconds I had, I studied her. She may not have been model material, but she wasn't unpleasant to look at in the slightest. She was still smiling, and the grin lit up her face, making her all the more pleasing to the eye. A quick glance at John showed that he didn't mind staring at her, either. Her (h/l), (h/c) hair was tucked behind her ears and she stood with her arms huddled against her for warmth.

I was momentarily confused as to why she would be wearing a tank top if she was cold, but I noticed the blood-stained hoodie on the ground next to her and gave a mental nod of understanding. Of course, how could I have missed it?

"What is it?" Lestrade stood beside me, eagerly awaiting my solution.

"Gavin," I began.

"Greg."

"Whatever." I continued, my eyes never leaving (Y/n). There were so many details available to the one who observes. "As (Y/n) has already laid out for us and as I had already concluded, the sniper was there to protect her, not harm her. But the question is- why?" I furrowed my brows and stared (Y/n) straight in the eyes, her (e/c) eyes meeting my own. "Why is she special?"

She shifted uncomfortably under my gaze and looked down. I turned to face Lestrade instead. "(Y/n) is nothing special. She is intelligent, judging by the fact that she is a Cambridge student. But then again, a degree says nothing about intelligence. However, judging by her deductive reasoning skills she has proven to possess, she truly is quite intelligent. She hasn't been here very long- her accent is still completely American. I'd say no more than a week. But she's also quite young, only (y/age). She wouldn't be here out of the blue unless she was finishing her last year at Cambridge, so therefore she has skipped a least two grades to be a senior in University so early. Now, about her flat. Why is it in London and not Cambridge? Obviously, she needed time to adapt to the new country before spending an entire year here. Once her semester begins, she'll probably live on-campus. Have I gotten everything right so far?"

(Y/n) stood with her mouth open in shock. She quickly closed it as I addressed her. "Uh, yeah. Continue." John gave a small smile.

I did just that. "SO. Intelligent girl moves to London from America and has a sniper following her in less than a week. For all we know, she could have been being followed the whole time. Therefore, Miss (Y/n), it would seem" I paused for dramatic affect and looked at John, whom I knew would understand what I was about to say. "That you have a fan." John's eyes widened and he began to fit the puzzle pieces together. His eyes sent a silent message. Moriarty?

"A fan." Lestrade repeated, clearly annoyed. "A fan. I brought you all the way out here and this is what you're giving me?"

I clapped my hands together and beamed a large smile at Lestrade. Oh, this was a good one. "YES, Detective Inspector. A fan. It all makes sense." I paced in a circle, trying to keep from jumping up and down in excitement. "But the ever-pressing question is still: why her?"

"I'm right here, you know." (Y/n) piped up in her painfully American accent, clearly embarrassed and confused about the whole situation. I stopped pacing and looked over at her. She was still shivering in the cold. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't care. But this girl was different. She was intelligent, and a character that Moriarty seemed quite interested in keeping alive. For someone who had just undergone a traumatic experience, she was surprisingly level-headed. In short, I didn't entirely hate having to deal with her. I slipped off my coat and held it out to her. She looked at me questioningly and I gave her a nod of reassurance. I tried to ignore the surprised looks from Lestrade and John. I rarely acted this way.

"Thank you." She said shyly as she reached for the trench coat. Her hand touched mine as she pulled it away, and I made a mental note of how soft her hands were. I watched her every move as she put it on. Surprisingly, you can tell a lot about a person based on how they put on a coat. The coat was huge on her, and made her look much smaller than she actually was. I suppressed my smile.

What the hell was that about? John's expression practically screamed the words at me. I elected to ignore him and continue speaking as if I had never stopped.

"The answer is: I haven't the faintest idea. However I do know that (Y/n) has someone following her at least part of the time- a person who knows where she lives. The only obvious statement that can be made at the moment is that she isn't safe here. She can't stay in this complex anymore."

All three of them gave a nod of agreement.

"Okay then." Lestrade agreed. "Where is she staying, then?"

"She stays with me and John, of course."