His Great Game (Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter 16: John Ships It

(Your POV)

Despite John's stern warnings, I decided to make myself useful throughout the day, organizing a few things here, cleaning a little there. Mrs. Hudson had stopped by to give me some biscuits, and we ended up chatting over tea. She said she had a mini fridge she was getting rid of, and she wanted to know if we had any use for it. It had sparked an idea, and immediately I said we would take it.

After several hours and a lot of disinfectant, all of Sherlock's experiments were carefully labeled and in the mini fridge. The regular food (well, the little we had, anyways) was in the fridge, which had been wiped down and cleaned. I didn't want any chemicals on my food. I'd also taken the liberty of organizing all the dry foods in the cabinets. Much to my surprise, Sherlock also had an abundance of soup cans with little experiments going on inside of them. Ugh, gross. So, I dedicated the far left cabinet closest to the mini fridge to all his little experiments that weren't refrigerated. Satisfied that no one could accidentally eat an experiment, I laid down and took a long nap.

Currently, I was curled up in my blanket, shivering from the cold draft coming in through the cardboard-covered windows. I had stolen Sherlock's chair- it was the most comfortable in the flat. I was watching the late night Maury show; they had just started a new segment, and this man obviously wasn't the boy's father.

Footsteps. Two pairs, coming up the stairs. Ah, the boys are finally home.

The door opened. "Evening, (Y/n)." John was the first one in.

"Hey, John." I said, not looking away from the television.

"You're looking better." He said, heading to the desk by the wall.

I smiled. "Feeling it, too."

"Fantastic."

Sherlock walked in shortly after, slamming the door shut. He went straight into the kitchen, mumbling something about thermodynamics.

"Hello to you, too, Sherly."

I got nothing in response, just a grunt to know he had heard me. The fridge opened, and there was a moment of silence. "Where's my head?" Sherlock asked, clearly annoyed.

I chuckled. John looked at me accusingly. "What did you do?" He asked.

"Nothing." I said innocently, flashing him my sweetest smile.

"(Y/n)!" Sherlock rounded the corner and narrowed his eyes. "Where's my head?"

I pulled the blanket tighter, the cold seeping in. "On your shoulders." John laughed and I smiled. Sherlock, however, was less than amused. His eyes narrowed and I shrugged. "What? Ask a stupid question and get a stupid answer."

He studied me for a moment and then walked over to stand right in front of me. I strained my head to look up at him, giving him the most pleasant look I could muster. "Tell me where the head is."

"Nope." I said, popping the 'p'. He scowled- he hated when I did that.

"Fine." He quickly grabbed my blanket and stormed off with it. I gasped- it was freezing.

"Sherlock!" I jumped up and ran after him. "Give me the blanket back!"

"Tell me where the head is." He held the blanket above his head, where no matter how high I jumped, I couldn't reach it. After a few attempts, I gave up.

"Some detective you are. It's in the mini fridge, stupid." I huffed, crossing my arms.

"We don't have a mini fridge."