Lost and Found (Sherlock x Reader)

The Blind Banker (Part 2)

You let out a long sigh as you opened the seemingly heavy front door. You practically stumbled forward as you made your way to the stairs.

'Home at last,' You thought to yourself.

You had just barely walked up two of the steps before John and Sherlock came into view. Sherlock walked right passed you, though his eyes followed you the entire way. You felt a wave of sadness, knowing that he was still trying to figure out who you were. You were on the verge of just telling him, but kept your composure. John, on his way down the stairs, smiled at you.

"Hey, y/n."

You smiled back. "Hi John. D'you guys have a case?"

John sighed. "We do." There was a moment of awkward silence before John thought of something. "I don't suppose you want to come along?"

You let out a soft chuckle. "I would love to. Just let me change out of my work clothes."

***

John explained the entirety of the case to you on the way to Scotland Yard. Apparently, a strange message was spray painted in someone's office at Shad Sanderson Bank. Sherlock figured out who the message was intended for: a man named Eddie Van Coon. Later that day, they found Mr. Van Coon in his apartment dead, supposedly suicide.
The next day, a man named Brian Lukis was found dead in his apartment. Both cases of murder were similar in the way that the apartment doors and windows were locked from the inside.
After retracing Brian Lukis's steps, they found the same graffiti at the library Lukis visited as was at the bank. Now, John and Sherlock were trying to find out how Van Coon's and Lukis's paths may have coincided. And, perhaps, along the way, they would find out what the strange cipher meant.
The cab pulled up to Scotland Yard. You and John stood in front of a desk as someone you didn't recognize rummaged through a box of Brian Lukis's belongings.

You leaned over to John. "Where's the other Detective Inspector? Lestrade, or whatever his name is?"

"Busy, apparently," John whispered back.

"I can hear you whispering," The man in front of you said. You and John immediately shut up. The man glanced at you for a brief moment and then continued sorting through the box. "I'm Detective Inspector Dimmock. This is my case."

You nodded. "Well it's very nice to meet you, Detective Inspector."

Dimmock flashed the briefest of smiles and then shoved a few items out of the way in the box. He glanced up at John and sighed, shaking his head.

"Your detective friend..."

John interrupted him before he could say anything about Sherlock. "Listen, whatever you say, I'm behind you one hundred percent."

"He's an arrogant sod," Dimmock commented.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. All his life, Sherlock was made fun of, scolded, bullied. Now as an adult, the same thing was happening, and when he was hurting, you were hurting. If he was sad, you were sad. You wanted nothing more than for him to be happy—for the world to see him as you did.

"Well, that was mild," John said in response to Dimmock. "People say a lot worse than that."

Dimmock finally produced the little black diary that John had asked for. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? The journalist's diary?"

John took the small book and flipped through it. "Yes." He then began to walk away. You nodded at Dimmock appreciatively, though you did not feel the need to smile at him.