You're in Sherlock (Sherlock × Reader)

The Great Game: Chapter 5

Once you reached Baker Street, the four of you hurried out of the cab. You all jogged towards 221C's entrance. Sherlock held up his hand in front of the door before you could enter. You looked up at him, wondering why he was stopping.

"The doors have been opened recently... Y/n when was the last time someone came through here for you?" Sherlock looked at you, intently waiting for your answer.

"I've only just gotten the mold removed last week, so no one I know of has been here since last Tuesday. Clearly someone has according to the door, though. I'll get the spare key from Mrs. Hudson, won't be a minute." You replied, hurrying to find Mrs. Hudson. You ran up to Mrs. Hudson's flat, giving her door a couple rapid knocks, she appeared at the door with a smile on her face.

"Oh, hello Y/n!" She smiled sweetly, but you got straight to the point.

"I need the spare key to 221C, it's urgent." You told her and she hurried back into the flat to grab them.

"How is the renovation going? I can't believe you bought the flat, no one's wanted it. It's the curse of basements, you know. I had a place once, when I was first married, black mould all up the walls, it was like a weight on your chest-" She handed over the key and you rushed down to 221C. Quickly inserting the key and pushing open the door. Sherlock pushed past you and ran inside glancing around.

The flat looked the same as when you last saw it, all grimy and still in need of a major fix up. The paint was peeling and the carpet was stained. At least the mold had been taken care of. In the center of the floor of the living area sat a pair of trainers. Interesting...

"Shoes?" John asked, confused as he looked down at them. Sherlock approached them and John looked alarmed. You'd already begun to search the flat. "Remember we are dealing with a bomber here, Sherlock." At that Sherlock stepped back a bit and crouched to look over them. You looked around, searching if anything had been moved, so far, there was nothing. There wasn't really anything to move.

A ringing sound came from Sherlock's pocket and you turned to see him pull the pink phone from his pocket and hold it out for everyone to hear. "Hello." Sherlock answered, looking over to you. You furrowed your eyebrows, listening to a soft sobbing on the other line.

"Hello, sexy." A woman's voice whimpered out, sobbing. You glanced over to Lestrade and John and saw confusion written across their faces.

"Who is this?" Sherlock asked harshly, looking back and forth between you and John. You continued to look around the flat, something felt different. But what was it?

"I've sent you... a little puzzle... just to say... hi." The woman stuttered, sniffling.

"Who's talking? Are you crying?" You listened to Sherlock speak on the phone as you slowly crossed to the mantel above the fireplace.

"I'm not crying.... I'm typing." You turned to raise an eyebrow at Sherlock, typing... typing. "And this stupid bitch is reading it out." The woman sobbed, clearly terrified. Then it hit you. She was a hostage. It had been so obvious! A panicked look instantly crossed over John and Lestrade's faces. They always were too emotional.

"The curtain rises..." Sherlock whispered, looking mesmerized. You shook your head at him, reading his face. His face could tell you so much, just by the way it looked.

"What?" John asked, clearly unable to read his expression.

"Nothing." Sherlock answered, snapping out of his trance.

"No. What do you mean?" John furrowed his eyebrows at Sherlock, taking a step closer.

"He's been expecting something like this." You answered simply, studying Sherlock. His mind held so many secrets and such a vast past... you were eager to learn more about him than you already did. You mostly wondered why he'd been expecting this, your mind flashed back to the first case you and Sherlock had ever been on together. He'd gotten the cabbie to give him information, something about a Moriarty... could this have something to do with him? If Sherlock was expecting something big, it must be this and the work of Moriarty.