After The Fall | Sherlock x Reader
Word Count: 2321
John Watson and his sister/brother (Y/N) Watson didn’t know what to do anymore. They were barely coping with Sherlock being gone. (Y/N) not being that much better than John, but s(he) still got up every morning and went to work. Some nights, s(he) would stay late with Molly, filling out reports s(he) didn’t need to. S(he) wanted to avoid going home, but s(he) always knew s(he) couldn’t stay forever.
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Two years had passed. John had been going on dates with this new girl, (Y/N) approved fully, and didn’t have any problems with them. Mary had come over to have tea with (Y/N) and John more than once, and (Y/N) thought that Mary was a very lovely person. Didn’t seem like too much of a dull mind.
That is what attracted The Great Sherlock Holmes, too (Y/N). You were a brilliant mind, and Sherlock loved that. He felt like there was never a dull moment with you, and that he could listen to you talk for hours on end. He never felt bored around you, but most importantly, he was never able to read you, if you didn’t let him in.
You were sitting in the living room of 221B Baker Street, when you heard a knock on the door. You ignored it, 10:30 at night, and you didn’t feel like having any company. You, reading a really excellent book, and couldn’t seem to put it down. You didn’t feel like being bothered, and repositioned yourself on the couch, your navy blue blanket falling over your legs.
“(Y/N) open up. I know you’re in there. What book are reading this time? It’s nothing in the house, possibly something from the library down the street, no, the library in West London. You probably didn’t find anything new. You’re sitting on the couch, your legs curled up underneath you, and the blanket Sherlock got you for Christmas is splayed across your lap. I know you haven’t left the flat this entire week, you called in sick, but they obviously couldn’t tell you were faking. Darling, I have eyes and ears everywhere, now please open the door,” there was a light tapping again, and you removed yourself from the couch.
A pleasant smile graced your face as you opened the door, “Hello Mycroft,”
“I just stopped by to see how my brother’s favorite human was doing,”
“I’m doing fine now. Working from home this week, Lestrade hasn’t called me out for anything, and why are you wearing the cologne again? The last time you wore it, you broke out in a rash and Sherlock had to make you sure went to the hospital,”
“Your memory still fascinates me,”
“Thank you, Mycroft. A photographic memory comes in handy sometimes,”
“Do you have any tea?”
“Of course, now, how long has Sherlock been back?”
“I said no such thing,” Mycroft followed you with his eyes, trying not to show that he was surprised, with your very true accusation.
“You wouldn’t stop in on some casual day if Sherlock wasn’t back, or if I wasn’t in some kind of danger, besides, it was obvious to tell that he faked his death. A few minor calculations, that most everybody missed. I also suggest something more creative next time,”
“I forget that you’re working on your sixth doctorate,”
“Unimportant,” You spoke with the wave of your hand.
“Yes, if you knew his death was fake, why did you grieve?”
“Mycroft, you and your brother both claim that caring is a disadvantage, until they find the right person to bring it out in them. For you, it’s Anthea, that’s why you’re wearing that cologne, there is also a lipstick stain on your collar, that matches the lipstick she wears, the lipstick you buy her. You also carry her ponytail holder, the indent from it is still on your wrist, and as soon as you saw how messy my hair was, your hand twitched down toward your bare wrist.”
“And what about my brother?”
“I was that person for your brother, while he doesn’t risk going into anaphylactic shock, he did do meaningful things for me. He would let me sleep in after a long case, when I would have a nightmare, he would play my favorite tune on the violin until I calmed down. When I woke up bad mood, he would make me coffee, and when I woke up in a good mood, he would already have a cuppa made for me. Small stuff like that. He would give me his scarf when we were walking in the rain or snow, and he would slip off his gloves so that I could feel the heat of his hands when he held mine, whenever we walked through London,” Your phone rang on the table, and Mycroft glanced at it, as your hands quickly picked it up.
“Military time. Why do you still keep it on that setting?” He questioned you, and you held up a finger. You rushed to put on the navy blue trench coat John had gotten you for Christmas, and slipped on a pair of (heels/loafers).
You hung up the phone before your hand reached the door, and whipped your head around, looking at Mycroft, “Do you want to go on an adventure?”
“(Y/N) everything is an adventure to you,” Mycroft set his cup down, and grabbed his umbrella, “where are we going?”
“Germany,” With that, you swept yourself out the door, yelling to Mrs. Hudson about how she would get peace and quiet, Mycroft easily keeping up with your pace.
It was at times like these, that someone didn’t need the ability of deduction to see that you spent some time in the military. While you were more of the brain, not working out in the front line, you still held yourself like you were walking on a military base. Your steps forward were always 30 inches, and when you had to step backwards, you kept your steps at a perfect 15 inches. You always held your head high, and when you said something, you expected it to be done, and done the way you imagined it being done it your mind. If it wasn’t done like that, then you would go back and redo it all.
“You are fascinating. To think that I called you a goldfish upon our first meeting,” Mycroft glanced over at the person to his left.
“Yes, and then you hired me to work for you for five years. We all make mistakes upon people’s first impressions, you sadly, will not admit to making those mistakes,” You strode into the airport, flashing your I.D. And walking through, security not bothering you or Mycroft. You strode onto a private plane, sitting down quickly, and putting in your earphones. Mycroft sat down across from you.
He couldn’t deduce that much about you. Your nails were short, but jagged, meaning that you had gone back to biting them. There were bags under your eyes, meaning that the book you were reading when he walked in, was just breather from this current case that you had been working on. You were obviously waiting for answers that you knew were correct, you just needed them approved before moving further into the case. Mycroft saw the gun in your holster, and the handcuffs were in your right jacket pocket.
Where is she? -SH
(Y/N). I asked you to keep an eye on (her/him). -SH
Yes, you did brother. -MH
So, where is (Y/N)? -SH
We are currently on a plane heading to Germany. -MH
Which case is (Y/N) working on? The serial killer or the cannibal? -SH
Mycroft shut his phone, and noticed a book sitting on the table in front of him. (Y/N) had dozed off and one of (his/her) earphones had fallen out of the right ear. Your phone was buzzing on and off, and no matter how hard Mycroft tried, he couldn’t ignore it. When Mycroft glanced over again, he saw that it was John Watson that was trying to communicate with you. You probably forget to him that you were going to be out of town for a little bit, and being the over-protective brother that he was, he was going to make sure you were safe when he didn’t hear from you every coupe of hours.
(Y/N) is fine Dr. Watson. She drug me along on one of her independent cases to Germany. -MH
Oh, thank you Mycroft. Does (Y/N) know that Sherlock is back? -JW
No, not yet. He hasn’t made his dramatic comeback into (his/her) life right now. I suspect that it is going to happen soon. -MH
Keep me updated. (Y/N)’s been working on this case for the past 3 years, on and off of course, and this is the closest (he/she) has gotten to catching this guy. (Y/N) has been forgetting to sleep, and eat. Please keep a close eye on her Mycroft. You’re the second person I trust with (Y/N) more than myself and Sherlock. -JW
Of course, my dear Watson, your (brother/sister) is in the best care. Take care of Sherlock. -MH
Of course. -JW
Mycroft woke you up when the plane landed. You had jumped up quickly, running your hand through your hair once, and then moving on to grab your duffle bag, and slinging your messenger bag over your shoulder. Moving quickly, and getting off the plane as fast as possible, you brushed past Mycroft and he quickly followed. Assuming you were going to the nearest hotel, he was in for a surprise when he realized you were going straight to the crime scene.
“No wonder Sherlock to a liking to you,” he muttered off when you arrived.
“What do you mean?” You were already engrossed with the scene, so your voice was just below a whisper.
“Never straight to rest after a long day, there is always more work to be done for you,”
“Mycroft, I didn’t learn that from Sherlock, I learned that from you. When I was one of your field agents. You hardly allowed me a break, and when I came back to work from being shot in the shoulder, you called me ‘incompetent’ and that I needed to 'work on my reflexes,’”
“Well, it was perfectly rea-,”
“Anyways, I’ve looked at this long enough. I need to eat some breakfast, then go and arrest this guy. He has the signature and everything. I know exactly who this is from the angle of the slash marks across the carotid artery,” You stood and started to walk out of the door when you froze.
“How I have missed my genius,”
“Sherlock, I’m surprised you’re not at home trying to shave John’s mustache off,”
“Trust me, I have tried, but our dear blogger has decided that he wants to keep the mustache. Did you know he’s dating another woman?”
“Yes, she’s not all that bad Sherlock,” you turned around, and smile already gracing your lips, “you know, you didn’t use enough blood for that death to be convincible,”
“Yes, I might have slightly miscalculated the amount, it was enough to convince everyone else,” Sherlock smiled at you and extended his hand out towards you, “maybe we should stop by the hotel, and get some rest before going after a serial killer and cannibal, don’t you?”
“Yes, I suppose,” You ran another hand through your hand, and used your other hand to grasp Sherlock’s.
“How long has it been since you’ve last ate?” Sherlock looked you up and down, head to toe before nodding at Mycroft, “thank you for taking care of (him/her),”
“No problem brother, now, I have to get back to more important matters. Anthea is is Munich, and we are in Berlin. I’m being picked up in just a few minutes,”
You bounded over towards Mycroft, and wrapped your arms around his waist. He tensed up at first, but then his arms slowly wrapped around your frame, “Thank you for putting up with me Mycroft. And for protecting me when Sherlock was away,”
“Anything for one of my best agents, take care of my brother,” Mycroft gave you a pat on the head, opened his umbrella and walked away.
Sherlock walked up behind you, and slipped his hand into yours. He pulled you close to his body, and walked away from the crime scene with you, “Marry me,”
You glanced up at him, your eyes widening slightly, before you shook your head, “Why? Sherlock, we don’t even go on dates,”
“Because, I know that you love me (Y/N). You have helped me understand many emotions that I haven’t had to deal with before I met you. I feel like I could rule the world with you by my side. Besides, dates are for normal couples, we know everything about each other, and why spend time on pointless things such as dinners, and dancing, the real fun is with the bad guys,”
“Yes.” You looked up at him, as he froze in his tracks.
“You will?” His voice almost sounded hopeful, like he hadn’t clearly heard you.
“Yes, Sherlock Holmes, I will marry you,”
“Fantastic. I was thinking we could have the wedding July 2nd. Exactly half-way through the year,” He started walking back to the hotel and you saw your room key hanging from his pointer finger on his left hand. You had to speed walk to catch up to him, but you didn’t realize that he had been staring at you the entire walk back to the hotel.
Sherlock Holmes. This man was going to be the death of you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.