Hello Detective (Sherlock) Chapter 31
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53 Part 54 Part 55 Part 56 Part 57 Part 58 Part 59 Part 60 Part 61
When you left the abandoned factory you went immediately to Baker Street. You needed to know how much Sherlock had heard. When you got to the door there was a piece of paper slipped under the knocker. It read’ Crime in progress. Please disturb’. You pushed the door open and rushed up the stairs.
“What’s going on?” You asked as you walked in the door. You turned your head and saw your uncle Ryan tied to a chair with duct tape over his mouth and blood on his face.
“Mrs. Hudson’s been attacked by an American, I’m restoring balance to the universe.” Sherlock said, probably not realising that you too were an American. Sherlock was on the phone and pointing a gun at your uncle. You rushed to Mrs. Hudson who was sitting on the couch. You noticed a cut on her cheek where she was clearly punched.
“Are you alright?” you asked, hugging her as she cried.
“This is a new low, even for you.” You growled at your uncle.
“Take her downstairs and look after her.” Sherlock instructed you. You got up began walking through the door.
“Sherlock um, what Irene said…” You began.
“That’s not something I really want to talk about right now Y/N because if we do I will murder this man.” Sherlock said, standing above your uncle still pointing the gun at him. You only nodded and followed Mrs. Hudson downstairs.
You got some disinfectant on a cotton ball and began lightly dabbing it on Mrs. Hudson’s cut.
“Oh, it stings.” She whispered. There was a sudden crash outside of the window.
“Oh, that was right on my bins.” Mrs. Hudson said, Sherlock had thrown your uncle out of the window.
Later Lestrade showed up and an ambulance took your uncle away.
“Exactly how many times did he fall out of the window?” you heard Lestrade ask Sherlock.
“It’s all a bit of a blur Detective Inspector. I lost count.” Sherlock said. “Trust me, you would have done the same thing knowing what I know.”
You followed Mrs. Hudson back into the kitchen of her flat where John was now. John was insisting that she needed to stay in their flat so he could keep an eye on her, while she and Sherlock insisted she was fine.
“She’s got to take some time away from Baker Street. She can go stay with her sister. Doctor’s orders.” John said as Sherlock rummaged through her fridge.
“Don’t be absurd.” Sherlock said, eating a stolen biscuit.
“She’s in shock, for God’s sake, all over some bloody stupid camera-phone.” John said.
“Where is it, anyway?” You asked.
“Safest place I know.” Sherlock said casually, looking to Mrs. Hudson.
“You left it in the pocket of your second-best dressing gown, you clot!” Mrs. Hudson said, pulling it out of her shirt. “I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry.”
“Thank you.” Sherlock said. “Shame on you, John Watson.”
“Shame on me?” John asked confused.
“Mrs. Hudson leave Baker Street? England would fall.” Sherlock said, as he hugged Mrs. Hudson who was now laughing. You followed Sherlock and John up to their flat for a drink.
“Whatever’s on that phone is more than just pictures.” John said, handing you a drink.
“Yes, it is.” Sherlock said, picking up his violin. You heard a clock tolling outside, signaling midnight.
“Happy New Year.” Sherlock said, giving you a quick kiss before he began to play Auld Lang Syne on his violin.
That night you decided to return home, sensing Sherlock might need some space. You wished Mrs. Astor a Happy New Year and began up the stairs to your flat. You showered, slipped into some pajamas and crawled into the cold bed. After about two hours of sleep you woke up to the sound of your name. Your eyes fluttered open to see Sherlock sitting on the bed next to you.
“Sherlock?” You asked in a groggy voice.
“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep. I need to know the truth, Y/N. I’ve been running scenarios through my head all night. I hate not knowing, but more than that I hate the thought of you in pain.” Sherlock said.
“You want me to tell you about Ryan?” You asked quietly. Sherlock nodded. You sat up so your back was against the headboard, Sherlock moved so he was the same.
“Um, ok well I told you before that we lived in Manhattan. My dad was always working so he wasn’t really around much. My uncle at the time worked in the New York FBI office. When I was about 15 or 16 I was home alone a lot. Angelica was already in college and Charles played sports so he was always home late. Back then my mother still worked, she was a dress designer so she was at her studio a lot. When she was busy she would ask her brother to pick me up from school sometimes if he was free. Conveniently he always was. Some of the most poisonous people come disguised as friends and family. He would bring me home and when he realized no one else was there that was when he would do it.” You began, tears threatening to spill.
“I should have killed him when I had the chance.” Sherlock said angrily.
“It wouldn’t have changed anything, Sherlock. It wouldn’t undo anything he did, nothing could.” You said.
“Did you ever tell anyone?” He asked.
“I tried, once I almost told my brother. I came home crying and I didn’t know Charles was home, he hugged me, asked me what was wrong. Right before I told him, my uncle walked in the door, most likely looking for me. He knew I was about to tell him, he made up some lie that he was looking for our mom or something, knowing she wouldn’t be home for a few more hours. Next time I saw him he had just ran over my dog, making sure I wouldn’t try to tell anyone again.” You said.
“What about going to the police?” Sherlock asked.
“By then he was so well respected in the Bureau that they would have never believed me. I was a kid, he was top candidate for Director of the FBI. Besides in America, girls hardly ever win rape cases. If you tell someone you were raped they say one of two things. What were you wearing, or you were asking for it.” You explained.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Sherlock said.
“It’s over now Sherlock, it’s been over for a while. I’m okay, it’s been over ten years since it happened.” You said, growing tired. You looked at the clock, 2:50.
“How did Irene Adler know? Who else knows?” Sherlock asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never told anyone before now. I think Mycroft deduced it when I asked him…” You began before Sherlock cut you off.
“You asked Mycroft to do what?” He asked, concerned.
“When we were at my mother’s house, I called Mycroft and asked him to pull up any dirt he could on him. He knew off the top of his head that he’s been a double agent working for the Russian government for years now. But Mycroft would never tell anyone, I don’t know who Irene is getting her intel from. Someone capable of finding out secrets like that is not someone I want to piss off.” You said. Sherlock only nodded, clearly thinking himself.
“Sherlock, can I ask you something?” You asked, he was pulled from his train of thought and turned to face you, mumbling a yes.
“When you first pulled that camera phone out of the box did you think it could be Moriarty? I mean he’s done it before.” You said.
“I think it was just a coincidence.” Sherlock said.
“We’re detectives, we don’t believe in coincidence.” You smiled, laying your head back on your pillow.
Sherlock began to stand, preparing to leave.
“You can stay you know?” You smiled. He turned around with a smile on his face.
“I’d want nothing more.” He smiled as he snuggled into the bed next to you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his chest.