Imagine working for Sherlock in secret

Sherlock’s eyes were shut and his hands together as his fingers were touching his chin. Meanwhile, his friend, John Watson, was typing on his laptop. “What are you doing?” The detective asked trying to make the doctor stop doing what he was doing because it was annoying him.

“Next post,” he said.

“Stop it,” he snapped.

John stopped and looked confused at the detective. “Why?” He asked. Instead of replying him, Sherlock opened his eyes and glared at him. “Ok, what did you find?”

Desperately he sighed. “Nothing whatsoever,” he drummed his fingers on the armrest. “I need more clues.”

“Anything on the website?”

“No,” he muttered. Suddenly, Sherlock’s phone buzzed. The detective took it and saw that someone sent him a message.

You know where to find me.

- Y/N

He smiled as he read your text. “I’m going to take a walk,” he said as he stood up on his feet.

“What? Seriously? A walk?” John asked in disbelief.

Sherlock buttoned his jacket, then put on his coat and took his gloves. “Helps to think. You know, some fresh air and that stuff,” he gestured with his hands.

“What?” He inquired as he frowned confused.

“Just keep typing,” he said and walked out the room. “Oh, by the way, don’t you dare to post a picture of me wearing the damn hat!” He ordered and John heaved a sigh.

Sherlock hailed a cab and gave the cabbie the adress the place he would meet you.

Once he arrived to empty shell of Battersea Power Station, he walked in the abandoned structure hoping he would meet you there.

As he walked along a corridor he received anothet text of yours.

You’re getting slow.

- Y/N

Sherlock smirked, blocked the screen and kept walking until he reached a large room. He looked around him but he couldn’t see you.

“Walking around a power station, must be dangerous,” he said out loud. “I pressume you’re aware of it…” He trailed off as you walked into view.

“And I assume that you love danger,” you said challenging him.

“Mrs. Y/S, nice to see you,” he greeted as he marched over to you. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I thought you took a day off,” he guessed and then stopped in front of you.

You gave a subtle chuckle. “Don’t be silly, Mr. Holmes. You know, I don’t take days off,” you replied as you looked at him. “Now, I’ve seen you’ve been struggling with this new game of yours,” you said playfully.

“I’m afraid I am. Do you have anything for me?” He asked and raised an eyebrow. You took a pendrive from the pocket of your coat and handed it to him. “And this is?”

“The end of the game,” you gave a smirk as Sherlock gave it a look. “It’s all in there. Does he know?” You inquired but he ignored you since he was thinking about the case. “Does he know?” You repeated the question and cleared your throat.

“Sorry, what?” He frowned and then realized what you meant. “No. I wouldn’t let that happen. I’m keeping him busy - at least for now.”

“Great, because I don’t like someone blogging about me,” you said and he chuckled. “Alright,” you sighed. “This is the moment when I walk out,” you smirked and began walking away, Sherlock stood in his place watching you go. “Try not to get in trouble, it would totally spoil the bussiness, Mr. Holmes.”

“Sherlock,” he said and you looked at him over your shoulder. “Just Sherlock,” you heard him and chuckled.

“Right then, Sherlock,” you said and faded out. Sherlock stood there playing with the pendrive in his hands as he smirked.

Imagine you correcting Sherlock’s deduction in the middle of a press conference

“But, Mr. Holmes, how did his brother survived?” Jumped one of the journalists.

“Well, it’s quite obvious,” he stated but that seemed not to be clear, so he glanced at Lestrade, who tilted his head to the press. “Ok. The murderer was his brother, that’s why he survived. You seem to see but not to observe…”

“Sherlock,” John scolded and gave him a prod in his ribs.

“God,” he sighed. “He just put the poison in his cup of tea. The murderer’s tea was clean,” he said. “Definetely clean,” he emphatized.

All of a sudden, phones began ringing. Even John and Lestrade’s phones rang. The press started wondering who could it be but the only thing they’ve got was a text message that said : ‘Wrong!’

Everyone started asking questions all at the same time and Sherlock was confused.

“Sherlock…” John muttered as he handed him his phone.

Sherlock read the message and sighed. “This is not wrong, John. This can’t be…” he wanted to finished the sentence but then his own phone rang. He took it and checked whose text it was. It was from you.

It was his assistant.

- Y/N

Sherlock sighed and blocked the screen of the phone. As he saw the press go crazy about the message, Lestrade tried to calm them down.

“Please, calm down. Could you please sit down?” He asked politely.

“But it says: ’Wrong!’” A man jumped.

“Ignore all the textes you have just received, please,” Sherlock commented but as soon as he finished the sentence the phones rang again. “She must be joking,” he said to himself.

“It says: ‘wrong deduction.’” a journalist informed.

“Anything I have just said is wrong,” he denied and then felt his phone vibrate. It was another message.

Say it.


“Sherlock, control the press!” Lestrade ordered.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “It was his assistant,” he stated and the press looked at him in disbelief.

Everyone was quiet and silence reigned the room until Sherlock’s phone rang once more.

Good. Now, say it.


Sherlock rolled his eyes and clapped his hands. “I’m afraid I was wrong; Miss Y/S solved the case,” he said and John frowned as he saw the press writing down the words Sherlock has just said.

“What?” He asked.

“Shut up and smile,” he replied with a fake smile on his face.