Y/N's P.O.V.
I watched from the sidelines as the man landed another punch on the once famous detective.
"You broke in here for a reason." He spoke in Serbian.
"Just tell us why, and you can sleep. Remember sleep?" He brought the metal pole up over his shoulder, ready to hit the man again and I turned my head, not wanting to see what was about to happen. I had lived a pretty violent life, but the man was already in a lot of pain and I was afraid that if he took another hit, he might break completely.
"What?"
"What? What did he say?" The man sitting in the corner asked and I narrowed my eyes at him. When Mycroft Holmes contacted me and told me his brother was needed back in London I wasn't happy, to say the least. I was having fun playing the game of dismantling Moriarty's web with the consulting detective. Even if Sherlock didn't know I was one of the players.
"He said that I used to work in the navy... where I had an unhappy love affair." He stopped for a moment as the beaten up man continued to whisper.
"That the electricity isn't working in my bathroom... and that my wife is sleeping with his next door neighbour? The coffin maker? And... if I go home now... I'll catch them at it. I knew it!" He stepped away from the man, looking at me.
"Boss?"
"Go. See your wife." I replied in Serbian and he nodded, quickly leaving the room and muttering to himself.
"So, my friend. You have no idea the trouble it took to find you." Mycroft spoke in Serbian, standing up.
"Now, listen to me," Mycroft continued in English.
"There's an underground terrorist network active in London and a massive attack is imminent. Sorry, but the holiday is over, brother, dear. Back to Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes." Mycroft looked towards me.
"Now, if you wouldn't mind?" I stepped forward, pulling a set of keys out of my pocket and unlocking the handcuffs.
"You..." The detective whispered, looking at me.
"You can thank me later, Mr. Holmes." I smirked.
"But for now, let's get you back home."
~
Hearing Mrs. Hudson scream downstairs made my lips curl up into a smirk. I knew she wasn't in any trouble, quite the opposite, really.
Sherlock Holmes had returned to Baker Street.
I heard him comforting the older lady, before making his way up to his flat.
"Mycroft told me you'd show up." Sherlock spoke as he hung up his coat and scarf, not even the littlest bit surprised I was in his flat.
"What else did he say about me?" I asked, putting the book I had been reading down.
"Not much. He didn't even tell me your name." He replied, turning to face me. I was stood by the window, looking out into the dark London street.
"However, he did tell me that you're dangerous and that you should not be underestimated."
"What a compliment." Sherlock moved to sit in the black leather chair.
"Believe me, it wasn't a compliment." He narrowed his eyes at me and I knew he was trying to deduce me.
"Why are you here?"
"Haven't you figured that out already?" I asked with a smirk.
"Obviously not." I moved to sit opposite him, in John's chair.
"I see the good doctor didn't take too well to your sudden return." I gestured towards his split lip and slightly bloodied nose, but got no response.
"I'm here, Sherlock, because I have spent the last 2 years along side you, helping you take down James Moriarty's network and you didn't even notice."
"What?"
"Come on, you didn't seriously think that all your miraculous little escapes were just luck, did you? You're smarter than that." I smirked.
"I ask a guard to check something out... turn the cameras off... leave keys in convenient places..."
"You work for Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, making me laugh.
"No. I work for myself. It was in my best interests to take down Moriarty's spider web, you and your brother just helped me do it." I explained.
"But all of that doesn't really explain why I'm here. I'm here because I want to work with you."
"With me?" He repeated.
"I don't need anyone to work with."
"Maybe you don't, but I have a particular set of skills that you might find useful." He didn't look convinced.
"Rubik's Cube."
"Pardon?" I stood up and picked up the colourful cube, tossing it towards him.
"What about it?"
"You didn't solve it, because you can't." He narrowed his eyes at me once more.
"No one has touched it in the two years you've been gone, but there are scratches and evidence that it has been thrown, probably out of frustration. I've never met John Watson, but I can confidently tell you he's not the type of man to throw something he he doesn't understand."
"That doesn't prove that I didn't complete it." Sherlock stated and I rolled my eyes.
"Of course it does. The cube has been thrown two, maybe three times, judging by the markings. You probably spent hours trying to figure it out, but nothing worked. It wasn't until you threw it the third time that John picked it up and fixed the puzzle instantly, putting it down on the desk, where it stayed for over two years and you've refused to touch it ever since." I smirked a little.
"Am I wrong?"
"No." He admitted.
"Mycroft told you that, didn't he?"
"Of course he didn't. You never told Mycroft, you couldn't admit to him that you couldn't solve a simple puzzle."
"Wrong." He threw the cube towards me.
"No, I'm not. You're a horrible liar." I replied confidently.
"How did you know all of that?" Sherlock looked at me closely.
"Admittedly, I am not as smart as you or your brother, but like you, Sherlock, I can read people and I'm very good at it. I've studied human behaviour for many years and I have worked with some of the world's greatest minds." I smiled at him, before holding up the Rubik's Cube.
"And just like you, I hate these things and cannot solve them." I placed it down on the chair arm.
"John Watson clearly doesn't live here anymore, leaving you in need of someone to share the rent with."
"I don't even know your name." Sherlock looked at me carefully as I stood up, walking towards the door.
"The name is Y/N L/N and my number is on the coffee table. Text me if you decide to accept my offer."
