Y/N's P.O.V.
"You know, I never thought I'd enjoy waking up at 2am to your god-awful playing." I muttered, leaning against the doorframe, causing Sherlock to stop playing his violin.
"Awful?!" Sherlock turned to face me with a horrified look on his face, making me laugh a little.
"I'm joking. It was beautiful, Sherlock." I moved to sit on the sofa, letting out a sigh as I felt my body relax a little.
"Have I told you how glad I am to be back?"
"Just a couple of hundred thousand times." He sarcastically replied and I rolled my eyes. He placed his violin down and moved to pick up his coat.
"Hungry? I'm going to get chips."
"Sherlock, it's almost half past 2 in the morning. Where are you going to get chips from?" I asked in disbelief.
"I know a place." He shrugged.
"You coming?"
"Give me aa few minutes." I winced as I pulled myself up off of the couch, before going upstairs to change out of my pyjamas. Most of the bruising on my body had faded or completely disappeared, but I was still surprisingly sore after all that happened. I pulled on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, along with a large hoodie, before pulling on some shoes and heading back downstairs, where Sherlock was already waiting.
"Ready to go?" He asked, offering me his arm. I linked my arm with his, nodding my head, before we headed out into the London Streets.
"Question." Sherlock looked at me as I spoke.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
"What do you mean?" He asked and I sighed.
"Jim Moriarty is my ex. I'm an assassin. I lied to you. You should hate me, but ever since you found out, you've been nothing but nice to me." I looked at him expectantly, but he looked like he was thinking.
"Would you... prefer it if I hated you?" He seemed confused.
"No. I like this. Being your friend. It's nice, I'm just confused." I muttered and Sherlock hummed.
"I didn't realise it until John pointed it out, but before the wedding I acted like I hated you. It wasn't intentional, you made me feel things. Frustration, mostly. In my mind, it was just easier to shut you out and I apologise if that hurt your feelings in any way." I stopped walking and just looked at him for a moment.
"What? Did I say something wrong?" He seemed genuinely concerned and I couldn't hide the smile on my face.
"Thank you, Sherlock. That really means a lot." I carried on walking again, linking our arms once more. He didn't complain and by the time we made it to the small chippy, it was surprisingly still open.
"Mr. Holmes! My old friend!" The man behind the counter greeted with a large smile.
"What can I get you and your lady friend?"
"Two portions of chips, thanks." Sherlock nodded, putting a couple of quid down on the counter and barely a few moments later, we were handed the food and walking away.
"Any chance you have some kind of thrilling case lined up?" I asked as we walked.
"No, I don't think so, why?" He asked, before stopping to sit on a bench and I did the same.
"Because when you so cruelly left me in that house alone with Mycroft for a week and a half, I have never been more bored in my life. Now that I'm back and, mostly okay, I need to do something. Deduce someone. Anything." I sighed dramatically.
"Deduce me." Sherlock replied seriously and I laughed a little.
I couldn't believe I was in the streets of London at almost 3am on a date where we went to get chips. Except it wasn't a date, it was an outing. An outing that felt suspiciously like a date.
"Why? I know everything I need to know about you." He shrugged and I looked at him carefully.
"Okay... Chips. Late night brain fuel. You knew the chip shop would be open, meaning you've had many late night walks ending with chips. Your friend seemed surprised to see someone with you, so late night walks alone. A little depressing, but you wouldn't care about that. You don't eat much whilst working cases, but you don't sleep much either, resulting in late night walks, resulting in... chips."
"Very good." He nodded with a small smile.
"Your turn." He raised an eyebrow and I popped a chip into my mouth.
"You're a twin-"
"Ah, ah! Cheater! You knew that already." He scowled at me, making me smirk.
"Come on, Sherlock. You're supposed to be good at this."
"I am good at this." He corrected.
"You used to smoke, as a teenager, you probably thought it was cool at the time, it made you feel like you fit in. Being smarter than everyone else is exhausting, you'd do anything to fit in." There was a sad look in his eyes.
"But you quit. Why?"
"Smoking is bad. I'm sure you've seen what damage it can do to a person." He wasn't buying it.
"I was 16 and for once, you're completely right. I hated it, but I wanted to fit in. Sebastian found out and he was furious. He made me quit, he got upset, really upset, saying he didn't want me ending up like our parents. All they did was smoke and drink."
"I'm sorry." Sherlock muttered and I shrugged, nudging him slightly.
"About your parents, I mean. That can't have been easy."
"You shouldn't apologise for them. They never did." I sighed.
"You had Mycroft. What was that like?"
"Exhausting." Sherlock replied simply and I laughed.
"I can imagine." I shivered slightly as a cold wind passed.
"We should get back. Lestrade wants to drop by and see you now that you're free from Mycroft's strict visitation rules." Sherlock sighed as we got up and walked away from the bench, throwing away our empty chip cartons.
"Yeah, okay. That sounds fun." I nodded as I linked my arm with Sherlock's again.
"It won't be." He muttered.
"He'll more than likely bring Donovan and Anderson. Apparently they don't think you're real."
"That's because after hearing about them from both you and John's blog, I decided to actively avoid them at all costs."
"Really?" Sherlock laughed loudly as we walked and I'd be lying if I didn't think it was cute.
"Yes. I honestly thought you caught on, but I guess not." Sherlock continued to laugh, until we made it to the flat. We both collapsed on the sofa, not saying anything just relaxing and enjoying the warmth of the flat.
I didn't even realise I was comfortably leaning against Sherlock until my eyes began to close and my head landed on his shoulder.
"Goodnight, Y/N." He whispered, before something softly pressed against my temple and I drifted off to sleep.
