Y/N's P.O.V.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I gave the two men in front of me an apologetic smile, before answering it.
"Oh, hey. Haven't heard from you in a while." I spoke into the phone, the pair in front of me hesitating as they looked at each other. They lowered their guns ever so slightly.
"A while? It's been two days." The voice replied.
"Well, it's been a bloody long two days then." I muttered, holding up my hand and silently telling the two gunmen I'd be a minute.
"Yes, well, I need you back in London." The familiar voice sighed.
"I've finally got a good lead and your help would be appreciated."
"I'm a little busy, right now, Sherlock." The two men perked up at the name.
"That little job your brother decided to give me, turned out to be bigger than I realised."
"How much bigger?" He asked carefully and the first man took the safety off of his gun.
"Put Sherlock Holmes on speaker." He spoke in Russian and I sighed.
"Give me a minute, will you?" I replied, also in Russian.
"Are you- why are you speaking Russian? Where are you, right now, Y/N?" Sherlock asked suspiciously.
"Now!" The second man shouted.
"And slide it over to us."
"Y/N?" Sherlock asked as I did as they said, placing my phone on the ground and kicking it over to them. Both gunmen reached for the phone, and I rolled my eyes at their stupidity. I moved towards them, kneeing the first one in the face and as his friend straightened up, I slapped the gun from his hands. I punched him hard, knocking him back as his friend got up, but his gun was nowhere to be seen. Instead he had a knife, but that didn't bother me too much as I picked up the gun I had already knocked out of the other man's hand. I fired twice and both the men dropped.
"Y/N?"
"I'm on my way back." I spoke into the phone as I tossed the gun into the snow.
"Are you hurt?" I glanced back at the squirming men on the ground, trying to stop the bleeding in their legs. I text Mycroft the coordinates as I climbed onto my motorbike. Technically, I had stolen it.
"Nope. Nothing more than a few cuts and bruises." I took him off speaker.
"I'll be back at Baker Street in a few hours." Sherlock hung up and I slipped the phone away as I pulled the helmet on and started up the engine.
I had a plane to catch.
~
"Y/N, finally." Sherlock spoke as I walked into the flat, not even looking up from the paper.
"Y/N? Where the bloody hell have you been?" John asked, storming out of the kitchen, but freezing on the spot when he saw me.
"Oh my god. What happened to you?" Sherlock's head snapped up and he practically threw the newspaper as he came over.
"It's blood, not nuclear waste, relax." I sighed, adjusting the scarf around my neck.
"Oh, and I am going to kill Mycroft. 'I need you to find, and take care of, a small group of potential terrorists, they're in Paris.'" I mocked the man, who wasn't even in the building as John went to the kitchen.
"They were in Paris, until they split up."
"You just missed my idiot of a brother. John called him here because of the drugs." Sherlock muttered.
"Oh, God. Y/N." The smaller of the pair returned with a damp cloth.
"You need to sit down. When was the last time you slept? Or ate something?"
"Irrelevant." I shrugged John off.
"Did it work?"
"The drugs? Yeah, of course it worked. Did you think it wouldn't?" Sherlock pulled a face and I had to admit, it wasn't his greatest plan.
"Magnussen should be arriving in less than an hour."
"Hang on, you were in on it? The drugs?" John looked at me in disbelief.
"Yeah, it was for a case." I nodded and he scoffed.
"Then, I suppose you knew about Janine, too?" John asked and Sherlock's eyes widened awkwardly as he turned away.
"Who?"
"The maid of honour? At mine and Mary's wedding? You spent hours of your time with her with Mary and the other bridesmaids." John looked at me.
"What about her?" I asked, confused to why she even came up in confusion.
"She's Sherlock's girlfriend...?" My eyes widened considerably as Sherlock sat back down in his chair, picking up the newspaper once more, hiding his face behind it.
"Right." I mumbled, standing up.
"I'm going to clean myself up and get some rest." I picked up the bag I had left in the doorway, before going up to my room. I threw the bag at the foot of my bed, before changing into clean pyjamas. I was going to shower, but I didn't particularly want to see Sherlock. Instead, I used a couple of facial wipes to get all the dried blood and dirt off of me for the time being.
He didn't cheat, because we weren't together. I was just hurt because I thought the kiss meant something to him. I thought the short conversations we had shared over the past month were important.
"Knock, knock." John spoke, opening the door slightly.
"Am I okay to come in?"
"Yeah." I muttered, not realising my mistake until John looked at me.
"Shit."
"What the Hell is that?" He came closer, putting the plate and glass down on the bedside desk.
"Oh... Y/N." He mumbled, tears in his eyes, before he pulled me into a tight hug.
"Whatever happened. You can talk to me about it."
"John, it's not what it looks like." I pushed him away gently.
"This wasn't me." I lightly ran my fingers over the bruising around my throat.
"What?" He whispered.
"I didn't try to hang myself, John." I muttered, keeping my voice low.
"The last three terrorists caught me. One stayed behind to execute me, before agreeing to meet up with the other two in Belarus. Unfortunately for them, it didn't go as planned." I didn't feel like going into anymore detail.
"It doesn't even hurt that bad." I lied.
"I just need to get some rest and I'll be fine."
"Promise me you won't do anything like that intentionally?" He whispered and I could see the genuine fear in his eyes. After everything that happened with Sherlock, I wasn't surprised by his worry.
"I promise."
