THE BAKER STREET TRIO (SHERLOCK X READER)

Chapter 17; A Scandal In Belgravia

Something about the way Sherlock was speaking made Y/N’s heart sink a bit.

“Sherlock-” John tried to reign him in.

“Hmm,” Sherlock barged onward. “Where is she?”

“Er, in London, currently. She’s staying-” Mycroft began.

“Text me the details. I’ll be in touch by the end of the day.” Sherlock interrupted, walking towards the door.

“Do you really think you’ll have news by then?” Harry asked, incredulous.

“No, I think I’ll have the photographs.” Sherlock corrected.

“One can only hope that you’re as good as you seem to think.” Harry commented.

Y/N sighed, watching as Sherlock deduced the palace aide in an instant.

“I’ll need some equipment of course.” Sherlock announced.

“Anything you require,” Mycroft assured. “I’ll have it sent over.”

“Can I have a box of matches?”

“I’m sorry?” Harry asked.

“Or your cigarette lighter, either will do.” Sherlock said, defiance in his eyes.

“I don’t smoke.” Harry said.

“No, I know you don’t, but your employer does.”

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, handing it to the detective. “We have successfully kept a lot of people in the dark about this little fact, Mr. Holmes.”

“I’m not the commonwealth.” Sherlock replied.

“And that’s as modest as he gets.” John concluded the interaction. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Laters!” Sherlock called as he left, Y/N and John following.

At 221B, Sherlock made a big fuss over his “battle armor.” John, of course, found it amusing, but Y/N couldn’t help but feel a pang of what she could only describe as jealousy over Sherlock wanting to look just right for this powerful woman.

“So what’s the plan?” John asked in the taxi on the way to Belgrave Square.

“We know her address.” Sherlock answered.

“What, we just ring her doorbell?”

“Exactly.” said Sherlock. He leaned forward and spoke to the cabbie. “Just here, please.”

“You didn’t even change your clothes.” John pointed out.

“Then it’s time to add a splash of color.” Sherlock said, getting out of the taxi and heading for an alleyway.

“This isn’t the address. We’re still two streets away.” Y/N said, looking to her tall friend with confusion.

He nodded before looking to John. “Punch me in the face.”

“Punch you?” John asked.

“Yes, punch me, in the face. Didn’t you hear me?”

“I always hear ‘punch me in the face’ when you’re speaking, but it’s usually subtext.” John replied, making Y/N laugh.

“Oh, for God’s sakes!” Sherlock exclaimed, slapping John hard enough to knock him backward.

John bounced right back; however, landing a punch on Sherlock’s cheek.

“Thank you, that was, that was-” Sherlock began, but John was charging, punching the detective again, before putting him in a headlock.

Y/N threw up her hands in exasperation. “Stop it! Now!”