His Great Game (Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter 39: If I Should Die Before I Wake

A/N: Aw come on, you didn't think I'd leave you hanging forever, did ya? ;)

(Your POV)

The frigid night air stings against my skin, as I realize I have, yet again, forgotten my coat. Typical me. I shiver intensely as Lestrade pushes Sherlock and I against the police car door. I spare a glance next to me to see that Sherlock is looking straight ahead, somewhere deep in thought, the red and blue lights reflecting off his pale skin.

"Alright, you two," Lestrade lowers his voice so not to be heard by the other officers nearby. "No funny business."

"No promises." I quip back, turning my head to give him a quick wink.

He scowls. "I'm serious, (Y/n). As far as the rest of the force is concerned, you're both guilty in this. Just play along, and maybe they'll let you off the hook, ok?" I nod, but Sherlock remains stoic, his gaze affixed. "Sherlock!" Lestrade nudges the man next to me with a little more force than necessary. "We clear?"

Again, Sherlock gives no reply but rather looks at me with that same focused expression. I try to read the emotions in his eyes but I cannot.

"Oh, bloody hell."

I tear my eyes away from Sherlock's to see John, handcuffed, being pressed up against the car on the opposite side of Sherlock. I almost laugh. "Joining us, I see." The escorting officer uncuffs one of John's wrists and attaches it to Sherlock's other wrist, the three of us lined up in some sort of criminal chain.

"Jesus." Lestrade facepalms. "What the hell did you do?"

"Apparently, it's against the law to chin the Chief Superintendent." John throws me a proud smirk that makes me smile. I look over my shoulder to see the Chief walking out of the building, holding a handkerchief to his bloody nose.

"Ooo..." I wince just imagining the pain. "Good aim."

"Hmm." John takes a moment to assess the situation and looks down at the three of us handcuffed. "Bit awkward, this."

"A bit," I shrug, "but it seems to me Sherlock is planning our imminent and daring escape plan, am I right?" No response. I bump his shoulder with mine, trying to knock him out of his trance. "Sherl."

Rather suddenly, Sherlock turns to me, a most serious expression on his face. "(Y/n), you know I care deeply for you, right?"

His question takes me aback. Yes? I think? With all the back-and-forth attention and then getting ignored for weeks at a time, I wasn't really sure where his heart was anymore. Then a realization hits me. It was like his heart had been shoved down and replaced by his brain. He was once again the Sherlock I met that first night at the crime scene. This was not my Sherlock. And yet, it still was. The love was still there, buried deep down.

I take a moment before I answer, truthfully, "Yes."

His eyes soften. "Then forgive me."

The next few moments are a blur. Before I can even open my mouth to question him, Sherlock reaches down and presses something on the dash of the police car, causing the whole area to be filled with an unbearable, high-pitched sound. I along with everyone else double over in pain, covering my ears, only to look up and see Sherlock is free of our shared restraint and I'm cuffed to the handle of the police car. I watch in disbelief as he disarms the nearest police officer with his free hand, John flailing along in tow.

He aims the gun at the officer nearest me. "If you could all get on your knees!"

No one complies. I desperately try to yank free from the cuff but to no avail. Shit. I look over at Lestrade, who's eyes read "Oh for fuck's sake."