The Vacancy: Sherlock x Fem!reader

Chapter 6 - Goodnight

"Yeah... I uhm- what's going on?" John stammers, looking around.

"Well, Sherlock and I were going to go investigate a market but it was closed today so we stopped for McDonalds and groceries," you hold up a bag, "the extra burger was mine but after seeing the fridge contents I think I only have enough of an appetite for one,"

"Right... and Sherlock willingly went?" John points to the detective putting away the milk and tossing out a kidney.

"Had to promise I wouldn't keep nagging about paint prices,"

"We are still going to the market tomorrow," Sherlock reminds, finally talking. Though he saw your tilted head making him reword it, "if you're free and interested to do so?"

"Since you so politely asked," sharing a smile to his half-turned one, John was left pale as if he had woken from a nightmare.

~~~

"So... you and Y/n?" John inquires once the night had ended.

"You were gone, I need an assistant," Sherlock counters with an eye roll, looking to your notepad on the table by his music stand. Violin to his chin, bow rested on it, he kept the tune quiet and calm.

"And you didn't go to Molly?" his friend wasn't so sure that he was being fully transparent. "You usually do,"

"Molly wasn't close by," bending each finger over set chords, he dragged out a soft hum, strings dancing rhythmically.

"If you say so..."

"What did you expect me to say?" staring right against the midnight panes, John was seen shrugging. "Y/n is... interesting, and besides, she's proven herself smart enough,"

Smiling to yourself from the stairs, you let one board creak under your weight. "You're nearly there," tossing his scarf onto his chair, you meet his side to give a small kiss to his cheek, "goodnight, Mr detective," it lingers for a moment before you do the same to John, though light and quick. "Night, John,"

"Goodnight..." Sherlock mutters under his breath whilst John held back a burst of laughter.

~~~

"Already?" You scramble to your coat.

"Homeless network, Y/n! They said the stall opened," he sings. After nearly a week of radio silence from the market, it seemed London street goers were able to report on exact locations. All movements of employees, resources, anything, were sent to him.

"Sherlock!" You yell after him, hitting the railing of the stairs to peer down.

"Come on!" Slipping swears, you soon met his side at the cab. "It's a small trip, so we'll need have little time to create a cover," A run down was conclusive within the first minute: "the stall owner had been looking for a new attendant, as we know all are female so you'll be in need," explains Sherlock, "I also found that both were married within the last two months," he held up a ring.

"Oh, I don't know, this all seems a bit too sudden!" You ramble sarcastically.

"Just put it on," he flips it onto your palm. "And don't buy anything... they want some people desperate for money, got it?"

"Got it," you sit back and adjust your clothing.

~~~

"Okay, this place is actually cool," you whisper to him.

"Remember the plan and purpose," he reminds with a strict tone. The lingering eyes of stall owners willing to jump out and offer sample seemed to go on and on. Like peering cursed trees, old oak and fallen foliage, in Snow White's forest sequence.