No Strings Attached: Doctor Strange x GN Reader (Marvel and Sherlock Crossover)

Chapter Two: A Message

Sherlock opened the door to 221B, holding it open for you to pass through. You could smell Mrs. Hudson baking in her flat, the strong aroma of her famous (between Sherlock, John, and you) chocolate chip cookies filling the air and calming you a little.

"Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock, and I are home!" You called out, not wanting to scare the elderly landlady, it would be a true shame if the cookies were to fall.

Her muffled voice responded with hello. You decided to leave her be, she dealt enough with Sherlock and deserved a little free time to do her own things.

Sherlock began to climb the stairs to 221B, you following behind, throwing your coat on the coat rack as you entered the flat, Sherlock collapsing to his normal spot on his chair.

Knowing that the detective was likely in his mind palace like he seemed to be every time he was situated in that chair, you went to your bed, having taken over John's old bedroom once he left the flat. Bringing out a box from under it you opened it, looking at the old yellowed photos sitting inside.

"Your brother?" You jumped, Sherlock's deep voice breaking you out of your focus, as he leaned on your wooden doorway, taking the sight before him in.

Refusing to meet his eyes, you sat still, still staring at the photo of a dark-haired Irish boy with his little sibling. "What if he's back?"

"Then we will deal with it together, along with John, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, and Lestrade," Sherlock moved to sit next to you on your bed, placing a comforting hand on your bouncing leg.

"I can't go through that again, I thought I lost both you and James," you leaned into the detective, the soft shirt giving you some sort of peace.

"Mycroft can protect you," Sherlock offered reassuringly, like you knew he would, Mycroft almost being an older replacement for James, except not a psychopath with murderous tendencies.

Sherlock wrapped you in his arms, his dark curls brushing against your nose, tickling you causing you to let out a light laugh. You leaned in, enjoying the momentary comfort before both of you pulled back.

"Tell, Lestrade to put Anderson on your case, you're staying here," Sherlock demanded as he stared you in the eyes, a stern look on his face.

You nodded, knowing it was for the best, you needed to make sure you were safe and frankly, just needed a damn break from solving cases left and right every day of your life.

"Call up Mary," Sherlock told you, you knowing it was to take your mind off the situation and for the additional protection of having an ex-spy nearby.

You nodded, getting your phone and texting Mary to see if she wanted to come over and visit Baker Street, almost instantly receiving a text back asking if you wished to go shopping.

Looking around you noticed that Sherlock had left the room, you needed to get out of there as well, the photos reminded you of a specific someone that had tried to kill you numerous times. Placing the box back in its original spot, and gathering up a soft blanket in your arms you set off for the couch, having become your signature spot since John seemed to steal his old chair every time he came over.

"What are you doing?" You asked Sherlock as you plopped on the couch, noticing him in the kitchen looking through cabinets.

"Looking for an eyeball," he mindlessly told you, not bothering to look your way, shrugging it off you turned on the television, knowing he probably was doing some experiment like normal.

Flipping through the channels aimlessly, every talk show seemed to be airing, news program after news program talking about some bombing at some apartment building. Wanting anything but crime you tried to find just something, even a stupid sitcom, to watch. Letting out a frustrated groan you settled on the news, not having any idea in store for what exactly would be on there.

There has been a bombing at blue palace apartments.

"Sherlock!" You yelled, eyes wide in shock as the lanky man ran into the room, looking at the television after seeing you pointing to it.

Sherlock's eyes went wide with shock, focused on the scene, it wasn't the apartments that scared you both, but what remained, two letters. It was almost comical how two letters could bring such a feeling of dread to the two of you.

"He's back," Sherlock whispered, eyes still focused on the JM painted on the remnants of a wall, written in dark blue paint, and the obvious handwriting of one consulting criminal that you both knew better than anyone else.

You gulped, he couldn't be back, he just couldn't. You thought he had quit, Sherlock and you both had your theories that he survived Reichenbach as well, but he had been gone for months, long enough to presume he was out of the game for good.

"That's where I used to live," you looked at Sherlock, your eyes meeting, both of you knew what this meant. It was obvious if not crystal clear. Jim Moriarty was back, and this time he wasn't coming just for Sherlock, he was coming for the both of you. And judging by the looks of it, he was angry, and an angry Jim Moriarty was not someone either of you were prepared to mess with.

AN: Here you go whores, now no more chapters for at least a week because I want to actually have a stable publishing schedule with this