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

Chapter Seven: Molotov

"Greg, listen to me," you told him in an annoyed tone, through the phone, "I know, that it is for the rich but we need to get in."

"Why?" Greg asked confused, sitting at his office, while flipping through the files he had on the club.

"Because Moriarty has connections to it, and if we can find out what this club is, then we might be able to figure out how."

A strange noise cut through your conversation, it sounded like something had broken downstairs.

"Greg, I have to go," you told the DI, worried at what could have been broken in the flat, was there an intruder?

"Sherlock!" You yelled, knowing the consulting detective was in his room, researching details for the case, holing himself away from distractions that were ever so present in the flat.

Sherlock walked out, dressed in a casual shirt and sweatpants, ditching the dress clothes he normally wore much like you did. "What is it?"

"Something was broken downstairs," Sherlock nodded, picking up his revolver that sat on the living room table, checking to make sure it was fully loaded before leading the way towards the stairs.

As the two of you slowly stepped down the stairs, quiet as possible to not alert the possible intruder to your location, a smell filled your lungs, smoke.

Sherlock paused, a weary look in his eyes as he sniffed the air, trying to distinguish what was going on. A sudden light seemed to shine in his eyes, as he seemed to realize what the cause was.

He took off in a sprint, not caring about the noise his heavy footsteps caused, you followed behind, trying to catch up with the long legged detective.

He stopped suddenly, making you almost run into him, causing you tumble but evtnually look up to be met with the unholy sight. 221B was on fire.

You broke out of your daze, as the fire started to spread, luckily still small but if it were to get larger the flat would be in ruins. "Get it out, I'll find Mrs. Hudson."

You took off down the hall, knowing that the old woman had planned to make some renovations in 221C today. From the distance you could Sherlock turn on the sink and gathering up water, throwing it at the flames.

Bursting through the door to the other flat, you
didn't see the landlady anywhere. Frantically going from room to room you found her in the kitchen, painting some of the cabinets while listening to music and swaying her hips along to it.

"Y/N, dearie," Mrs. Hudson walked over, concerned, as she noticed your anxious state. "What happened? Did Sherlock do something?"

"Fire," you rasped out, grabbing her hand and pulling her behind you, ignoring her surprised shouts, desperate to get her out if there was any danger to her.

Sherlock seemed to be successful in his task, the fire was completely put out. Ashes littered the apartment, and while it didnt spread far it was enough to damage everything in the room, which happened to be Mrs. Hudson's laundry room.

Sherlock was busy placing towels over wet spots that littered the area, some smoke still lingering in the air as the last fires slowly drained out.

You let go of Mrs. Hudson, walking to the broken window, it was definitely a glass bottle of some sort, most likely along the lines of a Molotov. Examining the floor you found bits of glass, that did not belong to the window, finding the bottom of the bottle under a counter.

You gasped at what you saw, immediately gaining Sherlock's attention who took the piece from your hand as you remained frozen.

"JM," he read the inscription on the bottom of the glass aloud, grimly.

Sherlock turned to you, seeing your breath increase in fear. "Sherlock, that means he's here."

"Y/N," Sherlock led you out of the room and sat you down at one of Mrs. Hudson's kitchen table, the landlady going to get a glass of water for you.

Your heart was pounding, with everything going on you thought you were ready, ready to face the vile man that somehow was raised by the same kind-hearted people as you. Oh, how wrong you were.

Fear seemed to paralyze you, it struck every nerve in your core. What would he do to you?

You barely noticed Sherlock grabbing your hand and leading you up the stairs, trapped in your own mind palace, too fearful. You didn't notice him putting you in his bed and you definitely did not notice when he called John on the phone to come over, then got in to hold you and whisper calming words in your ear.

"I'm making some tea," Sherlock got up after a few minutes knowing you likely didn't hear him.

He was concerned.

He knew somewhat about your childhood but it tended to be a subject that was danced around. What exactly had Jim done that was so terrible?

All clues led to something with your parents, he knew very well that they had passed. Had Jim been the one that caused their death? He knew you were grateful since the Moriarty's adopted you when no one else seemed to want you, did your adoption cause Jim to be jealous?

The water started to boil and Sherlock absentmindedly poured it, maybe John could know a way to help you or maybe Molly or someone that he knew. He needed to help you, you never asked to be on this case, instead you were dragged into it just like he was.

He just couldnt shake the feeling, this case was big. Even though it might seem like a simple murder, you'd now been threatened for being on it. Death was not something to mess with, especially when you seemed to be the target.

"What happened!" John yelled, bursting through the door of the flat, "Mrs. Hudson said there was a fire!"

"Molotov," Sherlock muttered, carefully stirring in the milk to your tea.

"From the Moriarty case?" John followed behind Sherlock as he carried your tea to you, still in his bed.

Sherlock nodded, pausing at your door for a moment as he and John peered in. "Are they alright?"

Sherlock shook his head, going up to his bed and sitting down, you stared at the window with a far off look in your eyes, full of emptiness.

"I'm fine," you told John hoarsely, having heard his question. "Just caught up in my thoughts."

"He's playing mind games with us," Sherlock said aloud.

Agreeing silently you refused to look at John and Sherlock, focused on trying to wash away the fear that was slowly being replaced by anger and a want. A want to end Jim Moriarty for once and for all.