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

Chapter Thirteen: White Cells

Sherlock awoke. He was breathing heavy, a sign, he was panicking.

It wasn't every day that the great Sherlock Holmes panicked but it seemed that today was a day.

Sherlock didn't know what was going on, his mind was racing almost as quickly as his heart as tried to replay the train of events. Moriarty, a machine, this cell.

He couldn't seem to catch his breath, his eyes scanned the room, desperate for anything, luckily you were by his side. "Y/N," he whispered, shaking you lightly, still unconscious likely from the falling feeling you had both felt.

You groaned, everything hurt especially your back of all places, you opened your eyes before trying to close them again, stilled by the heavy breathing from next to you.

This wasn't good. You could see Sherlock, face flushed and taking deep inhalations every few seconds, thankfully you knew along the lines of what to do.

Pulling him close, you let him lean against your chest, softly stroking his hair, "You're not there, Sherlock. This is real, you're with me."

Sherlock nodded, trying not to let any noises escape, he hated this about himself. While he had dismantled Moriarty's web it came at a price, Serbia, the constant hallucinations, the need for reassurance that he wasn't there, he was out, free, no longer trapped, no longer tortured for information as Mycroft had stood by and let him suffer.

Even though he would never say it aloud he was so very thankful for you. Without you or John he would have lost it, thought this all was one hallucination.

Both your consciouses faded away as sleep took the hold of you, the injuries sustained getting the best, it seemed useless to try and escape anyways, not knowing who held you or where you were, after all you were supposed to be dead.

—

Sherlock's long fingers combed through your hair as you both huddled at the edge of the dank white cell. An uneasy feeling filled the two of you to the brim, Sherlock not one to show emotion was scared, truly scared.

Everything seemed to bring up the question, 'Where were you? What was this place you both had been sent to? Did Mycroft, Lestrade, or the Watsons know?'

You curled into Sherlock's neck, the familiar scent of 221b wrapping around you and bringing you some light sense of calm. You could feel his heart pounding just like your own, it was one thing when you were terrified, but it was another when he was as well.

Letting the tears escape, not caring what your capturers thought, all you could do was stay close to the one person that reminded you of home. Oh how desperately you wished to return, you would give anything just to set foot back in London.

Sherlock was silent, his eyes filled with emptiness yet still some curiosity. His mind pondered, flitting from possibility to possibility, each one a seemingly meaningless explanation for his present situation.

Risking a glance Sherlock couldn't help but feel guilt. As if somehow, the two of you had never met, never became friends he would have let you be. He refused to meet your gaze as you looked up at him, if he did the detective might break, for the first time in his life.

He couldn't. Just couldn't. There was absolutely nothing he could do. If he tried to leave he would be killed or hunted. If you did escape unharmed the two of you were completely and utterly lost.

There was no way out. For once in his life, there was no solution, no problem to be solved, no set of clues to follow, just you and him. You two only had each other, and the gods better believe him when he said he would stick by you.