No Shit, Sherlock

Dinner With Watson

"Leave them be."

"Absolutely not, this is such a horrific sight!"

A hand grabs my shoulder and I immediately swing at the person. My fist makes contact with a face, and when I open my eyes I see a familiar man staring down at me in anger.

"She just punched me!"

I look around anxiously, this isn't my room. However, I relax when I realize that I'm at Sherlock's. That is until I also realize that I'm laying on the couch with a certain detective who is now staring back at me with the same look of confusion.

I push myself out of his arms and land on the ground, my head hurts but I immediately jump to my feet. Sherlock is standing as well, and is glaring at someone. When I turn around I fully recognize the man he's glaring at.

"Damn it," I mumble to myself.

Mycroft Holmes stands in front of me, holding his bloody nose, and Enola is standing next to him with an amused smile.

"This woman is barbaric!"

I roll my eyes, this man is truly dramatic.

"What are you two doing here? Who let you in?" Sherlock asks.

"I let them in, didn't know it would lead to a fight," says Watson.

"Have you forgotten our plans, brother? We're supposed to go see a show tonight," says Enola.

"How am I supposed to go out in public when I look like this?" Mycroft snaps.

"The same way you do any other day, if anything the swollen nose makes you look better," I reply.

"How dare you be with this woman, Sherlock!"

"Watch what you say, Mycroft. She's my best friend," Enola snaps.

I smooth out my blouse, "I should be going now, I'll see you tomorrow, Enola."

"Actually, I was wondering if you'd like to eat dinner with me?" Watson asks.

My mom isn't home, and I hate cooking....

"That'd be lovely," I say with a smile.

Watson smiles, "Let me go fetch a coat."

"I need to change my clothes," Sherlock says to his siblings.

We briefly make eye contact and he nods at me. As soon as he's in his room Mycroft turns to me.

"Stay away from him."

"Mycroft-"

The man cuts Enola off and steps closer to me, "Sherlock is a very important man, the last thing he needs is a troublesome woman such as yourself dragging his name through the dirt."

"Is it his name you're concerned about or is it your own?" I ask.

He tenses up. Just as I thought, he only cares about his own image.

I smirk, "You're going about this the wrong way, Mycroft. All it would take is for me to tell the media the things you've said to me, maybe even tell a few lies, and your whole career and image would come crashing down."

He looks at me in anger, his breathing is ragged, and his fists are balled up.

"So I'll do whatever and whoever I want, because I'm the one in control here," I say with a smirk.

His face is as red as the blood that still trickles down his nose, but he doesn't say anything. I look behind him to see a very shocked Enola and a stern looking Sherlock. My face reddens as I realize they heard what I said, but I don't even care. Someone had to put their brother in his place.

"Are you ready to go?" Watson asks.

"Meet me back here when you're done," says Enola.

I nod and Watson and I link arms before walking out of the apartment. Once we're walking down the street he speaks up, "That was pretty impressive, although I'm sure Mycroft isn't as impressed."

"The man has hated me since the day we met, and I have no idea why," I reply.

"Maybe he's jealous."

"Please tell me, Watson. Why on Earth would that man be jealous?"

"Because of the relationship between you and Sherlock."

I look up at him in confusion, "What relationship? Sherlock barely sees me as a friend."

"You are oblivious."

I scoff, "How so?"

Watson just shrugs in response.

"Here we are, the best restaurant in all of England."

I look in front of us in awe, "This place is beautiful."

The rich couples standing outside of the restaurant look at me in disgust and I frown, "I'm not dressed for this."

"Neither am I."

I look over and realize that he's not wearing his usual fancy clothes.

"It's just a restaurant, our clothes shouldn't matter," he says.

~~°°••°°~~

After our lovely dinner we decided to walk around London.

"Did you ever finish your second book?"

"Yes, I've already turned it in for editing."

He smiles at me, "Sherlock's a huge fan of your work."

I roll my eyes and he laughs. We turn a corner, walking down a more populated street. There's loud music and people dancing in the road.

"He talks about you all the time," Watson says louder.

I step aside to avoid a dancing woman, "I'm sure he does. I always seem to annoy him."

I look around and see that we're almost to their apartment.

"He speaks very highly of you."

"Oh."

I mean, what am I supposed to say? Do I fall to my knees and thank God that Sherlock Holmes talks about me?  Watson laughs, I look back at him in confusion, but he only shakes his head.

We walk in silence, but I don't mind it. I'm tired, and ready to go to sleep. I just hope Enola is already there, because I really don't want another awkward conversation with Dr. Watson.

"Is that Sherlock?"

I look ahead to see Enola and Mycroft dragging a very drunk Sherlock along with them. Enola's eyes meet mine and she grins, "(Y/n)! How was dinner?"

I jog to meet them at the entrance. "Dinner was amazing. How was the show?"

She shoves Sherlock towards Mycroft, barely giving him enough time to catch the drunk man. This truly is a sight to see.

"Boring, Sherlock spent the whole time drinking," she replies.

"I can see that," I say.

Sherlock stands up straight, "I did not drink the whole time. Just most of it."

"Really?" I ask, smirking at him.

He points his finger at me, "You don't believe me."

"Let's get him inside before anyone else sees," Mycroft says, dragging Sherlock into the building.

It's only ten and the night is already off to an interesting start.

Author's Note: currently writing the next chapter and it has me giggling and kicking my feet, while also screaming and punching a wall. So, be prepared 👀