Little Games - Sherlock X Reader

(S-1Ep-1) Roland Kerr College & One Hell Of A Good Shot

Sherlock scurried down the stairs, and you were left with John, Lestrade and everybody else.

John looked through his contact list to search for the phone number to ring Jennifer Wilson's phone. As he was doing so, your ears picked up the echo of murmuring voices just outside.

Peeking through the curtains, you could just about make out Sherlock talking to... a cabbie? Or was it just an ordinary man, conveniently leaning on an empty taxi?

He seemed awfully familiar.

With his lacy white hair, and the small cap on his head, not to mention how he looked in his sixty's or seventy's...

"Oh my God..." you murmured under your breath.
"Y/N, everything okay?" John asked.
"It was the cabbie. Definitely," you responded, not quite answering the question.
"How do you know?" Lestrade asked suspiciously.

"On the way home from the crime scene, I got into a cab, driven by that cab driver. He took a wrong turn with me inside it, with full intention of doing so. If I hadn't got out of the taxi–" you were cut off by a car door slamming shut.

You looked outside again. The cab was driving off. And Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. "He just got in the cab," you said. "Sherlock. He just drove off in the cab."

Donovan, seemingly just joining the conversation, tutted in irritation. "I told you, he does that." She spoke to Lestrade next. "He bloody left again!"

She walked into the kitchen, still talking. "We're wasting our time!"
"You don't understand, Donovan!" You seethed. "Call the phone again, John."
"It's ringing out," he replied.

Deadly silence.

"If it's ringing, it's not here," Lestrade stated after a while. John lowered the phone and headed for his laptop.
"I'll try the search again."

Donovan tried again. "Does it matter?" She asked. "Does any of it? You know, he's just a lunatic, and he'll always let you down, and you're wasting your time. All our time."

"Don't you dare talk about someone else like that! Especially Sherlock!" You vented. Y/D/N sensed your distress and poised himself/herself, ready for anything. "Have you seen how much he does for Scotland Yard? I've only met him this morning, and I can already see that he's doing a much better job than you lot! And he doesn't get paid for any of this, so he might as well–" your explosive rant was cut short by Lestrade.
"That's enough!" He stated sternly. "Okay, everybody. Done 'ere."
You stared down Donovan as the squad began to leave.

They all went downstairs and filed out the door. Lestrade picked his coat up. "Why did he do that? Why did he have to leave?" He complained in a way.
John shrugged. "You know him better than we do," he explained.
"I've known him for five years, and no, I don't."
"So why do you put up with him?" You were starting to cool off a bit now that Donovan was gone.

"Because I'm desperate, that's why," Lestrade replied. He began to walk to the door, but stopped at the very last moment, turning around. "And because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think one day, if we're very, very lucky, he might even be a good one." He walked down the stairs and out of sight, leaving you and John to think about what he said.

"What do we do now?" You asked.
John thought for a moment. "Do you want me to walk you home?" He offered kindly.
You smiled. "I'd like that."

The three of you began to walk out of the living room before John stopped and clenched his fist. "You alright?" You asked.
John nodded before walking over to a box of papers next to the dining table, and you realised that he was getting his cane. John picked it up and headed for you again, when a beep made his head and yours turn to the computer, as well as Y/D/N. John placed his cane back where he had found it.