The Science of Sentiment (BBC Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter 5: Remorse

You instantly felt your face pale. Your knees buckled slightly beneath you, and the world spun like a top. You grabbed the wall to support yourself, taking shallow breaths. Nobody else had seemed to notice your current state, as they were all focused on Sherlock and Lestrade's bickering.
Just then, your phone vibrated in your pocket causing you to nearly jump out of your skin. You ripped the device from your pocket in record speed, and stepped out of the office before answering the unknown number.
"Hello," you huffed.
"(Y/n), darling, it's been so long."
Your stomach immediately dropped. Your suspicions were confirmed when you heard that all-too-familiar voice.
"Why are you doing this? I thought you were through with me."
He gave a dry laugh. "Oh, I'm just bored, darling. Did you like the whole roses bit? I threw that in just for you, you know. Those idiot detectives think it's some kind of message, but it was really only intended for your sake. You know how my sense of humor is-"
"Where is she!?" You spat into the receiver.
"Oh your little friend? Lillian was it? She's totally fine, but if you don't follow my next instructions, she may not be."
You glance over at Sherlock. His back was still turned to you, and his argument with the DI had only escalated. You had some time.
"Alright, out with it then."
The man on the other end of the receiver recited an address for you to find, and told you where exactly in the building to meet him. You were to come alone at eight o'clock sharp, or Lillian would be killed.
That only gave you a little under an hour.

You popped your head back into the office, where the fight seemed to have died down a bit. Lestrade was holding a photograph next to Sherlock's face and pointing things out.
"Hey Sherlock?" You called, interrupting their discussion.
He snapped his head back to you. "Yes?"
You looked at the floor in feign embarrassment. "Look- I feel bad, but I totally forgot about dinner with John. You wouldn't mind if I left, would you?"
A hint of annoyance flashed his features, but he quickly turned back to the DI with a wave of his hand.
"Go. I'll text you more details of the case later."
"Alright, thanks!"
You turned and walked out of the building swiftly, praying that the clever detective wouldn't see through your lie.
Next, you called John.
He picked up on the third ring with a pleasant, "Hello?"
"Hey John."
"(Y/n)! How are you?"
"Just fine- well, actually..."
"What is it?"
You hesitated, thinking through your options. "Look, I feel really bad about this, but...Sherlock was hoping I could help him out with this case tonight. There's been a kidnapping and he thinks that I could help them out. Maybe we could plan dinner for a different night?"
John sounded disappointed, "Ah, um, that's okay. A different night is fine."
"I'm really sorry...He's being quite annoying about it, you know?"
John chuckled. "Yeah, he can be like that. It's alright, I understand."
"Thank you."
With that, you ended the call and hailed a cab to the address the man had given you.

---

Click, click.
The heels of your shoes tapped noisily on the concrete floor of the warehouse. The building was gut-wrenchingly silent except for the sound of your movements.
You glanced at your watch. 7:58.
You reached the other side of the large room, and, as promised, a door with a single red rose tapped to the front stood waiting for you. You ripped the rose from its place and tossed it to the floor before throwing the door open.
The door opened to a spacious parking garage. A single chair stood in the middle of the room with a familiar figure strapped to it.
"Lillian!" You shout, racing towards her hunched form.
She lifted her head at the sound of your voice, hope filling her eyes. However, her excited expression quickly turned to dismay, and a few tears escaped down her cheeks.
"Stop! (Y/n) don't come any closer!"
You halted in your tracks. "Lillia-"
"He wants to hurt you! Just leave, please-"
She was immediately cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps. She began whimpering, slouching even further in her spot.
Your breath hitching in your throat when the man came into view.
"...Jim." You whispered.
He smiled at you. "Good to see you too, darling. Hope you didn't miss me too much?"
"Not at all." You hiss.
His hands had been tucked behind his back until now, when he reached his hands to you he held four red roses.
"Here, these are for you. It's just like our first date, huh? I have to admit I'm a bit of a romantic."
Rage-filled tears brimmed your eyes and your jaw clenched.
"I almost didn't realize it was you. What kind of a name is Daniel West?" You asked in the most assertive voice you could muster.
He hummed. "Yes, it's not quite as catchy as 'Jim Moriarty' is it? Daniel West was simply a pseudo name for a group of my men posing as myself to blackmail my friends in Germany."
"What do you want from me?"
"I want you to come back to me. Imagine how it felt to find out my brilliant girlfriend was working with the likes of Sherlock Holmes-"
"I'm not your girlfriend."
He approached you slowly, keeping his expression neutral. He stopped in front of you, staring at you for what felt like an eternity. Then, without warning, he struck you. The unexpected force, knocked you to the floor.
"That's what you think," he spat. He opened his mouth to continue, but another voice cut him off.
"It's awfully rude to touch a woman like that."
Jim spun around to face none other than the detective Sherlock Holmes. A very pissed off Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock raised a handgun at your captor. "Let them go."
Moriarty laughed. "Oh joy, I get to have (y/n) back and tick off Sherlock Holmes at the same time? What a day!"
His expression suddenly turned dark and he screamed, "Not everything is about you, Sherlock!"
The detective looked confused. "What could you want from (y/n)?"
Jim laughed, clasping his hands in front of him. "Oh Sherlock, I would tell you, but you already know what it is, don't you?"
Sherlock gave a puzzled look. He pulled the safety latch on the gun, setting his jaw in assertion.
"Let them go, Moriarty."
Jim hummed in reply, beginning to pace around Lillian's chair.
"Well...I suppose I could do that. But why should I?" Jim yanked on your hair, pulling you from you collapsed position on the floor with a yelp.
"...especially after all the time it took me to track down this little one. She really does know how to hide in plain sight, don't you darling?"
Your mind was blank and you could feel yourself slipping into a panic attack. Suppressed memories of the dreadful man were whirling past your eyes at blinding speeds. He threw you back to the ground, and you simply layed  there, trying to escape to your mind palace.
Sherlock stared at the scene in dismay. He'd love to kill Moriarty right there where he stood, but he knew that as soon as he pulled the trigger you and your friend would be killed.
Just then,  a loud pop song cut through the tension in the air. Moriarty groaned, reaching for his pocket.
"Everytime," he hissed, answering the call from his mobile.
He began speaking rapidly into the receiver in German. He didn't sound too pleased. With the distraction, Sherlock began inching towards you with his eyes still fixed on Moriarty.
Suddenly, Jim began yelling into the speaker in furious German. You weren't fluent in German, but it sounded something along the line of, "You're a dead man."
A chill ran down your spine and you shuddered involuntarily. Moriarty ended the call and all but threw the phone at the wall. He took a deep breath and turned back to Sherlock with a surprisingly calm expression.
"Well, unfortunately, I must be off. It really is a shame our meetings seem to keep ending short." He then turned to you. "So long, love. I'll be back soon for you though, mark my words." He winked and you could feel bile rising in your throat.
Jim turned and left the parking garage through a door you hadn't noticed before. Sherlock moved to chase him, but you grabbed the ankle of his trousers to stop him.
"Please don't leave," you whispered in a pale voice.
His expression softened, and he tucked the gun away. He helped you off of the floor and held you for what felt like ages. You were too faint to notice that Sherlock, too, was shaking. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves.
After a while he whispered, "I thought I would be too late."
"Hmm?"
"...Nothing."
You pulled away from him and moved to help your friend. Lillian had seemed to faint during the whole ordeal and sat limp in the chair. You pulled a Swiss Army knife out of the safety of your bra and quickly went to work cutting the ropes that bound the girl.
"You had a knife the whole time?" Sherlock inquired.
You turned to him with a look that read 'Shouldn't that be obvious to you?'
"Of course. I carry it with me all the time. I'm not completely helpless, you know."
"Why didn't you use it on Moriarty?"
You went silent. After a second you replied, "He would have killed Lillian if I had hurt him. You know that."
"...Right, of course. Well, what did he mean by-"
"Later, Sherlock." You motioned to your unconscious friend. He nodded and picked up Lillian bridal-style.
"The police are waiting for us outside," He mumbled, crossing the parking garage with your friend in his arms.
You quickly followed after him, still trying to calm your racing heart.