The Science of Sentiment (BBC Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter 6: Explanations

You stared at the floor in silence from your position on Sherlock's sofa. John came back from the kitchen with a blanket and tea for you. Sherlock sat in his chair, staring at you. He hadn't said a word since you both returned to 221B.
John, however, hadn't shut up for a single moment. His over-protective nature had made itself quite apparent in the last hour. He had insisted on giving you a doctor's look-over and continued going on about all of the dangers you could have gotten yourself into by going to face Moriarty alone. You were still in shock from the whole event, and hadn't said much, yourself.
Eventually, John sat in his chair with a loud sigh, giving up on the lecture.
"Are you sure you're alright?" He asked for the hundredth time.
"Fine," you muttered in reply.
"What did he want from you?" Sherlock snapped, finally coming out of his daze.
You stiffened. "...I believe an explanation is in order."
Both men leaned in closer to hear your tale. They watched you intently as you fumbled for the right words.
"When...When I was a kid, I was always bullied for being smart. I never had any friends. I'd always deduce something about them that would end up hurting their feelings. I didn't know how to watch my mouth, either. I just said everything that came to my mind. We moved numerous times, but it was always the same. Even my parents began to hate me. Around middle school age, they left me under the care of my grandfather. I hated myself..." you run a hand down your face, sighing deeply. Memories of your parents floated to your mind and you did your best to push them away. "Then one day, I met Jim. I was only 20 at the time. He accepted me for who I was...I felt like I wasn't alone anymore, you know? But after we had been dating for some time, he...he began to show his true colors."
John sucked in a breath and Sherlock leaned back in his chair.
"He abused you?" His normally detached voice sounded slightly pained.
You nodded. "It wasn't...all the time. But, whenever he got mad, he would hit me. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore. I broke things off with Jim. Surprisingly, he took it rather well. He packed up his things and left without much complaint. I knew that he would probably try to come back though, and I had been thinking about moving for a while, anyway-"
"So you quit your job and moved to London," Sherlock finished.
"Exactly. I've been living here for about a month, though. Everything seemed to be turning out fine," your breath hitched in your throat and you slumped over, sobbing into your knees.
"Jesus..." John whispered.
Sherlock's grip on the arm of the chair visibly tightened until his knuckles turned white. "It's good that you moved here, (y/n). You'll be safe with us." He said, barely contained rage hinting in his voice.
John threw a questioning glance at his flatmate. The man had been acting quite uncharacteristically ever since you moved in yesterday, and it had not gone unnoticed. Without missing a beat, John chimed in with, "He's right. We won't let him hurt you anymore."
You quickly wiped your cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater. "Thank you."
You stopped, remember something form earlier that night. "Hold on, when did you and Moriarty meet?"
"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked.
"You two definitely met at some point prior to this. You acted like you already knew each other."
Sherlock sighed. "John and I met Moriarty about a month ago-" he stopped, his eyes widening just as yours were.
"He followed me here..." You mumbled, your face going pale. "He knew where I was the whole time. And here I thought I was being clever..."
Sherlock stared at the floor. What does this all mean?
"He tried to blow me up," John offered. "He nearly killed me and Sherlock."
"He tends to do that," you muttered, deep in thought.
After a moment you say, "Knowing him, it'll probably be a while before he strikes again."
Sherlock nodded. "You should stay here tonight, though."
"What?"
"It isn't safe for you to be alone. Besides, you're still shaken up from the whole thing-"
"Sherlock, I'm fine."
"Please."
You snapped your eyes to his. There was a subtle hint of concern in his icy blue irises. His face was paler than usual, and his fingers twitched ever-so-slightly in anxiety.
"Fine."
John looked on the whole scene in disbelief. Did Sherlock just say 'please?' I've never seen him so concerned...What's going on with him?
"Um, right. Well, it's already nearly three in the morning, so I'll get you more blankets-"
"She can take my bed, John. I wasn't planning to sleep anyway. I need to think."
John simply shook his head, walking away from the odd scene before him. "Okay then, well, I'm going to go to bed then."
"Goodnight," you and Sherlock chimed simultaneously.