His Great Game (Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter 6: Truth and Tea

(Your POV)

I woke up in a bed I didn't recognize. The familiar scent of tobacco ash and old books filled my nose- where had I smelled that before? I sat straight up, panicking, not quite remembering how I had gotten here. I could hear muffled voices coming from the room right outside the door, and a dark grey trench coat hung on the handle of a large wardrobe. Last night's events came flooding back in a rush. The coffee, the murders, the annoying detective and his nice friend.

I groaned, closing my eyes flopping back down onto the pillows. The last thing I want to do is deal with Sherlock right now. My eyes snapped open. Sherlock. Sherlock smelled like this, that's why it was familiar! I practically jumped out of the bed, throwing off the covers I was under, suddenly alarmed. Why the hell was I in his bed? I looked down to make sure I was still wearing everything. I was in the same black tank top and skinny jeans I had been in last night. I felt my pockets. Empty.

I looked around the room for my other possessions. They weren't far away- just by the nightstand next to the bed. My bag, black lace-up boots, and hoodie were on the ground. I picked up the hoodie, furrowing my brows. It had been washed since last night- the blood was no longer there. I slipped it on, relishing in its familiar feel. I reached for my phone, which had been placed on top of the nightstand. I stared at it blankly, not sure what I wanted to do with it. I checked the time. Bloody hell, it's already past noon, I mentally chided.

Then I smiled, remembering the numbers in black ink on my coffee cup. I typed in the numbers quickly and sent him a message.

Hey James, It's (Y/n).

-(Your Initials)

Satisfied, I nodded and stuffed the phone in my back pocket. I headed for the door, but froze with my hand above the handle. I could hear Sherlock and John conversing in hushed tones inside the living room, and it sounded like it was getting rather interesting. A little eavesdropping never killed anyone. Brushing out my hair with my fingers, I elected to stand by the door and listen instead of walking out just yet.

"But you didn't... mean it, did you?"

"Mean what?" Sherlock's voice was so low that I had to strain to hear it clearly.

"You don't really think she's an idiot."

"Oh, no, of course not. I just needed to get her riled up to ensure she'd come with us."

"You knew getting her mad would make her want to come?" John's voice was filled with disbelief.

"Yes, obviously."

"And you don't think you went a little overboard?"

There was a pause. "What do you mean?"

"You practically kissed her."

"Kissed her?" Sherlock's voice was louder and more defensive now. "Good God, John, I was only scolding her."

There was a long silence. I couldn't see what was happening, but I knew they were probably having a stare-off right now. I almost chuckled but stopped myself because I didn't want them to hear me.

"Admit it." John spoke up first.

"Admit what?" Sherlock did his best to sound disinterested. But I was no idiot- I knew the difference.

"You don't totally hate her."

"Of course not. She wouldn't be here if I did."