The Science of Sentiment (BBC Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter 19: Missing Pieces

Sorry for not updating any of my stories lately :( I've been stuck in summer school these past few weeks.
Anyway, I'll try to update more often)

The rest of the evening was deadly silent. You refused to meet Sherlock's steely, blue eyes. You were so terribly frightened- not particularly of playing victim to these cult attacks, but of Sherlock himself. You knew you were going to break down any moment now and tell him all of the things you'd been hiding from him, and you couldn't bear it. You couldn't bear the thought of losing his trust.
The two of you arrived back at Lestrade's office, still fully clad for the music hall. You had tucked the paper away in the confines of your bra, telling Sherlock that it had only been some silly receipt in the woman's pocket. Though, from just a glance at his weary face, anyone could see that he saw right through you.
Your shaky hands felt around for a chair and you sat down, beginning to feel nauseous and numb.
"(Y/n)? You alright?" Lestrade's worried tone brings you back to Earth.
"Fine! J-just a bit shaken up..." You blurt out quickly.
Lestrade nods and looks back to the open case file. Sherlock discreetly reaches for your hand to hold. He sends you a slightly reassuring smile, which you return quickly. Your eyes feel glassy with tears and you advert them back to the ground. Behind you, you think you hear sergeant Donovan scoff.
"Alright, around two months ago, four girls were killed in a parking garage- and just now there were two new victims in London's Music Hall. And are you sure they're connected? I don't want to go opening the case back-"
"We're positive," Sherlock answered coolly. Even the way he phrased "we're," fluttered your heart with guilt.
"How?" Lestrade shot back.
You cleared your throat. "Inspector, the four girls all had the same Chinese Kanji on the backs of their necks. The couple we found tonight had the exact same mark. It can't be a coincidence."
Lestrade sighed and ran a hand through his greying hair. "Look, I want this case opened as much as you do, but it doesn't make much sense, does it? If they wanted the first one to look like a suicide, then why not the second one? The whole sniper bit doesn't fit."
You take a shaking breath and slowly detach your hand from your boyfriend's. He sends you a concerned glance, which you ignore.
"I believe...I believe they made the first one appear to be a suicide because they knew that it would take a clever mind like mine or Sherlock's to understand. They got the ball rolling with that case because they knew we- or rather, I- wold have to get involved."
Sherlock straightened slightly in his chair and stared at the floor. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, just beginning to understand your involvement in the case.
This time, Donovan gave a loud sigh. "What does that have to do with anything?" She huffed and crossed her arms.
"Inspector...I have reason to believe that my parents may have been involved in this cult."

--

"(Y/n)."
I don't reply. My hands are shaking terribly and my view of London is blurred before my eyes.
"(Y/n), please look at me," He sounds more pained this time.
I turn to him, feebly smearing the tears away from my eyes. "I'm really sorry, Sherly..."
His breath hitches and he carefully wipes at my damp cheeks. "Please don't cry, I'm not angry," his words come slowly and carefully. "I just don't understand why you didn't tell me sooner." His eyes flick over mine, studying me.
"I didn't want you keeping me out of the case," my voice quivers and cracks. "I didn't want to lose your trust."
He lets out a sigh and pulls me over to embrace me. "You haven't lost my trust, (y/n)." After a moment he adds, "That's a ridiculous notion, anyway."
I sniffle and attempt to wipe the tears away again.
You're acting pathetic, I tell myself. It was undoubtedly true. The events of the last three months were coming at me in full swing, turning me into a sobbing mess. Pathetic!
Sherlock sighs again. "Though, if you had told me sooner, we'd have much more evidence to go on."
I reply with a solemn nod. Now that I've revealed this information, Lestrade is planning to send John, Sherlock and I out to America in a few days to search my parent's former residence. The idea of going back there sends chills down my spine, but for the sake of the case, I'm willing to accompany them.

The cab pulls to a stop outside of our flat. Sherlock leads me inside and leaves me at my door before heading upstairs, most likely to relay our new information to John.
I step inside and change out of my dress. I grimace slightly at the sight of the hem- after all of our running about, the lace fringe is muddy and torn in some places. I hang the dress in my closet and remind myself to have it dry-cleaned soon.
I'm pulling a nightshirt over my head when my front door clicks open quietly. My stomach drops and I grab the nearest weapon- an empty beer bottle- and peer around the corner of the hallway.
"Relax, it's only me," Sherlock chuckles and closes the door behind him.
I set the bottle down with a huff and cross my arms over my chest.
"I should put a bell on you," I murmur as he pulls me into a hug.
"Sorry," he grins and pulls away. He's changed out of his formal wear as well, and stands before me in baggy sleep clothes.
"Are you spending the night here for once?" I smirk up at him.
"Yes...I thought you might still be a bit on edge."
I want to argue with him, but he's right. I haven't stopped shaking since the shooting at the concert hall.
I lead him down the hall to my room and turn off the lights. We both get under my covers, tangled together in a comfortable heap.
I'm just dozing off when I hear him murmur, "I love you, (y/n)."
My eyes open again and I see that he's nearly asleep himself. "Do you mean it?"
He nods, pulling me back down to him.
"I love you too, Sherlock Holmes."