His Great Game (Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter 24: Not Your Mother, Sherlock

(A/N: I'm back, baby! Thanks for being patient :D Partial inspiration for chapter from a one-shot I found. IDK the title or who wrote it but... yeah, I guess.)

(Your POV)

"It just doesn't make any sense!" Sherlock's hoarse yell rang throughout the flat as I walked through the door. "I mean, there's no connection at all!"

"Sherlock?" I asked tentatively, closing the door behind me. "What are you doing?" It had been three days, and he still hadn't solved the case he was on. He and John left every morning to a different crime scene, examining the victims the killer had reached. This meant that Mrs. Hudson and I were left with the company of only each other. Honestly, we quite enjoyed it. No Sherlock shouting at odd hours of the morning, no John complaining about he hadn't got off in a while. We had bonded quite well, Mrs. H and I- I even had a nickname for her now.

Sherlock, who had been sitting in his chair and flailing his hands about, turned and gave me a confused look. I returned it. "(Y/n)! You're... home?"

I chuckled. "So are you." I shifted the hangers in my hand. I had gone out to pick up Sherlock's clothes from the dry cleaner because he was picky. I'd only been gone an hour and Sherlock was already going crazy. Well, crazy is rather normal for him. He's quite tame at the moment, actually.

He looked around wildly for someone who wasn't there. "Then... who was I talking to this whole time?" His brow furrowed in the most adorable way.

Smiling, I walked over to where he was sitting and ruffled his curls with my free hand. "The air, Curly." I pressed a short kiss to his forehead. That had become our 'thing', forehead kisses. John had just about flipped when he kept seeing us do it, but I assumed they were purely platonic. After all, Sherlock did nearly the same thing with Mama Hudson. It was probably as close to actually loving us as someone like Sherlock could get.

"Hmm." He said as I pulled away. "Where did you go?"

"Dry cleaner's." I explained, walking away. "I took the liberty of picking up your clothes because you can't seem to wash them like a normal person." I rolled my eyes dramatically.

Even though I wasn't facing him, I could practically hear his scowl. "Normal is boring. Besides, at least I'm not like you, washing jeans and tops in the same load."

I sighed, exasperated, and turned back around when I reached the hallway leading to Sherlock's room. "That's because they can go in the same load. So can John's. Yours could too, you know." I gave him a pointed look and he huffed, waving me away with his hand.

From there, I headed into his room and started hanging up his shirts and pants. It took me a while, because Sherlock liked everything 'just-so'. I mean, he has a sock index, for Christ's sake! I silently giggled at his antics. Three weeks ago, I would've been annoyed by Sherlock's crazy habits. Now, they were just amusing. Character development, anyone?

When I had finished, I headed back out into the living room, where Sherlock was now standing, studying the evidence pinned on the wall. He looked serene, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. His brow was furrowed and his jaw was clenched. His blue eyes gleamed in concentration.

I sighed. He needs to lighten up a bit. I went and stood next to him for a moment- first taking in his stoic features, then taking in the gruesome pictures on the wall. I cringed and raised my eyebrows in surprise. Well, no wonder he's been so stressed... This is the most gruesome one I've ever seen.

Knowing I wasn't tall enough to block his view, I got in front of him, wrapping my arms around his firm waist and resting my head on his shoulder. He stiffened for the first few moments, but then started to relax. After a moment of silence, he wrapped his arms around me as well, continuing to study the pictures on the wall over the sofa.