Sherlock x Reader: The Inability to Deduce

Chapter 6 - Spotlight

Chapter 6 - Spotlight

Blackness.

Where was he? He felt a pounding in his head, had he been hit? He felt a warmth on the side of his head, it felt swollen. One of his eyes wouldn't open. He heard faint noises; no not noises, voices. Muffled voices. One of them sounded like...he couldn't remember, who was it? They seemed so familiar and yet he couldn't place who they were and where he had heard them before.

He felt someone slap his cheek, it hurt. They had slapped the side that was swollen, this only made it throb further. His one eye that wasn't damaged opened as far as it could. A face came into view, brown eyes...dark short hair...suit? He had seen them before.

His head was still foggy, he couldn't work out what had happened. He remembered jumping out of the cab and running into the warehouse, but then...nothing. Had he been hit? He remembered being hit, he thought he did at least. He couldn't be sure of any of his memories at this point, he could have been drugged for all he knew.

He coughed, blood spluttered everywhere, what had happened to him? He looked down, he was bleeding everywhere, arms, legs, chest even feet, but where were his clothes? He was just in trousers and a vest.

A trickle of blood dripped down his cheek, he tried to wipe it away but found that his hands were tied, quite literally. He moved his head from side to side only to find that made him dizzy and even more disorientated but he did see that he was tied with zip locks to a chair. Not a very effective way of restraining someone but it was good for short term interrogation.

"Well Sherlock, look at what you've gotten yourself into, interesting isn't it?" He heard a voice come from the darkness that was beyond the light that had been shone upon him. He squinted his good eye, he couldn't make a thing out. The light was too bright.

His voice cracked, "I don't know what you mean." He tried to call out.

"Hands tied, head almost smashed in and having a good friend turn against you? I'd say that is interesting," the voice commented, it sounded like someone he knew but he couldn't place it. It was a man, that was obvious. But who?

"What was that last thing?" He asked, still not picking up on all of the facts. His head was still pounding. What did he mean 'have a good friend turn against you'? He didn't have any friends.

"Oops! I let that one slip out! Well the cat's out of the bag, you may as well come out now _____," the voice said as you and the brown haired man from before both stepped into the light. You seemed entirely bored by the whole situation. However he couldn't entirely tell because yet again, he couldn't deduce anything about you.

"W-what?!" He asked alarmed, what were you doing with him? He thought that...no. Of course he couldn't trust you, he hardly knew.

"Oh don't act so surprised, it's quite boring if you do," the man mocked as you stood silent next to him, not giving anything away in your expression. Not giving anything away at all in fact. As usual.

You started to blur in and out of focus as he tried to meet your eyes, to question why you were with him. He sighed, it was no use, you were deliberately ignoring him. He decided to ask something instead, "where is John?"

This is when you spoke finally, "He's at 221b, He's perfectly safe," your face was still expressionless, there was no emotion in your voice at all.

"Why are you keeping me here?" He asked, still very disorientated, nothing was seeming to make any sense.

"To keep you from helping the police in the next string of crimes that is about to occur," you replied, a hint of irritation in your eyes at his ignorance. Why were you working with this man? Why were you talking about crimes? What were you doing?

The man chuckled, "and you can't do anything about it!"

Sherlock said nothing to this, he just sat there trying to push past the pain in the side of his head. Trying to figure out why you were working this man and who he was. The name was on the tip of his tongue, who was he? He was certainly familiar. Too familiar to be forgotten easily, but he couldn't place his finger.

That was when he saw you slip your hand into your pocket, gripping on to something, "Now, now Sherlock. Don't look so glum, no one is going to get hurt...yet." The man chuckled again as he stepped closer and grabbed Sherlock's chin roughly to make him look him in the eye, "just remember if you do as I say, none of your friends will get hurt, understand?"

Sherlock spat a bit of blood at the man as he pulled his face away, he grunted as he looked up at the man's sour expression that had just appeared on his face, "I don't have friends, you can't hurt me through people."

For a moment he thought he saw a flash of hurt in your eyes as you heard his comment, but it was only a glimpse. The man on the other hand looked like he had just had a lemon shoved into his mouth, "give him the warning."

At that command you pulled what you had been handling in your pocket out and fired at his leg. A searing pain shot through his left leg, he looked down. You may have only skimmed the skin but it still hurt like hell. He bit his lip to hold in the cries of pain. You had shot him.

"Now I will tell you again," the man's voice took on a threatening tone now, "if you don't obey, everyone you love and hold dear will die, understand?"

That was when you spoke, Sherlock at this point had forgotten you were there and were completely focused on the psychopath in front of him, "Moriarty."

The name sparked a flood of memories in his mind, the bombs, the people this man had killed. The pool side and John with a bomb. He was his parallel, his equal. Moriarty, the consulting criminal.

"What?" He sounded annoyed as he turned to face you, the Irish accent even more familiar to him now. He froze, Sherlock couldn't see why as he was blocking the way but he seemed...almost scared. But how could that be, you were working with him. Weren't you?

"Stop." He heard the trigger of a gun click and then the fire of a bullet. Moriarty slumped to the floor.