Exception || Sherlock Holmes x Reader

➳ Chapter Four

"You guys were talking about the terrorists, right?" you question as you and Sherlock walk to the location that Greg asked you to meet him at.

"Yes. I assume you know about it?" Sherlock replies in his monotone voice.

"Mycroft informed me a couple of days ago."

"How do you know my brother anyway?" he asks.

"I've worked alone my whole life and, one time, I got paid to find a client's son. He was suspected of stealing funds from the British Government, so I hacked into their headquarters to see if they were holding him hostage. I was caught and taken to Mycroft where I immediately deduced him and he offered me a job around five years ago," you explain and look up at Sherlock out of the corner of your eye to see him perhaps thinking back to the years he was always alone.

"What I wouldn't give to see the look on Mycroft's face when you did that. I'm surprised we haven't met earlier."

"Well, he had me doing long and arduous missions constantly, so I had little time off, not that I needed any. No family, no friends, remember?" you say jokingly, but Sherlock doesn't seem to find it amusing.

"This is it," you announce, approaching a run-down building with peeling paint on the front.

Sherlock steps forward and opens the door, letting you step through first and you smile in thanks. Greg is waiting inside by the descending staircase with his arms crossed.

"This way," he says and leads the two of you down to the basement where blue LED lights line the walls. "This one has us baffled."

Greg flips the lights on and you're instantly confused by the skeleton sitting behind the dusty desk. You and Sherlock immediately get to work as you put on latex gloves and Sherlock takes out a magnifying glass.

"Shut up, John," you hear Sherlock whisper under his breath, but ignore it.

"This skeleton can't be more than six months old," you state, running a hand over the skull.

Sherlock sighs and opens the desk drawer to reveal a book. He blows the dust off before dropping it lazily on top of the desk.

"How I Did It by Jack The Ripper," Greg reads and it immediately clicks inside your mind.

You take off your gloves boredly and stuff them in your pocket.

"I won't insult your intelligence by explaining it to you," Sherlock says, seeming to grow incredibly irritated for some reason.

"No, please. Insult away," Greg pushes.

Sherlock squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before speaking. "The corpse is dressed in a shoddy Victorian outfit from a museum. It's been displayed on a dummy for many years in a case facing south-west-"

"-south-east. Judging from the fading of the fabric," you correct.

"It was sold off in a fire damage sale a week ago," Sherlock finishes, holding up his phone to show Lestrade.

"So the whole thing was a fake?" Greg says in a disappointed tone.

"Yes," you reply, exiting the room with Sherlock.

You and Sherlock walk up the stairs and out of the building where Sherlock ruffles his hair as a clear sign of being frustrated.

"Are you okay?" you ask as you stand outside of the building.

"Yes, of course. It just feels like John is constantly in my head," Sherlock huffs.

"Guilt."

"What?"