His Great Game (Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter 25: How To Get Away With Milkshakes and Murder

(Your POV)

Getting ready was a breeze. In a matter of minutes, I had donned my favorite Supernatural tee, black shorts, and red converses. To finish the 'Winchester' look, I tied a red, plaid shirt around my waist and pulled my (h/l) hair into a ponytail. I smiled confidently into the mirror. I looked good.

Sherlock was so ecstatic about the new murder that he rushed John and I out the door before the ten-minute mark. "Geez, Sherlock. You're so pushy." I had joked, earning myself a glare in return.

Currently, our trio was exiting our cab onto Munroe Street. The mid-day September wind swirled in gusts around us, sending our hair whipping all over the place. It was a little chilly- I was beginning to regret not wearing jeans. I shrugged it off, knowing we'd be out of the wind soon.

"Is this the same one you've got the pictures up on the wall for, Sherlock?" John asked, referring to the case.

"Yes." Sherlock replied simply, keeping his gaze straight ahead. He lifted up the yellow police tape so John and I could walk under. I mumbled my thanks.

"So is this one going to be the same way, then?" I queried. I hadn't liked the look of those bodies on the wall, and I secretly hoped it would be a little less gruesome.

He smirked. "Well I haven't seen it yet, have I?" His blue eyes twinkled with amusement as he sent a playful glance in my direction.

I hummed in acceptance, still looking at him. His coat collar was turned up against the wind, which was blowing his chocolatey curls into his face. I looked away quickly when I realized I had been staring. Cursing myself mentally, I scowled. "Suppose not." I grumbled.

He quirked a perfect eyebrow, vaguely interested in my sudden mood change. He dismissed it as we reached the doorway of the small home. "Lestrade!" He called out cheerfully, greeting the Detective Inspector.

"Morning, Sherlock. John." Lestrade nodded to each of them in turn, then smiled when he got to me. "(Y/n)! Long time no see."

"Good morning." I grinned as he pulled me in for a hug. "Yeah, sorry about that, Greg." I said as I pulled away. "This one's been keeping me indoors." I nodded my head in Sherlock's direction, who's face had morphed into a scowl. I sent him a wink to let him know I had been joking before turning back to Lestrade.

Lestrade was always happy to see me working on a case, especially when Sherlock was in a particularly cranky mood. When that happened, Sherlock threw out insults to everyone left and right. Most of them were aimed at Lestrade. "He's not an idiot, Sherlock" and "Shut up, Sherlock" became my most popular phrases. Even Anderson and Donovan snickered every time I said something along those lines. Apparently, no one had ever had the guts to stand up to Sherlock like that before. Not to my extent, anyways.

"Well, it's good to have you back." He clapped an arm around my shoulder, and I returned the gesture. Sherlock's frown deepened, but Lestrade was oblivious. "Let's go solve this case, shall we?"

"Yes, please." John said, leading the way into the house. Sherlock brought up the rear. "So what've we got this time, Lestrade?"

"Same thing, I'm afraid." He pointed out the signs as we headed up the stairs. "Another woman. Obvious signs of forced entry into the house, same stab wounds, eyes missing." We all nodded solemnly. Just like the three before. Hung up on the wall in the flat were pictures of three women. From what I could tell, each one had been stabbed numerous times before having their eyes carved out. Each time, the killer left no trace. Not even blood. It was strange, like he just took it all with him.

As we entered the bedroom of the latest victim, I saw that this one was just the same. Something about the whole thing put me off. I cringed at the sight of her dead body on the floor. Her profession, if you could call it that, was obvious. She worked at the local diner- she even still had her uniform on. But that wasn't what had bothered me.