His Great Game (Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter 29: The Adler Between Us

A/N: Hello hello, my ace man, my mellow. Here's your update, you crazy Sherlockians :) Thank you guys so much for over 22K!!! 

So a lot of my readers are messaging me begging for more updates and more Sherlock x Reader fics in general. Obviously, I'm hardly able to update this one on a regular basis as it is. To keep you all entertained, I'm uploading another Sherlock x Reader fic that you can read while you wait for my updates. It's not my own but credits are tagged. Feel free to leave votes on it and all that jazz. That said, enjoy this update! 

(Your POV)

After a hilarious taxi cab ride and a quick stop at Baker Street (well, I say quick), we hopped in another cab to head to the address Mycroft had given us. Originally, Sherlock was going to change his clothes, but I guess he changed his mind. He did that quite often.

"So what's the plan?" John asked, dubious about the prospect of jumping straight into things.

Sherlock shrugged. "Well, we know her address."

I scoffed. "What, just ring her doorbell?"

"Exactly." He smiled at me, then turned to the cab driver. "Just here, please!"

"You didn't even change your clothes." John sighed.

Sherlock smirked. "Then it's time to add a splash of color." John and I shared worried glances as we exited the cab and followed Sherlock down a narrow street. Suddenly, Sherlock pulled off his scarf and turned around.

I frowned. "Are we here?"

"Two streets away, but this'll do."

"For what?"

He turned to John, gesturing to his left cheek. "Punch me in the face."

John was silent for a moment, confused by his request. "Punch you?" John seemed rather taken aback and honestly, I was too. But I was pretty sure Sherlock was onto something, so I didn't try to argue.

Sherlock continued hurriedly, gesturing to his face once more. "Yes, punch me. In the face. Didn't you hear me?"

"I always hear 'punch me in the face' when you're speaking, but it's usually subtext." John said nonchalantly, and I put my hand to my mouth to keep a laugh from escaping. When neither of them did anything for a few seconds except share expecting glances, I huffed in exasperation. Pick up the pace, boys. We have things to do, here!

"Oh, for God's sakes." I mumbled, pulling back my fist and landing as hard of a blow on Sherlock's face as I could possibly muster. Sherlock grunted in pain and reeled over, muttering curses under his breath.

John took a step back, startled. "Whoa, what the...?"

Immediately, my hand started throbbing. "Ow, shit." I hissed, shaking my hand out to try and relieve the stinging. Stupid sharp cheekbones. I flexed my hand painfully, examining my knuckles which were already discolored. I was going to have a bruise for that.

"Jesus, (Y/n), you alright?" John fawned over me like a concerned mother, looking over my hand. He completely ignored Sherlock.

I waved him off. "Fine."

Sherlock straightened up and regained his composure. I noticed the new splash of red on his marble complexion. "Thank you." He nodded, impressed. "That was... that was good." He lifted a hand to his face and gingerly touched the bleeding cut on his cheek. "Have you always been able to punch like that?"

I smiled to myself. "I told you, Sherlock. My fist of freedom." I gave him a pointed look and he rolled his eyes.

"British citizen." He reminded me, walking off, presumably in the direction of Irene Adler's house. I scowled, following behind him with John.