Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

II • 2

You and John had caught up by the time you arrived back at the flat two hours later. You were laughing with him as you walked through the door and up the stairs. Sherlock hadn't moved except for to drink his tea. As he lay there, thinking, completely oblivious to his surroundings, you got a better look at him. He had a long, retroussé nose, cupid bow lips, and unusually sharp cheekbones. His eyebrows were thick and unruly, as were his black curls.
Without warning, he jumped up and strode to the window, ignoring you and John, and picked up his violin. He closed his eyes again and began to play. The sound that resonated out of the small, curved instrument was sad and sweet. It rose and fell at every right moment. It was beautiful, the work of a skilled musician.
As quickly as it had begun, the music stopped, bow screeching.
"Oh!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Oh! I've got it, John!" He pulled a laptop off the desk and collapsed onto the sofa again, presumably writing on his website, The Science Of Deduction.
"What have you got, Sherlock?" John asked.
"I've solved it." He mumbled, without looking up.
"Solved WHAT, Sherlock?" John asked, exasperated.
"Murder." Sherlock said, adding no further details.
He shut his laptop and swung his legs over so that he was sitting properly. At that moment, his phone rang.
"Sherlock Holmes." He said, already sounding remiss. There was a short pause while the other was speaking, then, "Ah. We'll be there soon." A smile slowly transformed his face, then he hung up without another word.
"Lestrade?" John asked.
"Of course. We have a case." He got up and disappeared into his bedroom.
Five minutes later, he emerged wearing trousers and a dark purple button down. He grabbed his signature Belstaff coat and navy scarf.
"Let's go, John!" He called.
"Can I come too, please? Pleeease!" You begged.
"No, you'll only get in the way." Sherlock dismissed you.
"Johnny, please?" You tugged John's sleeve like a child.
"Sherlock, she could be more helpful than you imagine." John offered.
"I doubt that." Sherlock muttered, but he didn't say anything else against your coming. Taking that as a yes, you grabbed your own coat and scarf and were out the door before either of the boys.

******

"It was meant to look like the others, but it is distinctly different if you know what to look for." You said, looking between the body at your feet and the case file in your hand.
Sherlock made a small noise of approval.
You smiled and continued. "Firstly, the MO doesn't match. Cause of death was asphyxiation, not blood loss. The stab wounds are post mortem, likely an after thought to make it look like the work of a serial killer. Correct me if I'm wrong, Mr. Holmes, but I conclude that this was a crime of passion, likely the estranged brother. He hadn't taken his medicine, and he got angry. His brother was there to take it out on. He felt bad when he realised what he'd done, so he panicked and tried to pass the blame onto a serial killer that he had read about in the paper. He will almost definitely crack when confronted."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. He seemed impressed. "Good." He said.
You smirked. "Why thank you, Mr. Holmes."
You wanted to know how much it took to annoy him.
He ignored you, and talked a bit with Lestrade, then he left the house, you and John trailing behind. He hailed a cab and got in.
"221B Baker Street." He said.
It wasn't far and he got out immediately, leaving John to pay.
You smiled. There was something about this guy. He was a brash jerk, sure, but there was something about him that you liked.

You made your way up the stairs and into the room. Sherlock was sitting on the sofa again.
"You're good." He said.
"I know." You smirked. "I love puzzles. You already knew that."
You could feel him staring at you, his eyes following your every move, trying to figure you out.
You were enjoying this attention.
"How long are you here?" He asked, suddenly.
"Three more weeks."
"Good."

******

Sherlock went into his mind palace that night. It was his only escape. But tonight it wasn't working. He ran into you in every hallway and every corridor. Hmmm. This would need further investigation.
He thought, as he began to enjoy seeing you everywhere. He rather liked you.
But sentiment, Sherlock! He reminded himself how dangerous it was.