Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

XXVI • 26

Sherlock's POV: Earlier

I had begun formulating this plan as soon as Jim had walked off last night without any elaboration as to when and where I'd see him again. It was difficult for me, because I knew it would hurt John and (F/N). That was the last thing I wanted to do. But I knew in the long run, it would protect them. With this psychopath running around, who had already proven he had no problem threatening innocent lives to get to me, they needed protection.
I knew Mackenzie would keep you out all day. I didn't need to be around her for long to know her personality.
I needed to do this.
I scratched Bowie's head, and smiled. He reminded me so much of Redbeard. That is, of what I remembered of Redbeard. He was a fleeting memory, something I deeply regretted. Bowie had brought him back for the first time in years, which is probably why it had hit me so hard.
He lifted his head and gave me that look--the one all dogs have-- so that he seemed to smile.
I got up and went to my room to change.
Dressed in a loose shirt and sweats, I set my phone on the kitchen table, and went downstairs, Bowie following me.
I looked back at him. "Did you need to go out, boy?"
He cocked his head, his ears perking. I smiled at him once again.
"Okay buddy, hang on."
Your door was unlocked so I went in, and it didn't take me long to find the lead hung up by the door.
I clipped it to Bowie's collar and took him out for a short walk around the block, then brought him back to your flat and hung the lead back up. I got down on my knee and scratched his ears, burying my face in his fur.
"Goodbye, buddy." I stood and, after looking around for a pen and paper, scribbled you a note, then taped it to your door. I shut the door with one last glance toward the dog.

******

The abandoned warehouse was innocuous on the outside, appearing to be just another broken down business on the bad side of town. You could only get in if you knew the knock. There was a special sequence that got you in, otherwise you'd be ignored.
I hadn't been in awhile, but thankfully I don't forget much.
Bill opened the door and ushered me in, closing it immediately.
"Sherlock! Whadaya got?"
"I don't. I just need the cover. Can you keep me in?"
He made a face.
"You owe me one, Bill."
"Thad I do. Wouldn'ya jest stop helpin' me out?" He smirked.
"Stop getting into trouble." I responded without missing a beat.
He laughed humourlessly.
"A'leese tell me why ya ain't got nothin'."
"I'm doing good, Bill."
"John won' even letcha 'ave cigs, eh?" I felt my mouth quirk up. "Nicotine patches."
"How'dya do it?" Bill shook his head in wonder.
"I got a flat share with a guy who'd break my bones if I used."
"No kiddin'." He said, rubbing his wrist.
I smiled. "That was a sprain."
He rolled his eyes. "Ih'was John. An' ih hurt."
All round me lay men and women, most of them even younger than I. Although they were physically here, their minds were in a very different place. That I knew from experience.
It seemed awful, when you weren't a part of it. It was awful. But this was where I needed to be.
Even in the low light, I could see the physical effect the drugs had, and I could imagine the mental ones.
I shook my head, trying to get the image out.
"Bill."
"'Eh?"
"I need to look high without actually getting high."
He looked at me with confusion and aggravation. "What're ya on about?"
"It's for one of my most important cases yet. This man is single-handedly taking down London and I'm prepared to do anything to stop him. Now punch me in the face, please."
"What da 'eck, Shezza?" Now he just looked baffled. "I'm yer friend, why would'ah punch ya?"
"Just do it, Bill." I responded, seriously.
He shrugged heavily, then reared back and punched my left eye.
Dang, he hit hard.
I stumbled back a few feet, my hand automatically reaching for the injury.
"Thank you." I said, then walked off, slightly disoriented.
I found my way to a spot near the corner of the room, then slid down against the wall.
There was a bit of grease on the floor, which I used to my advantage by smearing it across my face.
The room was hot, permeated by the steam of those making their own. It wasn't long before I started to sweat, which helped.
I leaned back against the wall and shut my other eye. It was going to be an uncomfortable couple of days, I knew, but I was the target, and targets waited.