The Exception (sherlock x reader)

Chapter 16: A New Hero and Old Ghosts

Once the American woke up you were waiting there. Before he could process what was happening you punched him square in the nose with you left hand. It didn't have as much strength to it, but it still gave him a bloody nose. He groaned from the impact, but you could hardly hear him through the duck tape covering his mouth. Even though the first punch hurt your hand you wanted to hit him again and again. Sherlock saw it in your eyes, the anger. He walked up behind you and took your wrist in his hand, gently pulling you away.

"Maybe you should go downstairs," Sherlock suggested pulling you to face him. Staring up at him you noticed something. Something different. His eyes were sunken. He seemed shaken by something. Had the break in gotten to him that much or is there something else going on you didn't know about. You prayed it had nothing to with the Woman. "Let John bandage up your other arm properly," you shifted on your feet, unsure what you wanted to do next.
Sherlock sighed and started walking you out the door. "Go." No more asking.

So you went.

John was with Ms.Hudson who returned shortly after Sherlock had. She was very upset about the whole story John recounted to her. She was seemingly to nice for this life.

You were dazed and not fully grasping your situation. That's why you didn't hear John ask how  you were the first time or the second.

"y/n, c'mon sit down," You finally heard John say.

So you did.

You could understand why John made a fine Doctor. His touch was gentle while still being deliberate as he cleaned your arm. There was silence while he worked. Until something crashed through the bins just outside. You quickly realized not something, but someone. The American. Getting what he deserved surely. A small smirk crossed Johns lips.

"Oh, no," Ms.Hudson gasped, "my bins."

The three of you chuckled a bit at that.

~later that night~

Lestrade came by. The poor fellow who, well, fell out the window repeatedly was taken by the paramedics while you received many sympathizing remarks.

Now, back in your flat, you remembered Moriarty and his warning. Those Americans couldn't possibly have been his doing. Could they? He would've left a hint. He loves to toy with you. You jumped off your couch and quickly began tearing open every drawer you hid the notes in.

That's when Sherlock dropped by.

"(y/n)..." He paused in your doorway. Your door had been left open, and you were right in his line of sight with letters strewn about the table you had thrown there. Now what?

"I came by to see how you're doing, and the door was open so I..." His voice trailed off as he walked in and picked up a letter. "Moriarty?"

Crap.

Normally you would stammer your way through some excuse, put up your facade, and hide the truth. That's what you do.
Correction.
That's what you do with everyone else, and Sherlock is not everyone else.

"The first one came on Christmas Eve."

"And you've been avoiding me, us, because of him," Sherlock said. Of course he knew. It's a simple conclusion from the letters and your distance.

"Sherlock, I, *sigh* I can't do this."

" You can't do this? You can't?"  Sherlock stood up swiftly making you jump back a little. He turned and stared at you. You just stood staring back, stunned. That was not what you expected. "You act like your friends don't care or worrying about you because this psychopath says so. Moriarty of all people, God (y/n). You know better. No, you are not the one who can't do this. You're not the one who should be isolating themselves. You're  not the one being LIED TO."

You too were toe to toe. Staring each other down. He broke you back out of the shekel Moriarty had building up around. Keeping you from him. You took a breath in, and let go.

"What the hell are you talking about?" You asked

"The Woman." His gaze softened as you maintained eye contact. The mention of the name made your chest tighten. You thought that was all over. "(Y/n)," he continued. "She's back."