Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

XCII • 92

"Don't you have a case Sherlock? Something simple to get your mind off of this?"
"Probably." He grumbled, his chin pressed against his chest so that you could barely understand him.
"Well then solve it!" You snapped.
He'd been alternating between agitated pacing combined with muttering to himself, and flopping down into his chair in unarguably the worst posture a human being could have.
He didn't answer and didn't bother moving, so you spoke again. "I'm leaving Sherlock. I have no interest in being with you right now."
He sat up a little, as though trying to be better company.
You had just turned to leave when you heard footsteps on the stairs.
"Client?" You asked.
"No. John."
"How can you tell?" You asked, incredulous.
"The sound of the footfalls. Everyone has a unique sound and I recognise John's. Can't everyone do that?"
"No. You're the only one that can do that."
"But it's easy!"
"And futile. Who cares?" You glared at him.
"I care." He replied, quietly.
Your stomach twisted and you almost felt bad for yelling at him.
"Look, Sherlock, find yourself a case. Something will turn up for this one, but not if you keep stressing about it.
You turned to leave and walked out just as John came in.

You hadn't even been downstairs for a full minute when the arguing began- well, it was mostly just John shouting angrily. Occasionally Sherlock would retort, but barely loud enough to be heard.
After ten minutes, you couldn't stand it anymore. You stormed up the stairs and burst open the door.
"For God's sake John, shut up!" You yelled.
This tone, which was quite uncharacteristic of you, was enough to make John turn and stare at you, shocked into silence.
You held your head in your hands, your fingers digging into your temples. "I can hear your ridiculous argument all the way from downstairs and it's making my head hurt. I already told you that I make my own decisions and yelling at Sherlock about it isn't going to change a thing. You're wasting your breath."
Now you turned to Sherlock. "Have you found a case yet?" You asked, exasperated.
"No." He replied quietly, shaking his head.
"Oh for heaven's sake." You snapped, mostly to yourself. You grabbed his phone and unlocked it quickly, having seen him enter the code many times.

160787

You opened his inbox and scrolled through the seemingly unending list of cases and inquiries.
"Your code." You said. "Are those numbers of any significance?"
"No." He answered, a little too quickly. You gave him a sideways glance and saw that his face had already become cloudy. You didn't believe him, but you didn't push.
"Here." You said after a minute, thrusting his phone back into his hands. "This should keep you busy. At least for a little while."
You saw his eyes moving rapidly across the screen- reading, rereading. Then he closed his eyes and pressed his hands together, as he always did, retreating into his mind.
"Better." You said. You turned to John again and sighed.
"You know I love you, I know you know that. But John, I'm 28 years old. Admittedly, I've made mistakes, but in general I'm a responsible person and I don't want you doubting that."
"I don't doubt that!" He said, desperately. "I just want to protect you."
"But you don't need to. That's what I'm saying. I don't need protection anymore."
He looked crushed, and you felt bad.
"Johnny." You sighed. "I'm not saying I haven't appreciated all that you've done for me since I was little. I truly do, and I hope you know that. But just look at those photos and tell me I'm not already involved, whether I want to be or not."
He glanced over at the desk and sighed.
"But-"
You continued before he could retort. "Besides, Sherlock is less responsible than I am. Don't you think he's going to need someone rational along with him?" You gave him a half smile.
He returned it, haltingly. "But it doesn't involve me at all does it?" He asked.
"Not directly, but that doesn't mean you can't help us."
"Well then that's my condition."
"Fair enough." You replied. "Why don't you come take a look? Precision is your thing, right?"
"Well I'm not a surgeon, but yeah, I know a thing or two about meticulous observation." He followed you to the desk.

******

John had taken his turn staring at the photos, comparing them, inspecting them and staring some more, but he couldn't find anything.
"Fingerprints?" He asked.
"Already checked." You said, frowning. "They're very sophisticated, whoever they are."
"I'll say." He muttered, looking back down at them. "Not that I'm supporting him or anything, but I can see why Sherlock stayed up all night staring at these things. It's tremendously frustrating." He frowned.
"Yeah, it is." You agreed, absentmindedly.
"What're you thinking sis?" John asked.
"Nothing." You said, returning your attention to the photos.
John squinted at you. "I don't believe that."
You sighed. "It's just that they obviously want to be noticed but they're making it so hard to figure out. It doesn't add up."
"Yeah." He agreed. "They seem to like mind games."
"Isn't that what Sherlock is best at? Mind games." You smiled.
"Usually, but he certainly got frustrated."
"He's just rushing it I think. He wants the answers now." You glanced over at Sherlock, deep in his mind, ignoring everything around him.
You could never figure out how he did it. How it was possible to literally become deaf to everything and focus on one thing. It was one of the things you admired most in him.
As you watched, his eyes shot open and he stood abruptly. "It was the mother!" He exclaimed.
"What?" You asked, surprised at the sudden movement.
"The case you gave me. It was the mother." He looked down at you.
"Oh. Good job." You smiled. You should've known it wouldn't take him more than a few minutes.
He strode over to his desk and took the note from the envelope where it hadn't even been considered since you'd first seen it.
"The case you gave me, and that particular outcome, made me think of the note. As I already said, it was obviously written by a woman. But consider how it's worded.
He held it up and pointed at each word as he read.

"So very smart and such a beautiful face. It'd be a shame to spoil it."

"What does that remind you of?" He asked, his eyes full of excitement.
You thought hard, trying to figure out what he meant, but you couldn't.
"I really don't know, Sherlock. It still seems like a threat to me."
He looked slightly disappointed, but continued. "If you look at it from the right perspective, it seems more like a warning than a threat." He looked up at you, expectantly.
"So... what are you saying?" You asked, uncertainly.
"I'm saying," his eyes danced. "That I think our mystery woman might be a mother."