A Study in Pink [Reader Insert]

On the Move (Again, except more moving around this time.)

     Sherlock and you were racing throughout traffic to the other side of the street as the taxi started driving away. At one point, Sherlock almost got hit by a car, but rushed on, unfazed. The two of you entered an apartment building, shoving past a man and offering no apologies.

      You rushed past Sherlock and up a flight of stairs until you reached the top. Sherlock took the lead now, climbing out of a window, and that's when you heard someone racing up the stairs a bit behind you and Sherlock. John!

    You smiled. Brilliant. He'd left his cane behind, at the restaurant, which meant- ah, but no time to dwell on that, you thought to yourself. The window was empty now. You hopped out and saw Sherlock leaping from one roof to another.

     "Hope you've actually got a clue which way you're going! We've got to find that taxi driver!" you called.

     "I at least have a better clue than you!" Sherlock paused to shout back. "Not many similarities between Chelmsford and London, especially not the layout, I'd imagine! Not really!"

     You laughed breathlessly and jumped across the gaps between buildings in pursuit of Holmes. Suddenly, he disappeared down one wall of an apartment. You reached it, hesitated, and jumped down. 

     You were now on a fire escape that you hadn't been able to make out in the dark. You clambered down the stairs and followed Sherlock through a narrow alley, through a door, into a building and out the other side. Sherlock crashed into a man, but didn't stop. Five seconds later, you crashed into the same dude and raced past. You heard him shouting something behind you and hollered, "Sorry!"

      At least John stopped to help the man out. Watson was doing well without his cane in the heat of the moment.

     Sherlock pelted along a side street. Your legs rhythmically pounded on the pavement as you struggled to catch up. John was yards behind now.

     Sherlock bursted out the other side of the side street and right into traffic- directly in front of a cab. "Police, pull over, now!" Sherlock shouted. "Open up!" 

    "Sherlock, the driver- the driver!" you said. He ignored you and tore the passenger door open and looked in. 

     The man in the back wasn't who you were looking for, even if it was who Sherlock was. You tried to make out the driver through the tainted windows. John showed up behind the two of you, and you were vaguely aware of them saying something, something about a Californian or such. The darkened window of the cab started to roll down ever so slowly, when suddenly the back door to the cab shut and the taxi flew off with a screech.

     "I got the license number," you said.

     Sherlock looked at you, grumpy, as John muttered, "It was basically a taxi that happened to slow down. Not the murderer."

     "What? No-" You said.

     "Wrong country, good alibi," John explained. 

     "No, not him," you growled.

     "He-he was Californian," Sherlock started to say, to explain.

     "No, idiot." You face-palmed. Sherlock looked shocked. Idiot? Him? That was new. "Oh, my gosh, you idiots!" You started laughing in your anger.

     "I-I don't- W-what-" Sherlock stuttered. John looked at him. "Are you broken, Sherlock?"

     "What is it?" Sherlock demanded. "What am I missing, (Y/N)?"

     "I said it multiple times." You staring at him accusingly. "Have you just not been listening to me this whole time? What, am I some pet to impress?"

     Sherlock was quiet, but he shook his head, trying to comprehend what was going on.

     John cleared his throat nervously. "(Y/N), care to explain?"

    You laughed angrily again, and John looked at Sherlock again with confusion. "Idiots, idiots, idiots," you muttered. "You're lucky I'm not so stupid!"

     Sherlock stared at you blankly with his soft green eyes. They had changed color again. "Think, Sherlock. The one thing I kept repeating."

     Sherlock looked away, almost humiliated that he couldn't remember. 

     "You can't remember, of course you can't, because you weren't paying attention in the first place." You hands formed a strangling motion. "Look, this is- this is me, just trying to understand your absolute stupidity!"

     "I don't understand," Sherlock said quietly.

      "Of course not Sherlock- when do you ever? This has gone on for too long. Okay, Sherlock, the taxi driver. Hmm?" You watched as realization spread on his face. "Yeah, you can remember now."

     Sherlock nodded slowly. He backed up, putting his hands on his head. "Ohh....."

     John pursed his lips. "You kept saying- the- the driver of the cab- Rrrrright." 

     You shook your head. "Okay, I'm walking home, you two can hail a cab of your own. And Sherlock, if you happen to end up in the taxi of that serial killer back there, don't come calling to me for help, because I'll only be there to say I told you so!" As you ranted, you stormed off in the direction you came. As you walked, you pulled out your phone to run the license plate number. John and Sherlock stood where they'd been, staring dumbly after you.

     "(Y/N)!" Sherlock called. You stopped. "Sorry," he said.

     You turned, raised your eyebrows at him. "As you ever are. See you later, John!" And you walked off.