The Great Game [Reader Insert]

Beginning Steps

     

     "Hello... sexy."

     It was strange voice through the phone was not malicious or threatening. It was horrified. Conclusion: Not the serial killer. Someone else.

     "Who is this?" You asked loudly so that whoever was on the other side of the phone could hear. John and Lestrade exchanged puzzled looks as the female voice sobbed, "I've... sent you two... a little puzzle, just to say hi." 

     Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Who's talking? Why are you crying?"

     "I-" she took a shaky breath. "I'm not crying, I'm... typing. And she... is reading it out." Every pause came with a despaired weep. 

      Sherlock's eyes sparkled with sudden interest. "The curtain rises."

     You scowled. "What?"

     "Nothing."

     "No, what did you mean?"

     Sherlock was about to answer, but the woman's voice suddenly came through the phone again, whispering through the tears, "Twelve hours to solve my li-little puzzle, Mr. Holmes and Ms. (L/N). Or I'm going to be so-" the woman chocked back another sob- "...naughty."

     The phone cut off.

     St. Bartholmew's Hospital

 You and John watched Sherlock investigate the shoes under the microscope. You were still thinking about what he'd said back at 221C. 'The curtain rises.' You would be helping Sherlock, but you wouldn't actually contribute much in this area. Yes, you were well-knowledged in this sort of stuff, but Holmes was the one with the masters degree in chemistry. 

     Finally, you could stand your rare case of obliviousness no more. "What did you mean?" You blurted the question with an edge to your voice.

    Sherlock didn't look up from the microscope. "Hmm?"

     "The curtain rises. What did you mean by that?"

     "I'unno," he mumbled. "I've just been expecting this for some time."

     "Well, obviously. We all have." You folded your arms. 

     "What she means is, is this a game to you?" John asked.

     Sherlock peeked up at him from the microscope. "Sorry?"

      John sighed. "This bomber's... challenge.  It seems like you're treating this like some sort of game."

     "Well, (Y/N) enjoys these cases too, " Sherlock pointed out. "The interesting ones."

     John scowled. "But it's not some sort of stage play! A woman's life is at risk and you- you-" He was interrupted by a text alert. Brring!

     "(Y/N), can you pass me my phone?" Sherlock requested casually, back to hunching over the microscope with the shoes on the tray. "And John, this hospital's full of dying people. Why don't you go cry at their bedside; see what good it does them?"

     You looked 'round the room. "Where is your phone?"

     "My jacket."

     "If I have to literally go rummaging through your jacket- which you are wearing right now- just to get your bloody phone, I will crush it with my bare hands."