A Scandal in Belgravia [Reader Insert]

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In the kitchen, John was sitting across the table from Mrs. Hudson, talking with Sherlock and saying rather persistently, "She's got to take some time away from Baker Street. She can go and stay with her sister. Doctor's orders."

"Don't be absurd," you scoffed, and for the first time the three noticed you'd entered the room. Sherlock looked at John pointedly as if your three-word sentence proved his own opinion to the point of irrefutability.

"She's in shock, for goodness sake. She's not okay," John tried to reason. "And all over some stupid bloody camera phone!"

"Yes, where is it, anyway?" you asked.

"Safest place I know," Sherlock responded. He looked down at Mrs. Hudson expectantly.

Your aunt sighed and reached past the collar of her shirt, and then pulled the phone out of her bra. You rolled your eyes. Of course. Mrs. Hudson handed the phone up to Sherlock, who smiled as he took it.

"You left it in the pocket of your second-best dressing gown, you clot!" Mrs. Hudson snorted. "I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry. You two are supposed to be geniuses, shouldn't you have known they'd be coming?"

     "Apologies, Aunt Martha," you said. "We overestimated their intelligence."

     Sherlock laughed. "Indeed we did." He flipped the phone in the air and caught it with ease. "Shame on you, John Watson."

     "Shame on me!?"

     "Mrs. Hudson leave Baker Street?" Sherlock put an arm around your aunt and smiled. "England would fall."

Half an hour later, you were about to head back to your room when Sherlock stopped you with, "Are you okay?"

     You stopped and looked back at him. Mrs. Hudson had just gone to bed, so he really had no reason to still be here. "What do you mean?"

     "You kind of freaked out on the American."

     You scanned his face, analyzing every contour and angle and coming to an amusing conclusion: "You were afraid I was going to murder him."

     "Well, you did hospitalize him," Sherlock pointed out. His tone was almost casual, but he was slightly tense.

     "He deserved what he got, Sherlock," you growled. "I find it strange that you're so surprised. I was a soldier, remember."

Sherlock scoffed. "But you didn't kill a single person on the field."

     You felt a pang of guilt in your chest and forced it away. "Don't say that like it's a bad thing. Some of the people we were sent to kill were boys, Sherlock," you told him quietly. "Just boys torn from their families and forced to fight. I never killed an innocent being."

     "You did kill, though."

     You hesitated. "Yes..."

     "But outside of the war. Who was it?"

     "My mother."

     Sherlock fell silent. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head. You sighed and turned to go to your room. "Happy New Year, Sherlock."

He was left standing in the hallway even after you'd already closed the door to your room.

"Happy New Year, (Y/N)," he murmured.