You and Sherlock

Interesting...

You hadn't spoken to Sherlock in quite some time. Since John moved in, he'd stopped bothering you as much, especially after the shower incident (this reaction was probably due to an explanation given to Sherlock by John). You tried not to let his absence get to you, opting to go out to and spend more time with Molly. Which was a much better idea in theory than in practice, you discovered. Molly, despite being a really very sweet person, invariably brought the conversation back to the very topic you'd been hoping to avoid. Pushing yourself away, you told yourself, would keep you from getting too involved. And you tried to ignore the little bitterness that kept sprouting up when you thought about John. He'd become the person that Sherlock went to. Before that'd been you. Granted, it was not your choice then, but it'd still been you.

You told yourself that it didn't bother you, and for the most part, it didn't. Well, that is, until this morning. You'd come home from a late night at St. Bart's. A side-effect of having John was that Sherlock was suddenly becoming productive and uncovering dead bodies every which way. Which translated into more work for you. You'd arrived home at two in the morning and had promptly collapsed into your couch, too exhausted to do much more, and fell asleep. Until a particularly loud bang woke you up.

Bolting upright, you whipped your head around to locate the noise. There were several more thundering clomps and you look up, realizing that the noise was coming from Sherlock's flat.

"Jesus Christ," you muttered to yourself, straightening out your hair. You were going to ignore the sounds, but as they continued, you figured you should check and make Sherlock wasn't terrorizing John or Mrs. Hudson. The door to his flat was slightly ajar, and the unmistakable sounds a scuffle were coming through. You peeked through the door to see a man with a sword and a scarf covering his face trying to hack Sherlock to death. Sherlock, for his part, was doing an excellent job of not getting killed, even if he was being shoved into the kitchen with a blade at his throat. You realized -- a split-second too late -- that you should probably help Sherlock.

He and the masked man disappeared into the kitchen and you sprinted forward, grabbing the skull off the mantlepiece. You heard the sound of the blade scraping the table at the same time the skull left your hand, hurtling toward the masked man's head.

The skull thudded against the back of the man's head, and he turned to face you, allowing Sherlock to quickly slip out of harm's way. You waved awkwardly, peddling back a few steps. Should have thought about this more, Y/N.  The masked man stepped forward menacingly, brandishing his sword.

Behind you, Sherlock launched himself over John's chair and you gasped loudly, pointing and the man whirled, giving you enough time to knock the blade from his hands and let Sherlock land a very neat uppercut to the man's chin. The man's head jerked back and you hastily threw yourself out of his trajectory as he collapsed onto the floor.

Sherlock sniffed and straightened his suit jacket disdainfully, staring down at the masked attacker.

"Dreadfully rude, coming in like that, don't you think, Y/N?"

A smirk curled up the corner of your lips and you met Sherlock's gaze.

"Positively horrid. What do they teach the criminal classes these days?" you agreed, scanning him over to see if he was injured.

"I'm quite alright, Y/N," Sherlock's gaze slid back down to the man. He paused for a moment considering. "You know, I'd thought I'd seen just about every type of hand-to-hand combat, but I've never seen a headbutt like that."

"Hmm?"

"The skull, Y/N?" Sherlock cracked a rare smile, looking amused. "You threw my dear friend at an intruder."