A Scandal in Belgravia [Reader Insert]

The Addict and His Drug

     "I've never begged for mercy in my life," Sherlock whispered, staring into Irene's eyes.

     She stared right back. "Twice."

     "Got it!" John announced, providing a grateful distraction to all the sex in the air. "You're right, Sherlock. Flight 007."

     You took in a sharp breath. There it was, that feeling again. "John, what did you say?"

     "He's right."

     "No, after that. What did you say after that?"

     "007," John repeated. "Flight 007."

     Your eyes widened. 007. 007 something. 007 what? You repeated the number over and over in your mind until you noticed everyone looking at you and realized that you'd been talking out loud.

     You ignored them and delved into your mind library. Suddenly, rows of books surrounded you. It had to be here somewhere...

     You scanned the rows until you saw one book that was sticking out slightly more than the others. All you had to do was blink and suddenly the book was in your hands, flipping itself to a page wherein a scene you'd experienced before played itself.

      Mycroft, when he was coming in from his phone call. Bond Air is go, he'd been saying, and was now saying on the book in front of you. The dialogue flashed on the other page. Bond Air is go. But what did this have to do with 007?

     007, 007.... Agent double-oh seven. Agent 007. James Bond. Oh, brilliant!...

     Wait. Not brilliant.

     You ripped yourself from your mind library. "No, no, Sherlock, what have you done?"

     Sherlock tilted his head, clearly confused.

      You glared at Irene. "You can't trust her." Her innocent look in response made you want to strangle the lady, but instead you took out your phone and dialed Mycroft's number, muttering under your breath, "You should have listened. You should've listened."

     "(Y/N), wha-" Sherl started, but broke off, as you'd just left the room.

     You were heading downstairs. Suddenly, Mycroft picked up.

     "(Y/N)." His voice was shaky.

     "Mycroft?"

     "C-Coventry..."

     You decided not to ask and just got to the point, seeing as the situation was rather urgent. "007, Mycroft. The flight. Sherlock just-"

     "I know. It's too late."

-

     You were in your room, back against one edge of the doorframe, feet resting against the other when Sherlock knocked on the door and called your name.

     You'd taken it upon yourself to fix his mistake. You should've gone with your instinct and trusted your mind that this was dangerous information. But you'd held back, just hoping that you were wrong, and now, the country was in danger. Long story, but it basically turned out that Bond Air was significantly more important than you'd first taken it to be...

     "What do you want, Sherlock?" you called, painfully aware of how weak you sounded from the effort of searching through your mind library in hopes of finding a way to save Mycroft's operation. Time was running out.