You and Sherlock

Van Coon

Sebastian led you back to the reception area and showed you a screen with all the security information on it, the layout of the office blinking and clear.

"Every door that opens in this bank, it gets logged right here. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet. "

"That door didn't open last night." You pointed out, frowning. Sebastian nodded, more at Sherlock than at you.

"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you – five figures." Sebastian reached into his breast pocket and took out a cheque, handing it over in Sherlock's direction. "This is an advance. Tell me how he got in, and there's a bigger one on its way."

Sherlock's eyes flashed and he narrowed them. "I don't need an incentive, Sebastian."

Flipping up his coat collar in his trademarked dramatic fashion, he stormed away. You and Sebastian watched him go in an awkward silence.

"He's, um... Sorry about him." You finally said. "Don't think he ate much breakfast this morning. I'll take care of the cheque," you held out your hand, cursing Sherlock and his pride. Sebastian handed you the cheque.

"Thanks."

"Y/N -- it is Y/N, right?" Sebastian looked at you and you nodded. "Be careful about him. He's a real freak."

You bristled, a surge of protectiveness and anger bubbling in your chest.

"He's a talented detective and you need his help. I suggest you don't insult him, especially since you need him. There's no one else who can do what Sherlock does as quickly as he does it. Good day, Sebastian."

Taking a page from Sherlock's manual, you swept dramatically away, back over to Sir William's office, where Sherlock was taking photographs of the graffiti. Observing him silently, you realized your life would likely be significantly less complicated if he weren't in it. Then again, maybe complication was exactly what you wanted. You wanted something fun and dramatic and intense until Sherlock abruptly opened the window and stepped out on the window ledge.

"Sherlock! What the fu-"

"Relax, Y/N. I've had a thought." He bit his lip thoughtfully as he stepped back into the building and closed the window while your heart restarted. "I need you," he paused, pointing at you. "I need you to not move. Stand," he strode over to you and grasped the top of your shoulders and placed you directly in front of the graffiti. "Right here.:

You told yourself you were imagining the feeling of his hands lingering on your shoulders. And then promptly were reassured that your imagination was running rampant because Sherlock decisively whirled away and made his way to the opposite side of the trading floor. And then he began hopping. No, not quite. Dancing? No... He... well, he looked like a gopher, ducking down behind a desk, rising slowly upright, staring at you intensely, and then ducking sideways and hurrying across the floor, only to repeat the process. Most of the traders on the floor and the bystanders, yourself included, looked on in bemusement.

This went on for a solid five minutes, much to your chagrin. Sherlock scampered and twisted and wiggled around before finally backing toward an office on the other side of the floor. There, he stopped in the doorway and moved his head around, getting a different angle, before suddenly retreating into the office. You raised your eyebrows and craned your neck a little to see where he went, but there was no need; standing directly behind the desk chair of whoever worked in that office, he had a completely unobstructed view of you, and you of him. And then he was gone again, appearing for a split second in the doorway and then prancing away.

He stopped and slowly came out of the office, his brow furrowed. Absently, he flicked up the collar of his coat and you smirked. The game was on.

"Y/N."