|| Be Her Guard || Sherlock Holmes x Reader

|♢| Chapter 11 |♢| Bouquet Of Thorns

The two of you had arrived back at Baker Street at around ten fourteen. By that time, Mrs. Hudson had long retired to bed while John was still out on his own date which Sherlock predicted he wouldn't return from until at least twenty minutes past the time he had originally given before his departure.

You had been eager to remove your heels from the second you stepped inside the flat, complaining that your feet have been killing you all night. It didn't take you long to disappear into Sherlock's bedroom where you've been staying, wanting to change into a comfortable pair of sleepwear while Sherlock couldn't care less about staying in his own outfit. It isn't as if he's planning on sleeping anytime soon anyways.

He's instead wandered into the kitchen while you're away, putting on a kettle filled with water over the boiler in hopes of managing to make himself a cup of tea, after all, Mrs. Hudson isn't awake to do it nor would she want to if she was.

Within no time, you return wearing a white shirt with dotted red pajama pants. Sauntering over to Sherlock's side tiredly, you lean slightly against him to sneak a peek at what he's making," I didn't think you knew how to make tea."

"I thought it was about time to learn," you smile at his response before yawning quietly which he takes instant notice of," you've been up since six this morning. You should go get some proper sleep."

"I'm too awake to actually fall asleep, though. And what about you? You've up since four thirty John said. That's the time you pulled him out of bed this morning at least."

"I needed his opinion on something," Sherlock answers, watching as you reach over his arm, causally turning the heat up on the stove," besides, I don't need sleep."

"You do; at least seven hours of it. I'm pretty sure you only get that within two weeks' time."

"And I'm functioning just fine," he argues stubbornly, heading into the living room with you in tow.

The kettle will warn you once it's done, so in the meantime, you plop down in his chair, curling your legs to your chest while Sherlock himself sits at the desk to open the laptop. From there, he checks his email in silence, happy to see that he's finally gotten an answer from someone he's been waiting to hear from for a few days now.

You lean your head back against the chair, quietly observing your newly found boyfriend as he opens the email and scans over it over quicker than you could ever read. Whatever he's reading, it seems to impress him at least a little," do you have a new case or something?"

"It's an email from Alexa Mandible. Remember the name?"

It takes you a moment of thought before you nod," wasn't she my old prosecutor?"

"Correct. I emailed her on Monday asking if she would be able to get in touch with the prison Apollo's being held at and see of his status. I can't reach the warden or anyone of use except for her. She's done countless cases involving prisoners there, therefore, if anyone can weasel their way in, it'll be her," he answers truthfully, finding no real reason to hide it from you.

As he types back a response, you turn your body, crossing your arms over the top of the chair with a small stretch," what is she exactly supposed to find out? We know Apollo's out."

"I want to know why he's out. He got life in prison. He should still be there-"

"-They never said there was no possibility of parole."

Sherlock doesn't answer right away. He instead thinks to what Morrison had said. They were aiming for another trial, but even then...

"They would've had to tell you if he was going back on trial. You're a part of the case as well, after all, it was your murder he planned and tried carrying out," standing, he sends the email to Mandible before looking into your eyes," I'm going to get to the bottom of this and put him back behind bars for good this time. Life without parole."