Another Detective ?! (Mycroftxreader)

Chapter 2 ~too early~

Lipstick, mascara, and concealer... Done!
I pulled my phone out and called Lestrade.
"Lestrade, is something going on at the Yard?"
"Good morning Detective. Not now, but I 'll let you know if we got anything."
"Text me, if I'm needed and send me Holmes number, please."
"I will"
I just hung up the phone. I had to text Holmes, about me coming by in the afternoon. My phone pinged and I looked at the message, that I got. It was Holmes Number, send to me by Lestrade. I immediately saved it and texted the Detective:

I'll be over in the afternoon.

(y/i)

I did not wait for a reply. If he wasn't there, I would get in and get the suitcase anyways.
Since the morning was already over I started reading for three hours. Two books about forensics and making some experiments for two hours straight.
Looking at the clock, I recognized that I had to leave since 221B Backer Street was only a few minutes away from my flat, it was already quite late. When I reached the flat I recognized one of the police cars from the Yard on the opposite side of the street. The door from 221B was slightly open... Lestrade... What did he bloody do?!...
I ran up the seventeen steps that the hallway included and slammed the door of Holmes and Watson flat open.
"A drugs bust?," I heard the Doctor asked.
"What is going on, Lestrade," I questioned extremely calm, drawing all the attention to me, with the loud slamming noise the door made.
At first, Lestrade was shocked, but then he recovered.
"It's a..."
"Drugs bust, no shit Sherlock. I wanted to hear the true reason why you're here, but I can already guess, " I interrupted him coldly.
"Oh hello," I heard the nerve-wracking voice of the forensic.
"What are you doing here on a drug bust, Anderson?" Holmes asked him rather annoyed. "Oh, I volunteered," he replied.
Watson tried to defend Holmes and he neglected it, obviously because he had drug problems before and still had stuff around. While Lestrade and Holmes discussed nicotine patches, I took a closer look at the suitcase. "We still couldn't find her phone...," "Never mind that, we found the case! According to "someone," the murderer has the case, and here we found it, in the hands of our favorite psychopath," Anderson concluded wrongly.
"I'm not a psychopath, Anderson, I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research," Holmes answered not amused.
As they discussed about "RACHEL" being the unborn child of the dead woman, who died years ago and Holmes started getting all sociopathic, saying he didn't understand why she thought of her while she died, I examined the suitcase closer and Holmes tried to think hard while his landlady told him a cab was waiting for him. I didn't even care about him shouting for us to be silent.
"Rachel," I said drily interrupting Holmes's thoughts.
"It's her e-mail password, not a person. She wanted us to know," I pointed at the e-mail tag on the case.
Everyone looked at me confused, except for Holmes, who looked delighted. "Look at you lot, you're all so vacant. Is it nice not to be me? It must be so relaxing," "Let me guess, Holmes. You already thought of this, while you told Anderson to turn his head around because his face put you off," I said sarcastically.
Holmes wanted to give me a smart remark but Anderson interrupted, "So we can read her emails, so what?"
Holmes who stormed to Watson's laptop Immediately cut him off, "Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the IQ of the entire street."
"Her phone, she planted it on her murder. We can locate it with her email account," I explained blackly.
"It says it's at Backer Street, but that can't be..., "Watson mumbled.
Holmes jumped up from his seat running out saying he needed some fresh air. The Information connected themselves to a clear picture inside my head. The cabby. I rushed out of the flat only to see the cab drive away. There was a motorcycle two houses away from me. Whit a simple mechanic trick, I hot-wired it and drove behind the cab inconspicuously.
The cab stopped in front of the school. The out of his bloody mind Detective and the murderous cabby got out and walked into one of two buildings. I don't into the other building because they were facing each other and one was able to see everything that happened in the opposite one through the windows. I cocked my gun, as I entered the building. When I stopped at a window, I could see them from, I assessed the situation. As Holmes lifted one of the pills to his lips, I paused for a moment, calmly I lifted my gun and aimed for the torso of the cabby, as he could be useful later on, which he wouldn't be if I killed him. before my finger even got near the trigger a bullet hit the murders shoulder. I rolled my eyes. There had been someone not as calm and collected as me, someone who cared about Holmes... Watson obviously, who else could have aimed like this through a window! I went down the stairs. facing Lestrade.
"Did you just...?"
"Obviously not. I own a K 10, not only does it sounds different if I shoot, but you also won't find any of my bullets even near that cabby. I was in the building watching not shooting," I cut him off coldly.
"So you wouldn't have saved Sherlock?" he asked unsurely. "Indeed," I responded turning on my heels leaving a terrified Lestrade behind. I walked up to Watson.
"Too early," I hissed while passing.
Holmes walked up to Watson too. "Sergeant Donovan was just explaining everything. Two pills. It's a dreadful business, isn't it? Just dreadful," Watson told him, using his second to none acting skills. "Good shot," Holmes replied.
"Yes, yes must've been from that window," the doctor hesitated. God this was just getting ridiculous. "You'd know. Need to get the powder burns out of your hands. I don't suppose you'd serve time for this but let's avoid the court case. Are you alright?," the Detective asked his partner.
"Yes, of course, I'm alright." Was the response he gave.
"Well, you have just killed a man," Holmes said doubtfully.
Watson shrugged, "Yes I know. Yes, that's true, isn't it? But he wasn't a very nice man."
"Always pointing out the obvious, are we? Well, next time let the professionals get the blood on their hands," I interrupted out of nowhere. They turned around to face me.
"The police?! They weren't even...," Watson started to complain.
"Me," I shortly interrupted, walking to the motorcycle. I jumped on it and drove it back using the same trick again. When I reached Baker Street, I put it right back where I had it. The owner wouldn't even notice unless he checked the mileage, which he never did, I could tell. While walking back to my flat, I texted Lestard:

If there is a new case, let me know. Be there tomorrow.

(y/i)