|| Be Her Guard || Sherlock Holmes x Reader

|♢| Chapter 23 |♢| His Darling

You've tried your best to go back to sleep, aware that if you don't, you'll end up regretting it later in the day, but despite your efforts, you just can't seem to succeed. Your stomach feels too twisted for sleep with even the slightest of sounds making you flinch. Once that happens, your anxiety refuses to let you rest until you've at least peek at the door to ensure no one's there.

Part of you wishes Sherlock would've woken you up and taken you to the crime scene, too. At least then you wouldn't be alone, yet if he did that, you may not have gotten your dream about Walsh either. You're not sure if Sherlock knows about the connection between Apollo and Hugh, but if he doesn't, then he should. It's important detail, after all, one that could act as a reason for how Apollo got out of prison.

Flipping over on your stomach, you stare at the bedroom wall blankly, debating if you should text him. How would you even set that up? 'Hey, I know you're probably really busy, but the guy who runs the prison is Apollo's uncle'. It might be best to simply wait for his return and tell him face-to-face, that way you know you're not ruining an important moment. Sherlock's waited so long for a good murder to come his way; you wouldn't want to step on your boyfriend's moment.

You wonder what they're currently up to. John's probably fighting to stay awake while listening to Sherlock complain about all the simple clues missed by the investigators, taking any chance he gets to insult their intelligence along the way. The thought makes you chuckle especially when considering the note he had left you.

His eyes must have sparkles in them right now; that spark of happiness he tries to hide from most people because they never appreciate it. You, on the other hand, adore the way his usually dull eyes will fill with that rare emotion any time he begins discussing his investigations. While you need to tell him about Walsh, you also can't wait for him to return and tell you all about his morning just so that you can see that thrilled glow that showcases his inner child and joy.

Coming to terms with the fact that you aren't going to get anymore sleep simply lying in bed, you reluctantly crawl out of the warm blankets into the cold bedroom air. You're quick to dress yourself in Sherlock's fuzzy robe before entering the rest of the pitch dark flat. On your way through, you make sure to switch on lights in the hallway, kitchen, and main room, secretly feeling as if they will protect you from anything lurking in the shadows much like you did as a child.

When feeling that things are illuminated enough, you head into the kitchen next, deciding that the boys might enjoy some coffee once they return. While you don't think Sherlock's much of a coffee person himself, you've seen John drink it often and honestly, he'll likely be the one who needs it the most.

After locating a bag of grounds on a low shelf in the cupboard, you finally set up the coffee machine which begins to fill the pot at a dripping pace. While waiting for that the finish, you decide to do a little bit of cleaning, first starting with Sherlock's experiments on the kitchen table then picking up the many papers in which he's left trailing across the floor.

Peeking out the flat window, you scan the dark streets which are completely empty, at least, from what you can tell. Of course, the sun isn't going to rise for serval hours so most people, even if awake, won't be out wandering. You can only imagine how cold it is out there, too. Even the flat's freezing...Perhaps you should start a nice little fire as well?

There isn't much wood, although, there are a few pieces next to and in the fireplace with a couple of John's old newspapers stacked lazily on top of the woodpile. It takes you far longer than expected to find a lighter considering John had confiscated most of Sherlock's, but fortunately, you know your boyfriend keeps a small blowtorch hidden away in the top corner of the furthest left cupboard. Once climbing up to retrieve it, it only takes you about a minute or two to crumble piece after piece of newspaper then stuff them in between the wood ready to be set ablaze.

At last, the fire's started, and the coffee's made, allowing you to happily grab a book before sitting on Sherlock's chair with a cozy blanket. The calming atmosphere even convinces you to turn off a few lights and be content with just that of the glowing lamp behind you along with the fireplace.

With the quiet crackling of the fire in the background, you allow yourself to curl up onto the chair, your head resting against the palm of your hand as you read. You aren't sure how long you managed to sit there enjoying the peace before your eyelids began to feel too heavy with your thoughts slowing. You soon find yourself leaning your head back, letting the book fall shut on your lap as you finally give in to the tiredness as you had hoped you would.

...You sleepily blink your eyes open again, having sworn you just heard a muffled pounding. Assuming Sherlock and John are finally back, you listen for their voices, but can't seem to hear anything else in your drowsy state. Too tired to get up, you decide you'd rather wait for them to come upstairs instead. In the meantime, your eyes close once more as you start to drift back to sleep. Surely your boyfriend will wake you up any second now.

"-AH!"

You jolted up, your heart racing in unknown fear. Before, you had dismissed yourself as hearing things, but that was definitely a scream, one that came from downstairs and from a woman...Mrs. Hudson!

Suddenly very awake, you jump to your feet, letting the blanket and book hit the floor as you quietly tiptoe to the door, your legs feeling heavier with each step. In denial, you keep telling yourself that you're just hearing things and being paranoid, however, you still feel increasingly afraid the closer you step to the door.

"...Mrs. Hudson?" You crack open the door slowly, gazing down the dark staircase hoping to find no one and, if someone, Sherlock and John talking to Mrs. Hudson, but for once, it seems you've been paranoid for a reason.

Your blood runs cold, and you feel lightheaded as if a verge away from fainting which might not be too far from the truth seeing that you can barely stand straight on your own. Your legs wobble under your weight, forcing you to use the doorframe for support. Your whole world shakes like an earthquake, yet you're frozen, your terror filled eyes unable to look away from the bottom of the staircase or those dark eyes that you both hate and fear so much...

"Hello again, my darling (Y/n)..."