Sherlock Reader Insert Collection

Dangerous Grieving, Sherlock

*A/n: This is something I literally wrote today while rewatching season two. I don't know if it is any good but I thought I'd include it just in case.*

It took everything in her not to break their arms. They just kept coming up to her and laying a supposedly comforting hand on her shoulder, telling her how sorry they were and how she'd get over it with time. How could they be so stupid? Did ordinary people think it was that easy to get over the suicide, no, murder of your childhood friend? The man you loved for over twenty years lying on the pavement in a puddle of blood and the world convinced he was a guilty man. No. She wouldn't just get over it. And she wouldn't break any bones today-well, maybe just this one.

"(Y/n), I'm sorry-" Donovan couldn't even brush a finger against her jacket before the grieving woman had it in her grasp. The police woman gasped in pain, struggling to get her wrist back.

"Do. Not. Touch. Me." (Y/n) growled lowly, tightening her grip on Sally's arm. Greg and John rushed to help when they heard the pained cries. The two men flanked her, John carefully grabbing the hand that held Donovan. He tried to reason with her, tell her this wasn't Donovan's fault (even if he didn't wholeheartedly agree). Greg tried to explain that he could have her arrested for assaulting an officer to which (Y/n) laughed bitterly. "How dare she show her face at his funeral? How can you two just allow her here?" There were tears pouring down her face, not that she felt them. A loud crack rang out, followed by Donovan screaming. John and Greg were out of ideas short of just knocking her out when they were pushed aside.

"Now, (Y/n)." Mycroft whispered something into her ear. While he spoke to her, he reached out and detached her from her prey. The fire in her (e/c) eyes slowly died out, glazing over instead. Her body seemed to melt into Mycoft's as he turned her around and pulled her into his arms.

"She killed him, My. It's her fault Sherlock's dead." (Y/n)'s voice was emotionless and flat.

"Of course it is, dear. Let me take you home." Mycroft shot a look to John that he should meet them back at the flat. "Let's go, (Y/n)." Mrs. Hudson saw (Y/n) being led by Mycroft and knew she'd be needed as well. Sherlock's death was hard on everyone but it seemed to be excruciatingly hard on the one woman he seemed close to. The older Holmes couldn't wait to see her reaction when his little brother finally came home. He'd make a note to have an ambulance on standby on that fateful day.

"My?" He looked over at her, jacket pulled tight around her even with the heat in the car on full blast. Her breath fogged up the window. "I went too far, didn't I? They're going to arrest me again."

"I won't let that happen. Though I do recommend refraining from dislocating anymore wrists." He was reminded of when they were kids, she had broken a kids nose at their school for insulting Sherlock but his parents talked the headmistress down to a suspension. (Y/n) had always had a violent side. "You can come live with me, if you'd like." He could tell her, save himself a few stitches when the time came, if only he hadn't sworn not to.

"I'd be better off in prison." Mycroft knew she was joking even with the seriousness in her tone. "I know you wouldn't tell me if he was alive. He wouldn't let you, stupid chivalery or whatever. But if he is alive and you can't tell me because he said so, you best have a doctor on call for when he gets back." (Y/n) smiled a real smile, for the first time in weeks. She reached over and squeezed his hand warmly. He had to restrain from flinching away at her threat.

"Of course." Mycroft knew his sister-in-law would do worse than break a wrist this time.