WOLF | Sherlock X Reader |

|09| Mile deep hollow

Huzzah! And another one bites the dust! I'm so happy I'm getting moments to write as much as I could so I managed to finish up this finally, I hope you enjoy and please review!

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The trip back to Baker Street was a quiet one, with neither Sherlock or Y/n saying anything to each other. She could feel his eyes on her every other moment, as if he was constantly checking to see that she wouldn't combust.

It wasn't unwelcomed, though it was surprising, it seemed as though he cared for her. In the small moment they spent in that bathroom together with him just holding her until she had calmed the storm that threatened to destroy her. If she wasn't so busy going out of her mind she would have remembered to blush.

Y/n curled her fingers against her palms in bouts of her unsteady thoughts, then pressed her hands against her thighs only to pause and start again. A nervous tick she had recently developed, she didn't like it, it dug her nails into the soft skin of her palms and left red crescent marks. She furrowed her brows as she stared at her hands, a frown pulling at her delicate features.

Funny how now, after two years, that feeling of dread had finally rebounded. It clung to her mind like dark shadows dancing after flames, it made her remember exactly what led her to this precise moment. How everything had just been a massive idiotic play of cards and how she's dragging everyone around her into this mess. Granted, Sherlock wanted to be.

She doesn't know what she would do if Greg found out that the biggest case the yard has had in quite some time is tied to his own niece - it's because of her. No, this is Tyler's fault, she and her friends only got involved because they cared about him. For years, even in the wake of what she was doing, she had kept it in the back of her mind. She and Sarah had gone through the academy, became officers, trying to right their wrongs. They had moved on from the darkness that framed their time in the maze that was James Moriarty's network.

All that trouble she had went through to erase their pasts, to keep their heads above the water - the crashing waves that swallowed them. It was crumbling around her, the world of false security that she wrapped around herself.

Y/n hadn't noticed that her hands were shaking until Sherlock rested his own atop hers to stop the tremors. She gave him a fleeting glance and almost pulled her hand away, whatever moment they had before was nothing more than that. A moment. She did not need his comfort, as much as she revelled in it, she was not a victim of the crimes that she had committed. She blamed herself more now, for the lives that were lost to Moriarty's wicked game.

She pulled her hand from his and he didn't reach for her again, and she was grateful for that. She felt as though she was falling off the cliff she was fighting to cling to. She didn't want to cry anymore, as fear settled in her bones and made them cold.

She stared out the window, watching the buildings go by in a blur, the midmorning sun was covered by a flurry of angry grey clouds. Her thoughts running rampant in her mind, frayed at the edges and scattered. The cab pulled to a stop just outside Sherlock's flat, he paid and they stepped out. No doubt, John was waiting for them to come up so they can discuss their findings.

Y/n stood rooted to the pavement as the cab drove away, that all familiar feeling of dread that she was unable to shake crawled its way over her skin.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock had stopped his march to the door to look at her, he breathed her name softly, coming to stand in front of her.

"Something's wrong." She says, refusing yet to meet his gaze, she heard Sherlock's almost quiet scoff and she looked up at him then.

"Well all things considered, you did witness Mrs Olson's death, I don't expect for anything to be right at the moment."