Expect The Unexpected {s.h x reader}

Chapter 31

As the trailing hand of Sherlock Holmes leaves my lower back, surely leaving my body tingling with buzzing excitement and numbing adrenaline, he waltzes into the doorway.

"Check the rest of the house. See how they got in." Sherlock commands from John and I, which just prompts my brother to send me an exasperated smile. The echoes of police sirens prompt another rush of endorphins to creep up my back and neck. With a glimpse of concern over his shoulder, I follow John back into The Woman's first floor.

"I'll check upstairs. You scan the first floor," John begins as my eyes dart amongst the room, "Agent." He teases by poking my side. I let out a schoolgirl giggle, and begin to investigate anything out of place throughout the kitchen and sitting area.

Fairly normal kitchen, cleaned thoroughly and carefully.

Guests must come over quite often.

No personal decorations, so no emotional tie to this place. It's a living space, not a home.

And the sitting room? Barely used.

This townhouse isn't even a living space, it's a work place.

"Sherlock, Y/N!" John's urgent calls draw me from my quick thoughts. My pace rushes me up the stairs and into a second bedroom, only to find John checking the pulse of the woman who let us in. John leans his head in to check her breathing, but telling from the red cut on her cheekbone and healthy color complexion, I distinguish she's just unconscious. Sherlock and Irene follow behind us, but Irene is the one more concerned by her friend lying still on the ground.

"Must've come in this way." John points towards the open window, closing and locking it soon after.

"Clearly." Sherlock grumbles as I approach the woman lying on the floor. Irene joins my side anxiously as I place a throw pillow under her head.

"It's alright, she's just unconscious." I observe.

"Well, God knows she's used to that. There's a back door. Better check it, you two." Irene notes to John and me. I glance up towards Sherlock, cocking an eyebrow with a silent question: Will you be alright? He nods with a trustworthy look towards us, so John and I exit swiftly out the door.

"You don't think they seriously hurt her, right?" John asks as we descend down the stairs.

"No, she'll be fine. Looks like they hit her with the butt of the gun. Pistol. Only to knock her out. She won't have a concussion, just a major migraine when she wakes up." I assure John with a smile.

"How did you get so smart, Y/N?" John smiles brightly.

"Years of practice, and a cool older brother." I chuckle as we reach the living room. The back door is cracked open, so John closes it securely and locks it. From outside the street, we hear the ringing of close police sirens.

"Ten pounds Anderson is going to go crazy for Irene." I smirk up at John as we jog up the stairs. He lets out a breathy laugh, and extends his hand for me to shake.

"You're on." John shakes my hand as we approach the bedroom doorway.

Like an awful case of ardent déjà vu, all I can see is the shocked eyes of Sherlock Holmes and the elegant body of Irene Adler hovering over him.

"Jesus, what the hell are you doing?" My eyes pierce right through Irene's as I rush over to Sherlock's side.

An empty syringe and riding crop on the floor, her phone in her right hand.

Sherlock tried to take something that wasn't his...

"He'll sleep for a few hours," Irene looks down at me as I kneel beside Sherlock, "Make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit. It makes for a very unattractive corpse." She adds to John while pocketing her mobile phone.