Expect The Unexpected {s.h x reader}

Chapter 32

Snowflakes melt quickly into puddles on the cobble of Baker Street, but the moonlight shines a silvery path for me to take to Speedy's. Glancing down at the unsuccessful attempts at scrubbing my boots from coffee stains, I breathe out a sigh before opening the raindrop dripping door. 

Barely empty, except for a few regulars dishing out for a sandwich or late night coffee. Though the aroma of steamed milk, pastries, and hot coffee got very old very quickly from working here, it now provides me a comforting embrace from the uncertainties next door in 221B. 

My two weeks notice had been expected from the managers at Speedy's. Seeing me around Sherlock Holmes, and seeing me flirt with him certainly turned heads. It wasn't soon before they had enough of the fans asking me questions and scatters of reporters dying for word on new cases. Saying vague, quick goodbyes, I grab my paycheck, buy one last coffee with an employee discount, and open the door to the winter wind. 

I didn't notice it before, but Christmas decorations are now hung on the street lights. Fake, plastic green fir branches and styrofoam holly berries with chipped varnish shine in the snowy light. It gives me a rush of hope for the future, for the holiday season is one that always make me feel normal. But as I pass the crooked handle of our flat, I don't feel the urge to rush back in and talk to the boys, nor work on new cases, nor think about Sherlock. I just want...to walk.

So I do. I walk to the only place that ever let my mind rest. The only place where I didn't care about the eyes of Moriarty, the voice of Irene Adler, or the smile of Sherlock Holmes. The dry grass dusted with sparkling snow crunches under my feet while I approach the daunting names of Charles and Rose Watson. 

I don't feel sad, I don't feel lonely. I just let the snowflakes greet my coat as I sit silently with my coffee. It's quite peaceful really, being alone. I don't particularly like it, but knowing my parents are here with me, I know I'm not really alone. It doesn't protect you. It doesn't make you happy, because one deserves to be alone. 

Sitting alone with the snow and the wind, a certain blur of color catches my gaze. Dark, blood red roses tied in small bouquets lay in the snow before my parents graves. My coffee nearly tumbles out of my hand as I approach the flowers, for my brother and Sherlock are the only ones who've known about my parents. And, judging by the black silk ribbons and black paper, Maddie Loughty wouldn't have placed something so mournful and dark before her friends.

I pick up one of the rose bundles, running my fingers lightly across the silk ribbon and observing the perfectly fresh petals. 

These roses were placed recently. No signs of dried edges on the petals, and the flowers themselves are barely cold and only lightly dusted with snow. 

Turning the roses over in my hands, I begin to convince myself it must've been someone else we know, or maybe a clueless visitor. Though coincidences aren't common in my life, maybe-

Wait...What is this?

Glancing over the black paper encasing the roses, my heart nearly stops beating when I observe a dark crimson wax crest sealing the bouquet.

A prominent JM sends my stomach to sour, and my chest begin to heave deeply. Exhaling clouds of vapor into the crisp winter air, I turn around frantically over my shoulder. Maybe I'm expecting to see Moriarty standing there, or maybe I'm expecting the silver shine of a gun barrel.

But I see nothing. Just snow, just peace, and silence. 

Except for the dark roses of uncertain death laying in my hands, everything seems fine. 

"Send your condolences all you want, Moriarty," I spit, throwing the bouquet down on the ground. My fingers begin to tingle with light shoots of pain, "I'll see you in hell."