THE BAKER STREET TRIO (SHERLOCK X READER)

Chapter 19; A Scandal In Belgravia

Mycroft Holmes gazed out of his office window at the London street below. The sun was shining despite the early March cold, and people bustled about, going to work, shopping, getting into taxis, and going about their lives.

When he looked out the window, Mycroft faced completely away from his desk. The top secret files and government memos that lay there were not even visible in his periphery, and it provided the elder Holmes with a few moments of respite in his long days.

Mycroft smiled at a young boy walking with his mother on the street below. The boy wore a large pirate hat and bounded playfully ahead, and then beckoned his mother like a captain would to a first mate. The sight brought back memories from twenty years past, inciting a strange mix of emotions in Mycroft.

He shook himself out of his nostalgia at a rustling noise on the other side of his door.

Mycroft grabbed up his umbrella and strode over. His hand was on the nob when he saw a piece of paper lying on the floor.

Dear Spycroft,

I didn’t want to disturb with a knock or a phone call, so I am leaving you this note. I know now that Martha Peters’ killer was her boyfriend and I’ve tracked him to a drug smuggling ring in Newham. I’m off to snoop around and get proof.

When I call, please send that military back up you said I have access to (I know you track my phone).

See you soon!

Cheers,

Y/N

When Mycroft’s phone rang two hours later, the squad of expertly trained ex-police and security officers were already on their way.

~

Y/N ascended the stairs to 221B, tired, but proud of a job completed. The smile on her face faded when she heard the familiar sultry tones of a Miss. Irene Adler. Y/N stopped in the doorway to see Irene in Sherlock’s chair, John at his desk, and Sherlock sitting next to the desk, talking to the dominatrix.

Miss. Adler’s hair was wet and she wore Sherlock’s blue dressing gown. Y/N could feel anger itching at her spine, but she willed herself to stay calm.

“Hello.” She said, as though it were any other day.

Sherlock, who always expected her to visit in the evenings, went into the kitchen to get her cup of tea while Y/N hung up her coat.

“Ah, yes. The pet.” Miss. Adler spat.

Y/N ignored her, accepting the mug of tea from Sherlock with a smile.

“So you went to the trouble of faking your own death and then told John, and therefore Sherlock, you were alive?” Y/N asked.

“I knew he would keep my secret.” Irene replied.

“You couldn’t.” Sherlock pointed out.

“But you did, didn’t you?” Her gaze was intent on Sherlock. “Where’s my camera phone?”

John scoffed. “It’s not here. We’re not stupid.”

“Then what have you done with it?” She leaned forward. “If they’ve guessed you’ve got it, they’ll be watching you.”

“If they’ve been watching me they’ll know I took a safety deposit box on the Strand a few months ago.”

“I need it.” Miss. Adler insisted.

“Well, we can’t just go and get it, can we?” John remarked. He paused for a moment in thought before an idea struck him. “Molly Hooper,” He devised. “She could collect and take it to Barts. Then one of your homeless network could bring it here, leave it in the cafe and one of the boys downstairs could bring it up the back.”