In The Game of Love

ten

 Word Count: 2,485ish

Summary: Sherlock and Y/N try to save a life. Irene is clearly still helping the Professor, but for how much longer?

Notes: I personally love A Game of Shadows, so I'm so excited to get it started in this story!

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Over the next nine months, the partnership that grew between Y/N and Sherlock was beautiful to watch. Though their love for each other grew, they never admitted it to one another or act on it besides short kisses and the gentlest of touches. They balanced each other and pushed each other. It was also very clear that they would do anything to protect the other one.

They took very few cases that didn't have to do with Moriarty. They needed to piece together his plan, for themselves. For each other. Both of them some how knew that they would never be able to actually be together with Moriarty out causing havoc in the world. And with Y/N's knowledge of the man, Sherlock began to piece together exactly how much havoc Moriarty had a hand in.

The year was now 1891. Storm clouds were brewing over Europe. France and Germany were at each other's throats... the result of a series of bombings. Some said it was Nationalists... others, the anarchists. But as usual, Y/N and Sherlock had a different theory entirely.

The pair were blending in with the surroundings as the watched Irene make her way through the crowd with a package under her arm. Sherlock was pretending to be a homeless man, while Y/N was dressed up as a woman with higher status. She eyed Sherlock as he stuffed a bag full of beans and rice, and grabbed a loaf of bread. He nodded to her and she knew it was time. Sherlock took one side and Y/N took the other. He whistled, causing Irene to turn around in a circle, looking for who did that. Sherlock snuck around Irene and slipped the bread through her arm as Y/N grabbed the package. Sherlock slipped his arm through Irene's as she notices him and the loaf of bread. Y/N walked with them on the other side of Irene.

"When did you start working for the postal service?" Sherlock asked.

"That was you back there," Irene commented. "Share your activities have landed you in the gutter." She glanced at the woman on her left. "Y/N."

"Irene," Y/N greeted.

"A curious parcel," Sherlock stated. "Who's the intended recipient?"

"Why don't we discuss that over dinner tonight?" Irene wondered.

"We're free for lunch."

"Hmm. I'm not. How about the Savory, 8:00?"

"Splendid."

"Hmm. And will you both be coming as yourselves?"

"Most likely."

"Depends on how the rest of the day goes," Y/N responded.

Sherlock pulled Irene behind a carriage. "Three men have been following you for the last half mile," he whispered. "Their motives... highly unsavory."

Irene looked over her shoulder, spotting one of the men. "No," she whispered.

Irene led the pair away from the bustling streets to an alley way. A man appeared in front of them, causing them to halt. Irene gasped, turning to face Sherlock.

"Oh, and, by the way, they're not pursuing me, they're escorting me," she said. Three men walked up behind them. "And instead of three, there seems to be, uh, four." Irene took the package from Y/N.

"Steady hands with that, Irene," Y/N scowled.

"Oh, I don't think it's my hands you have to worry about." Irene patted Sherlock's cheek. "Be careful with the face, boys. We do have a dinner date tonight." She passed him the loaf of bread. "Don't fill up on bread."