No Shit, Sherlock

The Blond Man

TW: This chapter includes mentions of sexual assault and abuse. Please skip if these topics make you uncomfortable.

"Sherlock's here!" Tewkesbury yells from downstairs

"I'll be down in a minute!" I yell back.

Enola and I continue pushing the large, heavy cabinet into our office. She groans as she pushes her whole body into it, "Why didn't we have the boys do this?"

"Because we told them that we're strong, independent young women. And then we threatened them the second they tried to help," I answer.

She leans back against the cabinet, "Why are we like this?"

"I don't have an answer for that."

I step into our office and bend down in front of the cabinet. "I'll pull it from the bottom, you push it from the top."

"That doesn't sound safe."

"It'll be fine."

She sighs but does as I say. My wrists burn as I tug at the cabinet, cursing the lousy wheels it has. This would be much easier if the wheels actually worked. Enola lets out a gasp, "It's falling."

I look up to see that it is indeed falling, right towards me. But it stops before it crushes me. I let out a breath and stand up to see Sherlock stabilizing the cabinet.

"I told you both not to touch the cabinet!"

Enola rolls her eyes, "You were supposed to be fixing the lantern downstairs."

"I did! You two were supposed to leave the damn cabinet alone!" Tewkesbury shouts.

Sherlock glares at me, "Why on Earth would you do something so careless? If I hadn't caught the cabinet, it could've killed you."

"Thank you for saving me. That would've been an embarrassing death," I reply, stepping around him.

He grabs my arm and pulls me back into the office, "This is serious."

"I'm okay, Sherlock."

He lets out a sigh, his shoulders finally relaxing. "It's getting late, we should go home."

Go home......with Sherlock. The thought makes me smile.

"Could you nincompoops at least move the cabinet in for us?" Enola asks.

Sherlock and Tewkesbury both push the cabinet inside. Poor Tewkesbury struggles the whole time.

"Tewkesbury and I are going to a meeting in the morning, so we won't work tomorrow," Enola says, as we step out into the street.

"Stay safe, I'll see you later," I say, hugging her.

Tewkesbury smiles before pulling me into a hug as well, "Have fun with your boyfriend."

I punch him in the ribs and he laughs. Sherlock and I watch as the young couple walks down the street, the two of them holding hands. I truly hope they stay together forever.

"They're an odd couple."

I raise an eyebrow at Sherlock, "I think most people would say that about us."

He grabs my hand and begins walking. I stumble behind him in shock, he usually doesn't hold my hand. But I'm not complaining. The two of us walk in silence, my eyes occasionally drifting to the side of his face. He knows I'm staring, but he doesn't mention it. Our peaceful walk is cut short by the sound of yelling.

"Mr. Holmes! He's struck again!" a policeman yells.

Sherlock's hand tightens around mine as we rush to meet the man. The policeman leads us down an alley where Lestrade and more policemen surround a woman. She's watching them with watery eyes as they question her. Lestrade's voice gets more forceful, and tears begin to stream down her face.

I let go of Sherlock's hand and stand in front of the woman, "Back off. Can't you see that you're scaring her?"

The men glare at me but Lestrade nods, "Give her some space."

They move further down the alley, Sherlock gives me a nod, and I turn back to the woman. "I'm detective (Y/n). Can you tell me your name?"

She sniffles, "Elizabeth."

I sit on the ground next to her, leaving some space in between us. "I know you're scared, but could you tell me what happened?"

"He came out of nowhere. I didn't even realize he had grabbed me until he threw me down."

Her voice is shaky as she continues explaining, "I didn't know what to do."

She moves closer to me and I open my arms, she falls into me as I hold her tightly. Her loud sobs echo through the alley, all I can do is rub the top of her head.

"He said I was asking for it."

I hug her tighter, "You weren't. Nobody ever asks for this."

"The sketch artist would like to speak with you," says Sherlock.

Elizabeth pulls away from me, wiping her face with the sleeves of her dress. I stand up and help her stand as well. She wraps herself around my arm as the three of us meet with the police. A woman rushes towards us, her face wet with tears.

"Elizabeth!" she cries out.

She lets go of my arm and pulls the woman into a hug. A policeman gestures to a carriage, "We'll need to go to the police station."

Elizabeth turns back to me, "Thank you."

I nod and watch as the two women enter the carriage. Not realizing that Sherlock was trying to get my attention.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asks.

"I'm fine."

Lestrade walks over, "An eye witness said she had seen a blond man following the woman prior to the attack."

"This attack doesn't fit his pattern," Sherlock says.

"He's switching his M.O.," I reply.

Lestrade looks at me in confusion, "What does that mean?"

"It means that he's getting restless," Sherlock answers.

I look at the crowd forming at the end of the alley, "He could be anywhere by now."

"We'll find him," says Sherlock.

I watch the crowd carefully, looking for light colored hair. Sherlock watches me closely, "Let's get home now."