No Shit, Sherlock

Catch Me If You Can

A loud banging noise startles me awake. I quickly sit up to see Sherlock packing his suitcase, as well as mine. The sky is still dark, which means it's late in the night. Or, technically, early in the morning.

"Where have you been? You said you would come back."

He keeps his back to me, "I did come back."

"It's been hours."

He doesn't reply. I roll my eyes and march over to him, "Were you at the bar?"

He turns away from me, hiding his face. My heart races as my mind fills with negative thoughts. "Did you cheat on me?"

"God, no. I would never do that!"

My lips fall into a frown, "Then why are you hiding your face?"

He lets out a sigh, I can see his shoulder muscles flex under his shirt. He slowly turns around to face me, and the second I see his face, I gasp. "What happened?!"

There's a steady stream of blood flowing from his nose, the whole side of his face is beginning to bruise, and there's a cut through his eyebrow. I rush to the bathroom and grab a towel. When I return, he's already closing our suitcases.

"I've packed our stuff, and now it is time for us to leave."

I hold the towel to his nose, "What the fuck is going on?"

"We got kicked out."

"Why?"

His blue eyes shift around the room, avoiding my eyes. I pull the bloody towel away and give him the meanest glare I can.

"I tried to have a conversation with Greg, but it seems that he prefers to use his fists rather than talking."

I sigh, "You got in a fight? Have you gone mad?!"

"He started it, I just finished it," he says, wearing a cocky smile.

"The Sherlock I knew nine months ago would've never done something like this."

"Because he was a coward."

I open my suitcase and pull out a plain dress, "I have to change my clothes first."

When I walk back out of the bathroom, I put my pajamas in my suitcase. "I can't believe you got us kicked out."

We walk out of the hotel, ignoring everyone's stares. I tap Sherlock's shoulder, "Did everyone see the fight?"

"Afraid so."

I shake my head, "And I missed it, how unfortunate. Next time you fight someone, make sure I'm around so I can watch."

"Why?"

"No reason," I reply.

The two of us head outside and wait for a carriage. We finally manage to see one and call it over. It stops in front of us, and we quickly climb in. Sherlock goes to shut the door, but someone stops him.

"We need to get back to London, and this is most likely the last carriage for tonight."

I glare at the two brothers, "Not our problem."

Sherlock sighs and takes the seat next to me, allowing the brothers to sit across from us. I give him a bewildered look, "Why would you let them join us?"

"It's late, and we've all been kicked out. A carriage ride together shouldn't be too unbearable."

I glare at Sherlock. He just got in a fight with this dude but allows him to ride in a carriage with us? Of course he does. Because he's a gentleman.

I observe the brothers in front of me, it's dim, but I can still see that Greg's eye is swollen shut. Sherlock definitely won the fight.

"You look like shit," I say, smirking at Greg.

Sherlock squeezes my knee, and my smirk vanishes as I look away awkwardly.

"Be nice," he mutters under his breath.

"Yeah, listen to your man."

"Shut up, Greg," says Jeff.

"Yeah, Greg. Listen to your brother."

Greg glares at me, "Don't speak to me, woman."

"Oh, no. He called me a woman, I'm so scared," I say mockingly.

"(Y/n)," Sherlock says.

I look over at him, the moonlight brightening his face just enough for me to see his stern look. Doesn't he know that look has the opposite effect on me? The more he glares at me, the more I want to rebel.

"I was shocked to hear that Sherlock Holmes finally found a woman. I was even more shocked when I realized that she's an absolute embarrassment to the human race."

"Is that really the best insult you could come up with?" I ask boredly.

Greg leans closer to me, "Well, I could mention your below average looks or the fact that you're unmarried and sleeping with a man like a whore."

"Don't say another fucking word," Sherlock snaps.

I look at him in surprise, and Greg leans back in his seat, staring at Sherlock in amusement.

"Wow, didn't know you had it in you, Sherlock. I always thought you were a perfect gentleman."

I glare at the man in front of me, "I'd shut the fuck up if I were you, Greg."

Greg laughs, looking between Sherlock and I. "Oh, you two are perfect for each other. The brooding man and his reckless bitch."

"Pull the carriage over," Sherlock says.

The driver pulls over, and Sherlock jumps out, taking our suitcases with him. He holds his hand out for me to take, but I hesitate. I look back at the obnoxious brothers, "Fuck you both."

I shut the carriage door and turn to Sherlock, he's staring at me with a smile on his face. "Let's go home now."

I take my suitcase from him, he reaches for it, but I take off running down the street. "Catch me if you can, Mr. Holmes!"

Arms wrap around my waist, and my feet are lifted off the ground as I spin around. Sherlock sets me back down, both of our suitcases laying next to our feet. His arms stay around my waist as I turn around to face him. My hand brushes the bruise on his face softly, "You look tough with that cut and bruise."

"I always look tough."

I pull him into a kiss, sliding my hands up his back. He pulls away, "We need to get home."

"Fine," I say, pouting.

When we get to the apartment, I immediately go to the bathroom to change back into my pajamas. I walk out when I'm done and see that Sherlock is sitting on the couch, holding a wet rag to his face.

I lean over him and kiss his forehead, "He should be locked away for hitting your pretty face."

"Pretty?" he asks.

"Don't you get tired of being called handsome?"

He closes his eyes, "I suppose so."

"I'll be in bed. You can either join me or sleep on your miserable couch."

He follows me into his room, "Why must you call everything I own miserable?"

"Why must you own such miserable things?"

He lays down on the bed, "Lay with me."

I crawl into bed next to him, barely getting the chance to lay down before he pulls me into his chest. He pulls the blanket up over me and wraps his arm around me.

"Would you like to crawl into my skin?" I ask sarcastically.

"Yes," he replies, his eyes already closed.

It doesn't take long for him to fall asleep. I watch his face for a few seconds, frowning at the large bruise on his face. If I ever see Greg again, I won't hesitate to kick his ass.