I hate that mustach

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    I returned to the apartment after visiting a local pub and meeting a kind guy. He tried to get me to a bed but I rejected him. After he tried to force me, I took action and punched him straight on the nose. He had it coming though. I quietly snuck up the stairs to the shared apartment of Sherlock and John. I had a promise that I made to myself to fulfill! I slipped off my jacket then went to the bathroom, picking up a shaving razor, quickly wetting it under the faucet. Once I shut off he water, I grabbed a can of shaving cream and a pair of scissors before I snuck out to John's room, knowing he would be asleep by now.

    As I slipped in his room I could hear the soft snoring. Looking down, I quietly sprayed some shaving cream in my hand, then I looked up to make sure John was still asleep. He was, thankfully, and I smirked. John was always a heavy sleeper when he went into a deep sleep. I quietly padded over and started to snip his mustache, until the hairs were too short for me to clip. Now comes the fun part. I gently spread the shaving cream across his face then got to work shaving off the little hairs. When his face was mustache free, I snuck back out of the room and put everything back in place. Once I made sure to wipe everything clean of my finger prints, because Sherlock would check just for a fun little case even though he'll already know it was me, I walked down to the ground floor to go to my room that Mrs. Hudson cleared out for me and allowed me to put all my stuff in.

    Once I changed to my pajamas, I jumped into bed and closed my eyes, quietly laughing to myself about what I did tonight. I was proud of myself to be honest. I committed a crime and I got away with it! For now at least. Just wait till Sherlock gets involved. I'll be a dead woman. I pushed the thoughts aside and snuggled into my blankets, reaching up and cuddling onto my spare pillow. It was a form of comfort. Nothing else. I'm not cute. I am an evil mastermind. My greatest enemy is Sherlock Holmes. I smirked and slowly drifted off. Tomorrow morning would be an interesting morning.

    I woke up to the sound of a distressed yell. John. I slowly pushed myself up and looked up. I took this as the perfect time to lay back down and stretch out. Once I finished with my morning stretch part 1, I swung my legs out from under the blanket and over the side of my bed. That's when I reached up, arched my back, and stood on my toes, stretching out as much as possible. I grabbed my thin blanket that trailed on the floor when I wrapped it around my shoulders, then I made my way up the stairs, feeling like I had a cape of some sort on. As soon as I arrived at the doorway of Sherlock's floor, I could see John pacing around the living room, ranting to Sherlock who was laying in a blanket on his chair. "- when I walked into the bathroom I looked in the mirror and saw my mustache gone." John said, turning to him.

    "Well it looks better. I think you should keep it like that." Sherlock stated. "Yeah. Even Mary wasn't too fond of the facial hair." I butted in. John turned to me. "You did it didn't you?" He asked. I shook my head. "No. I was out all night." I said. Technically I didn't lie about being out. John let out a sigh and Sherlock stared at my shoulder. I looked at him confused and John followed my gaze, then turned to follow Sherlock's. "(Y/n) what's that on your shoulder?" John asked. I looked over to see the blanket fell from my shoulder. I was wearing a tank top so I  could see my shoulder and the large bruise that looked like I got punched and another bruise that followed many other bruises, leading to my neck but that was all I could see looking from my view. Those small bruises... Oh we all knew what those were. I quickly pulled the blanket back up and covered as much skin as I could. I could feel the blush appearing on my cheeks. "Where'd you go last night (Y/n)?" John asked. "J-just the pub a block over." I stuttered.

    Sherlock was oddly silent. When I looked past John, I could see a scowl on Sherlock's face. Why was he scowling? What for? John cleared his throat. "Well um... Would anyone like tea?" He asked. I nodded and looked down. "I'm going to go take a shower..." I muttered. Everything was awkward and I needed to escape. John nodded and Sherlock kept his gaze locked in me, scowl still in place and he looked deep in thought. I scampered off and up the stairs. John was kind enough to let me use his bathroom. I knew something happened last night... Before I came back from the pub that is.

(Hello lovelies. Long time? Yeah. I feel bad. So here's a chapter. Don't go thinking I'm giving up on this story now. I'll update ASAP.)

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