The Exception (sherlock x reader)

Chapter 14: Back in the Game

The letters didn't stop coming.
They weren't going to stop.
He was never going to stop.

Only a week had past since the first letter arrived on Christmas Eve. Each one chipped away a piece of your confidence. Each one added more space between you and Sherlock. Now you barely could look John in the eye.

It only took him one week.

His words melted through your barriers like venom.
The thought of him being near your apartment stole sleep from you. You were worried that he would be waiting for you if you left. Of putting anyone else in danger. You felt like the next letter would be the one to break you.

Of course Sherlock wouldn't know.

You tried to spend time with him and John to keep your mind from Moriarty's words. Sherlock would barely say a word or even stay in the flat. Either cooped up in his room or off God knows where. Leaving you and John to wonder and worry. Still, he said more to John. He would make eye contact with John.

Not with you.

Ordinary...
Boring...
Disposable...

The words resurfaced. They were Moriarty's, but you couldn't help but wonder if they were Sherlock's too. You've been doing a lot of wondering. Wondering about Sherlock. Wondering about the Woman. Sherlock hadn't been handling her death as you would've expected. It makes you wonder if... Ugh you groaned at yourself enough with this. A walk would do you some good. John and Mrs.hudson had said that too you enough. The boys are out and if Moriarty is waiting for you well so be it. You had enough.

You got dressed and grabbed your coat. knowing the weather it was bound to rain and you were in no mood to get soaked. Thankfully for you, you had gotten a new umbrella a month back and it fit perfectly in your coat pocket. you reached down into your pocket finding your keys, but no umbrella. The other pocket only contained a pistol you carried with you. That's right, you lent it to Sherlock a while back and never got it back.

"Mrs.Hudson," you called out as you left your flat. After a moment and no response you assumed she must've gone to the shop. You were hoping she would know where your umbrella might be so you don't have to go scavenging through their flat looking. "Fine," you sighed and decided to just take a peak around upstairs in their flat and hope no one was home.

Fortunately, everyone was gone.

Unfortunately, so were their coats. Which points to the umbrella being gone as well.

Whoopdy- freakin- doo

You decided it wouldn't hurt to search a bit more. And you only did search a bit more. Glancing through the kitchen, moving select pieces of furniture in case it was tucked away, checking pockets of a few random jackets. One particular jacket seemed to have some promise of holding what you seek. Sherlocks second best dressing gown. Everything in you screamed to stay as far away from his room as possible, but you found yourself wandering closer despite it. Carefully you eased open the door peaking your head inside. What were you so afraid of? No one was here. With a little less grace you quickly found where the coat was hanging in his closet. Getting in and out without a trace was your goal at the moment. You didn't want anytime for your mind to take in the scent of Sherlock riddled through the room on his sheets and clothes. Or to let your mind wander to the morning you woke up in his bed. You picked up the pace. The jacket was located within his closet, and wasn't difficult to find. You were delighted to find one of the pockets slightly weighed down by something. Only to be disappointed moments later upon discovering it was merely a camera phone. Before you had the chance to inspect the phone that you could've swore you had seen before, the doorbell rang.

The phone was shoved into your pocket and you were out of the flat in a heart beat. Before you reached the door your you took a moment to wonder who could be behind. The most likely, Moriarty. You froze. What were you going to do? Alone, and on the verge of panic. Not even John was here to help or at least bear witness to whatever Moriarty came for. You willed yourself to take action to grab one of the many guns throughout the building, but your body betrayed you, locked up with fear and anxiety. What an average response. How boring. How ordinary. You took a step back towards the stairs, and not a moment too soon. Whoever was behind the door was done being courteous. And with a swift kick sent it flying open. You braced yourself to see Moriarty walk through the door to save you as he had promised in his many letters. You weren't eager to know what his idea of saving was.

The paralyzingly fear that forced through your veins did not aid in what came next.

Flooding through the door was not your "savior," but the Americans encountered at The Woman's house. Up to that point every second felt like an eternity, but now minutes began to fly past.

Your initial shock only lasted a second. Still a second too long. Once the adrenaline coursed through your veins willing your body to react they were on you. You made an attempt to run towards the back door, but a hand wrapped around your arm pulling you back before you could get further than a few steps. You reeled your free  arm back and heard a satisfying smack as your elbow collided with the attackers ribcage. His grip merely tightened on your upper arm, and in a vain attempt you tried to do it again, but another man grabbed your other arm. You struggled trying to loosen their grip enough for you escape, but it was no use. Now you began to panic.

The one presumably the leader stepped in front of you and punched you across the side of your face snapping your head to the side. Your struggling ceased for a moment. Pain flaring especially from where his ring made contact with your skin.

"Now that you've seemed to calmed down, let's get down to business." The words lacked emotion, and came out rough through  his accent. Before you found out what business he was referring too, you spit in his face. Before you could enjoy the look of disgust on his face he grabbed your neck forcing the air from your lungs. "I know it's here," he said through gritted teeth, "and I know you know where it is, so I'll give you one last chance to cooperate." His grip tightened as he finished the offer before releasing you. You tried not to give him the satisfaction of gasping for the air you now desperately needed, and took a moment, not to consider helping him, but to decide who had the weakest knees. Deciding the chap on your left was the most likely you showed them just how cooperative you were.

Quickly, you brought your foot down on the knee of the American to your left, causing enough pain for him to loosen his grip. You pulled free and used your momentum to deliver a blow to the man holding your right arm. These men could take any punch you threw, but the initial surprise was all you needed to break free. You threw yourself, using your momentum and weight to pull your arm from his grip. You fell to the floor, catching yourself with your arms. The adrenaline masked the pain as you tried to crawl toward the door not wasting a second to try and get up. You were dragged back, further from escape when one of the men grabbed your ankles and pulled you away from the door. With a shout of frustration you kicked your legs furiously, but to no avail. A pair of arms grabbed your shoulders and lifted you from the ground. In the struggle you couldn't tell who, but they began to drag you backwards up the stairs. You tried to grab onto something, anything, but merely scratched the wall.

"SHERLOCK!"

------------------------------------
A/N:
Did you miss me?