Exception || Sherlock Holmes x Reader

➳ Chapter Five

A few days pass of you inadvertently avoiding Sherlock. Well, maybe it is somewhat deliberate. You just don't want him to see how badly your hands got scratched and burned during the whole crisis of John being rescued. You don't think he'll feel bad or anything, you just don't want to show any vulnerability.

You've had your hands bandaged up and they look almost new, now not hurting as much as they originally did. You trek your way out of your bedroom when you hear voices you assume are clients.

When you enter the living room, you smile as you see Sherlock slouching in his chair with his parents on the couch.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes. What are you guys doing here?" you greet cheerfully.

"You know my parents?" Sherlock questions, standing from his chair and walking over to your side.

"I took them out for dinner a couple of times while Mycroft made lame excuses for why he couldn't," you reply.

"Oh, (Y/N)! It's so lovely to see you. Mycroft said you and our Sherlock were working together now," Mrs. Holmes says.

"Yes. It's been delightful working with another Holmes boy."

You're interrupted as John unexpectedly walks through the door.

"John?" Sherlock says in surprise.

"Sorry, you're busy," John replies, beginning to leave.

"No, no, no. They were just leaving." You stand off to the side as Sherlock ushers his mother and father out of the door forcefully.

"If you've got a case..."

"No, not a case." Sherlock shuts the door and slowly turns toward John. "Sorry about that."

"No, it's fine. Clients?" John questions.

"Just my parents," Sherlock reluctantly answers.

"Your parents?" John says incredulously.

"In town for a few days."

"Your parents?" he repeats.

"Mycroft promised to take them to a matinee of Les Mis. Tried to talk me into doing it."

"Those were your parents?"

"Yes."

John looks out the window before shaking his head. "Well... That is not what I... I mean, they're just so ordinary."

You laugh at that, bringing the attention to yourself. "They're very nice people, John."

"Oh, I remember you. (Y/N), right? Mary said you helped rescue me," John says, sticking out his hand.

"Yeah." You hesitantly shake his hand and ignore the slight pinch of pain, thankful for your bandages shielding you from most of the contact.

"Is that from..." John trails off, quickly letting go of your hand. "I'm sorr-"

"Don't be," you interrupt him with a reassuring smile. "I'm just glad you're all right."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," you say, making your way to the kitchen to give Sherlock and John their privacy.

"Don't go anywhere," you hear Sherlock direct as his footsteps follow you and you turn around. "Let me see your hands."

"Sherlock, they're fine," you say.

"Now," he almost growls as his eyes pierce into yours.

You bring your hands up between your bodies and Sherlock gingerly removes the wrapping. Your hands are clearly a bright red color with little scars and scratches marking your skin.
"Thank you for helping me yesterday, and I'm sorry you got hurt," Sherlock whispers before placing feathery kisses on each of your palms.

You let your hands drop to your sides and shrug, ignoring the leap in your heart. "I'm just happy to help." You pivot your foot and go to the fridge to grab a drink.

"Wait-" Sherlock starts but you're already opening it.

"Oh, excuse me," you say nonchalantly to the head and grab the (F/D). You move to grab a glass and notice Sherlock staring at you. "John's waiting."

"Oh! Right," he says, going back to the living room.

You smirk as you pour a glass and hear the slightly muffled voices of the famous detective duo, but you resist listening in on their conversation. Soon enough, you decide to retreat back to your bedroom as Sherlock and John patch up their relationship.

♖♖♖

You close your book and lay it on the nightstand beside your bed that has captured your attention for over an hour. You decide to head back downstairs and become confused when you don't spot Sherlock or John anywhere.

You glance around and locate the scattered maps and laptop on top of the desk. You walk over and scan the papers, noticing they're underground maps of the tube. You start reading and connecting the dots between the impending terrorist attack.

Shit. Those goddamn idiots.

You grab your coat and a torch from one of the drawers before rushing out of the flat. You start running to the location when you see no taxis around. The wind is whipping through your hair and your heart beat is erratic, and not from the running. You're scared. Scared for Sherlock and John and what they're walking into.

Your feet move on their own and, before you know it, you're ripping open the gate and sprinting down the tunnel with your torch light leading the way. You manage to keep your breathing steady as you see some officers in front of you, but you run straight pass them and ignore their calls after you.

You see the lights of the carriage in the distance, switch off your torch and stuff it in your jacket pocket. You try to see inside and you can clearly make out what looks like Sherlock... laughing and John being incredibly pissed off.

You jump through in time to hear John say, "I'm definitely going to kill you."

"Oh, please. Killing me is so two years ago," Sherlock replies with a low chuckle.

"Are you guys okay?!" you ask breathlessly.

"Yeah, yeah. Turns out this asshole knows how to switch off a bomb and turn it into a bloody joke!" John exclaims.

"You're both such idiots!" you shout, and turn to Sherlock. "Especially you. How could you just come down here, knowing there's a bomb?"

"No need to be mad. All is well," Sherlock replies with a grin.

"I'm mad because you didn't invite me! We're partners now, Sherlock. You can't just steal all the fun for yourself," you scold.

"Next time, I promise we'll go into eminent danger together," he says.

"Good. That's all I'm asking."

You both look over to John as you hear him laughing. "You two are a psychotic pair."

"I'm a high-functioning sociopath," Sherlock corrects.

"And I'm just crazy," you shrug.

John shakes his head and the three of you exit the carriage. John leaves you and Sherlock alone while mumbling about you two acting like a couple and other incoherent things.

"Sherlock, promise me something," you say as you walk by his side down the track.

"Depends on what it is," he replies.

"Promise me you'll call or text me if something is incredibly dangerous, especially if John is there."

"Why?" he questions.

"Because me and you working together on something like this can guarantee no one leaves in a body bag. I know you can handle yourself, but I worry. And John needs to be there for Mary now."

You walk in silence for a few moments before Sherlock finally answers.

"I promise."