Smarter Than You Look

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It was another mind-numbingly boring day at 221C. It was as if all criminals collectively agreed to take a break from their criminal activities and behave for once.

There was absolutely nothing to do, not even paperwork, so Lestrade had sent you and all other officers home.

You were bored out of your mind and had given up on trying to entertain yourself as nothing seemed to work.

You groaned loudly and face planted onto your sofa. As you lay there, your mind began to wander. The image of a certain detective flashed through your mind. It was all you could think of lately. That bloody consulting detective.

You sat up and rubbed your eyes as you tried to think about anything that wasn't Sherlock, but, of course, you couldn't. His dark curly hair, sharper cheekbones than anyone could imagine, those perfectly shaped lips. His features were imprinted in your mind.

You groaned in frustration and got up to pace around your flat instead.

You wanted to make sense of your thoughts. You wanted to make sense of that warm, jittery feeling you got when you thought of him. You wanted to make sense of what was going on with you for these past few weeks and why you couldn't get the detective out of your head.

Was it because you spent so much time with him? Perhaps you got attached to him. You did consider him a friend. You hadn't really considered anyone a friend before, but he was your exception. You both got along very well, and you understood each other.

Was this how people felt when they had friends? If so, why would anyone want to have friends? This feeling was irritating the shit out of you.

So that obviously couldn't be it. You understood the concept of friends and you knew this was not how it made people feel. So what was it then?

You wrecked your brain trying to think of the answer. It had been plaguing your mind for weeks now, and it was getting on your nerves.

You couldn't even look at Sherlock anymore without blushing or without feeling your heart race. You couldn't even think of him without blushing furiously.

You analysed your symptoms over and over again in your head. Then it hit you. You abruptly stopped pacing and stood still. ''No...,'' you mumbled to yourself. ''That can't be it.''

But it was. You had feelings for the consulting detective. Feelings. Oh gosh, just thinking of that word made you gag! There was no escaping it.

You had feelings for Sherlock. You dragged your hands over your face. What were you going to do now?

Before you could think about that, you heard a loud crash coming from upstairs, followed by an ear-deafening screech that came from Sherlock's violin.

You fought yourself not to go up there, but your curiosity took over and soon, you found yourself heading upstairs.

You knocked on the door and it instantly opened.

''Oh, hi, (Y/N),'' John Watson greeted. ''Might not want to go in there right now.''

You raised your eyebrows, wondering why John was still here and not at work. ''Don't you have work today?'' you asked.

John was about to answer when Sherlock played a horrific melody on his violin. He shook his head and gave you a sympathetic look before walking out.

You entered the flat, covering your ears. You marched over to him and took the violin from his hands.

He looked deeply insulted. ''Oi, give that back!''

You shook your head. ''Not a chance,'' you replied smugly.

He reached for it, but you dodged him easily.

''Would you both stop behaving like utter children and pay attention?'' a loud voice boomed.

It wasn't until now that you realised there was another visitor. You turned to him and shot him a glare. Sherlock saw his opportunity and snatched his violin back, continuing the melody.

''I'm not taking the case, Mycroft,'' he bellowed, loud enough for everyone to hear.

''Case?'' you asked, your eyes lighting up.

''You've been locked up in this flat for days now, Sherlock. You must be close to losing it by now.'' Mycroft said, ignoring you. ''It's a dangerous case and I need your help. I can't leave my office for extended periods of time, so I need you to do the legwork for me and figure this out. It's important.''

Sherlock closed his eyes and placed his hands underneath his chin, ignoring everything and everyone around him.

Mycroft sighed and was about to leave before you interrupted him.

''I'll take the case.''

He looked at you, a scowl on his face. ''I doubt a simple detective like you could solve this case.''

You gritted your teeth and snatched the file from his hand. ''I'm anything but a simple detective,'' you hissed at him. You looked at the photo of the suspect and launched into your deductions. ''He's in his late forties, was married to a woman but cheated on her with her younger sister. He's a former drug addict and has been arrested and charged with murder, but managed to escape prison with the help of said sister. Keeping that in mind, he wouldn't seem like someone who the government is so keen on finding, but there's more. Like I mentioned before, he has an affair with his wife's younger sister. He's madly in love with her and you suspect that he will try to kill his wife in order to run away with her money and be with his lover until his final days. How romantic. This would normally not be something that the government is interested in, but his wife isn't just a regular civilian. No, his wife is a colleague of yours and holds an important position. You want to protect her, but there's a problem. They're both missing.'' You handed the file back to him.

''Mycroft Holmes,'' he introduced, holding out his hand. ''I'm Sherlock's older brother.''

''(Y/F/N),'' you replied, shaking his hand.

''I can see why my brother keeps you around, miss (Y/L/N). You're smarter than you look. Good luck with the case. I'll return later with more information.'' He grabbed his coat from the back of the chair and left.

You smirked, happy that you finally had a case again.

Sherlock opened his eyes and gave you a stern look. ''You're not taking that case, (Y/N),'' he stated.

You scoffed and crossed your arms. ''And why wouldn't I take it? You obviously didn't want it. I'm extremely bored and in need of some mental exercise.''

Sherlock grabbed his phone and quickly looked something up. ''That man that you just saw, isn't just a simple murderer. He has killed over twelve people and is extremely violent and dangerous. He's willing to do anything to get what he wants. It's too dangerous and I won't allow you to confront him,'' he said, showing you a few photos and newspaper articles on his phone.

''I can take care of myself, Sherlock.'' You turned on your heel and walked to the door. ''I'll be in my flat if you need me. If you're just going to bother me with reasons as to why I shouldn't take the case, then don't bother me at all.'' You slammed the door shut and eagerly got to work on your new case.

Sherlock Holmes was the furthest thing from your mind right now.

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