Bookshelves (Sherlock x Reader)

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That was the longest night of my life...

5 hours earlier...

"Sherlock!" I called, stepping out of my cozy bedroom, my eyes searching dor the detective. Once I noticed he was nowhere in sight, I crept into the living room.
It wasn't often that Sherlock left me home alone, especially without saying anything, but I supposed it was a case, and took the time to read. Sherlock had given me a murder mystery, saying that 'If I didn't know who the murderer was by chapter 12', he would not let me progress further into learning deductions. I glanced at the newest chapter title.
'Chapter 10'
I had no clue who the murderer was. The evidence wasn't clear, and no one had even been interrogated yet.
Sighing, I pressed on through the book, listing and charting the characters personalities. It frustrated me that I wouldn't be able to continue my training, if I didn't find out who the killer was.
A harsh bang startled me from my reading. I shot up, glancing around the room.
"Sherlock?" I called softly, my heart racing in my chest.
He's right there.
He'a not here.

He's coming.
The house is empty.

You can't run this time-
No, that's wrong, no one's here. I stood, taking a cautious step towards the noise.
A loud clatter sent me stumbling backwards, almost falling over. Slowly, I looked into the kitchen. It wasn't Sherlock.
I stared at the figure, his back turned to me, tall, broad, fearless.
I snatched a knife off the counter and pointed it at him.
"Who are you?" I growled, trying to sound confident. The man turned, his face calm and dismissive.
"Ah yes, you must be my brother's little pet." A fake grin pulled across his face, making me tense.
"Sherlock? You're Sherlock's brother?" I demanded, keeping the knife in hand.
"Yes, and you must be (Y/N)." He stepped closer.
"And you are?" I took a cautious step backwards.
"Mycroft Holmes." Mycroft does a simple bow, and smiles tightly. I scanned him, flicking my eyes over him.
"You're a lot like him." I commented, placing the knife back on the counter.
"Lovely, mommy will be pleased." He sighed, looking away from me. I smiled a little, relaxing my breathing.
"What are you doing here? Other than breaking my kitchen." I gestured to the few pots that had been knocked onto the floor.
"Yes, I'm sorry about that. I'm checking to see if my little brother has... Delved into old habits." Mycroft hesitated for a moment, tightening his grip on the handle of his umbrella. My mind sped through the process of elimination, of what Sherlock could be tempted by.
"Drugs." I breathed, glancing around the flat with an entirely new view. How could I have missed that?
"Well, you obviously haven't seen him take any." He commented, picking a pot up from the floor.
"No, I would have noticed." I assured him, taking the pot from his hand, and placing it back on the counter.
"Your brother is still detained." I froze in place. "I checked myself-"
"Stop talking." I warned him.
"His attitude fits perfectly with that of a normal man, I can't see him being a murderer."
"Stop." I growled, gripping the cold counter so harshly, my hands began to ache.
"But I suppose not all psychopaths show their true intentions on the outside-"
"Shut up!" I screamed, propelling the pot in my hand towards him. He ducked, stepping out of the way, just in time. Hot, angry tears streamed down my reddened face.
"What is going on!?" Mrs.Hudson cried, entering the kitchen.
"I was just leaving." Mycroft's voice dripped with hatred, as he strut out of the flat.
"Oh you poor dear, come sit down." Mrs.Hudson helped me over to the couch, before going to fetch some tea. I could hear her dial a number, who I could only assume was Sherlock.
I stared down at the floor, trying to breathe through everything, but the flat door made me jump.
"Where is he?" Sherlock snarled, as he whirled around dramatically, scanning the flat.
"He left." I muttered from the couch, rubbing my hand over my face.
"That stuck up- pig headed-"
"Sherlock." I cut him off, peering up at him.
"What?"
"My brother escaped." My voice shook as I spoke.
"What? How do you know?" Sherlock's face switched from anger to concern.
"Mycroft, he said 'he's detained, I checked myself' and then started going on about he is like a normal man. Mycroft wouldn't have had to check unless there was an emergency, so the man he found in my brother's cell, was just a normal man, that's why he wasn't as aggressive as Rhys. He was warning me, Sherlock, because Rhys is listening." I explained, my chest aching with shock and fear.
"I won't let him get to you." Sherlock assured me, his eyes were cold, and full of rage.
"You can't stop him." I whispered. "He promised he'd find me."
"You'll pay for doing this to me, I'll hunt you everyday for the rest of your life-
I flinched, brushing away the memories.
"I need to call Lestrade." Sherlock muttered, before setting off to the kitchen. I sighed, deciding to do some work to get my mind off of everything.
I sat down at my desk, in my bedroom. I pulled the laptop open, and set to work on my charity. We had received numerous donations from companies over London, some had left around around €654.36 ($1000), so I took the time to thank them, before putting their money into different areas of the charity. I put most of it into beginners novels that would be sent to Africa, it was the newest part of the charity, and needed the most support. The rest I put to getting books for seniors with no families.
The charity was one of the amazing things I had built, it stretched across Europe, and changed hundreds of lives. It was by far my greatest achievement. I shut the computer and took a deep breath, feeling excitement pulse through my veins.
Suddenly, a hand was over my mouth. I squeaked, struggling against the sudden force, clawing at the hand for freedom.
"Calm down, sister dear." My entire body froze with fear. "Aren't you happy to see your brother?"