Expect The Unexpected {s.h x reader}

Chapter 12

Recap:

"I promise he won't get you." Sherlock whispers to me.

I sit there for a few moments; the fuzzy thoughts leaving my mind.

"Okay." I exhale, staring at the words on my book.

Two hours pass, my jagged breaths finally slowing to a normal pace. My sight bounced from corner, making sure no one was danger and nothing was happening. Fortunately, this was a quiet and normal flight home.

The sun slowly set through the window parallel to John; gold ray peeking through clouds. Sherlock sits with his eyes closed next to me, his lips pursed in a tight frown. John relaxes next to me, his serenity radiating off to me, sending me into a sudden fatigue.

I lean my head back on the firm headrest, closing my eyes. I try to subside the bubbling thoughts of anxiety Moriarty caused and beg for an iota of sleep. Luckily it comes, and I drift off to a peaceful slumber for a few minutes.

Until...

Mr. Fricking Sherlock Holmes.

"I've got it!" He shouts, making everyone on the plane whip their heads toward him.

"Sherlock!" John rubs his forehead.

"Moriarty must have made allies for a reason. Why would he have random men doing his dirty work?" Sherlock sputters out.

"He had something against them?" I wearily drone.

"Precisely. Two of the attackers had a tattoo...a clover. It was a symbol of an initiation."

"Initiation?" John whispers, trying to avoid attention.

"When certain people get on his bad side, he uses their crimes as leverage to work for him." Sherlock rattles off.

"So how can we trace this group?" I raise my eyebrow.

Sherlock rolls his eyes, clicking a few times on his phone.

How he has internet access 25,000 feet in the air, I have no clue. The Holmes brothers, amirite?

"It was a symbol for Irish soldiers in 1819. It also has alternate meanings for brotherhood and frankly, murdering others until the best remain." Sherlock says as John and I glance at the clover tattoo.

"So...this going to help find Moriarty?" John glances up.

"No." Sherlock says blankly. John and I groan in confusion in response. "It's a warning sign when we find him. We are Moriarty's targets. Target's wait." Sherlock grabs his phone back.

"So we're basically bait?" I whisper into John's ear.

He sighs, "Basically."

time skip

We finally landed back in London, greeted with sharp, cold air blowing in our faces.

"I don't think I've been so happy to see Baker Street." I smile, getting out of the taxi with by suitcase in hand.

"Me neither." John nods, smoothing his sandy gray hair.

Sherlock, John, and I make our way to the flat, thick dust hanging in the cold air. Mrs. Hudson greets us with smiles and tight hugs.

"It's like the dust...regenerates every time you try to clean it." Mrs. Hudson chuckles.

I smile, plopping on the sofa with a deep exhale.

"I guess this is my bed for a few weeks." I mumble into the pine-smelling pillow.

"We've covered this. I have the sofa." Sherlock grumbles, crashing into his chair with his laptop in hand.