Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

(f/n) (l/n) use ( first name, last name) no specified gender, s l o w burn. live laugh love yalls bc my English ass got so bored i wrote the first chapter during my childcare class :3

also, i will apologise for the way reader is originally portrayed but i do have an idea for it. so, they may look like a jackass but its for the plot. i promise!!!!!!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*୨⎯ "᥇ꫀᧁ꠸ꪀ" ⎯୧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It's almost like a padded cell, this room. "Though, padded cells don't have paintings nor wood rims lower on the wall." I mutter quietly in attempts to not actually end up in one. The clock ticking faintly drew my attention from being lost, quite annoyingly if I'm honest.

I shift uncomfortably in the chair, facing a desk with no one to glare at. Though, in hearing the door behind me click I can confidently say that's no longer the case (get it ahahaha). I was met with the familiar face of, borderline, the government. Mycroft Holmes. And by the looks of it he's not too impressed.

"(F/n). I see you're early." His tone expressed it was a serious situation, yet he doesn't seem pleased I got here early. Strange... "you sounded stressed, and you know I hate seeing you stressed" I offer out, sweetening my tone to make him comfortable. Yet, it only served to put a scowl on his face. Strange indeed.

He brushed by my seat, swiveling into his chair and facing me. He's clearly peeved, his brows knitted, fists clenching together on the table, the tension in his shoulders. It's more than that, though. Clearly, he's argued with someone, frown lines a little more pronounced showing he was previously arguing. "Well, sometimes people cause stress." The only person I know he would get so mad over is his younger brother. However, being as I'm yet to meet him I refuse to bring it up.

I simply nod my head once and brush it off, changing the topic more for my sake. "So, I assume you need me for something?" I question, though he knew it didn't need a reply. I already knew he wanted a favour, not knowing why though. "...Sherlock has been less responsive as of late" Mycroft begins, earning a simple sigh from me. I turn my eyes to the paintings around us. "Microsoft please. Are you really asking me to spy"

"Mycroft," He corrects with a glare. Chuckling, I meet his eyes again and nod once, signaling him to continue. "And yes. I'm quite worried about him. I think you are smart enough to deal with him in a mannered way." I crack a dry smile at him as I glare. "Don't try to butter me up, minecroft. I assume there will be pay? And you're setting me up with a house?" I inquire with a raised brow. I'm assuming he wouldn't want me to just walk into the smart boy's life, so it was obvious everything was set up for me. Unless I'm wrong... nah!

I was offered a single nod of approval, letting me know I was, in fact, correct. As always. So, without much hesitation, I agreed. I've been bored for so long, the work I do left me oh so lonely and much more, no longer entertained me. "Okay," I begin "I'll spy on your brother. Sherrol, was it? Ya got me a place to crash for the time I watch him." I agree with an enthusiastic grin. The name I gave his brother etching a smirk ever so slightly on his lips. "I will be accommodating you in the apartment below my dear brother. 221C, baker street."

Narrowing my eyes, I huff. "So, what? I'm like a jobless kid needing a place to live and I just happen to go for a city central apartment? That's not believable enough for him and you know it." I deadpan with an annoyed glare. If I was to do this job, I'd rather it not screwed up in the first minuet of taking place. No, there had to be a reason I was there. Something compelling that didn't encourage him to ask much of it. "Oh, never mind. That's perfect, thank you Mycroft. I already know a car is waiting outside. I'll take my leave now." I smile brightly, a quick dismissive tone as the chair screeches against the wooden floors while I bound up happily.

To my dismissal, he mumbled incoherently under his breath. A weak smile on his lips, not quite reaching his eyes as he bids farewell with a final message. "(f/n). Your things are already at the apartment. Ensure me you won't take much too long getting settled in, he doesn't live there yet but he will soon. Getting a roommate." He informs with an urgent tone. Rolling my eyes, I nod happily and offer a thumbs up as I lean through the door. Peeking through like I was desperate to get away. Because for the first time in what felt like forever, I had something interesting on my horizons. Someone to challenge me... but he wouldn't know that's what it is. No, I wanted to play this game quietly. Keep him in the dark till my intelligence is what keeps me alive or something.

At the wave of his hand dismissing me, I was gone. Hearing the doors slam echo through the halls, I walked quickly to the exit of the British government building. Bidding goodbye to my mundane tasks in the watch of Mycroft and heading to the black car he had parked outside. The woman who usually escorted me, as always, was on her phone. Not even bothering to strike conversation, she clearly wasn't interested, I sat in the back of the car. Listening to the engine rumble as the building shifted further away.

Maybe I should've actually asked what I was supposed to do for Mycroft... then again, it was a simple task. Watch Sherly... or Sherrol. I forget.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*୨⎯ "𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓹" ⎯୧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Silence filled the car; the trip seemingly longer than it truly was from the awkward atmosphere. Yet, I had arrived finally. Wasting no time, I took my leave bidding goodbye. Only earning a small hum of slight acknowledgement from the woman. I chuckled dryly and let the door close, it driving off seconds later as if it was as impatient a me. Though, I suppose that's the drivers fault, not the car... my bad. Walking up to the door, I press my knuckles three sharp times to the wood and wait.

I heard an excited squeal from behind the door as it swung open, and there stood an older woman. Beaming and bright as she watched me with joy. "Come in, come in! you must be the new one? (f/n)? welcome, let me show you to your place" rambling out, she ushered me in. practically shoving me down the stairs and letting me see she had all my things in the main room of my apartment. I smiled lightly and turned to her once she had stopped barging me through the stairs like a bulldozer.

"Hi, yes. (f/n) (l/n). thank you for having my things brought inside, when everything is unpacked, would you join me for tea?" questioning as I tilt my head lightly. Incredible loneliness had caused my boredom to be tenfold. This woman seemed quite sweet for the land lady, assuming she lived here by the state of her clothes; polite but only in a way she had been lounging in her house the whole day. Not intending for seeing many people thus, she must live here. Top floor, I suspect. Mycroft informed me I was living below where his brother was assumed to try living, leaving only the top floor free. Not that this matters. I'm trying to make nice.

And it seemingly worked. As if she couldn't beam much more, I was mistaken. Her face light up and she placed a hand on her chest with a look of affection. She must be friendly... thank gods. "Oh, aren't you a sweetheart. Call me when you'd like, I live on the top floor." She gushed while she walked backwards. She had a sense of personal space, that was comforting. We said our goodbyes and she promised to check up on me later. Staring at the space, I began thinking of the quickest way I could unpack the lot. With a sigh, "...oh, yippe" escaped my lips, dripped in sarcasm. This was bound to be fun.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*୨⎯ "𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖍" ⎯୧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Chapter Text

chapter title: I'm calling the police!!!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*୨⎯ "᥇ꫀᧁ꠸ꪀ" ⎯୧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Sat in the silence of a taxi, I was on the side, to the window. John in the middle and Sherlock on the opposite side to me. Gazing out of the window in silence as the car began driving. “Okay, you've got questions.” turning my head to see why the peace was broken, I'm met with the sight of Sherlock's head turned out the window with John looking at him blankly, confirming sherlocks words. I watch as they begin a conversation with each other, talking

Giving that extra second of silence, he finally responds in a matter-of-fact tone. “Yeah, where are we going?” I smile secretly to myself and look back out my door window, suddenly not very interested in the route we are going, more the conversation happening next to me. “Crime scene.” I mutter over to John, delaying my movement to turn my head over at him, raising a brow curiously as if it weren’t obvious. He gives me back a look of ‘no shit’ and I smile warmly at him. Perhaps the answer sufficed, as it was quickly moved on from. Leaving the only answer received being my silly little joke. “Next.”

“Who are you? What do you do?” Sherlock gave a slight eye roll at the question and turned his head to the window, mirroring my movements. “What do you think?” He prompts John to reach the answer himself, almost as if he had every faith John could figure it out like that. Was I a third wheel? “I'd say a private detective but - “cutting him off, Sherlock turns his head to the headrest in front of him, dramatic flair I'm guessing. “But?”

“Police don't go to private detectives.” a proud grin slimed its way onto Sherlock's face as he kept staring straight ahead. It was easy to tell he enjoyed the feeling of being different, being special. I really am third wheeling. “I'm a consulting detective” he began, matter-of-factly. “Only one in the world, I invented the job.” concluding his boastful brag, he grinned as he looked more at john. Only leaving me to scoff at his claim. Sure, I wasn't technically one, but we had similar jobs. Only difference was I got paid more, and was far better at my job, of course.

Through his prideful smirk, he failed to realise he had confused the poor man. “What does that mean?” he asks almost out of breath. I'm guessing he found the notion ridiculous. It wasn't, just the way the dimwitt had worded it was. “It means when the police are out of their depth - which is always - they consult me.” he again stated in that matter of factly tone. Though I'd have to agree, the police were rather blind to the obvious, you're only supposed to think those things. Where was this boy's manners? And how the hell was his brother Mycroft (Microsoft)…? “But the police don't consult -” he paused. “Amatures.”

I let out a loud snort, earning a glare from Sherlock and a guilty bow of the head from john. I turned to them and grinned widely. “Not to impose, but I really like when you talk, john.” he chuckled out as I shook my head. That made Sherlock a lot worse than he already was, and adding fuel to the fire I added a wave to him. The only response I got was a glare. And what did John get? “When I first met you yesterday, I said, Afghanistan or Iraq? You seemed surprised,” he stated simply.

“How did you know?” The question hung in the air for a second while Sherlock seemingly indulged into a world of his own, now no longer in the taxi with us. With how dramatic this man is, I wouldn't be surprised if he was recalling every small detail about John he picked up. Talk about in love, I feel like not even John could be this crazy for a man that's seen a god damn arms race at his scene. “I didn’t know. I saw.” and then he went on listing what he observed. Typical of being in love, I'm telling you.

They discussed the ordeal for a few more minutes. His face, hair, brother, psychosomatic limp (in what wasn't received well by party one), till I was once again dragged back into the conversation.

John had said something about being amazing, then turned his head to me expectantly. I blinked and looked away, about did anything that wasn't talking till he did. “You. what about you- how did you know what one?” giving him no reply for a few seconds, I wanted him to second guess asking. Internally sighing, I knew I did owe him something. Whether that was the truth or not was completely down to if I was in a good mood. oh, and so am I. “Same as him, I just have the whimsy to take a gander. And right so, shocked you till next Tuesday, didn't it?” I grin at him like a cheshire.

The mood john put sherlock in by praising him like a saint had been wiped away, replaced with a scowl. As funny as his reaction was, I thought it best if I was polite. I'm not a monster; I do understand people's emotions. “He did the smarter thing though, if I was wrong, I'd look like a fool. You were impressed by his skill, don't be impressed by my childishness.” muttering out with a smile, I kept staring out the window.

I couldn't see what they made of what I said, however I continued to listen this time. “That was- extraordinary. Quite extraordinary.” in johns, continuous, praise sherlock replied quite slowly. “That's not what people usually say.” the surprise evident in his voice. Shared between the two as John asks, “what do they usually say?”

“Piss off”

After that, the rest of the ride was smooth sailing. Somehow, I didn't get on Sherlock's nerves enough to make him ignore me, more just discussing important matters. “No! No no no! You can't have a steady social life and be rude. That's not how it works!” he just scoffs at me, discarding my opinion before John butts in. “they're right. Nobody is that masochist,” he took a pause from the absurdity of the conversation before continuing, “unless you're of value to them.” I let out a strangled gasp “that's not social! That's just using someone.”

“Whatever. I still proved I talk to people, that was my point. Therefore, I'm right. That's why I have a substantial argument in what's classed as a compliment." Sherlock had been on the opposing argument. Before I could begin to counter his point, the car came to a halt. Before I could be roped into an argument of who pays, I jumped out. Stretching my legs from the journey. The mental stress it caused me, not the physical.

The walk to the building, the conversation derived from one thing to another easily. From the people pleaser Holmes, what types of butterflies are the prettiest to John having a sister, not a brother. Sister Harriet, not harry.

Approaching the building, a collection of officers, cars and miscellaneous unidentifiable things surrounded the place. It was police tape. And I tripped on it. Nah, I'm joking. Ducking under the tape, I was met with a woman. Beautiful. Oh my god, she was beautiful. I stood behind both John and Sherlock as they walked paces from the police tape.

The woman had lifted her head from whatever she was doing as Sherlock stopped in front of her. So, they know each other. As unfriendly as this looks, I'm not betting on who's rightfully upset with the other. “Hello freak.”

Okay, great start. Growing uncomfortable, I drew my gaze lower to avoid any confrontation. That was objectively a worse idea, however. I looked at her knees, seeing the clothes scuffed. Nothing abnormal, I chose to ignore it until I caught the smell of men's deodorant. Great, can't catch a break from Sherlock now I know about this woman's s e x life. “I’m here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade.”

“Why.” the woman demanded. Scoffing in reply, Sherlock stated the obvious to him, “I think he wants me to take a look.” his voice was a bored sarcasm. Assume they have done this many times before. He’s bored. “Well, you know what I think, don’t you?” Now I'm bored. “Always, Sally. I even know you didn’t make it home last night.” her name is sally- he realised? I glance up at him but see nothing but the boredom.

Somehow, she looks just as equally bored. Sparing no time to his accusations, she takes a glance at John and I, raising her brow slightly, “who are they?” Sherlock clenched his jaw but took a deep breath, “Colleague of mine, Dr. Watson. Dr. Watson - Sergeant Sally Donovan. Old friend.” John gave a polite nod towards sally. I meet his eyes and give him a small smile, trying to comfort him from the awkward situation.

“A colleague, how’d you get a colleague?? Did he follow you home?” I lifted my head to watch her. Narrowing my eyes slightly. She wasn't just being rude to Sherlock now, she was being spiteful to anyone she could in front of him. John picked up on the venom in her tone, speaking up with a sigh. “Look, would it be better if I just -”

“No!” Sherlock quickly dismissed his idea, reluctant to let him leave. Did they really just meet? I shook my head at the two of them but hid my smile as I turned away, catching the attention of sally. “What about that?” snapping my head up to look at sally, she wasn't even looking at me, she watched sherlock. “That actually followed me.” he smiled at Sally, the kind of cocky annoying smile you'd get from an older brother.

“Gee, thanks for defending me.” I scoff and roll my eyes. Finally, Sally spared me a god given glance before onceing me over and snarling. “Does nobody understand how to be polite? My god I know this is an investigation but let's not dismiss a stranger. You’re just spiteful.” I push past Sherlock with a shoulder check and spare no glance back. “Freaks here.” Sally speaks into the walkie-talkie she held. “Quit calling him that.” I called over my shoulder as I kept walking.

A few paces in front of them, I made my way to the front of the building. I didn't bother to look back, either I get glared at from the p(r)etty woman or I get a mocking smile from pretty boy. Or John looking guilty. Stopping before I get too close, catching a familiar smelling deodorant. At least I was uncomfortable for no reason, I only hope it's usable information. Meeting me by the front, Sherlock greets another one of the police. “Anderson! Here we are again.”

“It’s a crime scene. I don’t want it contaminated. We clear on that?” Anderson, a tall brunette. Not too bad, not too fucking good either. Sherlock just met him with a smile, “and is your wife away long?” my eyes light up as I keep my eyes on the floor. Thank whatever god made me smart, it was useful. I could see in the corner of my eye Sherlock had glanced down at me.

I look up to meet his eye, giving him an equal grin to his. His smile lit up more than before, assuming he understood I was as smart as him. Smarter, of course. I turned my gaze to Anderson, seeing a look of disdain pointed to Sherlock, he shakes his head annoyed. “...Don’t pretend you worked that out. Someone told you that!” I let out a snort, looking away again. “Your deodorant told me that,” Sherlock pointed out. “My deodorant?” Anderson looked stressed, not really shocked from the answer but bewildered from the absurdity. “It’s for men”

“Of course it’s for men, I’m wearing it!” I lift my head and tilt it tauntingly, smiling lightly before nodding behind me. “So’s Sergeant Donovan.” I point out with an innocent grin. The reaction from both caused a wider smile to brush on my face and I, for the millionth time, had to look away to keep myself from an awkward situation. “Oh! And I think it just vapourised! May I go in?” Sherlock had brushed off. Andersons face grew red, furiously redder than any stressed man I'd ever seen. “ You listen to me, okay. Whatever you’re trying to imply-”

I cut him off, a gentle condescending tone to my voice. “He's not implying anything.” I glance at Sherlock and clear my throat awkwardly, seeing him watch me with a strange look in his eyes. Maybe I should shut up. “Sorry, you talk genius.” taking a second to watch me, he hesitantly looks back up to Anderson. “I’m not implying anything - I’m sure Sally just came round for a lovely little chat, and happened to stay over.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*୨⎯ "𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖍" ⎯୧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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