Observers- BBC Sherlock x Reader Chpt. 43

They began to argue loudly- well… it was more Sherlock trying to get a word in as John shouted abuse at him- and after the initial shock wore off you moved to try and put an end to it. You were met with little success, tugging at your brother’s arm only to have him shake you off before your own temper flared and you demanded, “I’m an adult, John. I can make my own decisions.”

He spun to bellow at you, “Obviously not. The last decision you made landed you with a man who almost killed you and now this… this… arrogant arsehole who doesn’t even believe he has a heart. I would say your judgment is not to be trusted.”

You gaped at him for a second and then yelled back, “My mistakes are my own and I deal with them as such. After what I’ve been through, do you honestly think I would have let whatever this is continue if I hadn’t thought it through? If I didn’t trust him? You can’t just start making decisions for me because I messed up in the past. It’s my life!”

Sherlock began to add to what you’d said but John cut him off to start in on him again and then it was all three of you yelling at each other with you waving your hands angrily and John starting to pace. This was getting all of you absolutely nowhere and in a moment of clarity you decided it had to end. Trying to reign in your temper before things got out of hand, you took a few deep breaths while John continued to yell at Sherlock, and then moved to stand between them.

There was no possible way you could have had worse timing as just as you did so John spun to grab the front of Sherlock’s shirt, not knowing you were there since his back had been turned, and his hand smashed roughly into your cheek. He went wide-eyed when he realized what had happened, floundering like a fish as your eyes filled with tears and your fingers came up to press at your rapidly reddening cheek, “Oh God- Squeak, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-“

He stopped short when you shied away as he reached for you, unable to hide the look of fear that crossed your face as memories triggered by the pain flooded your mind. If looks could kill Sherlock’s would have done so ten times over as he shoved John away from you and then tucked you protectively to his chest, spinning so his back was to John as his hands rubbed awkwardly down your back.  You shook slightly as he tried his best soothe you, “It’s alright (F/n). No one is going to hurt you. John didn’t mean for that to happen… I promise you’re safe.”

You buried you nose in his chest and took a few deep breaths to calm yourself and keep for crying before pulling away slightly to look up at his frown, his fingers coming up to gently graze the red mark on your cheek, this was the second time you’d gotten hurt because of him in less than a day. As if reading his mind, you brought a hand up to take his in yours, squeezing it tightly as you murmured, “It’s ok, Sherlock. It’s not your fault.”

John watched the two of you closely, surprised by Sherlock’s behavior, even if it was awkward and slightly hesitant, and once you’d let go of Sherlock’s hand, you spun to throw your arms around his neck, whispering, “I know you didn’t mean it Johnny. I just needed a minute.”

He hugged you back tightly, wishing so strongly that he could just turn back time to stop it from happening, to erase your look of fear directed at him from his mind, “I’m so sorry (F/n)- for everything. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

You wove your fingers through his hair comfortingly as you shushed him, “I know John. I know.”

He pulled away to look at your cheek worriedly and you knew he wasn’t going to let it go that easily, sighing before trying to bring him back to the topic at hand, “Can we please talk like civilized human beings? Yelling isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

“Agreed,” Sherlock hummed from behind you and John shot him a glare before looking back at you with pursed lips, “Is this really what you want (F/n)?”

You let out an exasperated huff, reaching forward to straighten the front of his hair, “I don’t know Johnny... I’m still trying to figure things out myself.”

His face fell into a dissatisfied and slightly angry pout as he grumbled, “Fine… I don’t approve but I guess I can tolerate it- as long as he treats you right.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, you patted his cheek, “That’s all I could ever ask of my big brother.”

He shot another glare at Sherlock, “If he doesn’t I reserve the right to punch his face in.”

“I can live with that,” you hummed before moving past him toward the kitchen, “I’m going to go finish my cereal now.”

John crossed him arms over his chest as he scrutinized Sherlock for a moment and then stuck a finger in his face to say, “Don’t you ever call my sister an experiment again,” before spinning to follow you into the kitchen.

Sherlock smirked, aside from the mishap with you, that had gone better than he’d thought it would. He made a mental note not to refer to his experiment as an experiment out loud for the sake of John’s continued happiness and then sank down in his chair to think while he let both of you calm down.

Waiting for the kettle, John quirked an eyebrow at you as you tugged your pants up further on your hips with a small frustrated growl before rinsing out your bowl, “Why don’t you get rid those trousers? They’re obviously too big.”

“They’re the only black trousers I have. I need them for work.”

“What happened to the ones from the pant suit Harry bought you for your gallery opening? They were black and fit you well.”

You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, avoiding his gaze, “These are them. I’ve lost a bit of weight in the past couple of years.”

He looked you over in surprise, you didn’t look unhealthy so he hadn’t really noticed that you were relatively thin and when he began to think of reasons why he grimaced. He tried to change the topic, seeing that you were now fidgeting with the things on the counter uncomfortably, “Your friend Annie seemed nice. It was kind of her to let you leave with us.”

You gave a small smile, “She’s always been that way. I’m lucky to have her as a friend, if she hadn’t saved my hide by giving me a job I wouldn’t be able to pay rent next month... I feel bad for skipping out on her after all that even if it was fun.”

He frowned at you, “What’s going on with you Squeak? You shouldn’t be struggling to pay rent. What happened to the money you got from selling your paintings? I know they fetch quite a bit… you can’t have spent it all.”

Chewing at your lip, you shook your head, “It’s gone, John. Can we please just leave it at that?”

Sherlock came in to see if he could finally get some tea at that exact moment, grabbing the kettle before John could kick him out again as he offered, “Her ex-boyfriend made her donate everything except for the savings account he didn’t know about. Being vague makes him assume the worst (F/n). It’s best if you just tell him.”

You went red, taking his mug from him to finish making his tea in an attempt to distract yourself from the situation, and John pursed his lips as a thought ran through his head, “When was the last time you bought groceries (F/n)?”

“Last week… I was supposed to go yesterday but as you know I was rather busy.”

Just as you handed Sherlock his tea, John grabbed your shoulders and steered you out to the door, “Go change. I’m taking you shopping.”

“You don’t have to-“

“Yes I do. I’m not going to have my little sister running around in trousers that barely stay on only to come home to an empty pantry. The clinic pays fairly well… besides I think some proper sibling bonding is long overdue.”

You opened your mouth to protest but he leveled you with that look from when you were kids that told you he’d made up his mind and he wasn’t going to change it, so you sighed and gave a small nod, “Fine- Just milk and a new pair of pants for work. Nothing more.”

John fully intended for there to be more but nodded anyways, shooing you out the door before going to get ready himself. He was still feeling guilty over hitting you, even if it was an accident, not to mention the fact he hadn’t noticed all the stuff that was going on in your life that he should have been concerned about. He was going to make it up to you somehow.

It turned out to be a pretty productive trip with Sherlock’s texts only interrupting thrice and John getting the answers to the many questions he had for you like your painting issues and what you and Mycroft talked about. He steered clear of the topic of Timothy, noticing that you’d start to look sad when you thought he wasn’t looking. He knew you’d have to deal with it eventually but for right now he was going to just let you be- when you wanted to talk about it you would. Other than that, every question he asked you answered without holding back, even if you got uncomfortable, sharing everything with him like you always did. Laughing with you and talking through both his problems and yours, John couldn’t help but think how much he’d missed that.They began to argue loudly- well… it was more Sherlock trying to get a word in as John shouted abuse at him- and after the initial shock wore off, you moved to try and put an end to it. You were met with little success, tugging at your brother’s arm only to have him shake you off before your own temper flared and you demanded, “I’m an adult, John. I can make my own decisions.”

He spun to bellow at you, “Obviously not. The last decision you made landed you with a man who almost killed you and now this… this… arrogant arsehole who doesn’t even believe he has a heart. I would say your judgment is not to be trusted.”

You gaped at him for a second and then yelled back, “My mistakes are my own and I deal with them as such. After what I’ve been through, do you honestly think I would have let whatever this is continue if I hadn’t thought it through? If I didn’t trust him? You can’t just start making decisions for me because I messed up in the past. It’s my life!”

Sherlock began to add to what you’d said but John cut him off to start in on him again and then it was all three of you yelling at each other with you waving your hands angrily and John starting to pace. This was getting all of you absolutely nowhere and, in a moment of clarity, you decided it had to end. Trying to reign in your temper before things got out of hand, you took a few deep breaths while John continued to yell at Sherlock and then moved to stand between them.

There was no possible way you could have had worse timing as just as you did so, John spun to grab the front of Sherlock’s shirt, not knowing you were there since his back had been turned, and his hand smashed roughly into your cheek. He went wide-eyed when he realized what had happened, floundering like a fish as your eyes filled with tears and your fingers came up to press at your stinging cheek, “Oh God- Squeak, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-“

He reached for you and stopped short when you shied away, unable to hide the look of fear that crossed your face as memories triggered by the pain flooded your mind. If looks could kill Sherlock’s would have done so ten times over as he shoved John away from you and then tucked you protectively to his chest, spinning so he was facing away from John as his hands rubbed awkwardly down your back. You shook slightly as he tried his best soothe you, “It’s alright, (F/n). No one is going to hurt you. John didn’t mean for that to happen… I promise you’re safe.”

You buried your nose in his chest and took a few deep breaths to calm yourself and keep for crying before pulling away slightly to look up at his frown, his fingers coming up to gently graze the spot on your cheek- this was the second time you’d gotten hurt because of him in less than a day. As if reading his mind, you brought a hand up to take his in yours, squeezing it tightly as you murmured, “It’s ok, Sherlock. It’s not your fault.”

John watched the two of you closely, surprised by Sherlock’s behavior, even if it was awkward and slightly hesitant, and once you’d let go of Sherlock’s hand, you spun to throw your arms around his neck, whispering, “I know you didn’t mean it, Johnny. I just needed a minute.”

He hugged you back tightly, wishing so strongly that he could just turn back time to stop it from happening, to erase your look of fear directed at him from his mind, “I’m so sorry, (F/n)- for everything. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

You wove your fingers through his hair comfortingly as you shushed him, “I know, John. I know.”

He pulled away to look at your cheek and you knew he wasn’t going to let it go that easily, sighing before trying to bring him back to the topic at hand, “Can we please talk like civilized human beings? Yelling isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

“Agreed,” Sherlock hummed from behind you and John shot him a glare before looking back at you with pursed lips, “Is this really what you want, (F/n)?”

You let out an exasperated huff, reaching forward to straighten the front of his hair, “I don’t know, Johnny… I’m still trying to figure things out myself.”

His face fell into a dissatisfied and slightly angry pout as he grumbled, “Fine… I don’t approve but I guess I can tolerate it- as long as he treats you right.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, you patted his cheek, “That’s all I could ever ask of my big brother.”

He shot another glare at Sherlock, “If he doesn’t I reserve the right to punch his face in.”

“I can live with that,” you hummed before moving past him toward the kitchen, “I’m going to go finish my cereal now.”

John crossed his arms over his chest as he scrutinized Sherlock for a moment and then stuck a finger in his face to say, “Don’t you ever call my sister an experiment again,” before spinning to follow you into the kitchen.

Sherlock smirked, aside from the mishap with you, that had gone better than he’d thought it would. He made a mental note not to refer to his experiment as an experiment out loud for the sake of John’s continued happiness and then sank down in his chair to think while he let both of you calm down.

Waiting for the kettle, John quirked an eyebrow at you as you tugged your pants up further on your hips with a small frustrated growl before rinsing out your bowl, “Why don’t you get rid those trousers? They’re obviously too big.”

“They’re the only black trousers I have. I need them for work.”

“What happened to the ones from the pantsuit Harry bought you for your gallery opening? They were black and fit you well.”

You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, avoiding his gaze, “These are them. I’ve lost a bit of weight in the past couple of years.”

He looked you over in surprise, you didn’t look unhealthy so he hadn’t really noticed that you were clearly thinner than usual and when he began to think of reasons why he grimaced. He tried to change the topic, seeing that you were now fidgeting with the things on the counter uncomfortably, “Your friend Annie seemed nice. It was kind of her to let you leave with us.”

You gave a small smile, “She’s always been that way. I’m lucky to have her as a friend, if she hadn’t saved my hide by giving me a job I wouldn’t be able to pay rent next month… I feel bad for skipping out on her after all that even if it was fun.”

He frowned at you, “What’s going on with you, Squeak? You shouldn’t be struggling to pay rent. What happened to the money you got from selling your paintings? I know they fetch quite a bit… you can’t have spent it all.”

Chewing at your lip, you shook your head, “It’s gone, John. Can we please just leave it at that?”

Sherlock came in to see if he could finally get some tea at that exact moment, grabbing the kettle before John could kick him out again as he offered, “Her ex made her donate everything except for the savings account he didn’t know about, likely because it was under another name. Being vague makes him assume the worst, (F/n). It’s best if you just tell him.”

You went red, taking his mug from him to finish making his tea in an attempt to distract yourself from the situation, and John pursed his lips as a thought ran through his head, “When was the last time you bought groceries, (F/n)?”

“Last week… I was supposed to go yesterday but as you know, I was rather busy.”

Just as you handed Sherlock his tea, John grabbed your shoulders and steered you out to the door, “Go change. I’m taking you shopping.”

“You don’t have to-“

“Yes, I do. I’m not going to have my little sister running around in trousers that barely stay on only to come home to an empty pantry. The clinic pays fairly well… besides, I think some proper sibling bonding is long overdue.”

You opened your mouth to protest but he leveled you with that look from when you were kids that told you he’d made up his mind and he wasn’t going to change it, so you sighed and gave a small nod, “Fine- Just milk and a new pair of pants for work. Nothing more.”

John fully intended for there to be more but nodded anyway, shooing you out the door before going to get ready himself. He was still feeling guilty over hitting you, even if it was an accident, not to mention the fact he hadn’t noticed all the stuff that was going on in your life that he should have been concerned about. He was going to make it up to you somehow.

It turned out to be a pretty productive trip with Sherlock’s texts only interrupting thrice and John getting the answers to the many questions he had for you like your painting issues and what you and Mycroft talked about. He steered clear of the topic of Timothy, noticing that you’d start to look sad when you thought he wasn’t looking. He knew you’d have to deal with it eventually but for right now he was going to just let you be- when you wanted to talk about it you would. Other than that, every question he asked you answered without holding back, even if you got uncomfortable, sharing everything with him like you always did. Laughing with you and talking through both his problems and yours, John couldn’t help but think how much he’d missed that.