Observers- BBC Sherlock x Reader Chpt. 52

Sherlock slipped through the door of the flat in a tiff, flopping over the arm of the couch and onto its cushions in the most severe sulk John had ever seen, causing the doctor to raise a brow as he stated, “From the look of it, it didn’t go as you planned.”

Sherlock just stared at the ceiling as John sighed and looked him over. His face was a mess- the side that you’d slapped him on was still a glowing red and the opposite side where Gabriel had punched him was already bruising around his cheekbone and blood trickled from a cut on his lip.

“Her date hit you?” John wondered flatly, having actually expected worse, and Sherlock rolled to face the back of the couch as he grumbled, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

John couldn’t help but give a small chuckle, shutting his laptop, “I’m going to bed. Try not to stay up too late with your jealous brooding.”

Sherlock harrumphed, pulling his knees up to his chest, and John just shook his head, after all the trouble Sherlock had caused for him it was kind of funny to see the consulting detective this way, even if his face probably needed to be patched up and put on ice. He briefly wondered how you were doing with your date after Sherlock’s unwelcome interruption and then reminded himself that not only were you an adult but you tended to bounce back from things like this rather quickly, slipping off to sleep.

It was nearly three in the morning when his slumber was disturbed by the sound of his phone ringing and he groggily groped for it to answer, “D’you have any bloody idea what time it is?”

There was a soft chuckle on the other end before your chipper voice rang out, “I’d say it’s about a quarter till three, Johnny. Sorry to wake you but I’m in a bit of a bind.”

He went rigid, his mind already conjuring up worst-case scenario situations, “What’s happened, (F/n)? Are you hurt?”

He swore for a moment he could feel you rolling your eyes through the phone as you huffed, “Aside from my aching feet, I’m just fine. I need you to come collect me.”

Relaxing a little, he shifted to sitting as he ran a hand through his hair and then over his face to try and get rid of the sleep, “D’you know where you are?”

You laughed lightly, “I’d be more than a tad embarrassed if I didn’t in this situation.”

John sighed in slight annoyance and pressed, “And that would be where?”

“Oh right. Sorry. The Yard.”

John frowned, in trouble again… why wasn’t he surprised, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Sherlock shot up from the couch when John stumbled down the stairs yawning as he pulled a knit jumper over his head, eyeing him for a moment before stating, “She’s gotten herself into some sort of trouble.”

John tugged on his jacket as he confirmed, “I have to get her from the Yard.”

“And her date?”

“She didn’t say.”

Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf, much to John’s surprise, and then chided your brother for lollygagging as he strode out the door.

By the time they arrived, you were chatting casually with a tired looking Lestrade and a couple of other people they didn’t recognize, your wrist handcuffed to the back of a chair next to the desk you where sitting on with two sets of cuffs. John to raised his eyebrow as it seemed a bit like overkill just as you spotted him and gave a little wave with your free hand, “Hey Johnny.”  

Your face fell drastically when you saw he’d brought along Sherlock and you turned away from them with a frown as Lestrade and happy looking PC approached the pair, “You here to bail her out?”

John nodded, “I suppose I am. What did she do?”

Lestrade cut in to huff in a slightly awed tone, “She broke into the Tower Bridge to sketch.”

Sherlock was staring at you intently as you looked up at the ceiling and nonchalantly swung your legs, clearly not willing to meet his gaze, so he demanded, “Was she alone?”

Lestrade looked up at him and startled, “Good God, Holmes. What happened to your face?”

“Just answer the question,” Sherlock snapped lowly and Lestrade shook his head, answering, “She was by herself as far as I can tell,” before looking over to John in hopes of garnering an answer. John gave a small smirk as he offered, “He interrupted (F/n)’s date.”

Lestrade took that as explanation enough and walked off when he was called, leaving Sherlock to cross his arms and let out a huff. The PC handed John some paperwork to fill out as she explained, “Charges won’t be pressed and the fine’s already been paid… Your sister must have friends in high places- not surprising though. She’s got a winning personality. I just need your signature that she’s been released to you on the orders of a… Mr. M. Holmes.”

“Mycroft,” Sherlock scowled and John just shrugged, signing the paper, “She could have been in a lot of trouble without his help, Sherlock. Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Sherlock slipped further into his pout and the PC offered the two of them a grin, “Let me just process this and then she’s all yours. You can talk to her while you wait if you’d like.”

John gave you that look that said you were in big trouble as he approached you but you just offered him a grin, “Hey Johnny. Lovely night isn’t it.”

“Don’t ‘Hey Johnny’ me, (F/n). The bloody Tower Bridge? What in heaven’s name were you thinking? What happened to your date?”

You shrugged indifferently, “I was curious what the Thames looked like from there at night. As for Gabe, I sent him home. We make better friends in the long run, too much of a flirt for me.”

John ran a hand down his face as he let out a tired sigh, “You can’t just do these things because you’re curious, (F/n). How did you even get caught? I know you’re more careful than that.”

You went a slight shade of pink and gave a little embarrassed laugh, “I wasn’t paying as close attention as I normally do… and it took me too long to get the lock open.”

“You were upset.” Sherlock stated decisively, noting again that he needed to teach you to pick locks properly, and you shot him a glare, “What did you expect after the stunt you pulled?”

Sherlock looked away to continue his pouting and you turned back to John, “Did you bring the sociopathic twat just to punish me?”

Your brother quickly shook his head, “He wanted to come.”

“Figures,” you grumbled. Had you looked at him, you would have caught the hint of distress and sadness Sherlock’s eyes before he snapped at John that he hadn’t wanted to come. They began to argue, John indirectly scolding you in the process, and you shifted to the other side of the desk with your back to them, fixing the strap of your dress and crossing your legs neatly to wait to be freed.

Your keen hearing picked up Lestrade’s reentrance with Donovan and Anderson in tow, babbling about whatever he’d been called away for. Terribly bored and sketchbook-less, you tuned in to Lestrade’s voice, “Unidentified male. Late twenties to early thirties. Dark hair, dyed, and green eyes. Lean build. Quite tall. Distinguishing features- a tattoo on his left rib cage of a balloon vendor with a top hat, another on his shou-“

You cut him off abruptly, “Did you say a balloon vendor? Is one of the balloons a purple balloon animal in the shape of a poodle?”

You’d slipped off the desk during his description, a deep-set frown on your face, and now everyone turned to stare at you as Lestrade gave you a surprised look, “Yes, actually… How did you know that?”

You shook your head, carefree attitude discarded as you set your jaw in denial, your thoughts racing, “I need to see the body… Would somebody please uncuff me from this bloody chair?”

The PC protested that the paperwork wasn’t done from across the room and you rolled your eyes in frustration, pulling a bobby pin from your hair, “I’ve had about enough of this.”

John understood now why you had two sets of cuffs when Lestrade let out a heavy but unsurprised sigh, watching you unlocked both with scary speed and then rub at your wrist as Sherlock demanded, “Where’s the body?”

Lestrade gave in, used to the complete confusion that came with Sherlock and his ‘associates,’ “Just arrived at St. Bart’s less than an hour ago. Molly should be doing the autopsy now.”

Grabbing John’s hand and your things from a nearby table, you stalked off without any further explanation and called a cab to take you to the morgue.