Wholock x Reader - Part 11

The idea of living in the same apartment as your work partner hadn't bothered you at first. It really hadn't. He was your good friend, after all, and having him stay with you was necessary for his safety... But after a two whole weeks, his unrequited love towards you had just about driven you mad.

Having James around also meant that Sherlock was in a huff half of the time, and making smart-arse remarks for the other half (Although that was barely a change from his normal behaviour). 

The Doctor, being the "everybody's important" sort of person, had tried engaging in conversation with James many times, but he was a shy man and barely responded, save for a few stuttered mumbles. 

James wasn't allowed to leave the apartment, in fear that the murderer would kill him with any chance they could get. He wasn't even allowed out for work. And nor were you. Sherlock had explained the situation to Lestrade, and told him that it was easier and safer to have you by his side.

Even more annoyingly for you, you were the only person that James really knew, and therefore, were followed around like a lost puppy. There had been no further murders and no attempts on James's life so far, though. And that was what counted. As long as he was safe, you could put up with the awkwardness of having him around... Even if it was difficult. 

You were enjoying a nice walk home from the supermarket, finally feeling like you had some space and privacy. Spending weeks with only males for company (and some quite annoyingly eccentric males at that), meant that your walks to and from the shops were almost like holidays. As you were walking up the stairs from the Underground, you accidentally collided with somebody. Your bags of food fell from your hands and landed on the pavement.

"Sorry," the girl you had bumped into apologised.

"No, no, it was my fault," you said, bending down to pick up your things. The girl also bent over and helped you to collect everything up into the bags again. "Thank you," you said, smiling at her. She smiled back and then walked off, down into the station. That was the sort of thing you came out looking for; any human interaction that didn't involve interrogation, experimentation, documentation, killing, chasing or running. Although bumping into people probably wasn't the best, it did mean that you actually spoke with somebody.

As soon as the black door of 221B came into your sight, you sighed. Back to endless complaints and no privacy, you thought to yourself.

"Let me carry those for you," James said just as you arrived at the apartment. He was waiting at the door for you. You had to admit it was nice of him, but it wasn't as if you weren't capable of carrying a few items up some stairs.

"Thanks, James, but I think I can manage," you said to him, and continued on your way up the stairs. James finally gave you some peace, and scuttled off to where he was staying in 221C.

"Ah, (Y/n)," Sherlock said as you entered the living room. He was in his armchair as per usual, sitting with perfect posture. "Would you pass me that book?"

"Yeah, sure," you said putting the groceries on the cluttered table top, and handing Sherlock his book. 

"You know, Sherlock," John said from the kitchen, "You could've asked me to pass it to you. I have been here for the past half hour."

"Well, I didn't need it until now," Sherlock said in a childish tone.

"'Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets'?" You asked him, reading the title of his book.

"What about it?" He questioned.

"It's just not something I thought you would spend your spare time reading," you said.

"I'm not," he said monotonously.

"Not what?" John asked.

"Reading it," Sherlock stated.

"What are you doing then?" John queried.

"Thinking," he stated in a matter-of-fact way. He opened the book, and pulled out of it a folded sheet of paper. 

He unfolded it, revealing to you that it was a sheet of neatly drawn out music. Sherlock stood and plucked his violin from where it was leant up against his chair. He placed the sheet of music onto his stand and began to play. The tune was sweet and gradually grew more intense. Sherlock stopped several times to correct a mistake on his sheet, or to add some notes.

John and you shared a concerned look, then made your way into the kitchen. John helped you unpack some of the shopping, then whispered to you, "He's composing."

"I know," you said worriedly, "I think he's getting restless. The Doctor too. All he does is sit in the TARDIS all day." To be honest, you were growing restless also. You really did like peaceful, quiet moments where you could take breaks from all the action in your life... and yet, it was so boring hanging around the flat with no puzzles to solve or adventures to have.

"You're right," John said, nodding, "We should find a case for them."

As you were putting the last of the things into cupboards, John took out his mobile (and after checking that Sherlock wasn't listening in), read you some interesting sounding cases.

"'My Dog can speak German'?" John suggested. You shook your head.

"Boring," you scoffed, looking over at his phone and reading it, "Notice how they've written 'Dog' with a capital "D"? 'Dog': It's a new translator device that was just invented, but hasn't been made public yet. Somebody's just trying to waste our time."

"How did you know that?" John asked.

"I read a police file on it by accident," you shrugged.

"What about this one?" he asked quietly, holding his phone out to you. You read over it and smiled. Funnily enough, it didn't sound like a client asking for help. More like a suggestion for a puzzle to solve...

"It's alright," you said. "It might get him out of the house... If we're lucky." John smiled back and the both of you walked into the living room. Sherlock continued to play his violin. You went over to the sofa and plopped onto it with a huge sigh. 

"So, John," you said, loudly enough for Sherlock to hear, "I saw some police cars on the way home," you lied. "Outside a tyre shop. It wasn't my division, so not homicide. But according to some civilians, there was a break in."

"A break in?" John gasped, pretending to be surprised. You noticed Sherlock's eyes drift over to you and John, even if only slightly. 

"Yes, a break in," you went on, "But not a break in. All the doors and windows were locked."

"What was stolen?" John asked, even more melodramatically.

"A couple of--"

"Please spare me your awful acting," Sherlock said. He had suddenly stopped playing, but still held the violin up in position, "I know what you are trying to do, so there's no point in attempting to be subtle."

"So you'll take the case?" asked John. He raised his eyebrows at Sherlock, and bit his lip hopefully.

"Please, Sherlock, I want to get out of the house!" You blurted out. But before you had actually finished your sentence, Sherlock had already put his violin down and walked onto the landing. You and John followed him out of the door and down the stairs. 

"After you," he said holding the front door open. You smirked as you exited the building. Your plan to get him out had worked.

"I'll fetch the Doctor," you told Sherlock and John. You ran off down the street and around the corner, getting out your TARDIS key and jumping straight in. The Doctor was sitting at his console, re-assembling his sonic screwdriver. He looked bored out of his mind. 

"We're going to go look at a crime scene, by the way," you said to him, making him look around and see you, "...If you cared to come along..."

"Crime scene?" He repeated, taking his glasses off of his head. He took a quick breath and hopped right onto his feet. He wore a look of concern and determination... with a hint of excitement... "What's wrong, (Y/n)? Has someone else been killed?"

"No-one's been killed," you laughed. He was clearly trying to hide it, but the Doctor did look disappointed. "There was a break in, though..." The Time-Lord's face lit up immediately. He ran at you, plucking his coat off one of the pillars, then grabbing your hand and hauling you out onto the street.

You jogged around the corner together excitedly (perhaps even too excitedly), catching up with Sherlock and John who were already sitting and waiting in a cab for you. 

~~~~

The shop that had been broken into was only six or so minutes away from 221B. Although you had expected to see plenty of curious people outside, there were only a few scattered police officers.

Police tape hung in a four metre radius around the front of the tyre shop. As you were about to slip under it, an officer put his hand up to stop you. 

"Excuse me, ma'am, but no civilians beyond this point," he said to you. You sighed. You had forgotten you weren't wearing your uniform.

"I am not a civilian," you grumbled, showing him the badge that you always kept on you.

"My apologies," he said, raising the tape and letting you under, "But what about this lot?" He asked, pointing to John, Sherlock and the Doctor. You opened you mouth, ready to make up some excuses as to why they were here and who they were.

"Officer (Y/n)," a voice said, surprising you. A red-headed woman was approaching the tape.

"Lisa," you smiled. "Sergeant Hayes," you quickly added, correcting yourself. Sergeant Lisa Hayes. She had been a friend of yours all through your police training. That was of course until you moved off to the homicide division. It had been months since you saw her last!

"May I ask what you're doing here?" she questioned, smiling at you.

"Here to investigate," you told her, shrugging.

"But I thought you were on the homicide team..."

"Yeah, I am," you blurted.

"So then why are you...?" she began to ask.

At that moment, Sherlock cleared his throat. Lisa looked up and her expression changed completely. It went from happy and slightly confused, to something that almost looked like excitement.

"Sergeant," he said. "You might have seen me around before. I'm Sherlock Holmes."

"S-Sherlock Holmes?" she stammered. "Please, come inside," she said with a huge grin as she lifted the police tape and let all three men under. 

On the way to the shop door, Lisa said to Sherlock, "I have a friend who talks about you a lot." Sherlock seemed to ignore her, but you were interested and asked her who her friend was. "Molly Hooper's her name," she beamed at Sherlock, "She always tells me how amazing you are."

"While I'm flattered, could we please get onto a subject of relevance?" Sherlock groaned.

"Right, yes, of course," Lisa blushed. She opened the glass door of the store for you all as you entered the building.

"Where's Lestrade?" Sherlock questioned as you walked through the place.

"Do you mean Detective Inspector Lestrade?" Sergeant Hayes asked.

"Yes, George Lestrade," he nodded. 

"It's Greg..." John muttered.

"Greg, George, same thing," Sherlock said, shaking his head. 

"Lestrade is busy at the moment," the sergeant said, "Plus, this is a break in and burglary, not a murder. It isn't his division." You all stopped beside a row of shelves. Half of it was empty, and was clearly where the stolen items used to be.

"What was stolen?" The Doctor asked, bending down to the level of the shelves.

"Antifreeze," Lisa said as the rest of you bent down, "As in car antifreeze. Five whole containers of it."

"Who would want five containers of antifreeze?" John asked.

"Someone who likes cars, maybe?" Sergeant Hayes suggested with a laugh.

"We're in a tyre store," Sherlock rolled his eyes. He ran his hand across the empty shelf. "If a car fanatic did steal the antifreeze, they would surely steal plenty of other car resources as well."

"Is there anything on the CCTV cameras?" You asked, interrupting Sherlock.

"It's weird," the sergeant said, "I'll show you." She lead you into a small office at the back, where a computer was playing CCTV recordings. It was quite a squeeze trying to get five people into the one space, but you just managed.

"The recording skips," Lisa said pointing to the time in the bottom corner of the screen, "Right there, see?"

"You're right," The Doctor commented, pulling his glasses out and putting them on, "Strange." The video showed different corners of the shop. The one you were focusing on in particular was the one with a man leaving through the front door, and knocking over a stack of magazines on the way out.

"Who's that?" John queried.

"The shop owner," the sergeant answered.

"So the shop owner leaves at nine o'clock last night and locks the door behind him..." John said.

"Then the time on the video jumps from 9:01:56 to 9:06:45," the Doctor added.

"Someone's tampered with the recording," you stated, "They were in and out of the shop in five minutes."

"Even though we don't see the burglar coming or going, the windows and doors were bolted and locked from the inside, and nothing was smashed... How did they get in and out without setting off an alarm?" John asked.

"Exactly," the Doctor said, tilting his chin up and surveying the room. "Unless..."

"Unless what?" The sergeant asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Unless they didn't need to break in or out. Because they already had full access to the premises," the Doctor continued, making Sherlock smirk.

"The shop owner?" You suggested.

"No, did you see him? Far too clumsy to perform a crime this well planned out," Sherlock said. "They've gone to the effort of erasing all video evidence. A man like the owner would do no such thing."

"You've never even met the man," Lisa said in awe, "Amazing how you know so much about him already."

"Plus, why would a shop owner steal from his own shop?" Sherlock added, brushing her comment off. There was a brief silence as Sherlock strutted from the office and you followed after him.

That was until John asked, "So who could have--?"

"Good question," the Doctor said, nodding at him. "Who else works here?"

"It's just a small business," Lisa informed you, "A young girl and boy, as well as the owner and his son."

You nodded. Soon enough you were back outside by the tape again. You thanked Lisa for everything and told her that you would get back in touch about the burglary. She waved goodbye to you and smiled as you all headed off in yet another taxicab.

~~~~

Dark clouds had gathered over the London sky by the time you were on Baker Street. You were sure it was going to rain. For some reason, an ominous feeling hung over you. It was when you spotted Mrs. Hudson by the front door of 221B that your stomach turn sickeningly. She was pale and shaky, and had desperation in her eyes. Something was definitely going on.

John threw money at the driver and you all left the car as quickly as possible.

"Mrs. Hudson, what's wrong?" The Doctor asked gently, putting his hands on the woman's shoulders. 

"It's that lovely James boy," she said, "You four were out and he seemed lonely... so I invited him in for a cup of tea."

"What's happened?" John asked worriedly. Mrs. Hudson pointed to the open door of her flat. You all ran into the place, finding James lying still on her floor.

"He was sipping away peacefully just seconds ago. Then he suddenly had some sort of spasm and collapsed," she told you, clutching her chest. 

Both the Doctor and Dr Watson worried over James's unmoving body, checking his breathing and heart rate. The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and used it to scan him over.

James was pale and sickly-looking, similar to Mrs. Hudson's distressed face.

"Oh, my God," John said as he examined your friend. He looked up at you with concerned eyes. You gulped, not knowing what the army doctor would tell you next... "He's been poisoned."