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She Is A Little Crazy Sherlock x Reader
by Caligo-Loki-Love, Sep 11, 2013, 8:58:40 AM
Literature / Fan Fiction / Drama
“It's different this time. You know it.”
Sherlock was quiet, eyes skimming quickly over all the scattered pieces.
“It's because it's her.”
Still silence.
“You need a break. When was the last time you ate? Slept? You've barely moved from that spot for the last ten hours!”
His eyes snapped up toward the man. They were void of emotion. “If I even waste a second, she will die, John. Do you want that?”
John's face fell before he dropped into his chair and buried his face into his hands. You were gone. Taken away by Moriarty. In order to get you back, they needed to complete the puzzle. A literal puzzle. At each crime scene, there was a piece or two. Those were the hints. Once all the pieces were in Sherlock's possession, you would die. The goal? They had to figure out the picture before that. John had his suspicions that the actual picture would reveal where you were being kept, but Sherlock never answered.
Of course, none of the pieces really connected. Some edges, some just random pieces. None of it made sense to John, but Sherlock's hands were always at work. Rearranging and moving the pieces every few minutes to get a new view. As his hand began to reach for another shift, his phone buzzed.
Without a moments hesitation, he answered and the phone was connected to his ear. “Hello?”
“Sherlock?”
“(r/n)?” His brows furrowed, your voice shaky. This wasn't going to be a normal call, he already knew that. He also knew Moriarty was obviously hearing the exchange, watching your every move.
“Go ahead, darling. Tell your precious boyfriend how much you miss him.”
You wished with every fiber of your being you could kick him or smack him, but the bonds kept you still. Instead, you swallowed the lump that had formed, your (e/c) orbs looking down as you spoke into the device, “How's the puzzle going?”
“Fine,” he rolled his eyes, flicking one of the pieces in silent anger. John could only watch, eyes filled with concern and worry for the his friend. “How's the torture?”
There was a hint of smile playing on your lips, imagining the male in his robe. All the past happy memories of the three of you tolerating each others company. “Oh, you know, I was always one for things to get rough.. I like it hot and steamy..”
Moriarty flicked out his tongue, face disgusted. Before you could get a response from Sherlock, the consulting criminal snatched the phone back, holding it up to his ear. “Look, Mr Holmes, I must stress that these next few words are going to be very important. Your time is limited. Bye-bye!”
There were only so many pieces left. Even the genius was at a lost. The entire puzzle was black. Nothing. No shade. No faded image. His hands were tugging at his curls, a small pain in the pit of his stomach. He never lost. Losing was not an option.
Fingers twitching and pulling out of his hair, arms drooping to the floor as his stormy eyes glared a hole into the puzzle. The detective didn't even pay attention as John walked in with his tea, staring down at the sad sight.
After a few minutes of a thick hush, Sherlock hopped to his feet in excitement. The shorter male stuttered in response, taking a careful step back. “Sherlo-”
“THAT'S IT! Think about it, John. What was (r/n)'s favourite place to go?”
John stopped, lips pursing in thought before he answered, “That, uh, one place that no one really went to. Bad company, but it was always quiet there. She could think. She was often there with her parents, though it's no place for a kid. What was it called?”
“Sheridan's.”
“Right. And what does this have to do with anything?”
“Use your mind, John! It's the puzzle. Their symbol. Don't you see it. Look at where the missing pieces are. There's a very, very subtle red around it. And the shape left.. It has to be it. Let's go. Call Lestrade.”
It wasn't quiet long before they had arrived on scene. Sherlock was pacing, his mind muddled with different scenarios. Finally, his movement settled as he stared at the building before pulling out his phone. Before his fingers called the number, he turned to John, “Stay. Wait for Lestrade to show up.” Before the doctor could protest, the stubborn male was on the phone and heading inside.
He answered, “Oh hello~I see you found me. Bravo. Bravo. And now what? Do you expect me to just hand her back over?” Jim chuckled into the receiver.
“Oh no,” his voice was steady as he bounded his way through the winding halls, glancing in each room to find you. “I really expect a much bigger applause. Something like..explosions?”
“You know me too well, deary. I do love a good show. And apparently, so does your pretty little girlfriend.” You felt no need to correct him, keeping your recently bleeding lips shut.
Sherlock paused his steps, hearing the shuffling in the room. You were behind that door. “(r/n) was always the one t