Sherlock One shots and Imagines

Knave of Hearts - Part 13 - Sherlock x Reader

Sherlock opened the door the lady's room. The fluttering of the curtains at that the open window, as he made his way inside, catching his attention. The younger Holmes making his way over to the window and looking out over the moonlit lawns beyond; his brows furrowing, as he was sure that he saw a brief movement in the bushes at the far end of the garden. The consulting detective slowly pulling the windows closed, before turning to look at the slumbering (Y/n).

It was an intriguing affair. The Knave had previously sent a playing card to Baker Street; seemingly an invitation to the little game that he was playing. An invitation to do what the police had not been able to do, and catch him if he could. Yet it was clear now that he was not facing just one opponent, but two. The Knave that had sent him.......or should that be, was told to send him the card; and the Knave that had killed Caine. Sherlock believing that if the man that Lady (Y/n) had seen in the village was the man that had held her for ransom, then the man that had pretended to be the conductor on the train; the man that had taken her in the first place. The man that (Y/n) had described herself, as being a tall, rather stiff, formal looking, with a moustache and strawberry blonde, or pale auburn hair, was also somehow involved in this. This man having been the one that sent the playing card to his residence, presumably in order to draw him into just looking for a jewellery thief, while the mastermind behind all this, came to steal what he had been after all along. It just unfortunate for him, that Sherlock had chosen Royston Hall and the jewel that Lord Royston was to present his daughter, instead of the other, glaringly obvious targets that suggested they would be the next of the Knave's list. The younger Holmes now believing that all the robberies had just been a way of distracting the police; of trying to distract him. But it hadn't worked.

Silently, he made his way a little closer to the bed; quietly watching as he looked over the lady's peaceful form. It was a strange thing, normally he was so in control of his emotions. Sentiment, feelings, love, lust were all things that other people were burdened with. People that could not raise themselves above such primal urges and chemical imbalances. Yet, as he stood there, he was sure that he himself could feel something. That his heart was beating a little quicker than in usually would, in his breast. Sherlock finding that he could not blame the Knave for wanting this.......this sleeping beauty. That under other circumstances, he himself would perhaps do something drastic to have her. That he might even happily watch London burn, if it meant that she would smile at him. The consulting detective shaking the thoughts from his mind, before straightening out his jacket, and placing his hand on the sleeping maid's shoulder.

"I.........oh, I.......I am sorry, sir. I didn't mean to..............." Lucy spluttered, as the sudden shake of her shoulder roused her abruptly from her slumber. The maid quickly getting to her feet and curtsying as best she could in her drowsy state.

"You may go..............." Sherlock stated, as he looked down at her. Moving around her before taking the seat that she had previously occupied.

"But Lord Royston............."

"I will be watching the lady for the rest of the night. You can go. I am sure that her ladyship will have need of you when she wakes............" Sherlock continued, before pulling a little notebook out of his pocket and pushing the bloodied Knave card inside. Placing it back in his pocket before closing his eyes. It obvious, even to the maid, that there was no point in arguing with the rather unusual man. Lucy merely curtsying again, before making her way to the door.

As the sound of the door closing met Sherlock's ears, he opened his eyes. The detective standing and leaning over (Y/n). He had not wanted to do anything while the maid was in the room, but now he could look at her properly. Now he could work. Sherlock taking some of the lady's hair between his fingers and rubbing it, before bringing his fingers to his nose.

"Just as I thought..............." He muttered quietly, as he pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the sticky sap from his fingers.

"You have been here, haven't you.........? You were the movement that I saw in the bushes. That was why the window was open, you had climbed the ivy on the wall as we were distracted with the body of Caine. You closed the window when you came in, as to not arouse any suspicion; but with your escape, it proved to not be as easy. Probably hoping that the sleeping maid would think that some point in the night, she had opened them and just couldn't recall. You touched her while she and the maid slept, the sticky sap from the ivy is on her hair. You couldn't resist, could you? You had to get close to her, didn't you? Seeing her in the village was not enough for you; you had to touch her.................." Sherlock continued to his absent foe, as he sat and slowly reached for (Y/n)'s hand, taking it in his.

"Well, that will be the last time that you do. This time the Knave will not be able to claim his prize. I promise you that she will not be going anywhere with you................" He added, before he slowly closed his eyes again and drifted off into his thoughts.