Another World | SherlockxReader Fanfic

Chapter Two: Being the Best Badass

A/N: Let's get straight to it, shall we?

Hope you enjoy!

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I took a deep breath, walked up to the door, knocked slowly three times, and prepared for the unexpected. I heard footsteps come towards the door and it was opened by none other than Una Stubbs. Wait, no. Mrs. Hudson. I really need to get my head in the show.

"Hello, dearie!" the landlady exclaimed cheerfully. "You must be here for Sherlock, am I right?"

"Yes," I answered simply. I was slightly tempted to call her by her name, but I knew if I did she'd call the cops on me or something.

"This way, then," she ushered me up the stairs warning me of Sherlock on the way up, but I already knew that he was clever, arrogant, cold, rude, and a million other things. I loved how in the show he could say almost anything without worrying if someone hated him. It was an admirable trait.

Mrs. Hudson opened the door when we got to the top and showed me in. The consulting detective himself was sitting on his chair in a trance. I looked around the flat, amazed. The museum was very different, of course. But that was mostly because they went for a Victorian look, not a modern one. Random clutter and papers scattered the floor and desk and I noted a knife and the skull on the mantle. The signature yellow smiley face with bullet holes decorated the wall. The entire room was a mess.

I loved every bit of it.

The curly haired man who sat in the chair didn't even notice that we had come in. He was in his Mind Palace figuring out some sort of puzzle, most likely. Mrs. Hudson cleared her throat. Sherlock didn't stir.

"For goodness sake, Sherlock," she said. Sherlock looked over at her and then at me. "You have a client."

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson. But I can see quite well that we have a guest, not a client," the clever man said quickly. The landlady looked at him strangely and then at me. She then turned very happy.

"You have a guest?" she said excitedly.

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said impatiently. I stayed as still as a churchmouse. "Now how about some tea for our guest?"

Mrs. Hudson nodded, muttered her signature line of not being a housekeeper, and left to make some tea. Sherlock motioned for me to sit on the couch and I did. It was comfier than it looked.

"You said you wanted to ask me some questions," I say, getting straight to the point.

"Yes," Sherlock said. "My name is-"

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes. but you go by Sherlock Holmes. You are a consulting detective who plays the violin when he needs to think and shoots the wall when you're bored. You're also a drug user, not an addict. You are the cleverest person in the world with the exception of your siblings, Moriarty, and Magnussen, that last of which are dead. You have one friend named John Watson," I said as quickly as Sherlock would if he were deducing someone.

Sherlock had a shocked expression on his face. He cleared his throat. "Um, well, yes. That's, um, right." He paused and scrunched his eyebrows together. "You knew all of that how, exactly?"

"Ask me the questions that you wanted to ask me when I first got here first, then I can answer that. Maybe." I was acting way cooler than I felt. I was a badass. No, I was a badass who just impressed Sherlock Holmes. That's ten times badass-ier.

"Alright," the consulting detective said slowly, finally composing himself somewhat. "When you woke up you asked what two Hollywood actors were doing in the place of your fall. Why did you ask that?"