SOCIOPATH'S ROMANCE // Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Chapter 14 - The Great Game part 2

"Y/n..." sighed Greg as he saw Y/n saunter in with the other two Baker Street boys, "You're supposed to be taking a break, not running around with Sherlock." 

"This is my break." she answered gleefully, like a child eagerly awaiting to tear open a present. Lestrade sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose; he knew quite well that Y/n was Y/n and the only person more stubborn than her was either his son or the detective standing right beside her. 

"No Y/n." Lestrade argued back. 

"Well I'm already here aren't I? I'll just tell them I needed something from the office or that you called for me to discuss how I was feeling."

 Greg muttered something but let them enter Scotland Yard, as long as Y/n promised not to draw attention to herself. The four of them strode through the office floors on their way to Lestrade's as he started explaining a little. "You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones."

"Obviously." Sherlock answered. It was the only things that interested him. The plain, common and relatively easy ones were quite simply boring. But when there was a puzzle, something else, a loose thread, his favorite thing was to pull on it. 

"You'll love this." Greg stated. 

 "That explosion... Gas leak, yes?"

 "No." 

His brows knotted in incomprehension, "No?" 

"No. Made to look like one."

 "What?" 

They entered Lestrade's office and closed the glass door carefully after themselves. Lestrade settled down on his revolving chair and took a large gulp of his cappucino before addressing the issue at hand. "Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box – a very strong box – and inside it was this." he said, gesturing to the white envelope on his desk, slightly curved which revealed its potential contents. 

"You haven't opened it?" Sherlock asked, quirking his eyebrow. 

"It's addressed to you, isn't it?" answered Lestarade, adding"We've X-rayed it. It's not booby-trapped." 

"How reassuring." Sherlock states monotously, not even needing whatever kind of reassurance Lestrade tried to provide him with. Most of the police force were incompetent, and he was Sherlock Holmes for crying out loud. He didn't need reassurance. He carefully picked up the envelope and raised it to the sharp light of a lamp to examine it. On the front of it is written in a neat and gracious blue handwriting 'Sherlock Holmes'. 

"I'd say Bohemian." Y/n quipped up, studying the envelope near the detective. 

Agreeing, Sherlock hummed. 

 "What?" John exclaimed. Once more, he felt like the odd one out between these two.

"From the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?"

"No." Lestrade answered before taking another large swig of his drink. 

 "She used a fountain pen. A Parker Duofold – iridium nib." Sherlock informed the people present in the room, moving around the envelope to catch it under every possible angle. 

John was baffled," 'She' ?" He didn't understand their methods but if they worked, hey, better for the rest of them. How could he possibly tell their gender just from their handwriting? Did Sherlock write an article on it that he still hadn't informed him of yet? 

"Obviously." 

Sherlock picked up a letter opener from Lestrade's desk and gently slit the envelope open. He peered inside with caution and his mouth opened a little in surprise as he reached in and extracted a pink phone.