Feeling So Attacked - Sherlock x Reader

Stakeouts were always terrible when you worked for Lestrade. Donovan would often bore you to death with how much she hated Sherlock Holmes and if you were accompanied with Donovan and Anderson – it would be a nightmare!

Stakeouts with John and Sherlock, on the other hand, were the complete opposite. Always fun and dangerous. Tonight you were joined with Sherlock since John was busy at work with Sarah. The two of you were waiting for your prime suspect, Edward Sanchez, the local mailman, to make his last delivery at a restaurant.

5 men had been found dead in their homes with no apparent connection. Edward Sanchez had stopped delivering the post belonging to the men a week before the police were told that the men were killed – thus making him a suspect.

The owners of the restaurant, that the stakeout was happening at, had been informed by Edward that they had no post for the past 5 days. The possibility of danger was imminent and Sherlock had wanted John to join (even though you were more than capable to handle the task) but the doctor had sent a text saying:

Out late. Can’t make it for stakeout. Good luck.

You and Sherlock had a late dinner, as you were complaining about not having eaten since breakfast, before occupying a minor place on the footpath ready to follow Mr. Sanchez when he turned up.

Fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes. Half an hour had passed without the intended suspect showing. Sherlock was about to give up on the lead until he noticed the uniform of the courier walking on the opposite street.

“(Y/n)?” Sherlock said as he tugged at the hem of your coat, pulling you over to his side, “Can I kiss you?”

You didn’t mean to look so offended but you were quite shocked at the sudden request.

“What?” you asked in return with little attempt to hide your surprise. Sherlock turned to look at you,

“I can’t let his man recognise me, or you, for that matter, so I need a distraction to cover our faces. At this time of night with the number of people passing by, public affection is the only thing that won’t arouse suspicion. So can I kiss you?” he replied.

“I came out to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.” You sighed.

“What?” Sherlock wondered, not understanding what you were referencing.

“Listen, I’m here tonight because you needed my help on this case, not so you could use in an effort to not be caught.” You scolded.

“This is helping.” Sherlock reinforced and you squinted at him,

“Kissing you isn’t - in any way - helping. If I am going to be kissed that it has to be an act of love not as a front. So, Sherlock, you can’t kiss me.” You said firmly.

Quite suddenly, Sherlock put a warm hand on your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss. You were taken by surprise and a part of you was furious at Sherlock for not heeding your words. But that side of your brain was overruled by the romantic feelings that you harboured for the detective.

A minute later, Sherlock took a small step back and you heard the restaurant door open and close – no doubt Mr. Sanchez had arrived to tell the owners that they had no mail for the past week. Shaking the case out of your head, You looked up at Sherlock and frowned,

“I thought I said--”

“You wanted it to be an act of love and it was.” Sherlock whispered, “If this doesn’t go the way I planned, I don’t want you to be caught up in the middle of it.” He was obviously referring to the last stakeout you had been on and the concern made you blush,

“How well is your plan going so far?” you asked.

“Perfectly.” Sherlock replied as he turned your coat collar up against the wind.


(TIME SKIP to 221B Baker Street)

“You’re back.” John greeted with a smile, “The kettle’s just boiled, do you want some tea?” he offered. You shook your head and rubbed your cold hands together,

“No, thank you.” You declined kindly and retreated to your room without further conversation. John stared at the closed door blankly and then turned to Sherlock,

“Don’t you think that’s a bit strange?” John wondered. The consulting detective was too busy scrolling down his phone to properly reply,

“Hm?” Sherlock hummed in response.

“(Y/n),” John continued, “She doesn’t usually go to bed without a cup of tea. Did something happen while you were out on the case?” he asked. Sherlock merely shrugged his shoulder,

“Nothing grand. We learnt that the men who died had owed a drug lord. Edward Sanchez murdered the men to pay off his own debt to the drug lord. Mastermind and puppet caught on the same night.”

“And (y/n)?”

“What about her?” Sherlock asked giving John a quick glance.

“I know something happened, Sherlock.” John stated, now glaring at his friend. There was a relatively long pause between the two before Sherlock spoke up again.

“I think I stole her first kiss.” He said rather quickly, like pulling off a bandage so the sting of the action would be brief.

“You what?” John almost shouted. Sherlock put his phone down and looked at John with big blue eyes,

“What was I supposed to do?” he asked innocently, “Keep talking and blow our cover?”

“Anything that would avoid a meaningless kiss.” John answered with a scoff. Sherlock leaned back slightly and watched John curiously,

“Why does it matter if I kissed her?” Sherlock wondered. John chuckled at the man sitting opposite him,

“It matters because (y/n) was shot a few weeks ago. She was shot because you couldn’t bloody-well decide how to lure the sniper from his hiding place. I realised that day that (y/n) was part our family, Sherlock. She’s like a sister to me who keeps fighting for all things good and crazy and I won’t see her upset.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Sherlock muttered only to receive a strained sigh from John,

“She has always talked about who she wants her first kiss to be by; a man who loves her in return.” He said.

“I know that, John, but we would have lost our only lead. I had to for the sake of the case.” Sherlock defended. John wasn’t impressed in the slightest,

“So, if the need should arise, would you marry (y/n) for the sake of a case and ruin that for her too?” he asked. Sherlock frowned at John’s accusation,

“Why are you assuming that I felt nothing in return?” he replied. John moved forward in his seat and pointed his finger at Sherlock threateningly.

“You’ve thrown your emotions too far out at sea. I can prove this because, after (y/n) was shot that day, you didn’t show up once at the hospital to see her.” John told him, “Solving the case was more important to you.”

John stood up and walked into his room leaving Sherlock to ponder in thought. Sherlock would have been thinking about what John had been angry about but he couldn’t help but focus on one particular sentence from that night:

I came here to tell John about my feelings and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.