#hidden-affection

Warnings: mild swearing, a tiny bit of angst A/N: Hey again, since I just hit 100+ Followers I wanted to let you know how grateful I am for all the appreciation of my work and all the support! Thank you so much for being a part of this, this series honestly means a lot to me! Enjoy, and look forward for the next chapters! :)) Masterlist  Chapter Two  Chapter Four An ominous encounter Your cab had barely pulled up in front of 221b as the four of you – who had surprisingly fit into the cab all at once – hurried out of the car following a serious-looking Sherlock to the front-door. At this point you were full-on confused, why were you back at the flat? Weren’t you trying to find this place from the picture? You searched John’s and Lestrade’s expressions, but they seemed to be just as clueless as you were. Sherlock unlocked the door, but instead of heading up the stairs he walked straight towards Mrs. Hudson’s flat. After calling out her name he turned towards the door next to the flat, that you strangely had never acknowledged before. In that moment you understood. Gulping, a bad feeling started to fill your guts. The letters “221c” that were stuck to the door indicated that this was another flat. Something in the picture had seemed familiar and now you knew what it was: The fireplace had reminded you of the one from 221b. You had a premonition, that you would find something in this apartment that you surely wouldn’t like. Your thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Hudson who had opened her door and handed Sherlock a set of keys seeing how the latter had been examining the heavy lock that hang on the door in front of him. “You had a look, didn’t you, Sherlock, when you first came to see about your flat.”, the landlady concluded. Sherlock was still examining the lock closely even though he had already unlocked it. “The door’s been opened recently.”, he deduced affirming your premonition. “No, can’t be. That’s the only key.” Sherlock removed the padlock before opening the door with another key. “I can’t get anyone interested in this flat. It’s the damp, I expect. That’s the curse of basements.”, Mrs Hudson explained to you and John. “I didn’t even know it existed!”, you replied frowning. The Consulting Detective opened the door and stepped into the flat. The three of you followed leaving Mrs Hudson at the entrance who seemingly didn’t notice how tense all of you were. “I had a place once when I was first married. Black mould all up the walls ...”, she rambled on before Lestrade closed the door excluding her from the scene. The four of you walked down the stairs to the entrance of the living room. At the sight a shiver ran down your spine: The room was identical to the one in the photograph. The only thing that had changed were a pair of ominous-looking white trainers sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. The wallpaper was flaking off and the windows were partially covered by some sort of drape which just added to the spooky atmosphere. “Shoes.”, John stated plainly making you roll your eyes. Sometimes John was one of these people who only saw what they wanted to and ignored anything else. If you had learned anything from Sherlock this far, it was to look beyond the obvious and John had been living with him for month! “He’s a bomber, remember.”, your brother redeemed himself as Sherlock stepped forward to study the shoes closer. Well, you were wrong, he had picked up a few things. Sherlock lowered himself carefully to the ground to get a closer look. Just in that moment a phone ringed, making Sherlock refrain from continuing his investigation. Taking his gloves off the tall man pulled the pink phone from inside of his coat and looked at the screen. Curiously you stepped closer to Sherlock, but it simply showed that the I.D. was blocked. Meeting your brother’s eyes he looked at you with a frown. Taking another step backwards, Sherlock held the phone up to his mouth, putting the phone on speaker. “Hello?”, Sherlock answered calmly. “H-hello ... sexy.”, a shaky female voice replied between sobs. You frowned, exchanging looks with the other two men, confused as to why the woman on the other side of the line was crying. “Who’s this?”, the dark-haired man inquired. “I’ve ... sent you ... a little puzzle ... just to say hi.”, she stated continuing to sob. “Who’s talking? Why are you crying?”, Sherlock continued to ask intensely. “I-I’m not crying ... I’m typing ... and this ... stupid bitch ... is reading it out.” Shit. So, this was indeed the bomber and he was simply using this woman, so he wouldn’t be identified. He was playing with Sherlock, it was all just a silly game to him. “The curtain rises.”, Sherlock mumbled cryptically making you look at him questioningly. “What?”, John chimed in apparently having understood as much as you did. “Nothing.” “No, what did you mean?” “I’ve been expecting this for some time.” “Twelve hours to solve ... my puzzle, Sherlock ... or I’m going to be ... so naughty.”, the female voice said shakily before the call was ended abruptly. Without another word Sherlock picked the shoes up already on his way to leave the flat. “Sherlock, where are we going now?, you asked with a sigh, seeing how Sherlock never explained anything. “We’re following the lead the bomber gave us. There are things that these shoes can tell us with further analysis, but we need the right equipment to do so.” As the three of you entered one of the labs of the St. Bartholomew hospital, Sherlock moved to the side to start examining the pair of shoes, that had been found at 221c. After you had left the flat, Sherlock, John and you had taken a cab leaving Lestrade behind to do his work. While John was wandering around absentmindedly, you took your time to look around the lab. It reminded you in big parts of the laboratories that you had worked in in the past, yet it was more cluttered which was an indication for the fact that sherlock was often working here. Despite the pressure you all were under, you broke into a tiny smile. Sherlock always left a mess around him wherever he went. Although it used to bug you when you met him, it was somewhat charming. He simply didn’t care what others thought of him and you admired that. A line of tables where positioned in the centre of the room, where a computer, a microscope and other lab utensils where placed upon. On the walls hung a few shelves with jars and bottles of chemical substances. At this point Sherlock had moved to the microscope, probably examining something he had found on the shoe. Instead of questioning Sherlock, you moved behind him to see what he was doing, knowing he didn’t want to be distracted. The computer was comparing pollen to determine which kind it was that sherlock had most likely found on the shoes. “Brilliant, if we know what kind of pollen you found on the shoes, we can determine the geographical area the owner of the shoes was from!”, you proclaimed. Sherlock looked up from his microscope for a moment, a smile on his face, seemingly glad to have someone else with him that esteemed his intellect. You turned away for a second to analyse the pair of shoes, as John started talking to Sherlock. The shoes were trainers, still in good shape, despite their age. Maybe from the 80s, or just retro? No, they had to be original, the soles were heavily used. The size meant, they had most likely been worn by a man or a woman with big feet. Then again, there were traces of felt tip on the inside of the shoes, no adult would write their name in their shoe. So, it was- Your train of thoughts was interrupted by the sound of a text alert that seemed to come out of Sherlock’s direction. You set the shoe down, just as Sherlock demanded to pass him his phone, in no general direction. “Where is it?”, you ask as John looks around the room. “Jacket.”, Sherlock simply replies without taking his eyes off the microscope. “Seriously, Sherlock?!”, you exclaim in disbelief. John looks just as angry as you but turns to you with a pleading look. “Ugh, alright!” You throw your hands up in frustration, but you get the phone anyway. “It’s from Mycroft, something about the Andrew West case?” You questioningly look from Sherlock to John. John sighs but takes the phone either way. “Delete it.”, Sherlock commanded. “Delete it?” “Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it.” Sherlock elaborated, seeming not the least bit interested. Oh, right, the case Mycroft wanted Sherlock to look into and that was of national importance. Obviously, Sherlock simply didn’t want to investigate it to piss his brother off. He was such a child sometimes. John would probably have to investigate on his own and you would gladly help him, seeing how you were already hooked on the rush investigating a case gave you. “Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He’s texted you eight times. Must be important.”, John tried persuading him. “Then why didn’t he cancel his dental appointment?” “His what?”, John asked after sighing. “Mycroft never texts if he can talk.”, Sherlock deduced. “Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this: Why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?” Sherlock turned back towards the microscope, probably not understanding the fragility of the situation, or – more likely – simply not caring. You pinched your nose in exasperation before turning towards Sherlock. “Sherlock, this is not one of our usual cases where the murder already happened. There is a women’s life at stake, try to remember that!” John turned the phone off and looked at you, slightly surprised by your outburst, yet seemingly thankful that you joined the conversation. “What for?”, the taller man retorted irritated. “This hospital’s full of people dying, Doctor. Why don’t you go and cry by their bedside and see what good it does them?”, the taller man replied exasperatedly. “Which doesn’t mean you shouldn’t at least try to save every single life you can.”, you replied defending your brother while crossing your arms. “Well, you wouldn’t care, Sherlock.”, John murmured under his breath, before turning away from the conversation. Sherlock looked back into the microscope, seemingly unmoved by John’s and your anger. Suddenly, the computer beeped, indicating a match had been found. In this moment, Molly Hooper burst into the room. You had met her before and the two of you had hit it off immediately. You had been spending quite some time together and you already considered her a good friend. “Any luck?”, she asked walking energetically towards Sherlock stopping next to you. You really liked this positive and lively part of her. It always lifted your mood just being around her. “Oh, yes!”, the curly-haired man expresses smirking triumphantly at her. “Oh, hi (Y/N)! I didn’t see you there!”, she shrieked happily before turning to you embracing you in a short hug. Of course, she didn’t, you thought, as soon as Sherlock is around, he is the centre of her attention. Molly was hopelessly in love with him, although she would deny it vehemently. It was so obvious and you noticed it almost immediately as soon as the two interacted with each other. Sherlock seemed to be oblivious to all her attempts of affection. Although you two were friends, you had felt an aura of jealousy surrounding her on various occasions, seeing how much time Sherlock and you spend around each other. You knew she was aching for the opportunity to spend time with him, and for him to return that enthusiasm. She knew you were there mostly because of John, but it still seemed to bother her. As Molly started focusing on the screen, a brunet thirty-something man pushed the door open stopping after he entered, seemingly undecided whether he should interrupt. He wore a white t-shirt with kakis, an awkward smile on his face as he was fidgeting with his hands. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t…”, he started but was interrupted by Molly, who looked excited by the man’s entrance. “Jim! Hi!”, Molly shouted. The man named Jim attempted to exit the room, but Molly stopped him. “Come in! Come in!”, she exclaimed encouraging him to join them, making him smile shyly. As the brunet closed the door, Sherlock looked up from his research to study between the two just to look away uninterested. “Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes.”, she introduced the Detective as Molly’s acquaintance walked closer. “Ah!”, he proclaimed excitedly, immediately focusing on Sherlock, while ignoring us. As John and I turned towards them again, Molly noticed she hadn’t introduced us yet. “And, uh ... sorry.”, she said apologizingly. “This is (Y/N) Watson and her brother John. I think I already told you about them.” “Hi.”, he replied unenthusiastically. Jim’s eyes rested on you for a few seconds before his attention went back to Sherlock, yet you thought you saw something flicker in them. What was it? Something dark, that you were sure of. You absentmindedly shook your head. You had probably just imagined it. “So you’re Sherlock Holmes. Molly’s told me all about you. You on one of your cases?”, Jim started questioning him, while Sherlock was still seated with his back to the smaller man.At that you looked at your brother next to you rolling your eyes. Not another one of those fanatic fans. Granted, you admired Sherlock too, but you would never admit that. You were way to proud to admit that somewhere inside you, you had a soft spot for that stubborn, immature idiot.He was intellectually everything you had ever wished for in another human being and even though he liked to call himself a sociopath, you knew he wasn’t one. Sure, he was often rude and pretended not to care, but you knew he did underneath that cold exterior of his. “Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That’s how we met. Office romance.”, Molly explained giggling with Jim joining in. You simply smiled, happy that she had found someone even though her body language showed that she obviously wasn’t over Sherlock yet. You glanced at John, who seemed a little uncomfortable being completely left out. Sherlock took another look at Jim who was now standing on the left of John and you, before returning to his work. “Gay.”, he simply stated with an indifferent expression. “Sorry, what?”, Molly asked disbelievingly, her smile fading into a shocked expression. “Sherlock!”, you groaned silently pinching the bridge of your nose. Sherlock looked up from the microscope, most likely just then noticing what he had let slip. He turned his head in your direction, having noticed your warning, his eyes catching a glimpse of your angry expression. “Nothing.”, Sherlock answered fast before sending a fake-smile in Jim’s direction. “Um, hey.” You rolled your eyes. Great. He always had to be the smartest person in the room. “Hey.”, Jim returned not reacting to what the detective had insinuated, smiling nervously. Not paying attention, he knocked a metal dish off the table, apologizing profusely. He picked the dish back up followed by more awkward smiles and nervous fidgeting. You stifled a chuckle contrary to your brother who had turned away from the scene face-palming. Sherlock, on the other hand, looked aggravated. You had to admit the guy’s behaviour in Sherlock’s presence was sort of hilarious. Jim moved back to standing next to Molly, touching her back affectionately while saying: “Well, I’d better be off. I’ll see you at The Fox, ’bout six-ish?” Molly affirmed, before both say their goodbyes to each other. Before Jim left he turned back around to Sherlock. “It was nice to see you.”, he said without receiving a reply. After a few seconds of silence, John interrupted. “You too.”, your brother responded. Jim eyed him up and without another word, left the room. “What d’you mean, gay? We’re together.”, Molly inquired appalled. “And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You’ve put on three pounds since I last saw you.”, he replied meeting her eyes. “Two and a half.” “No, three.” “Sherlock, that’s enough! You’re being rude.”, you retorted frustratedly walking over to Molly and crossing your arms. Could he just for once keep his mouth shut?! Almost every time he saw Molly he either intentionally or accidentally hurt her feelings. “Sherlock!”, John decided to step into action. “He’s not gay. Why d’you have to spoil ...? He’s not.” Molly started getting angry. “With that level of personal grooming?”, Sherlock snorted apparently trying to convince us he was right no matter what. “So, what, you think he has an ulterior motive? To meet you?!”, you voiced having had enough. “You’re so full of yourself.” With worry in your eyes you turned towards Molly. “Don’t listen to him.”, you said vehemently before rushing towards the exit.                                             You were leaning against the wall outside of the lab, trying to calm yourself down. Sherlock was so ignorant at times: He was often simply hurting others, because he just couldn’t hold that bloody tongue of his. Running your fingers through your hair in frustration, you spotted Jim on his way to the staircase. Wanting to know what just had happened you ran after him. “Who are you?! A fan of Sherlock’s?”, you inquired a little angrier than you intended since you were still infuriated as you had reached him. “Did you plan this?” “Everyone seems to be in love with Sherlock Holmes”, he drawled unfazed as he slowly turned around, his demeanour changing in only seconds. From the shy and awkward guy was nothing left. Walking slowly towards you, a wave of fear overcame you. His eyes had lost all its warmth and the way they looked you up and down send shivers down your spine. You shuddered inwardly. How could someone change from being this insecure to confident - even dominant - in seconds? His body language was now completely contradictory to his behaviour in the laboratory. His back was straight, the fidgeting and awkward smiles were gone and replaced by an aura of confidence. Jim leaned into you, his eyes scanning your face closely while tilting his head to the side. He lifted his left thumb to your face, making you try to move backwards, but to no avail as you hit the wall. His thumb brushed over your cheek, making you cringe. The hungry, almost predatory look in his eyes filled you with unease. “Even you are effected.”, he whispered, a fake-surprised look appearing on his face. You gulped, crossing your arms. He made you feel like a deer in the headlights. And…he enjoyed it. Who was this man? Surely not the kind and shy man Molly believed him to be. “Shame.”, he said stepping away from you. His face was again distorted into an exaggerated expression of what looked like pity. With a sadistic grin he turned around, walking towards the door at the end of the corridor he was headed towards before. “We will meet again, I am sure.”, he exclaimed with an amused smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Before turning around and vanishing behind the door, he looked you over once more with an intense stare that you would swear could look into your soul. As you hurried back into the chemistry lab, you were met by John who had a concerned look on his face. Sherlock looked shortly up from the microscope with an absentminded expression but didn’t seem to acknowledge you. “Are you alright, (Y/N), you don’t look so well?”, John inquired turning away from Sherlock. You hadn’t noticed how tense you were until now. “Yes, I’m – Everythings fine.”, you lied. “Let’s get going.” To be continued… If you would like to be tagged for the series, please let me know!

Hey guys, I haven’t been well the past two weeks and am now checked into a hospital. I am still writing, but don’t have wifi so the next chapters of “Hidden Affection” will be published later since this is a special situation. I will continue but please be patient a little longer so I can focus on my health which consumes a lot of time at the moment. The next chapter though will most likely be published in the next two weeks, it simply takes a little longer to write and publish at the moment. Love, Laura

Hey guys, I haven’t uploaded anymore since a few weeks as you’ve probably noticed. This however will not be permanent, I was simply caught up with health-related stuff and a minor writer’s block. But I just started writing again so look forward to the new chapter of Hidden Affection. Yours, Laura

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