You were just starting the third month at your job. That was two and a half months longer than anyone else had lasted. You served as the liaison between Scotland Yard and Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock apparently found you tolerable and you didn't let his eccentricities bother you. Currently you'd been here for two hours waiting for him to exit his mind palace. You'd already straightened the apartment as you tended to do when you were here and bored.

"Hello, John," you said as Dr. Watson walked into 221B. 

He smiled. "Hello, y/n. I didn't know you were coming over today."

You hummed in agreement. "Greg has some paperwork he needs you two to sign. It's on kitchen table if you don't mind."

"Yeah, of course," he said immediately and headed in that direction. John was always easy, ready to accommodate. If only the same could be said of his flat mate. "Where's Sherlock?" he asked when he walked back in.

"In his mind palace which happens to be in the bedroom today," you told him.

He sighed. "I'm sorry, y/n."

You shrugged. "Don't be. I get paid whether I'm sitting here or at the office. And this is much more peaceful than the Yard."

He sank into his chair. After a moment he glanced around then looked at you. "Did you clean the flat?"

"Don't I always?" you asked, amused.

"You do?" he sounded surprised. 

You laughed and pulled your phone out as it had began to ring. Detective Inspector Lestrade.

"Hello, sir," you answered.

"Really? We're still on that sir thing?" he asked, irritated. "It's Greg, yeah?"

Your lips twitched. "Yes, sir."

He sighed and you didn't bother fighting the smile any longer. He wasn't here to see it anyway. "Listen, is he there?"

"Yes, but not, if you get my meaning."

"Yeah, I get it. See if you can bring him round. I'm on my way over. It's time to bring them on with what we discussed this morning." He hung up without waiting for a response.

You put your phone away and looked at John. "Greg is coming over. He needs to speak to you and Sherlock."

"Well, I'm fine with that, but you know Sherlock. He could be in there for hours, or days." He threw his hands up in frustration. 

"I'll take care of Sherlock. You just keep an eye out for the Inspector." You went to Sherlock's door and knocked on it. When you received no response, you let yourself in and shut the door behind you. 

Sherlock sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor. His hands were resting on his knees. The purple shirt he wore stretched tightly across his chest. His dark hair was a curly mess as usual and if his eyes were open, you'd be staring at a startling shade of icy blue. You took a moment to enjoy the view before sitting in front of him, mirroring his position. 

"Hello, Sherlock. The Inspector is on his way over to talk to you. He's going to tell you that you've been assigned a permanent detective at the yard who will work with you on all your cases. This is the point where you will argue that there is no one you could possibly trust enough to work with in such conditions. He'll say you already know them and when you demand to know who, he will tell you it is me." You tilt your head to look at the man you'd been attracted to from the moment you heard of the first case he'd solved for the Yard. He showed no signs of interest, but you knew at least part of him was listening.

"And now you're concerned that they made me a detective just because you seem able to put up with me. The answer's no, Sherlock. I've been with the Yard for years and not in an administrative capacity as Greg told you when I first came. I was one of their best undercover agents until six months ago. And you never noticed."

When he still hadn't moved, you took a deep breath trying to steel up your courage. Finally, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. It was supposed to be a short, sweet kiss but hands dug into your hair and held your head in place as Sherlock returned it with fervor. When you pulled back, you stared into those crystal blue eyes. "Apparently there were a lot of things I never noticed when it came to you," he said in that deep voice that never failed to make you weak in the knees. 

He suddenly hopped to his feet and held out a hand to help you up. "Come, Geoff is here."

You sighed and shook your head. "His name is Greg, Sherlock, and you bloody well know it."

***

You and Sherlock had been dating, for lack of a better term, for the last four months now. If investigating crime scenes, eating late night take away, and having plans cancelled constantly in favor of a case could be considered dating. Sherlock seemed happy enough anyway. He was content to sit quietly with you while you both read. He even allowed you to snuggle with him of all things. But you, well, you often wanted just a little bit more.

"Let's go somewhere, Sherlock," you said as you closed the book on forensics you'd been reading and set it aside. 

"Like where?" he asked as he flipped through crime scene photos, comparing images. 

You perked up. This was a good sign. Usually he just said 'not tonight'. "Anywhere," you said instantly. "Even if its just for a walk. Let's take a break and get some air."

He hummed but didn't say anything further. You hopefulness faded and you slumped back in your seat. John gave you a sympathetic glance then scowled at the back of his flat mate's head. You stood and grabbed your jacket. "I'm going to go, Sherl." You kissed him on the cheek and still his focus never shifted. Your shoulders slumped and you shuffled for the door. 

"y/n," he said, stopping you at the door. "Be here at seven tomorrow night. And wear a dress."

You were confused. "Is it for a case?"

"No, I'm taking my girlfriend on an overdue date." He still hadn't glanced at you but you didn't care.

You were ecstatic. You smiled wide and bounced on your feet. "I'll see you then, Sherlock." Your happiness was evident in your voice. Sherlock even gave one of his little half-smiles. You hurried home to pick out what you were going to wear.

***

You arrived at 6:58 pm the next night and let yourself in with a light knock on the door. Sherlock sat in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of his lips as he thought. He wasn't in his mind palace because he was looking around too much. When he didn't acknowledge your presence, you rocked on your feet. "Sherlock?"

He glanced at you briefly then back to staring into the empty space in front of him. "Y/N, what are you doing here?"

Your heart stuttered and dropped into your stomach. "You're joking, right?"

He arched a brow as he looked back at you and ran his eyes over you from top to bottom. "And why are you wearing a dress? It's rather impractical."

You wanted to scream. You wanted to burst out in tears. But this was Sherlock. You'd give him one more chance. "Sherlock," you said, trying to keep your voice level but not even your boyfriend was oblivious enough to not notice the anger in your voice. "Why do you think I am in your flat at 7:00 precisely and wearing a dress? Surely you have some idea."

His eyes darted over again, but didn't stay on you long. "Did George give you a case for us?"

Your head dropped and tears rolled down your cheeks. You'd hoped that you would be enough for Sherlock. That he could find enough happiness with you, that you'd be more important than his work, at least occasionally. You should have known better. "I'm done, Sherlock," you said it so low you weren't even sure he heard. If he did, he didn't acknowledge you. You looked at his profile one last time then turned and left, shutting the door quietly behind you. 

Tears ran freely down your face as you silently wept. You were nearly at the bottom of the steps when John hurried in the door, almost running into you. "Y/N?" he asked concerned. "What is wrong? What happened?"

You managed a small smile and shook your head. "It doesn't matter, John. Not anymore." You stepped past him and opened the door.

"I'll see you soon though, right?" he asked, his voice worried.

You gave your friend one last look. "No, I don't think you will."

***

(Sherlock's POV)

There was something he was missing. Something he kept overlooking in this case, but he just couldn't figure it out. Maybe he should run it by you and see what you thought. He glanced around and realized you must have left. Something about that bothered him but he simply shrugged and turned back to the problem at hand.

The door banged open and John stormed across the floor to stand in front of him. "Tell me you didn't," he said, his jaw tight. 

"I didn't what, John?"

"Tell me that you didn't forget."

Oh, bother. What did he forget to do this time? He was certain they had tea so what could the problem be? 

John clenched his fists at his sides and rolled his head on his neck. "Seven. Here. Y/N. Date. Any of this ringing any bells?"

Sherlock frowned for a moment then his eyes widened as he realized what had just happened. "Bloody hell," he said and pulled out his phone. He dialed your number while John glowered at him with his arms crossed over his chest. When you didn't answer, he rapidly typed out an apologetic message, asking you to come back. "I was working. She'll understand. She always understands."

"I wouldn't count on that, Sherlock," John said as he sat in his chair. "Not this time."

***

Annoyingly, John was right. It had been over a year since Sherlock had seen you last. He'd continued to work but found he didn't enjoy it as much without you there with him. John had finally started talking to him again about things other than the case they were on. But Sherlock still had a y/n shaped void in his life. It was rather annoying.

He didn't know what else he could do. He texted and called until you eventually changed your number. The last time he went to your apartment he discovered you had moved but he'd been unable to find where you had gone. Lestrade wouldn't answer any of his inquiries where you were concerned. The whole thing was rather unsettling.

Currently he stood outside Lestrade's office waiting to discuss the latest case. "Hello, John. Sherlock," a familiar voice said and he looked up in surprise. 

There you were giving John a hug. Sherlock glanced between the two of you and a feeling of betrayal swamped him. "You've been talking," he shifted his gaze to rest solely on John. "You knew where she was this whole time."

"He's my friend, Sherlock. I wasn't going to quit talking to him just because you're a wanker." You crossed your arms over your chest and glared at him. 

He smiled, he couldn't help it. He was just so happy to see you. Maybe now, he could explain, tell you how it would be different and get you to come back. "Y/N, I--" he started only to be cutoff as Lestrade walked over. 

"I'm ready for you now," Lestrade announced. "Y/N will be working with you on this one."

Sherlock's heart pounded in his chest. This was it. This was his chance. "And she's okay with that?" he asked the Inspector though his eyes never left yours. 

"It was her idea," Lestrade said, not sounding happy about it in the least. "If it were up to me you wouldn't be getting within twenty feet of her."

That sounded oddly...personal. Sherlock frowned and his eyes snapped between the two of you, actually observing you. You leaned toward each other though you didn't realize it. Pupils were dilated and you wore identical half-smiles. Sherlock's eyes darted down and his heart stopped for just a second. On the ring finger on your left hand was a modest but well loved diamond. He was too late. He'd lost you. To Lestrade.

***

(Reader POV)

"Give us a moment, Greg," you said to your fiance. He led John into his office and they shut the door. Though he was talking with your friend, Greg's eyes never strayed long from you. You smiled and turned to Sherlock. "I see you figured it out."

"I did." There was a long pause. "Are you happy?"

You smiled at that and nodded. "Very."

"Can I ask..." he started then trailed off. You gave him a minute to continue. "Were you happy with me?"

You took his hand in yours. "I loved you, Sherlock. Very much, but no, I wasn't happy."

He looked so utterly despondent in that moment it took everything you had not to wrap him in your arms to comfort him. You were in love with Greg, but there was a part of you that would always love Sherlock.

"Was it the work? I thought you understood." He sounded like he so desperately wanted to know where he failed. 

"I did understand, more than you can imagine. But I needed to feel wanted."

"And he does that?"

"Every day." Greg gestured at you to come into his office and you nodded. Releasing Sherlock's hand you stepped past him, leaving him to follow. From what John had told you, after you left Sherlock realized how important you were to him. He wanted you back. 

But when you were there, right in front of him, he forgot you. You deserved better than that. You deserved a man who couldn't wait to see you when you were gone and didn't want to let you leave when you were with him. You deserved a Detective Inspector that never put work before you and never once forgot a date. 

And a man that understood that a certain consulting detective would always have a little piece of your heart but was okay with that because he knew you would always come home to him.