Time and then some- Sherlock x Reader |Part three|
Guess who’s back? Hope you guys are having a good day :D
Sherlock sighs, smiling, the light of the sun shinning down through the trees. Clear skies, cool breeze –perfect day. England wasn’t much for days like these, they’re quite rare. So are days where he could be…. ordinary. Because here he was, sitting in a park, under the shade of an old oak tree, the air clean and crisp. He was enjoying the things around him, the things he rarely had the time to.
A soft laugh from next to him pulls Sherlock from his daze, “Perfect day isn’t it?” Molly sat next to him, Sherlock nods smiling gently at the girl as she fiddled with the dark blue blanket below them. “Indeed,”
“You know… ” Molly begins, tucking a lock of brown hair behind her ear, “I didn’t think I’d get you to come, you’re always so busy.”
Sherlock chuckles, “I am never too busy for you, Molly,” he says fondly. Raising a hand to cup her cheek, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to her lips. When Sherlock breaks away from the kiss, and he opens his eyes, Molly was gone and he was no longer sitting under an oak tree. It was dark and cold, very cold. “Molly?” he calls out to the darkness around him, “Molly!” and then heard it, quiet sobs echoing out. Sherlock quickly follows the sound slowing to a stop as the sounds get clear, sitting on the ground not to far from him was a woman. But he knew it wasn’t Molly, it couldn’t be her. He knew this girl, but from where, his subconscious mind could not recall.
“…Y/n?” he calls, finally recognizing her, taking a small step forward, “Y/n.”
The air around him becomes still and eerie quiet as the girl looks up. Then he notices, the dress she was wearing was soaked crimson. “Are you going to kill me too?” she asks, slowly getting up. “What?”
“You killed her, and you’re going to kill me too.”
“No–Y/n. You must understand. I couldn’t control it – it was an accident.” Sherlock says quickly, reaching out to her, but she pulls away, a look of fear and disgust masking her features. “Stay away from me. Murderer! Monster!” she shouts turning and running away from him. The words echoing around him loudly, Sherlock tightly closes his eyes.
No, no, No!
Sherlock opens his eyes, sighing loudly as the ceiling of his bedroom greets him. He looks over at the curtains that were drawn closed, the sun was setting now. It was a dream, nothing more. He had always dreamt of things he’s done in the past, of his friends and sometimes a life he could’ve had. Some of them were usually pleasant, though reoccurring, Sherlock never gets tired of them, it was his escape from his own hell.
But this dream was new, the last bit of it, Y/n was never apart of his dreams until now. To see her in that manner, to hear the words he never wanted to hear come from her, it’s frightening. It was frightening and Sherlock didn’t know why.
He had never meant for it to happen, with Molly, it just did. There was a time, he tried to forget what he had became, tried to ignore his new nature. Ignore his only means of survival, the thirst had became too much then. He thought that maybe he could’ve stopped himself, prevent it all from happening, but he couldn’t stop, and he drunk too much.
He tries to forget it sometimes, what he did. But when you’ve lived for this long, you realize there’s no forgetting anything. Sherlock watches as the light of the sun disappear from behind his dark curtains before getting up from his bed.
It’s about time he paid his brother a visit
“Hello brother mine, to whom do I owe the pleasure?” Mycroft sat behind his desk of his home office, Sherlock was sitting in the chair opposite him. “A dream of mine,”
He hasn’t been to his brother’s in a very long while, preferring to keep his distance. Unlike Sherlock, Mycroft more embraced his new life style, and some what continued living human, he had worked his way up the secret service and secured his place as Government official and head of M-16. Though he does all his work from home and no one questions his methods.
Mycroft raises an eyebrow, placing his folded hands on the dark brown desk, “It took a dream for you to come see me?” he questions, sounding amused.
The older Holmes sighs, suddenly serious, “Which was it this time? The same one as last?”
Sherlock sighs, no longer sure if he wanted to tell him anymore. Questions will surely arise, “Yes, and at the same time, no.” Mycroft leans back in his chair, watching his brother carefully, “How so?”
Sherlock takes a breath, going silent for a moment, “There was a girl, not Molly, a different girl.” he begins unsurely, tapping his fingers against his knee. The dream still troubled him, he found it very hard to place at the back of his mind, her words hurt him. Even though it was only his mind putting image to his fears. Mycroft narrows his eyes a little, his eyebrows furrowing, “Who is she?”
“No one you should concern yourself with, Mycroft.” Sherlock says, setting his jaw. Realisation dawns upon the eldest Holmes features, of course. Sherlock avoided his gaze completely, “Her humanity is what you care for Sherlock, not her. Humanity’s innocence. Something you do not posses,”
“Enough, Mycroft. Please.” Sherlock sighs, he was wrong, he cares for this girl, though he has yet still to find out why that is. And, even if it’s to come to that (Sherlock doubts it ever will), It’s one thing, to take her. It’s completely another to take her from her life, her family. To take her humanity, it is something he can’t do, he will not do it. Because, Sherlock knows what it’s like for your life to be forcefully ripped away from you, to have to carry on and live like this. He had friends too, a girl he once loved as well. But that was ages ago.
“You can’t be with her Sherlock, you know this. Not unless –”
“No, Mycroft, that is out of the question.”
Perhaps he was just lonely, it tends to happen most days. Maybe it’s only that, the reason why she was on his mind so much, the reason why he craved her presence. Sherlock runs a hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment, deciding that a change of subject would do them both some good. “By the way, Mycroft –”
“–Yes, yes. I know, you’ve ran out. It’s by far the only reason you ever come to see me,”
Sherlock raises an eyebrow, scoffing at his brother, “Now that’s not entirely true, we did talk,” Mycroft purses his lips, rolling his eyes as he got up to leave the room. Leaving Sherlock to his thoughts, which, by the way was a scrambled mess. He haven’t much to think about, he tried to think about the first part of his dream from last night, the part that involved Molly. Sometimes he thought he would’ve forgotten her, what she looked like or her behaviour. But his mind never allows it, he was forever plagued by the memory of her, sweet, Molly Hooper.
Sherlock blinks, looking up at his brother who was standing next to him, holding a medium sized cooler. “Sorry,” he stands, taking the cooler from his brother’s fingers. “There’s enough for two weeks,” Mycroft informs, watching Sherlock carefully. Sherlock thanks his brother quietly, turning to leave, “Oh, Sherlock,” Mycroft calls, causing Sherlock to look over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “You know our rules, you can’t see her,”
“My Dearest Sherlock, what’s the occasion?” Sherlock closes his eyes for a moment, and sighs. Sitting in his chair was a man he once knew as his enemy, for the centuries that passed the two have gotten over their senseless feud.
How is it that Moriarty is here you may wonder, lets just stay that he stuck his nose in a place where it most definitely didn’t belong. They however, found a way to co-exist, now, they were nothing more than acquaintances, but Sherlock likes to think of him like a headache.
“You do realize you’re in my flat, I should be asking you what the occasion is,” Sherlock says, moving to close the door behind him, “What do you want, Jim?”
“A little Bird whistled in my ear, Sherlock. It said that you found yourself a pet, she’s quite pretty,”
“Shut up, Moriarty. Leave her out.” Jim smiles, taking a sip from a champagne glass filled with blood. Sherlock narrows his eyes, knowing that Jim had helped himself to his stock. “You know Sherlock, she is human, she’ll fade away like dust.”
“Get out.” Sherlock seethes, pointing to the door. Moriarty sighs, shaking his head slowly before finishing his glass and getting up. “Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock.” Moriarty tsks, “Eventually, you’ll kill her. People like us, Sherlock. We don’t get the happy endings, we don’t get the ordinary things. There’s only one way this can continue, you know.”
“No. Get out.”
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