Do You Miss Me (at all) 2 (Sherlock x reader)
A/N: HERE IT IS SORRY IT TOOK LONGER THAN SUPPOSED TO BUT HEY HERE IT IS!! Hope the gif shows (other vice I’ll fix it next week) Here, for you who asked @foureyedsiopao @presidentmaggie @emilypkuzu @kissed-by-white-wolf @awkwardlyfiona @eliselulu23 @libsybum @silvermisst @fandomlover03 @kpafb-love (sorry for the tags, I took awfully long to fix them)
You were standing by the window, the view led to the quiet street. Only a car or two passing by in every fifteen minutes. It was unordinary for your corners to be so peaceful. You had just come from the shower, your hair still moist but not dripping water over your shoulders. You had a robe on, the right side sliding down your shoulder and you didn’t bother to pull it up. You weren’t paying close attention to the traffic or the people passing by your house with their umbrellas hold high above their heads, shielding from getting wet.
The day had been bright, the sky cloudy, hiding the sun that tried peaking through the fog. It had rained softly, not being able to wet you completely as you came home from work/school that day. You had suspected that morning that you probably shouldn’t go by bike, but did it anyways.
The second you got home you went and took a shower for your hair had tangled in the wind and rain as you rode home as fast as you could. You had got sweaty and had to change clothes, putting the ones you had worn earlier that day to the laundry. You didn’t feel like dressing up, knowing you only wanted to stay home, make something to eat and sit by the window, watching tv or going through internet on your computer or phone.
It had been four days now since you had seen Sherlock and that day was the one when you broke up with him. Or you had broken up. What ever. The memory still hurt you, your chest tightening as your mind went through the events and you shook your head, retreating from the window. You went and sat on a chair next to your kitchen table, your hands on the table, your fingers intwined. You found yourself wondering had you done the right decision. Had you ever even been meant to date the great detective in the first place?
You sighed. Your fingers fiddling over each other and you let your gaze fall on the table. Your phone was there, close to your reach but you fought against checking had you got any new messages or missed calls. You had kept it mute as you knew John and Mrs. Hudson would at least be the ones calling after you, but you weren’t on the mood to talk with them. You had witnessed Sherlock trying to reach you twice the day after your break up, but you weren’t ready to call back to him. You figured he had already given up, or wanting to just apologize for waisting your time, but leave it be.
You got up to check your fridge. You had nothing particular on mind what you would cook and to be fair, your fridge was usually empty and narrowed your possibilities of making anything too fancy. Your fingers wrap around the handle and open the door to witness the already familiar sight. There was a half empty ketchup bottle, butter, potatoes and some orange juice. You would have to go shopping. You slammed the door of your fridge and groaned in frustration to the thought of leaving your apartment. You had hoped you could just spend the rest of the day,
You stomped to your closet, muttering and growling at the thought of having to get dressed. You didn’t dry your hair, only combing it so it wouldn’t be all over your face and got dressed. You decided to put something comfy yet descent on so you wouldn’t look as bad as you felt. You already had your hair looking like a bird’s nest, or so you thought, and wearing a hoody and sweat pants would only make you stand out from the crowd. And not in a good way. A pair of black leggings, a long shirt that reminded more of a dress and a warm, long coat. You had decided to go by foot, probably just get some take away, not in the mood of cooking, taking with you your wallet and phone that you shoved in your coat’s pockets. You didn’t bother carrying umbrella with you. You wouldn’t go too far from your house. Just in case you still ended up putting water proofed shoes on and wearing a scarf you could pull over your head if it’d start raining cats and dogs. On your way to the closest coffee shop you started longing for something else. You didn’t feel like going to buy a coffee, bread and some muffins from the near coffee shop so you let yourself pass the boutique, walking further away from your comfort zone. Your home street.
Sherlock stood close to the window with the view of the street in his living room. He had stood there for fifteen minutes now in silence, but it wasn’t anything he’d never done before. Sherlock had John as his company and even if the both men were there in silence it wasn’t bothering them. Quite the opposite actually, John enjoyed peacefully sitting on his chair as Sherlock kept to himself, doing and thinking what ever he would. John had, for Sherlock’s sake, stopped talking about you after the break which he had heard of. John had been informed of this by Mrs. Hudson and just trying to get a confirmation Sherlock was hard enough but he didn’t stop there. He kept pestering him by telling him why he should call you back, try to make up with you and questioning him why you had broken up in the first place to which he answered that it had been hundred precent your idea. To this John had admitted that maybe you had done them both a favor as it was clear that Sherlock wasn’t up to it. To this Sherlock reacted in a way which was both childish and stupid. He stopped talking.
It had taken Sherlock only a day to get over what John had said to him, but still he kept quiet, only greeting John and answering if he asked anything. John on the other hand had come up with a solution of not bringing your name up in their two to three lined conversations. He knew he had in some level hurt Sherlock by what he had said and also knew he wouldn’t be up to discuss of you with him. For now at least.
Sherlock let his eyes wander over the street. His hawk like eyes studying every passing by human while he deduced them from afar. He kept himself occupied all the while until his eyes fixed up on a person, person he knew. It had been too long for his liking since the last time you had been near and now that he finally saw you again he couldn’t stop himself from admiring how you looked. Of course he saw your wet hair, but it was nothing. You looked stunning by just being there. By only existing it was enough to make Sherlock’s mind race and there he understood, the realization hitting him like a lightning. He missed you more than he had known or let out. He needed to talk to you. Sherlock’s eyes had met yours. You had stopped to gaze up at his window, curiosity taking over you as you had tried not to make any eye contact with the house of your ex boyfriend’s. Your eyes went wide as you spotted Sherlock on the window, staring back at you intensively. He eyed you in a way that made you feel uncomfortable. It was too intense and it made you feel vulnerable.
“John, didn’t you say you were going for a walk today?” Sherlock didn’t let his eyes leave your form. You had been walking slowly enough for him to set everything ready. John lifted his eyes from the news paper he had been reading. His eyebrows furrowed he looked at his best friend’s back that was facing him. “No. I never said that.” He folded the paper and put it on the table next to him. “Oh right. You were supposed to go buy groceries.” Sherlock tried to act as if he really had heard John say that, but really he was just letting out the lines that appeared in his head. “Now off you go, take my card with you. It’s on the table.” He hurried his shorter friend and took his violin to his hands and before John could even think of protesting he started playing.
Muttering, John got up, took the card and went to get his jacket. He was about to head down the stairs when Sherlock stopped playing to say, “Oh and no need to hurry back. Take your time. Something like an hour?” It sounded more of a question than an order. It wasn’t a question for John though, but to Sherlock himself. “A one hour?” John snapped. “Right. Three is more like it.” Sherlock nodded to himself, lifting the violin to his shoulder again and said, “Thank you, John.” and started playing again.
John left the apartment in rage, thinking of being away over three hours just to bully Sherlock even if he wouldn’t even notice him being gone. When Sherlock heard the door slam close he put the violin away, his eyes still on you.
You had been trying to avoid his stare for awhile, but not managing to keep walking. You were thinking of backing away, going back home and hiding under your blanket. You knew you were stronger than this, but the demanding state he had given you made you feel awkward and, for some reason, hurt.
You stood on the other side of the street, opposite of the 221B apartment when you saw John exit the building you had been avoiding by your eyes. He looked pissed. As if he had fought with Sherlock and you were sure he had. He pulled at his coat, a frown on his face as he took the steps down from the doorway. He looked around and when his eyes met yours he smiled warmly. You couldn’t but smile back. A laugh that you couldn’t hear left John’s mouth and he shook his head. Now he understood why Sherlock had been so determined by kicking him out.
John approached you on the other side of the street, he hugged you, still smiling. “Hello, (Y/n).” He said while his eyes took in your form. “Hey.” You said almost shyly. “So, what brings you here?” He supported his weight on his right leg, crossing his arms as he grinned at you, suggestively. “Just shopping. Thought of getting some fast food.” You kept the conversation clear, but couldn’t help it from getting awkward and making yourself seem distant. You hadn’t seen John in awhile too, and ignoring his calls made you feel guilty. The smile on John’s face vanished. “You’re not here to see Sherlock?” The sound of his name made your heart skip a beat. “No.” You said and looked away.
Your eyes wondered to the window, taking a glance of Sherlock who impatiently tapped his foot to the floor, still staring at you. “You need to talk to him.” John tried to convince you, he sounded a bit desperate. “I’m not ready to see him.” You almost angrily answered, looking at John under your eyelashes. The sudden change of your tone made John unfold his crossed arms from over his chest. He looked at you with soft eyes. “He wants to talk to you, (Y/n). He kicked me out just so he could be alone with you.” He told you. You hesitated. You didn’t think you would be ready to face Sherlock or did you want to. Then again you knew you would need to if Sherlock had decided it to be necessary.
“I don’t know, John.” You whispered. You looked away, your mind was drifting back to the day you left Sherlock, but before you got too deep your phone vibrated in your pocket.
GET INSIDE FOR GOD’S SAKE
Your eyes widened at the rude text. You looked up to see Sherlock stuffing his phone to his pocket and his eyes to fix on you. “Then again I don’t think I have a choice.” You said and showed the message to John. “Guess you better hurry.” John said and waved you goodbye. He wished you luck and you knew you would need it. You see John walking to the direction where you came from, with a sigh you gaze up again and see Sherlock with an arched eyebrow. You wanted to snap at him and yell, “Alright I’m coming!!” But you would only embarrass yourself since he couldn’t hear you, so you settle for glaring at him and stomping inside the house.
You get up the stairs, slightly surprised by Mrs. Hudson not peeking from her apartment to see who it is. She was probably busy or out. Sherlock was still standing by the window, but instead his eyes fixed out side he was turned towards you. His hands in his pockets, an unreadable expression on his face. “Took you long enough.” He ended up saying, his eyes fixed on the floor.
You wanted to hit him or facepalm yourself. “That’s what the staring was about?” You groaned. “You tried to invite me in? I can’t read your mind, Sherlock.” You two stood in silence until Sherlock made eye contact with you. He cleared his throat to get your attention which he had lost for a second. “So how are you?” You couldn’t help but feel like being slapped in the face. “I’m good…” You answered, not sure was it a lie or a truth. “So, did you solve the case?”
“I didn’t invite you in so we could discuss about the case.” Sherlock groaned.
“You might not but ever considered I want to know?” You argued with a strong but calm tone. “Did you solve it?” You asked.
“Yes, I did.” Sherlock muttered which made you curious. You eyed him playfully, him giving you a glare, hinting ‘Don’t you dare’ but it only encouraged you. So you asked, “How?” Sherlock tried to find the wall next to the fire place more interesting than you and your words, but you waited patiently until he sighed, “I waited for another murder…” “Would you look at that.” You chuckled. “Don’t say ‘I told you so’!” Sherlock pointed at you. “I wasn’t going to.” You put your hands on your hips. “It’s just nice to hear you’ve solved it. It was really getting to you.” Your voice was soft and shy by now.
“Why are you always so understanding?” Sherlock sighed. “Sometimes it’s a blessing sometimes it’s a curse. I tend to follow decisions I make that only please others.” You had to admit, it pained you. Maybe you were sometimes just so shy to tell how you felt and what you wanted? Or you didn’t think you deserved to be heard? “You ever do anything for yourself?” You didn’t know the answer to that. Then you spotted an expression on Sherlock’s face, he looked at you, worried and bothered. The next question made your heart ache. “Is that why you broke up with me?”
“It seemed to be the best solution.” You looked away. You were about to start crying and didn’t want him to see. You couldn’t break now. “Just tell me why I’m here. You invited me.” You stressed the word invited. “You didn’t answer my calls.” Sherlock said. “I wasn’t ready.” You admitted. In shame you looked away. “And if you had something important you could’ve texted.” “Would’ve you answered?” He asked and took a step closer. “No. I wouldn’t.” He knew you would say that.
“Listen, I’m…” Sherlock’s voice died down. He was now right in front of you. You could touch him if you just moved your hands that had fallen to your sides. “You don’t have to say anything, Sherlock. It just wasn’t meant to be.” You were struggling to keep the tears in. “I don’t believe that.” And with that said he leaned closer, his hands on both sides of your neck, holding you gently. He kissed you, and you didn’t pull away. You let his soft lips collide with yours, your hands reaching for the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.
When Sherlock pulled away he kept close, his forehead touching yours. His eyes were looking at you in a gentle way, he was still holding you. “I missed you, (Y/n).” He whispered. “And I think I need to apologize for what I said and I understand why you left, but if there is any chance for us to try again-”
“I missed you too, Sherlock.” You smile and lean in to kiss him, this time more passionately. “How long is John going to be away?”
Sherlock looked away, as if he was trying to remember but shrugged, “I might have told him to be away for three hours.” You hit Sherlock playfully on the shoulder. He laughs and pulls you to him, his hands wrapped around your waist. “You thought convincing me would take three hours?” You giggle, your nose touching Sherlock’s who was about to kiss you again. “No, but what happens next may take a bit longer.” He smirks wickedly. You want to slap him again but he decides to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself closer to him. (I hope this doesn’t suck!!!)