Remember How It Felt? // Sherlock Holmes
Angst Angst Angst Angst ANGST! Hope you don’t all hate me for this one. Song rec goes to @im-currently-daydreaming who gave me the idea to use it.
Requested by Anon: Before the Reichenbach Fall, you were Sherlocks girlfriend. When he realizes the outcome of what’s going to happen, he finds it best to tell you that he really doesn’t love you so he can spare you pain. But his confession brings on a whole wave of hurt you never expected, and words never meant to be spoken.
Warnings: None? Turns from angst into fluff?
Song lyrics come from I Don’t Love You- My Chemical Romance
The song lyrics at the end come from Too Far Moon- Till My Heart Stops
Well, when you go
Don’t ever think I’ll make you try to stay
And maybe when you get back
I’ll be off to find another way
He folded his hands on his lap as he patiently waited for your arrival. It wasn’t long now. Not long until he ruined your life, not long until he met his fate. Sherlock Holmes was not a lucky man, but he was surely a man in love.
“You nearly scared me half to death, Sherlock Holmes! Did you get the key code from the flat? I looked everywhere and couldn’t find the bloody thing!”
You knew the moment his eyes met yours that things had taken a turn for the worst.
And after all this time that you still owe
You’re still the good-for-nothing I don’t know
So take your gloves and get out
Better get out
While you can
Your heart nearly stopped as he began to speak. “You’re so gullible, y/n. The poor little girl who wanted someone to love her?” He taunted, still several feet away from you. Despite your inability to breathe, you never took your eyes off of him. “Did you honestly believe that someone like myself could love someone like you?”
“Oh no, I’m not done yet. Here’s the truth of the matter. I don’t love you y/n. I never did. It was all a test. An experiment.”
The despair and anguish in your face was soon replaced with a new unbridled fury that you had never experienced before. Part of you wondered if he was saying all of this to spare you from something much greater than you realized, but you never asked. You just started screaming.
“I spent so much time investing myself into you.” You said quietly, curling and uncurling your hands into fists. “My expertise in criminal justice was just what you needed to get at Moriarty, wasn’t it? Poor little y/n, the woman who got played by the Detective with no heart. I should have seen it coming. But I, unlike you, did love you. I adored you. Remember how it felt to look at me and know that despite what happened, I was always going to stick by you?”
When you go
Would you even turn to say
I don’t love you
Like I did
“Get out of here, and do me a favor. Don’t come back.” The bitterness in his voice sent you sinking to your knees. You had never begged for anything in your life, but there you were pleading with the man who claimed to never love you. “I said get out y/n!”
“This is all a ruse. I know you. I’ve always known you!” You shrieked, unable to keep your composure as tears came rolling down your cheeks. It was just a flicker, but you saw the guilt linger in his eyes as you hid your face in your hands. “You told me yourself that you had never known what unconditional love felt like until you looked at me. I saw you for who you are, Sherlock Holmes. Do you really want to throw it all away?”
His phone vibrated against his chest, his final calling to the rooftop where death awaited him. “It’s probably best that you go now.” He replied, brushing past your sobbing form on the floor of the lab. “Live for me.”
“If you’d let me, I’d die for you.”
Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading
So sick and tired of all the needless beating
But baby when they knock you
Down and out
It’s where you oughta stay
After nearly fifteen minutes laying still on the floor, you inhaled deeply and dragged yourself up onto your feet, ambling out of the hospital and flagging down a cab. Everything in your life felt so.. wrong. Like you had spent the past year and a half committing the worst crime possible.
You had fallen in love with Sherlock Holmes.
When John never came back, you didn’t care.
When the news played the headlines Reichenbach Hero Proved To Be A Fraud, the only thing you did was cry even harder then you had the past week. It took a while, but your tears stopped coming.
But how does a heart feel after it has endured the most tragic emotion of all, grief?
“Y/n, come sing to me. It helps me concentrate.” Sherlock called out from the living room, his hands resting against his eyes. You’d been studying your case notes in the kitchen and drinking your first cup of tea for the day, stepping out into the warm flat at his call.
Poking his side, you smiled down at the Detective who looked at you with nothing but awe in his blue eyes. “I think dancing would help you concentrate more. Going cold turkey isn’t exactly easy.” You replied, pushing the furniture out of the way to give both you and Sherlock a large enough space to dance.”You lead, I’ll sing. Sound good?”
Dancing had been your getaway from the world, something that you and Sherlock both excelled at. And the song.. your song.. now it was just empty lyrics. How does one dance without their partner?
You had endured personal hell for two years. John was non existent, Greg Lestrade had completely given up in anything to do with Sherlock, and you hadn’t set foot in the flat since you moved out.
It had taken nearly five months for you to make the decision, leaving behind everything you ever knew and starting somewhere fresh. Granted you only lived a block away, but you still wanted to keep your visits with Mrs. Hudson frequent. She was one of the few who still mattered to you.
You always wondered if Sherlock had said such cruel words to protect you. Because despite his sociopathic tendencies, you had seen the heart that lay beneath first hand.
I’ll always remember how you made me feel.
221B didn’t deserve to be a casket, so you spent two days cleaning out the entire flat from top to bottom. You straightened up the endless papers from Sherlocks cases, and even picked up at tuning his violin. It wasn’t your skill to play it, but it made you feel close to him.
“What about y/n?” Sherlock questioned, tucking his shirt into his trousers as he stared at himself in the mirror. It had been far too long since he had heard any news about you. You were his soul reason to get back to London. “I hurt her badly before I fell. I said things I shouldn’t have said.”
“She’s pulled through, remarkably enough.” Mycroft replied. “Last I heard, she was spending most of her time cleaning your flat top to bottom and attending regular therapeutic sessions with John.” As Anthea handed Sherlock his Belstaff, Mycroft found the urge to speak up once again. “Brother?”
“Do yourself a favor and don’t hurt her again.”
Sherlock quietly stepped into the flat, hidden in the shadows of the kitchen as you lit one of your candles on the now nearly immaculate desk. “Remember how it felt when you told me you loved me, Sherlock?” You murmured quietly to yourself. “That was the same night you said you were going to marry me someday.” You turned back towards the wall where you had taped one photo of you and Sherlock, clasping your hands together against your lips as you reminisced when it had been taken. “My love, my love… Where have you gone? I turned around and now I’m alone… Will I ever understand it? Will I make it to the other side? I almost died… the day I lost you.”
Your heart clenched as the next part of the song- your song, echoed in a deep baritone from directly behind you. “I’ll keep breathing,” You let out a sharp sob as Sherlock stepped out of the shadows, his blue eyes still clearly visible in darkness. He had dried blood on his face and his top lip was swollen, but despite his pain, he still sang. “I’ll keep breathing, till my heart stops, till my heart stops…”
“You still have a gorgeous voice.” You whispered in disbelief. His bow shaped lips quirked upward in a smile as you stepped closer to him, hand outstretched to rest over his heart. Your cries became more pronounced as you felt it- the unmistakable thrum of his heat beat. “You’re real. You’re here.”
“John put me through the ringer when I barged in on his proposal, but I’m here. I don’t plan on going anywhere ever again.” Sherlock whispered, his hands tangling in your hair as he captured your lips in his own. Your knees wobbled at the force of his kiss, pouring everything you’d been feeling over the past two years he’d been gone into it. Grief, anger, guilt. You pulled away first, jumping into his arms and wrapping your legs around his waist. “Everything I said in the hospital y/n.. It was meant to keep you safe. I didn’t want you to be so damaged when I return that you would hate me.. I don’t think I could bear it if you did. I’m sorry.” He buried his face in your neck and shuddered as you raked your fingers through his hair.
“Part of me never lost faith in you because of that photo.” He slowly set you on the ground and allowed you to pull him towards the shot up wall, where the photo John had taken was taped. The two of you had been dancing, and when he’d barged in, you had tripped right into Sherlocks embrace laughing hysterically at your fault, his eyes on you and his smile wide. Genuine. In love. It was the only reason you had kept your faith. “That’s you. The Sherlock I fell in love with. My brain kept telling me to leave all of this behind-”
“What did your heart tell you?”
You grabbed his hands and rested them against your abdomen, leaning backward into his chest. “It kept telling me the same thing over and over again. Remember how it felt to save so many lives? To literally change the world? To look at you, that insanely beautiful man, and remember how it felt to live? That’s what my heart told me. To remember all of the good instead of the bad. And I did. That’s why I’m still breathing.”
“I love you.” He whispered softly. “Will you do me the pleasure of getting back together with me?”
“There’s not anything I want more.”
The life in 221B thrived.
Memories were made.
Love was rekindled.
And everytime you looked at the man who had taken you as his wife, it got easier to just keep breathing.