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!!!)
You Really Shouldn’t Have (Sherlock x reader) Valentine’s day
A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone! I know I promised to give you a fanfic spam (it’s coming alright) but I really wanted to give you this one fix on time. This represent my ideal thinking of Valentine’s day and since there ain’t even much of these (usually it’s Sherlock and him only hating on this specific day) so let’s change things up a bit? Hope you enjoy this on some level. I’m a real hater, alright. Sorry for that.
You were peacefully sitting on your boyfriend’s armchair, the black leather warmed up by your body heat, the day’s newspaper in your hands that you had found on the table. You figured no one in the house had yet to read it, it had been carelessly thrown on the table, the pages slightly of place as it had landed on the wooded furniture. It had been on top of all the other post from today so it was more important than the letters and commercial flies. You found some of the articles interesting as well, but doubted they were the reason Sherlock wanted to read the paper.
When you heard the front door open, John chatting with Sherlock you still didn’t lift your eyes from the paper. You let your eyes wonder over a review of a new restaurant just a ten minutes walk from Baker Street. That of course wasn’t what had drawn you to read.
”Good morning, (Y/n).” John chuckled and you could hear amusement through his voice. You smiled back at him over your paper wishing the same for John as you positioned yourself better on the chair, pulling your legs to you, crossing them.
Sherlock stood next to you and a pink blur came to your view. You turned your head to your left, seeing a huge bouquet of flowers of different kinds on the hand of your boyfriend. ”There.” Sherlock muttered as if he was doing something against his will, something that irked him more than anything in the world. Your gaze climbed up his hand, to meet his face. He moved the flowers closer to you, begging you to take them. You put the paper aside and took the flowers, your brows furrowed at what was going on.
”Thank you?” You more of asked. You looked at the flowers again. There were probably five different shades of pink in them, each darker and lighter than the other. ”What’s this for?” You questioned and looked at John and then Sherlock. The smile on John’s face disappeared by your statement and he looked at you in a way he did when Sherlock said something stupid. Like when he once again proved him how incapable he was of feeling empathy. Sherlock on the other hand rolled his eyes and let an exaggerated sigh like the drama queen he was.
”Even if I hate eventful days and holidays, it does not mean I don’t remember them.” He looked down on you, irritatedly. ”Did you really think I would forget Valentine’s day?” He snapped waving his hands in anger. His hairs moved when he shook his head violently, and you could hear John clear his throat, trying to signal Sherlock he was getting too far.
So that is what it was all about! You let out a long ”oooooh” in realization and laugh, ”It’s Valentine’s day!” You admit to yourself.
Now John and Sherlock were both staring at you as if you had said something wrong. They looked at each other, then their intense stare returning towards you. You got up from the couch, the rug under your bare foot warming your chilly toes. You walk to the kitchen and take one of Sherlock’s measuring glasses, big and tall enough for the bouquet and fill it with warm water.
”I totally forgot.” You laughed by yourself, then going over and giving Sherlock a kiss on the cheek. ”You shouldn’t have.” You chuckled. You started taking his coat and folding it over the backrest of a chair next to the desk behind Sherlock’s seat. ”And I mean it when I say you shouldn’t have.” You assured Sherlock, how dumbfoundedly sat on his chair.
”You forgot Valentine’s day?” John was first to talk from the two men in the room. He couldn’t come up with a girl in his mind who would forget a day as such. He could make a list of men on the other hand that never bothered to pay attention to a day dedicated to appreciating your loved ones and friends.
”I try my best.” You shrugged, standing next to Sherlock’s desk, leaning your butt against the wood to support you. ”I actually hate Valentines day.” You admitted, shamefully smiling. Sherlock looked at you over his shoulder, he was as surprised as John of finding out you were one of the rare girls who didn’t like Valentine’s day.
”You are telling me I bought those flowers for nothing? You wouldn’t had even mentioned the whole Valentine’s day if I wouldn’t have brought it up?” He was bewildered. You nodded after giving it a thought. Then your eyes opened wide. You let your eyes fix on Sherlock and hurried to ask, ”Please tell me the flowers are the only way of celebrating this awful day.”
”Of course it is. And if I would’ve known you dislike this horrible event I wouldn’t have bothered with the flowers.” He turned his head towards John again, you chuckled at your boyfriend. You were now speaking for you and John by saying, ”I honestly thought you would forget this day, or do your best not to bring it up.” You walked by, kissing the top of Sherlock’s head and said, ”I’ll go take a shower.” And you walked to the bathroom.
”You said she would like the flowers!” Sherlock snapped at John who raised his hands up in defense.
”How should’ve I known she doesn’t like Valentine’s day? Every normal girl likes Valentine’s day.” John thought for a second and then said, ”Then again I guess she isn’t normal, she is dating you for example.” Sherlock pulled his head back, slightly offended by his friend’s statement.
John took a seat across from Sherlock, leaning closer and then saying with a low voice, ”This girl is like made for you Sherlock. You have to realize that.” And that Sherlock did, even if it had come to him as a surprise just how well you two fit together, especially after the flower incident. ”And you should cancel that reservation you made at the restaurant.” John reminded.
”Yes, of course.” Sherlock agreed and took his phone out in a hurry.
Summary: Based on the song Once Upon A Dream by Lana Del Rey, Mycroft has invited everyone to a formal ball, in which of course Sherlock, John, and you are too to be attending. Sherlock is absolutely breathtaken by you, and at that moment he can’t deny his feelings for you, and a new relationship blooms.
Song: Once Upon A dream, by Lana Del Rey (Please listen to it, its amazing.
Notes: Female Pronouns.
Y/N gazed upon the mirror, smiling at her reflection. She was wearing a breathtaking light blue gown, which reminded her a bit of Alice in Wonderland. The young woman tucked a stray strand of her H/C locks back into her graceful bun, as she adjusted the dress slightly. She had never looked or worn anything so formal in her entire lifespan, but she truly did feel beautiful tonight.
A loud sound of knocks on her door rang through her apartment, as she finally snapped out of her thoughts. Lestrade would be attending her to the ball, but of course only in a platonic way, since they didn’t see each other as anything else, but good friends. They were supposed to meet their other good friends, John Watson, and the well known detective Sherlock Holmes. The young woman had grown feelings for the detective, and so she of course was scared of what his opinions would be on her gown, and looks. Y/N hoped dearly he would think she looked at least nice in her new dress, but what could she expect of the sociopath. The young woman twiddled with a floral patterned ring she had gotten from Sherlock on her birthday, which she barely took off. John had pushed him to get a gift for her, and all Sherlock wanted was to of course give Y/N a wonderful, and memorable gift. At least something that wasn’t easy to forget.
The car came to a stop, and Y/N leaned slightly forward, for the vehicle stopped quite suddenly. Lestrade opened the car door for her, and helped her out of the car, for it was a bit difficult to stand up wearing such a gown. He politely grabbed her hand, pulling her up, and Y/N glanced at the large building which almost seemed like a palace. Typical Mycroft,the young woman shook her head as she thought. Very typical. The two adults strided their way to the main entrance where many of the guests already were there. Of course they had to be one of the last to arrive, but they attempted not to think of it, and just escorted each other inside, where the people were babbling on and on. Y/N examined the area, and it was absolutely magnificent. There was a large crystal chandelier in the middle of the room, and a large ball dance floor. The woman hadn’t noticed it, but all eyes were set on her, and she could feel her cheeks heat up with a light crimson blush, as she tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, sheepishly. Y/N met Sherlocks gaze, and sent a small smile towards his direction, and his jaw practically dropped at the sight of her (*gif*).
I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream I know you, that look in yours is so familiar a gleam And I know its true that visions are seldom all they seem
Y/N stepped down the stairs that lead down to the dance floor, and she also first now noticed how the ballroom was completely silent. She reached the end of the flight of steps, and looked around at the different eyes that were still gaping at her. Sherlock stepped out from the crowd, politely and shyly offering his hand.
“Would you perhaps dance with me?” He asked sheepishly, which only made Y/N smile even brighter.
“I’d be delighted to.” The woman replied, grasping his hand, and setting her other hand on his shoulder. The detective placed his free hand on her waist and so on they danced with each other on the ballroom dance floor. The other guests began dancing too, and Y/N noticed one of her favorite came on which happened to be a Disney song that was sung by Lana Del Rey: Once Upon A Dream. Sherlock noticed how her face lit up as the song began to play in the speakers, and decided to ask: “Do you know this song?”
“Yes, it was one of my favourite songs as a child.” Y/N responded, mirroring Sherlocks movements. “I know it by heart.”
“Would you care to sing for me, perhaps?”
But, If I know you, I know what you’ll do You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream
The woman voice was soft, and beautiful as she sang the lyrics of the dreamy song, and yet still could waltz perfectly well as she sang. Sherlock got completely lost in her angelic voice, and smiled at her as they moved across the ballroom floor.
But, If I know you, I know what you’ll do You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream
Like that they waltzed the night away, smiling and giggling to themselves, and never wanting the memorable moment to be stopped by time. Their feet got very soar after dancing around for such a long period of time, but they seemed to completely forget it, for they were absolutely lost in each other. They’re conversations got deeper, and deeper, as they got lost in each others voices and eyes.
I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream I know you, that look in yours is so familiar a gleam And I know its true that visions are seldom all they seem
Alas, they escorted each other outside, to catch their breath from all the moving around, and relaxed in the comfortable silence. Y/N turned her head to glance up at him, and met Sherlocks gaze, who seemingly already was looking at her before she had.
“Y/N, could I tell you something?”
“Of course, Sherlock.”
But, If I know you, I know what you’ll do You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream
He sang those words, and she was utterly mesmerized by his soft voice, even though it was only for a moment Y/N got to hear his voice hit those tones. Sherlock didn’t hesitate to set his lips on hers before she could respond. Y/N kissed him back softly, and sweetly, keeping it simple and not to deep. She had her arms around his neck, and he held her by the waist, and Y/N had to stand on her tip toes to reach his lips. They pulled away for they needed to take a moment to breath.
“Well, now you know it isn’t a dream.”
I am to obsessed with writing about balls, sorry. Reblogs,and likes are truly appreciated! <3 I attempted to just keep it short, sweet and simple!
Had you ever thought of your last words? Ever tried foreseeing what could be your last breath and in what occasion? If you would be to die in an accident maybe there wouldn’t be time for you to even realize what would happen. An illness could take you out, slowly spreading and destroying you, an agonizing death, or even a fast one. Only being told you have a week, a day or hours to live. That was a question no one could answer to, not if never facing an alarming situation that would predict death.
The night had started to fall sooner and faster than usually, or so it felt like. Normally the sun would still be up, maybe it was because of the cloudy day or it had tried to warn you, like foretelling you this would be the darkest day of your life, even the last.
The ground under your laying body gave you no comfort as you shuddered. You could feel everything around you get cold, the chilly stone floor radiating and affecting everyone in the room, even the lone furnitures, creeping up your spine and taking over your whole being. Even if you had dressed warmly it wasn’t enough to keep the cold away, not anymore. A huge cut that you were covering poorly with your hands was spilling blood over your pale fingers, ruining the white shirt you had been wearing and there was no use of putting pressure on the wound, still you did so, but it didn’t stop the bleeding.
Never had you felt so alone, so distant to the object in the room you were in. Even if the big and almost completely empty room, if you would leave out the lousy decoration that contained only a dresser, a sofa and a table near the door way, it was the most eeriest place to be in. There were no windows in the said room, you couldn’t almost see, not even the moon light being able to shine upon you. The closest window was in the next room and the light that came through didn’t carry itself to your present. You could hear your breathing and your cries. You tried to stay calm and sane, but couldn’t help to start lose your hope and strength. You couldn’t keep up like this.
Your ears were ringing and your vision was blurry. You had hard time on concentrating on your surroundings and so you kept your eyes on your hands that tried desperately keep the blood inside of you, but failing miserably. You tried to keep your breathing steady, it became the only sound you could hear and not even people approaching you brought you out of your trance until he was right beside you.
He had ran at you as he saw you from the door way. You remembered him hollering for you previously, but as you had been busy you had not had the time to answer and as you collapsed, all you could do was try to keep yourself awake, your hands on your stomach.
He called for you, repeatedly, his hands supporting you. You could feel him shake, from shock. He was out of options. You knew he was able to see the wound and how much you had already lost blood. When his hands shook, dancing over your body as if he wasn’t able to see where the wound was, trying to blindly find the spot where to put pressure, you took your hands away from the wound. You wrapped your fingers softly around his wrists. His hands shaking, but not waving over you, you lift your gaze to meet his. His eyes, those wildly blue colored eyes were wide from fear, from shock, his lips apart, his mind racing.
”Sherlock…” You whispered. Your voice was weak, you had no idea how tired you already were. You could feel the taste of iron, but not wanting to ruin the moment you swallowed the blood that tried to come up your throat.
”No, don’t talk.” He said with a shaky voice, his hands finally pressing on your wound. You grunted, Sherlock’s hands pulling away at you wincing, but then pressing on you again. ”Just stay awake.” His eyes wildly gazed around as if trying to find anything to help you. Desperately he sighed when he couldn’t come up with anything. He pulled himself closer to you, his hands firmly on you.
”Sherlock,” You softly whispered. You put your hand on his, prying his hands off of you, but not forcibly, ”it’s okay.”
If you weren’t in that state, you would cry for his expression. You had never seen the consulting detective so lost and helpless. He longed for resting his hands over your stomach, but he knew you were right. There was no use for that now.
”I’m so sorry.” He cried after silence. He rested his forehead against your, pulling you to his arms and holding you in his embrace. Even his hug wasn’t enough to keep you warm, but it gave you enough on other levels. You felt calm and safe in his arms.
”I won’t make it, right?” You couldn’t help it when your voice broke. The words were so final, there was nothing you could do to stop this or save it. This would be your stop, you would cease to exist, you wouldn’t be waking up and see the sun, feel the warmth of summer.
”No.” It was all he said, but it was enough. You didn’t need him to say anything else, you knew he couldn’t say no more either. This was it.
”Don’t leave me here alone.” You cried as you looked at him as he had pulled away slightly to see your face. he promised not to, to be there till the end, which you both knew was near. He pulled you back to his embrace, you could hear him sniffle as he pressed you against himself.
It felt like hours as you lay there, but you knew it was only minutes. The pool pf blood next to you was growing and it was reflecting your time in a clock like way, the bigger it grew the less time you had.
You whimpered. You were feeling colder and colder, and Sherlock could feel it too. He leaned his lips next to your ear, you knew he was getting ready to soon be holding your lifeless body. He cried, tears leaving his eyes and going down his cheeks, some escaping to your hair. You felt Sherlock’s lips part and he whispered, with a calm voice to you words that would carry you away, that would let you go in peace.
”Just close your eyes, you’ll be alright. No one can hurt you now.” He placed a kiss on your cheek. ”You will be safe and sound.”
A/N: I thought of watching Sherlock today to get my inspiration back, and it worked!! Also I love the grey sweat pants on Sherlock, I don’t know why but I just do.
Warnings: Drugs, alcohol, fluff. And Mycroft. HAHA
You had been used to Sherlock’s quirks. Some of them happened on daily basis as others you encountered rarely enough to count them out. One of them was his drug addiction. You had witnessed it twice by now and it had been enough for you to form an opinion on your addicted partner. Yes, you called him your partner rather than boyfriend, it was the result of your conversation while you discussed your relationship status and even if it sounded like you were just as heartless and up tight as Mycroft Holmes it wasn’t true. You had always had mixed feelings for the word boyfriend, as you were an adult and so was Sherlock, so why call him that, when you could address him with something more appropriate. This of course didn’t surprise anyone, for they ha already wrapped their pretty little head around the fact that you and Sherlock were together and matched in a way no one could’ve ever imagined anyone to with Sherlock.
You didn’t complain about Sherlock’s drug use. You knew no one was a saint and he usually, or so he claimed to be, used when he needed. It was a bit obscure for someone to need to get high while working but Sherlock had always been different to say the least so you let it pass. Or tried to. Then there was the amount he had used at those previous times and you had to admit him being right those times. The amount had been so little you had suspected he had even taken all that for a case, but like always you let it go. But this time wasn’t the same.
You had stayed over the night at Baker Street, at Sherlock’s flat and just like every other time, you slept longer than Sherlock. You always had his word for sleeping next to him, but rarely did so, or had tried not to, knowing he wasn’t one to cuddle and even once fell off the bed when you had moved too close for his liking in his sleep. An argument had erupted from that as you had declined his suggestion of saying over the second time and sleeping with him in his bed. You had told him you could sleep on the couch, the night had closed in and Sherlock, wether he admits it or not, didn’t want you wondering about London alone in the nights after the ’study in pink’ cabby incident he had years ago. You told he you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by sleeping close to him to which he answered he had moved in his sleep, not being able to control his movements. You had given into his command on staying and sharing the bed, but had tried to keep still the whole night. Good thing you could control your body while sleeping if you really concentrated on it. Sherlock on the other hand had been clinging on you the whole night, trying to prove you he could let you get close to him, and as you were both adults you had another fight.
From there on you avoided even talking about sleep. When you did stay over longer than supposed to, you faked you had fallen asleep on the couch while Sherlock was distracted by work. It never took you too long to actually fall asleep, before Sherlock went to bed or after, it always depended how soon after you had drifted off he’d go to bed, but always he pulled a blanket over you before heading off to his room. Sometimes you could hear him grunt when he noticed you sleeping and you could tell he would’ve wanted to sleep with you at those nights, but you still kept this act up, until Sherlock came up by his own tactic to evade this problem. He started to take his work to his bed and since you were helping him and assisting you couldn’t deny him for doing so or even circle around his sly way of getting you to sleep next to him by nights. You didn’t last long on his comfy bed with all the papers and text you had to read in the dimly lit room, your eye lids growing heaving sooner when you did your work in his bedroom, but that didn’t stop him from doing so. He was only humored by your little game and you being too polite and plain bored of all this playing and games let it be.
Last night had been the same for you, you had fallen asleep after two hours of work, face first falling on the cushions, next to the papers you had just been trying to read and memorize. Sherlock had noticed your tiredness before your eyes started closing and he eyed you, humored by your tries to stay awake until you lost your inner battle and fell asleep. He always lay a duvet over your body, pulling the blankets aside before getting to work with you since he knew you would drift off before him and now had no problem with tugging you in. And after an hour or two doing the same, laying next to you and pulling you close to him under the covers.
You woke up in an empty bed, the side next to you cold by now while you tried the empty space with your hand, patting the mattress. You heard sounds from the living room and kitchen area and were sure Sherlock was on to something. He didn’t make much noise, knowing you’d wake up if he was to make a racket, trying quietly go through the cabinets for clothes and what ever he would be needing. He had already had tea, Mrs. Hudson always made two cups for the both of you but hadn’t yet found out Sherlock was usually the one emptying the cups as you were still fast asleep.
You rolled on to your back, stretching your hands upwards to reach the ceiling and a pleasurable smirk spreading on your lips. There was nothing better than a good morning stretch and you were sure no one would be to disagree with that. Your legs and toes tensed and you tried to get the best of your morning work out, tossing and turning on the bed as you tried to get the stimulation to other parts in your body. The thin blanket around you wrapped around you when you rolled and when you went to get up you nearly fell. You had been now entirely tied up by the sheet, but able to pry it off of you you tossed the sheet on the bed in a bundle and scouted to pick your clothes from the floor. You always slept in a top or a shirt at Sherlock’s, not sure how he’d react if he’d find you topless next to him in the morning and not really looking forward to that you kept as much clothes on as you could. Now you pulled you pants and socks on and let your hands go through your hair. You gazed at the bed before opening the door. Right then Sherlock dashed by you, entering his room with a quick good morning and went through the papers you had studied just yesterday. You told him the same and went to the living room, taking comfortable position on his chair. You knew he didn’t mind you doing so, at least when he was leaving the apartment. You knew well enough from his hurried movement that he was on to something with his previous case and would leave the apartment in any second now.
You took the tea cup next to the chair that was companied with an empty one, yours half way through, but still warm enough for you to finish. You always enjoyed those mornings when you could just watch everyone else making a rush, hurrying to work and you could just sit by and look. Unfortunately the tea tasted plain for your liking, but you sipped all of it anyways. You wiggled your toes inside of your socks on the chair, the cool fabric trying to break through the clothes. You loved Sherlock’s chair. It looked nice and it felt soft and comfy. Pity you didn’t get to sit on it often.
Sherlock came from his room not looking towards you, his whole body covered in two sizes too big clothing. He had grey sweat pants and a dark blue hoodie, the hood being pulled over his shaggy hair when he hurried to the stairs and called for you, informing he’d go out now to work on a case to which you answered wishing him good luck. The door closed right behind him with a soft bang and the flat was filled with silence. You waited a second, then two trying to control yourself. You had seen him in those clothes before and it always made your stomach turn. Nothing good ever followed when he went out dressed like that and it made you sad and disturbed. You thought of calling Mycroft and asking him to send someone to keep an eye on his little brother but knew Sherlock would notice right away if someone would be to follow him. Also there was John, but you figured not to bother him so you decided to just wait it out.
The day went by slowly and you couldn’t help but keep thinking what Sherlock was doing right now. You hoped for the best and that he wouldn’t disappear for days or weeks on his mission. You would hate that to happen since you knew you wouldn’t hesitate to call someone on his ass if he’d be out longer than a day or so. He hadn’t mentioned how long he’d be out, maybe to evade you from questioning or he really didn’t know. This made your mind go nuts, making all these alternate future possibilities where he’d come home after a week or being found and brought to hospital or even worse. You shook your head at your imagination going wild and decided to do something that would take your mind off of Sherlock.
It had been about eight hours now that Sherlock had left and you started to get bored. He hadn’t asked you to wait for him so you were free to leave, but wishful thinking of him finding his way back home kept you there. Now you were second guessing your decision, but couldn’t leave just yet before eating. You had started to feel hungry, the last time you ate was three hours ago. You were just getting to the kitchen when you heard the front door open and shouting filling the flat. You went to the door that gave you a view of the hallway and the stairs and saw Sherlock and John.
”I told you I’m clean!” Sherlock shouted frustratedly waving his hands in the air. His hair was still a mess but his face had changed. There were circles under his eyes and he looked like he had been up the whole last night, then again you didn’t know had he been, but at the morning as much as you had seen him, which was not much, he had looked normal to you.
”You don’t look clean to me and I’m a bloody doctor!” John snapped back as he pulled the door close behind him with a loud bang. He eyed Sherlock with a nasty scowl and leaned close to him, trying to intimidate his taller friend who was not impressed by his though act, more humored than taken aback. ”I have told you countless of times not to do this to yourself, and I’m saying it again, STOP DOING THIS IT WON’T HELP YOU ACHIEVE ANYTHING!” His voice echoed in the staircase and you flinched at the sudden change of volume. Sherlock on the other hand didn’t move a muscle and glared at his friend. ”And I’ve said I haven’t taken anything!” He shouted in John’s face.
”Oh don’t pull that shit with me, Sherlock.” John mused, but his voice was deceiving. It was clear that he was far from amused by the situation at hand. He just used sarcasm often. He crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Sherlock, trying to get glimpses of him that would give away how mush he had taken by now. Sherlock had covered himself well enough for it wasn’t evident what and how much he had taken, but that didn’t make John stop. ”You could’ve called me! You have any idea what it will be to explain to everyone how you almost ended up in the hospital for over dose?”
”That has happened before.” Sherlock muttered as if it changed anything. ”And who said you have to explain this to anyone? I haven’t taken anything and it was a misunderstanding. I am clear.” Sherlock stated calmly and headed up the stairs, John right behind him, yelling, ”I’m not covering up for you only because you claim to be clear! You should thank me for not calling Mycroft on your arse by now!”
You took a step away from the door, getting back to the kitchen. You waited for Sherlock and John to arrive to the living room and as they did John looked at you worriedly while Sherlock tried to play it cool. ”Oh, you’re still here, good, I were in a need of assistance.” Sherlock said and looked around, searching for something or he was to restless to keep up the eye contact and stay put. ”I’m leaving.” You announced and took you jacket that had been laying on the backside of John’s arm chair. You pulled it over yourself and passed through the two men without saying another word. You were fuming from rage. This was the last drop. John had stepped aside, his eyes wide and body tense as he sensed your silent rage, he was married for god’s sake and knew when a man was in trouble and this was it. Of course he would be the one explaining this to Sherlock after you had left.
You knew it wasn’t the best idea to get hammered after encountering your partner in that state, but you needed to clear your head so you went to a bar far from Baker Street just in case John would wonder around. You offered a shot and a big drink, with a one sip finishing the shot and hitting the bottom of it to the table. The drink you drank slower, sipping it slowly and trying to enjoy the taste but soon gave up on enjoying the drink and instead started ordering liquors that tasted bad but strong. You didn’t stay long, after three drinks you started to feel bad enough to leave the bar. You were alms home, but decided to avenge Sherlock’s way of ruining your day by calling a cab. You knew he weren’t there to see you get into the cab and would probably never know of it, but you felt good going behind his back and rebelling.
When you got home it was almost 11pm and you decided to go to bed, taking your shoes and jacket off, but leaving all the other clothes on for the lack of care. You would be undressing yourself in your sleep if needed to. Not even bothering on checking your phone or that did it even have any power left you let yourself fall face first on the bed, pulling the blanket over your body. You curl up and let tears fall over your cheeks as the alcohol has started to wear off. You felt bad for going drinking and for letting Sherlock get under your skin like that. You had known this would happen sooner or later, you’d seen it before and still here you are, crying. You would have probably hit yourself by now if weren’t too sleepy so you concentrated on trying to stop crying and try to get some rest.
You woke up early the next morning, your head felt dizzy but not too bad. Your stomach was also turning but you could handle it. You just needed a minute or two for it to calm down. Your body and mind protested against getting up just yet but you graved for your phone and when you finally found it from the pocket of your jacket you saw there were five missed calls and twelve messages. All the calls were from John, the text too. He apologized for you having to see Sherlock in that state and he asked how you were. On one of them he told you he had recommended Sherlock not to try contact with you since it wouldn’t end well for him or you. One of the messages had arrived an hour ago. There he asked were you okay and safely home, and to this you answered by informing him you were home and just woke up. He was relieved that you texted back, but then he opened up a conversation your were not ready for.
John texted you that he had indeed called Mycroft after you left yesterday, who had informed Sherlock that leaving his apartment wasn’t even an option for him since now some of Mycroft’s henchmen were keeping an eye on the flat twenty-four seven. He told you if you wanted to see Sherlock it would be up to you, letting you know he couldn’t get to you by himself if you didn’t count phones that is. You of course had no desire of seeing him which John understood but still tried to bend you to go over there, not necessarily today but soon. Sherlock would appreciate it he assured you. As your texting came to an end, John needing to get to work you received a message. From Sherlock this time. He asked were doing anything particular today to which you stated coldly, I’m not coming over. And put your phone away.
You didn’t intend to leave your house and you were already half way through it, when your phone informed you of a message. You looked at the screen and was from Mycroft. It said, Go visit him before he does something stupid, he’s becoming impossible to keep inside the house and I can’t have the press finding out he’s using again. you sighed at his way of not dancing around the problem and how he was always able to get you do what he wanted, and then another text message came from Mycroft. The car will be there in two minutes. You groaned. Why had he always need to be so pushy? You were thankful it was Sherlock you dated instead of Mycroft.
The car pulled over your house when the two minutes had passed and you had to admit that maybe Mycroft had problem with being in control of everything like Sherlock always suggested. You climbed in the car, greeting Mycroft’s little henchmen girl that was texting back to his boss of the trip over to the Baker Street. You didn’t bother by chatting with her as you knew well enough it would only irritate you or the girl wouldn’t even answer to half of your questions. When finally the ride was over the car left. You hesitated for awhile. You could maybe try and flee but as your thoughts went through your head you received a message. Don’t even think about it.
You sighed and went for the door, opening it and getting inside. You heard noise from upstairs and a familiar voice yelling, ”I’m still here as you know, but I will find a way out soon enough.” You shook your head and gazed about the lobby. It was dark and gloomy, you wanted so bad to just leave and not come back but you knew Mycroft wouldn’t have that. You had no choice but to do as he said, you taking the first step on the stairs as you answered to Sherlock with a loud voice, ”Good to know I didn’t come here for nothing.” And the living room upstairs grew silent. Soon Sherlock’s head peeked from the end of the stairs and he smiled at you. You walked up the stairs, keeping your distance even if he tried to bring you close to a hug.
”I’m here because your brother forced me to come. Don’t get any ideas.” You said and walked past him and sat on the long couch facing the fire place, the one you slept on at times. Sherlock followed you, but instead of sitting on his chair he sat next to you on the couch, close enough for your knees to touch. He was wearing his pajamas, purplish pants and a white shirt, his blue robe covering his arms which you were thankful of. You didn’t want to think how his arms looked like. You knew well enough there would be see through needle marks and even the thought made you sick to your stomach and to top it all you had been drinking last night.
”I would’ve appreciated it if you had stayed yesterday.” Sherlock said. ”I really needed your help with finishing the case.” He coldly explained. You could only see glimpses of him from yesterday every time you turned to look at him and it irritated you. He leaned closer and made you want to move further away from him, but didn’t. You knew he’d only grab onto you and pull you back to him if you did try to leave and there was Mycroft of course. You had to stay and try to solve this situation soon somehow if you wanted to get home before dark. You turned towards Sherlock. ”I couldn’t look at you when you were in that state.” You stated coldly.
”You have seen me in that state before.” Sherlock reminded, but earned a scowl from you and a scoff. You held your head high and snapped, ”You have never been in that deep. You’ve usually taken just a little or just smoked.” You narrowed your eyes. ”There is only enough I can take and you crossed it. I don’t need to bare everything just for your career.” This shut Sherlock up for a minute until he wondered out loud, ”You were worried about me?” You fixed your position and nodded your head. ”Well, I had never seen you in that deep.” You admitted. ”You went drinking.” He deduced. You hit his shoulder and glared at him. ”Yes, and who’s fault it that?” You asked and were sure Sherlock was about to tell you how he couldn’t care less for your pity on him and your emotions but instead looked down at his feet. The air got caught in your throat as you saw him regretting?
”I- I’m sorry, (Y/n).” And he turned to look at you, his eyes shining in the light that pooled into the living room from behind his back, from the window next to his desk. He pulled you to a hug and for a second you didn’t know what to do. Should you hug him back or just freeze? ”I didn’t mean to hurt you. I would never want to do that for you.” Something in his words pinched your heart and you gripped the back of his robe, pulling him closer. ”Just please, stop doing that, Sherlock.” You whispered, about to start sobbing. ”I will, for you.” He whispered back. You held each other for a couple of minutes before Sherlock pulled away, he smirked at you and said, ”You still have to make yesterday up to me.” You pulled even further away from him and playfully narrowed your eyes at him, questioning him, ”Me?”
”Yes, you did take a cab at night even if I have specifically told you not to.” You didn’t even bother to ask him how he knew that so you just decided to roll your eyes at him. ”Also, I still need your help with the case.” He said and stood up, walking over to his desk and scooping up a pile of papers. You sat there and he came over to you, handing you the pile and going to take one for himself too, then heading towards his bedroom and calling for you, ”Come now.” You sighed. Here you go again. You’d have to stay at least over the night.
Pairing: Sherlock/Reader Words: 1280+ Warning(s): Abuse, abuse mention, depression A/N: sorry this took 5 ever. i hope you enjoy! Also sorry my writing sucks here orx Request: sorry if this seems dark you dont have to write it! can you do a sherlock x reader where she is abused by her boyfriend? her, sherlock and john were best friends before he started keeping her away/locked in her flat except for work or shopping until she finally calls sherlock, wanting him to help but her boyfriend catches her. end it with some fluff pls!