“Ugh why are you here?” she said looking at Sherlock.
“Lestrade wanted me to solve a case, seeing as you were obviously no help with it,” Sherlock said with a smirk.
“Well we can’t all be psychopaths now can we? Besides you aren’t as important as you think really. You’re just Lestrade’s pet freak,” she said harshly. There was that word again. Freak. You hated when she called Sherlock that, the way she spat the word at him with such malice and hate.
“You know Sally,” you said releasing Sherlock’s hand and stepping in front of h
“Mrs. Hudson are you almost ready?” You called over your shoulder as you stepped into your red stilettos.
“Oh yes just one second dear!” She called as you heard her rummaging through a jewelry box. You turned back to the mirror again taking in your appearance when Sherlock and John came bounding d
In all the time he’d known you, there had never been anything between you beyond a friendship that for some reason worked better than most and was stronger than he ever could have anticipated. It was something that had happened without him ever realizing, that friendship, but right now, sitting in his chair watching you making tea, he wished there had been more- not really for the love but to have a deeper connection, to escape from the loneliness he’d discovered in his heart.
He gave a fleeting smile at the skull still on the mantle before observing the rest of the fl
You were the top forensic blood spatter analyst in the UK and it kept you rather busy and alone most of the time. Honestly that was how you preferred it, the living were cruel and overly complex and the dead were quiet and, frankly, simple.
When your jazzy ringtone broke the silence in your lab, you scooted your chair to where it was with a kick of your legs and then answered it, “(F/n) (L/n), h-how may I help you?”
Lestrade’s voice rang out on the other end with the words that you both hated and loved to hear, “(L/n) You are needed at a crime scene Asap.” He gave you a location, y
“You’ve already eaten half the tub, love. It’s bad for you.”
You let out a pathetic whine, “Johhnn.”
Your brother didn’t even look up from his computer, “Give her back the ice cream, Sherlock.”
“You know as well as I do that that much sugar is not good for a person’s system, she-“
He cut Sherlock off, looking up with an entirely unamused expression, “Just give it back.”
John opened his mouth to respond but caught a glimpse of you and let out a heavy sigh, shooting Sherlock a glare as he moved to crouch in front of you. You’d started to
“So this man is innocent, and was framed by his brother so that he would be sent to prison?” John asked Sherlock, making sure he understood correctly.
“Yes, it’s very obvious,” Sherlock said as he began playing a slow tune on his violin.
“That’s terrible,” John stated, “doing that to your own brother.”
“His brother was probably the favorite,” you replied from Sherlock’s chair, taking a bite of an apple Mrs. Hudson had given you earlier.
“Favorite? What does that have to do with anything?” Sherlock remarked.
“Well everyone has favorites, whether they admit it or not,” you replied. “And that favoritism often leads to jealously, especially when one comes from a rich family like that man did.”
“Not everyone has favorites,” Sherlock scoffed, still playing his violin.
"Shut up. I don't know what your talking about" Sherlock glared at the man, whose chuckle was dying down. Lestrade, even without Sherlock's deduction powers noticed a faint gleam of confusion in his eyes. He stared at Sherlock dumbfounded, "You do realize you like her, right". 'Tsk' was Sherlocks initial reply, "I don't have the emotional capability to 'like' anyone".
Just as Lestrade was about to speak up again, you walked back into the room. "Here are the copies you asked for sir" you smiled warmly at him. As you went to go leave, to continue with your own work, y
You puffed out the smoke you were holding in your lungs through your nose, your eyes closed, “You aren’t real.”
Sherlock frowned as you took another long drag of your cigarette and then put it out on his gravestone, shaking your head as if trying to clear your thoughts. You turned and let your eyes slide open, looking at him for only a moment before drifting past him, “You aren’t real. Please go away. John’s already thinking of committing me and I would prefer that not happen.”
“(F/n)…” he called but you kept moving, “I don’t want to see you anymore, Sherlock. I can’t handle this. It’s unhealthy.”
You really didn’t believe he was there, what had you been seeing for you not to believe in what was right in front of you?
He jogged to catch up with you, placing himself in your path and holding your shoulders, and you looked up at him for a moment before yank
John chuckled from across the table, reading his own section of paper as you worked on the Sudoku puzzle in yours. It was a habit you’d both gotten into since you’d moved into their spare bedroom, you and John both got up at reasonable hours, switched off making breakfast, and then sat and split the paper.
He always read the news and you went for the crosswords and Sudoku, you liked the challenge and, while the crossword often went unfinished, you were fairly good at Sudoku. It kept your mind sharp for what ever challenges Sherlock was sure to get the three of you into.
You started scanning again, writing in a succession of numbers the nine had made apparent
“I can’t stop now Sherlock. I just unlocked a new mission!” You didn’t even turn away from the TV when you answered Sherlock and that made him even more annoyed than he already was.
“That’s not important now turn it off,” he demanded.
“Sherlock there is dragon burning down villages. I think that qualifies as important.”
“(y/n) its four in the morning and you’ve been there for nearly seventeen hours. It normally wouldn’t matter but seeing as you haven’t slept for forty-eight hours you need to stop.”
“Just five more minutes.”
“You haven’t even been blinking, that’s going to dry out your eyes,” he said as he walked to your side.
“Of course I’ve been blinking, don’t be ridiculous,” you said brushing off his words.
“(y/n) look at me,” he ordered.
“Ugggh what Sherlock?