Fandom Imagines

Sherlock x Self Harm Reader (Y/N's POV)

TRIGGER WARNING: DO NOT READ IF THESE THINGS MAKE YOU STRUGGLE IN ANY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM. 

"I'm home!" I called out as I walked to the kitchen to put away the three bags of groceries I had procured for the three of us. As usual, John replied to me and Sherlock either wasn't home or was ignoring my existence.

He doesn't care about me. Why would he care about some stupid idiot like me? I thought to myself as I put away the groceries. I blinked back the tears that stung my eyes and blurred my eyesight. I pushed through putting everything away in the appropriate places, removing the three severed heads from the oven, fridge, and freezer in order to do so.

"I'm so bleeding tired, I'm going to go and take a nap." I said as I yawned to make it more believable about what I was really about to do.

"Well, I hope it's refreshing, Y/N." John said with a small grin.

"Hurmph." Sherlock grunted, barely acknowledging my existence.

If the Human Lie Detector couldn't catch on to what I was about to do, then it was obvious that I wasn't very important to him and thus, didn't deserve his attention and am not worthy of breathing or being around him. I shouldn't even be allowed to live in the same flat as him and John. See, Y/N, this is why you need to do this. I thought as I walked to my room, allowing the tears to slip out of my eyes as I opened my door, only to slowly close it behind me and lock it.

I made my way over to my bed, pulling out my art utensils as I sat down on my bed. I moved my markers, charcoal pencils, and other pencils off my small coin purse where I kept my razors hidden. Listening to the sounds of the flat, I waited for thirty seconds to pull them out and roll my left sleeve up and crossing my legs, I placed the blade on my arm and slowly drew it across my skin.

I hissed as my skin split open and a small line of blood beaded out of my arm, oozing out of the wound. I watched on, transfixed as I bled. I let out a breath and then went at my arm once, twice, three, nine more times and relaxed as I finally felt the blissful feeling of my pain just flowing away from me.

"Hey, Y/N! We've got a case! Open your bloody—oh my..." Sherlock gasped as he walked into my room, stopping in his tracks, his eyes going wide.

"S—sher—lock? How did you get in here?!" I shrieked, yanking my sleeve down to cover my cut up arm coated with blood.

He backed out of my room muttering about signs and getting John.

"No! NO! Sherlock! Come back here, you can't tell John!!" I shouted, jumping up, running after him only to trip over my blanket as it got stuck around my ankle.

"Sherlock? Y/N? What's going on? Why did I hear you shouting and then a thud?" I heard John shouting as he walked up the stairs likely running into Sherlock on his dazed way down to get him.

I panicked and struggled to get up from the floor, only becoming capable of ensnaring myself more in the blankets.

"WHAT?!" I heard John shout.

I froze, holding my blanket above my head, it effectively making me look like a child playing ghost. Then I heard four feet running up the stairs and I went back to struggling with my blanket, but was not successful in getting to the door before they entered my room.

"Y/N! Are you okay? What happened?" John asked as he kneeled down next to me.

I clenched my fists and kept my arms stiff and close to my sides. "I'm fine." I said in annoyance, trying to throw off my best friends.

"No, you're not." Sherlock practically growled at me.

"How would you know?" I asked, my voice wavering.

"If you are alright, why is your arm bleeding through your blouse? And what is this?"

My eyes opened in shock, looking at what he held up in between his first two fingers. My razor blade.

"Y/N... Let me see your arm." John said gently.

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to let John and Sherlock look over me and bandage me up. I ignored their questions, remaining silent, not wanting to talk about what was going on.

John left to go get more alcohol wipes to sanitize my wounds. I folded my legs in, wrapping myself around them, refusing to meet Sherlock's gaze as I felt his eyes burning into my skull.

"Y/N, look at me." Sherlock demanded.

I continued to pretend that he wasn't even in the room with me, ignoring his existence as he does mine.

Sherlock sighed, (about as much as a human response he ever gives) and walked to my side, touching my shoulders. I jumped, not expecting any physical contact to come between us.

"What is it?" I croaked out, finally giving in to the forcer known as William Sherlock Scott Holmes.

"Why?" he asked quietly, kneeling next to me.

"Why do you do drugs?" I shot back.

"To calm my mind, keep me grounded and dull my brain." He answered almost mechanically.

"Deduce the situation, Brainiac." I muttered, clutching my arm close to me.

"You don't have the same intellect as I do, thus you cannot be doing this for the same reasons I participate in illegal drugs for recreational use. You are always so warm, calm, nurturing, and sweet to children; so it cannot be because you had a hard childhood, otherwise with your personality, you would avoid children at all costs. The only other possible explanation is... No, that's not possible. You didn't show any signs. I would've noticed them immediately, like everything else about you." He started to pace the room and stopped as soon as he made the connection.

The tears started to fall for the second time today. I had tried so hard to keep them inside my body without escaping. I bowed my head, blocking his sight of my face.

"Y/N, are you depressed?" he whispered, falling to his knees.

"Well spotted." I choked out, trying to stop the sobs from coming out of my wracking body.

"Y/N, it's not your fault. It's simply an imbalance of chemicals in your brain. Do not feel like it's your fault for this." Sherlock said, wrapping his arms around me.

"I'm fine." I muttered against his shoulder.

"Don't lie to me, and more importantly, don't lie to yourself, my darling."

I looked up at him with eyes wide open. Did he just call me his darling?!

"Let me show you how much you mean to me, don't let those lies that fill your mind tell you that you don't mean anything to anyone." Sherlock said as he kissed the top of my head.

"Okay, I will." I said softly.

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, Sherlock. But what does this mean for us?"

"We are in love with each other and that we are going to go after this relationship and make it work." He said with a real smile to me just as John walked back in with the wipes and bandages.

I smiled and let them work on me, feeling loved for the first time in a long time.