Sherlock Imagines

Figment of Imagination🌫Sherlock X Reader

Slowly, you lift the bottle to your lips. You take a swig of the bitter drink that resides in the bottle. Carefully, you place the bottle on the table in front of you.

This is it, you think. I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life.

You heave a sigh. Your shoulders shake as you allow the endless sobs to come out. Finally, you allow the welling emotions to release themselves.

You feel the ebb and flow of pain, anguish, loneliness, and depression suppressing you, creating this pit of emptiness in your heart and mind. It has been too long. There is no longer a glimmer of hope that he could be, even in the slightest bit, breathing.

You suppress screams of agony as you collapse to the floor, creating an amplified thud. You believe that you have truly gone insane. You can't do it; you simply don't feel the will to live anymore. He's gone and he was all that mattered to you.

Eventually, the screams amplify and the sound of rushing feet outside of your door is audible. The door bursts open and falls to the floor, as the hinges come out of the wall.

Suddenly, you see his shoes again. You know it to be your imagination playing into your reality. His once familiar scent envelops you as a strong pair of arms lift you from the floor, pulling you into a solid chest.

Slowly, a hand rubs your back soothingly, while the other runs its fingers through your hair. Your sobs quieten.

"Shh. I'm here now. I'm here, noone can hurt you. Noone can hurt us. Everything's okay now. Please stop crying now. It's alright, love. I'm alive and here for you darling. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry that I left. Shh," the familiar baritone voice says.

You look into the familiar blue-green orbs that you fell in love with. "You're not real. I've truly done it. I've truly become hysterical. You aren't real. You died. You're just a figment of my imagination," you say, more tears springing from your eyes.

Sherlock sighs. "I can assure you that I'm no figment of your imagination. If I were, could I make you melt in my hands like this," he asks as he wipes the tears away and kisses you passionately.

You feel everything. You feel longing, sorrow, pain, passion, and need all in that one kiss.

He is real. And alive. And you need oxygen.