Sherlock Imagines and Preferences 2

Next To Me

Song: Next To Me by Imagine Dragons

I have been absent for almost five whole months. It's been so long that I forgot how much I loved to write. So, I just decided to sit in front of my laptop and write a new oneshot today. I hope you're all still here with me and that you enjoy this new imagine!

I don't know if I'm back permanently because I have a lot of things on my plate still, but I'm definitely going to make an effort to come here and write something once in a while.

I missed you all so much! Thank you for all the votes, comments and reads despite my absence. You're all truly amazing. Thanks so much! <3 

<♥>

Something about the way that you walked into my living room

Casually and confident lookin' at the mess I am

But still you, still you want me

Stress lines and cigarettes, politics, and deficits

Late bills and overages, screamin' and hollerin'

But still you, still you want me

Hot water poured out of the boiler as clouds of steam formed, slowly rising to the top of the silent kitchen. 

Sherlock stared at the machine, waiting numbly for it to finish. The boiler beeped loudly, momentarily taking him off-guard before he settled back into his calm state. With slow, steady movements, he poured the water into his favourite mug and added the teabag. 

Black tea. To match the bitter day. 

Sherlock carried the cup to his chair and sat down, sighing as he did so. It was yet another bleak day at 221B Baker Street. Another day in the eternal return that was the detective's life. His quiet mind began to wander as he sedately raised the cup to his lips and sipped. The tea was still hot and burnt his tongue, but the man didn't seem to notice. His gaze slowly travelled to the coffee table. His tongue grazed across his pale lips as the urge began to rise. 

He hadn't taken another dose in almost an entire day. Twenty-four hours. One thousand four hundred and forty minutes without getting high. And how tedious it was. 

There was no one there to hold him back. Everyone in his life had abandoned him, left him to rot by himself in his lonely little flat. Sure, his landlady lived only a staircase away, but even she- whom Sherlock had known since his youth- couldn't look at him the same. He was even lonelier than in the two years he had spent trying to dismantle Moriarty's organisation. 

And what had all the effort been for? Humanity despised him for the trick he pulled. He had done it to save his friends, his family and everyone endangered by the consulting criminal. Upon his return, he had expected gratefulness and glee. Glee that the mighty consulting detective was alive and well. But that's not what he got. It was the exact opposite of what he got. Though, it didn't matter anymore. 

He set the cup on the table and carefully wrapped his slender fingers around the needle. One more dose couldn't hurt. Just one more to forget his pain and loneliness for a while, that was all. 

He rolled up his sleeve and looked for a vein when suddenly his phone started ringing. Sherlock's head jerked up, his left eyebrow raised slightly. A call? He hadn't received a call in weeks. Or was it months? He couldn't remember. 

He put the needle back on the table and eagerly grabbed the ringing device and held it to his ear. ''Hello?'' he inquired hesitantly. 

''Sherlock, it's Greg. I could really use your help on a case we got here. You in?''