Sherlock Imagines and Preferences 2

Ridiculous Man

Trigger Warning: mentions of rape

Be safe, everyone!

<♥>

You entered your flat, smiling to yourself and humming a tune.

''You're in an awfully good mood,'' your roommate commented. ''Didn't think shopping for groceries was that entertaining to you.''

You smiled, not allowing him to ruin your happiness. ''Well, actually, Sherlock, I met someone!''

He quirked his eyebrow. ''You met someone? At a grocery shop?''

''Yes,'' you sighed happily. ''It was really romantic actually. I reached for a tin of biscuits and so did he, and then our hands touched.''

Sherlock looked at you, an amused expression on his face. ''So you're in love now? I didn't think you were the type.''

''I'm not in love with him! I only just met him, I'm not that crazy. We're going on a date, though. This Friday.''

''Considering how desperate you've been for a relationship, I suppose I should be happy for you.''

You glared at him. ''I can always count on you to ruin my good mood, can't I?'' You huffed and turned around, heading to the kitchen to put away the groceries you'd bought.

As soon as you were out of sight, Sherlock's smirk disappeared. His features adapted a solemn look as he stared at the floor.

You had moved in with Sherlock almost a year ago. The detective had put up an ad online after his dear friend, John Watson, got married and permanently moved out. 

Though he could easily afford the rent on his own, his landlady wasn't having any of it. She forced him to find a flatmate, and after putting up the ad, he quickly found you.

You were a struggling author. You worked your arse off, but could never seem to find someone who believed in you enough to get you published. 

For now, you had turned to freelance writing for websites and papers, leaving your dream of becoming a published author on a back burner.

You were being kicked out of your flat because you couldn't afford the rent. Desperate to stay in the city you loved, you had looked everywhere for a cheaper place, thus stumbling upon none other than Sherlock Holmes.

You had emailed him and met up with him shortly after. He had seemed to like you and offered you the spare bedroom almost instantly. You had been ecstatic and wasted no time moving into 221B.

To say the consulting detective liked you was an understatement, however. It started with you piquing his interest. He had found some of your work online and was impressed by the level of detail you put into your writing. He figured your eye for detail would come in useful if he'd ever get stuck on a particular case.

Once you had moved in with him, the interest rather quickly became fondness. Sherlock admired your kindness, though he'd never admit that to you. He was always pushing your buttons, something he enjoyed, but you never went that far with him. Surely, you had a temper, but you controlled it well around him, clearly considerate towards his feelings.

He had always been gobsmacked by your compassion. He never quite understood why you were so nice to other people even if those same individuals treated you horribly. When confronting you with it, you had said something along the lines of 'you never know who you're dealing with or what they could mean to you'. Sherlock was impressed by that. He thought you were clever.