Haunted Holmes ➳ Sherlock x Reader

Horribly, Terribly Real

You guys asked for more, quite a bit today.

Sherlock had ended up carrying me to his flat instead of getting a cab.

That took about an hour. A very quiet one too.

When we arrived at his flat, he set me on his sofa and sat down next to me.

We both stared at the oddly patterned wall in front of us, pondering what had just happened.

Remaining in the same position, he gently took my hand.

"I'm sorry." I said, still staring at the wall.

He kept quiet and continued to stare at the wall as well.

"I'm sorry the girl you once loved is now mentally corrupt." I said again.

"She's not." He said.

"Then how do you explain what just happened?" I laughed weakly.

He turned his head and looked at me.

"She was just scared. Everybody has changed." He stroked my knuckles.

"No. Nobody has changed. The only person who's changed is me." My voice cracked as I turned my head and stared at him.

"That doesn't matter to me." He stared into my eyes.

I removed my hand from his and placed it on my waist which still stung.

"What happened to your waist?" He asked.

"Nothing." I answered quickly.

"You answered too quickly." He smirked.

"Just a scratch." I said.

"You don't seem to be treating it like one." He said.

I kept quiet and looked down.

Sherlock got up and went into the kitchen, coming back a minute later with some alcohol and cotton balls.

He sat back down, and looked at me expectantly.

I pulled a bit of my shirt up, revealing my, quite large, cut.

He gently patted an alcohol-soaked cotton ball on my cut and I shut my eyes, enduring the pain.

He took my hand and held onto it tightly as he continued.

"It...stings..." I groaned.

"I know...it will be over soon, I promise." He whispered.

He bit his bottom lip, and continued.

I whimpered in pain and his grip on my hand became tighter.

"Shh...it's gonna be okay....everything's gonna be okay..." He said.

The stinging was so painful, my vision became blurred.

Even when he was finished applying it, I still felt the stinging pain.

He wrapped a cloth around the cut, and slid the bottom of my shirt down, so it was covering my waist.

He tried to let go of my hand afterwards, but I held onto it tightly for a few more minutes.

When I finally let go, he got up and put the stuff away as I was leaned back on the sofa.

I placed a hand on my waist carefully, before attempting to sit up straight.

"Don't sit up...just relax, or you'll make it worse." Sherlock said, sitting next to me.

I nodded: