SHERlocked

Supermarket Flowers (SherlockXReader)

Here's a songfic based on the song Supermarket Flowers by Ed Sheeran. Some words may be omitted or changed for the sake of the story. No triggers.

I took the supermarket flowers from the windowsill. I threw the day-old tea from the cup, packed up the photo album Matthew had made. Memories of a life that's been loved.

It was hard. You never expected him to go like this, ever. The grand consulting detective, gone and jumped off a bloody building. You remembered the day before, you had spoken to him and laughed about getting him a brand new deerstalker because his had gone 'mysteriously missing'.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

"(Y/N), are you alright?" John had knocked on the door frame.

"No. I'm just going through his things."

"Take your time, it's not going anywhere," John said, a slight hitch in his voice.

"He wasn't supposed to go anywhere."

Took the get well soon cards and stuffed animals; poured the old ginger beer down the sink. Dad always told me, "Don't you cry when you're down" But mum, there's a tear every time that I blink.

You remembered getting the call. You were at work and suddenly your phone started ringing.

"John, this better be quick. I'm still at work, you know," You hurriedly answered.

"It's Sherlock. He. . .he's dead. (Y/N), he's dead." He was choked up, and you could hear the pain behind his voice.

You dropped your phone, your screen cracking.

It felt like you weren't real. Like time had suddenly stopped.

You felt a single hot tear run down your cheek before you were sobbing, curled up on the floor.

Oh, I'm in pieces, it's tearing me up, but I know, a heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved.

"Oh, come on Sherlock, you can't be that daft, can you? She likes you!" You prodded his side. The girl at the sandwich shop you both frequented often had written her number on his receipt with a 'call me' at the bottom, and he had only noticed it as the two of you were walking down the street.

"Well, I'm not interested. She's only interested in getting a news scoop. She only works at the shop part-time, she works for the paper the other half. Has written several stories about me, but would love to hear it straight from the source. So no, not interested."

"Oh," you shuffled along, embarrassed, "My bad."

"Besides," Sherlock turned to you, "I'm interested in someone else."

Before you could get a word in edgewise, he quickly pecked you on the cheek and then continued walking.

"Oh, don't just stand there, (Y/N), we have somewhere to be!"

So I'll sing Hallelujah, you were an angel in the shape of my love. When I fell down you'd be there holding me up, spread your wings as you go.

"So he just jumped? And you saw him do it?" You were pacing back and forth, runny makeup still on your face.

"Yes." John had taken to using one-word answers to respond to any of your questions.

"He had to have been pushed, or something! John, he's not that fucking stupid, something else had to have happened," You never swore, but you didn't care.

"(Y/N), just shut up! He jumped, he's gone, and he's not coming back. No use speculating." John yelled, realized what he'd done, and then turned on his heel and walked out the door.

And when God takes you back we'll say Hallelujah, you're home.

"Are you ever scared of what happens when you die, Sherlock?" You were laying in bed with him, your head on his chest.

"No. There is no use worrying about something that cannot be proven. Better to just die and get it on with." Of course, he wanted to be logical about this.

"You're not scared about how everyone will react? Where you'll go?" As much as Sherlock wasn't worried, you still had your fears.

"Well, when I die, I don't much care what people will think. I won't be around to care, will I?" He chuckled slightly.

"I'll care. I'll miss you, you know."

"Well then, I'll care what one person thinks."

Fluffed the pillows, made the beds, stacked the chairs up. Folded your dark coat neatly in a case. John says he'd drive then put his hand on my cheek, and wiped a tear from the side of my face.

"Well, I think that's the last of it." John put the last box into the back of your car, slamming the boot down.

"Thank you, John. Well, I guess we best get going if we wanted to get there by sundown." You turned to hug Mrs. Hudson.

"Thank you for everything, you've been so good to me." You gave her an extra squeeze.

"It's nothing dearie, I promise. You're welcome back any time. And you'll have to promise to call John or me with updates!" She smiled at you, and that was almost your breaking point. You knew it would be better for you to leave, but you didn't realize it would hurt this much.

"I'll be back tomorrow Mrs. Hudson." John opened the passenger door for you and moved to get in the driver's seat.

I hope that I see the world as you did 'cause I know, a life with love is a life that's been lived.

"Have you ever thought about marrying someone, John?" Sherlock laid on the couch, his fingers steepled under his chin.

"Well, there was this girl from my uni days, but she ended up cheating on me with my roommate. I thought that she was the one. Why, Sherlock, are you planning on marrying (Y/N)?" He said jokingly. When Sherlock didn't immediately respond, John turned to get a good look at him.

"Oh my god, Sherlock, are you?" John's voice got more serious.

Sherlock responded by grabbing a black box out of his trouser pocket and holding it up for John to grab. He did so eagerly and opened it up.

"You mad bastard, I was joking! My bloody flatmate, getting married! Have you told Mrs. Hudson?"

Hallelujah. You were an angel in the shape of my love. You got to see the person I have become, spread your wings and I know, that when God took you back he said Hallelujah,

John didn't have the heart to tell you that they'd found the box in his pocket after he had fallen. He thought that it would have made things much worse, to know what could have been. He had decided to keep it, half in the hope that you would be in a better place someday for him to give it to you, and half so he could remember how happy Sherlock had been in that moment.

He had been reminiscing about that moment, looking at the box when he heard a knock at the door.

"Coming." He stashed the box back in the desk door and went to answer it. He opened it and gasped, his eyes widening.

"I think I'll be needing that back."

************

You were finishing up the dishes for the day when your doorbell buzzed. You sighed and wiped your hands on a dishtowel.

"Hold up, I'm almost done." You pulled your apron off and hurried to the door, quickly flinging it open.

"Hello love, I've missed you." You stumbled back, and Sherlock reached forward to catch you, preventing you from falling.

"You. . . you were dead! What kind of sick joke is this?" You started blubbering, but Sherlock just pulled you close.

"I promise you, sweetheart, I'm back, and I'm never leaving you again."

You're home.