Sleeping with a Sociopath | Sherlock x OC

four

It was a cold, winters' evening and I was sat merrily on my sofa, re-watching my all-time favourite movie: Pitch Perfect. I knew all the lyrics to all the songs, and even some of the iconic lines. With a tub of fresh popcorn and a roaring fire for company, it seemed like a nice relaxed evening.

The rain outside was lightly tapping on the window, but it strangely and suddenly escalated to a monsoon-type rain. Each raindrop grew ten times in size, to the point where it felt like it would crash into my flat. The window panes were barely holding themselves together. My pulse quickened as blood thundered in my ears. In an instant, the rain penetrated the window, and it was decorated with bullet sized holes, and as the raindrops landed on the carpet, they gave out a sickly sizzling sound. I was horrified to see they were burning holes.... in my carpet. Similar to acid...

Why the hell were they burning holes in my carpet??

When I thought things couldn't get any worse, a cluster of cockroaches, and spiders, and other bugs erupted from underneath the drawer. I let out a shocked gasp as the bugs advanced on me-

~

I woke up with a jolt to my heart racing and my lungs howling. My eyes squinted and widened to adjust to the early hour darkness of the room. I soon realised that it was just a nightmare, and a strange one. My phone lay on the armrest on the sofa, so I picked it up and checked the time. As the phone woke up, my front room was illuminated in the screen's blue light, and it blinded me for a second.

The time was 3:45, and I knew already that I was in for yet another restless night. I'd been having trouble sleeping recently, and the sleeping pills my GP prescribed didn't help at all. So here I was, staring into the seemingly endless darkness, wishing a more undisturbed sleep would wisp me away. Then the thought of employment popped into my mind. If I'm being honest, I was scared. Scared that I wouldn't be able to support myself financially long term.

For years, the people around me had always been my support. My parents had generously paid all my expenses whilst I was in university, mostly because they were so proud I'd achieved a scholarship to UCL. When I moved in with my boyfriend, he paid most of the bills, and I just contributed in little bits. But now. Now I was living on my own. Paying my own bills. Buying my own food. The prospect of supporting myself was daunting. I guess being wrapped in cotton wool for so long never did me any good. I mean, I had John, but unfortunately being a private detective consultant didn't pay much, so he wouldn't be completely reliable. My pharmecutical degree would help me get a stable job, hopefully in a good organisation, plus, I was never a huge fan of luxury living, so maybe I could get by.

And if not?

Well, there's always the option of moving to Dubai and marrying a wealthy businessman.

Surprisingly, being lost in thought helped me to finally drift off to sleep.

***

Bang

Bang Bang

What on earth?

Oh, I must be in another dream/nightmare. Any moment now I'll wake up.
Aaany moment...

Bang

I pinched myself lightly. Hmm, I'm not in a dream.

Then who the hell is doing shooting practice at-

I checked the time on my phone.

-7:31 in the morning?

It's either that, or there's a masacre happening downstairs.

Peeling myself off my sofa, I wrapped my nightie loosely around me before stomping down to Sherlock and John's flat to investigate. I knew I can bet on exactly who I thought was responsible.

"Are you out if your mind, it's half seven in the morning?!" I said as I entered their flat, the door already being open. "And where's John?" I added, knowing that John would never tolerate such a racket.

"He's out," Sherlock replied, and as I turned the corner I saw him shooting his Revolver into a thick plank of wood hung on the wall.

"I thought you said you didn't use that thing."

"No, I said I wasn't going to kill anyone with it." He continued firing more rounds

"Whatever... can you just stop?" When I saw he wasn't listening, I snatched the gun from his hand and threw it out of the way. It hit John's mug which was perched on the armrest, and the mug fell to pieces on the ground.

"Now that was unnecessary." Sherlock said in a tone so annoying it made my blood boil.

"Says the person who was shooting at a plank of wood in the bloody morning." I snapped through gritted teeth. He was beginning to do my head in.

"Oh goodness, what's all this commotion?" Mrs Hudson sighed as she entered the flat. "Can't you just at least leave this to during the day?"

"I couldn't sleep." Sherlock replied

"Just because you can't, doesn't mean others shouldn't."

"Alright, alright. I'm very sorry Mrs Hudson, and Leila..."

"Leah."

"...Maybe I should use my 22CBs instead... They tend to be a lot quieter..."

"You have another gun?" I questioned

"Yeah." Sherlock shrugged, as if the concept was completely normal. "Better here than on the streets."

"Right, I've had enough. If I hear one more shot, I'm calling the police."

"Sure, be my guest. I'm sure they'll want to arrest their greatest asset."

"Urrghh!! Don't you ever stop being such a pain in the arse?"

"You sound a lot like John, no wonder you're his sister-"

I resisted the urge, in that moment, to strangle the life out of him. My rage called for it. But I managed to contain myself, and rather spun round and left the flat without saying another word.

"He tends to get under your skin when you first meet him." Mrs Hudson joined me outside the front door. "But after a while you get used to him."

"Hmm. I hope you're right, because right now he pretty much resembles a bad rash: irritating, painful and most certainly unwelcome."