A simple tune: Sherlock x Fem!reader

Chapter 7 - Date deductions

There is a certain point between being annoyed and being worried. For John, Sherlock often flickered back and forth. He was frantic in movements, a distraction needed and all because he needed to force you out his mind.

Of course the blogger along with Mrs H had heard every word of the fight.

You knew Sherlock wasn't one for a precise schedule. "Too dull," as he often reminded. You both fit perfectly with that, never wanting a daily ritual to repeat every single day—perhaps the only thing would be certain times you wake up on what days, but that was all.

It took time to get used to; the footsteps at 3AM, the nudging awake for attention, the lack of eating, which you had to lecture him on, and most of all his last habit of not sleeping—if that wasn't obvious enough.

"Case, case, case!" He rambled on, John trying to read his morning paper in peace that afternoon considering he hadn't slept a wink in the past few nights.

"Nothing then?" Mrs Hudson walks into the flat with a tray, her bright smile lightening the room.

"Not one murder! I've solved everything Lestrade has given me- even the ones he didn't!" Sherlock tosses a blade from one hand to the other, the blade acquired from a case a month ago.

"Ah, Y/n," Mrs Hudson saw you try and sneak off. "Where are you off to looking so wonderful?"

Sherlock looks over with a stoic face as John smiles. "All dressed up for a concert?"

"Uhm... no," tipping back and forth, you adjust the strap of your bag, seeing the deductions being made by Sherlock. Though, it wouldn't take a genius to figure out where you were going; lunch.

Expensive perfume. Hair all done up. Shoes shined. Face done to perfection. New outfit and lace... Oh.

Sherlock retracted his head a little. Tossing the blade a few times before embedding it into the coffee table. "He'll use you, make you pay for the date, saying he forgot his wallet," he slumped into his chair. "Likely a long history of dental problems and actually not looking for long term- but do have fun," Sherlock states sourly.

"Who said I wanted long term?" You cross your arms, snatching a biscuit from the tray. "And if I need to pay for lunch, then so be it, I need to have some fun," kissing Mrs H on the cheek as a small goodbye, she waves you off along with John who wishes you a small good luck.

"Well," the landlady looks to Sherlock who's eyes were shut tight, not in his mind palace but instead trying to drown it all out.

~~~

"It was so shit," you dropped onto the couch beside Sherlock, turning on the telly that late night. "I just wanted dinner and-"

"He made you pay, tried to make a move, left you once you declined," Sherlock closed his study book, lowering his legs from the table and tossed a blanket over you both.

"Sometimes your deductions are annoying, William," leaning into him for the usual comfort hug, Sherlock's heart shattered seeing you so tired of dating. University was already weighing you down and this was just an overload.

"I'm aware," he puts an arm over your shoulder, rubbing it softly to ease you. "Did you bring leftovers?"

"Seriously?" Looking up at him with a narrow gaze, he shrugged. "The one time I don't have food, you get hungry." Yet another shrug. "You're such a pain,"

"Yes, but you chose to live with me,"

"Because you're my best friend, I didn't sign up to be your babysitter," yawning a little, you feel him move away, your body slumping to the side into his now empty spot. "What are you doing?"

"Making tea, you need it and I'm not letting you take those last biscuits all for yourself," the kettle whistled after awhile, the light clicking off and your flatmate putting two cups in a tray. "The best remedy for a broken heart is tea,"

"First of all, I don't have a broken heart, I didn't even like him that much," stirring your preference in, Sherlock adjusted the pillows before settling down. "Secondly, I think Ice Cream is the best remedy,"

"But we don't have ice cream, now do we?"

"And who's fault is that?" you counter which made his face fall in a playful guilt. "We can get more tomorrow," he was assured softly, the telly buzzed senseless noise while you did.

"You try so often to find a partner, Y/n," Sherlock suddenly inputs. "Why?"

"Sorry, Mr Sociopath, I actually crave affection,"

"Isn't this affection?" He asked in confusion, thinking that he had it all wrong.

"It is, but not the same type," poking his nose teasingly, your face fell, heart screaming for you to just admit it. You it was his affections you wanted so badly.

"How so?"

"Well, for one, you don't like me like that, we're just friends," you place down your cup with a sigh.

"What if I do like you like that?" He commented nervously. "What if I didn't want to just be friends?" His baby blues looked down to see your reaction, the dilation in your eyes and increased pulse he felt from the hand he took a hold of.

"You're kidding right? You're not actually serious... are you?"

"I am serious," Sherlock insisted.

"Prove it," your eyes watched the slightest movement, until your lips met, his cheeks pink and your hands moving around his neck.

Sherlock smiles softly, eyes shut and hands in a prayer position. The jingling of keys making the nostalgic peace end. His eyes snaps open to see John standing there with a smirk. "What were you think about?"

"Murder," Sherlock says simply, lifting from the couch and discarding the memory into its confines in the back of his hard-drive.

~~~

O_o

- Anna ❤️