The Vacancy: Sherlock x Fem!reader

Chapter 28 - Real version

Steam kept swirling visibly under the daylight, nothing more than a consistent drip from the shower head meeting the tiled floor and drain. A plain beige shower curtain was drawn to one side, the damp towel slung over the heat emitting rack and Sherlock's clothes buttoned up on your body.

Head tilt down, your fingers curl around the sink until each knuckle turned white under the grip. Tears started to set loose down your face, cheeks heating up after every stifled sob until your eyes met broken ones in the mirror.

Within seconds your fist raised to the glass, seconds away from scattering shards, along the clean porcelain and damp tiles. Slowly you pressed your fist against the glass, letting it hold there as another round of sobs lets out.

"I'm so sorry, Anna," you whisper out, the words feeling like thorns in your throat, "I'm so, so sorry..."

All was cut short the moment you felt a small click from the underside of the sink. Letting your fingers release pressure, what was left was a small cigarette box falling onto the tile.

~~~

"You said you were clean," holding the packet up to the detective, he was busy trying to tidy his old bed up.

Sherlock looked at the packet then you. While he should focus on the cigarettes, he couldn't dismiss how adorable you looked. Comfortable once more, it was a trip through memory lane, a far off nostalgia.

"Sherlock," you snap your fingers in front of his face which takes him out of the silence.

"I am clean."

Scoffing, you open it to see two cigarettes missing. "And these?"

"I..." he blinks blankly before pursing his lips, "it's an old pack from months ago,"

A tinge of guilt seeps into you. Maybe it was ego but... was it because you left? "Why?" You had to just make sure; his silence said enough. "Promise me you'll get rid of them,"

"Why?" He scoffs, snatching them from your grip.

"They'll fucking kill you, Sherlock!" You weren't sure what wasn't clicking in his head. "I'm pretty sure you know damn well it will do that-"

"And why would you care?"

"Because I just fucking lost Anna!" You breathing was somehow heavy, visible in the chilly air sent through the open window. "Use some fucking brain cells to solve that riddle," there wasn't much else, all you could do was hope sensibility had clicked in his head.

~~~

"There we go," Mrs Holmes gleams at the sight of you, "all fresh and well rested, hm?"

"Uhm, yes, thank you for breakfast," you awkwardly fiddle with the shirt.

"Come and sit, dear," she pulls out a chair for you, the quilt cushion comforting and warm cup of tea set down to calm you.

"Thank you," your throat felt dry, but you didn't feel you had enough energy nor the stomach to drink tea.

"So, what is it you do, Y/n? Sherlock told us about how you used to live in the flat above him and John but that's about it," Mr Holmes gave such a lovely smile, it was hard believe he was the father of Mycroft and Sherlock.

"I run my own... business," the vagueness of your words made John scoff.

The Blogger sat back in his chair, "where you make deals with any criminal and murder people for fun," he sneers which only makes Mr Holmes spill a little tea on his jumper.

"Only if it's worth my time," you glare at him with a glint in your eyes. "The fun is only when I get paid, don't you forget that, Hamish,"