Sherlock Imagines

Sherlock x Reader

Imagine: Finding out Sherlock is actually alive.

Broken. Shattered. Empty. Numb.

Perfect words to describe how I felt the moment I found out about Sherlock's death. Broken, because a part of me had disappeared. Shattered, because without him, I could never be whole again. Empty, because the only person I had ever loved had disappeared. Numb, because every thing I could and should have felt, didn't effect me. But that was two years ago.

Lonely. Pity. Indignation. Envy.

Perfect words to describe how I feel today. Lonely, because I've got no one to turn to. Pity, because I pity those who never had a chance to know that man as well as I did. Indignation, because I feel like I didn't deserve it. What had I ever done to lose someone so important to me? And envy, because of Doctor John Watson. John moved on. He's found his soul mate, while I lost mine.

****

"Come out with us tonight," the soft voice of John Watson filled my head, "Please, [Y/N]? I want you to meet Mary. It's important that you like her."

I sighed, looking up from my pile of paperwork. I wasn't blessed with the insightful skills of Sherlock Holmes, so I was stuck with an office job. "John, I'm busy."

"You're always busy. You're coming rather you like it or not. We'll pick you up at six."

"Fine," I stood up and rubbed my eyes.

I could almost see him smile, "See you then."

"Yeah," I said weakly before hanging up my phone.

I looked at the clock and saw that it was five o' clock. "Really? An  hour? Thanks, John," I muttered.

****

Mary was wonderful. I couldn't be happier for John, really. I was proud that one of us was able to move on from our old lives.

"Tell me about yourself, sweetheart," she encouraged nicely as we sat around the table at this nice restaurant they had dragged me to.

"Well..." I twisted the ring on my left hand. "There's not much to tell."

John sighed, shaking his head while Mary looked at me sadly. I hated that look.  I get it from everyone.

"I've gotta go," I stood up quickly, and without a second thought, I rushed out of the restaurant. The walk back to 221B was short, and as soon as I stepped inside the door, a quiet sob escaped my throat. Mrs. Hudson would already be asleep, so I didn't have to worry about her. Will I ever stop mourning Sherlock Holmes?

****

When I woke up the next morning, I was still in my dress and shoes. I didn't really care.

"Sleep well?" the deep voice of a dead man made me jump out of bed. I scrambled to my feet as my eyes met the sight before me. Sherlock Homes, buttoning up his shirt.

"W-what?" I breathed, rubbing my eyes, but he didn't disappear. "S-Sherlock?"

"Last I checked," he replied nonchalantly, shrugging on his suit jacket.

"B-but you died!"

"Apparently not," he turned around so he was facing me, "How do I look?"

Without a second thought, I rushed forward and wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. "Sherlock...I've missed you so much..."

His arms wrapped around me instantly, "I know, love."

I rested my head against his chest, holding him as close as I could.

"You never answered me. How do I look?" he joked quietly, kissing my hair.

"Amazing," was all I was able to say.

My Sherlock. Back from the dead.

*****

A/N: Sucks more than the last one.