-time skip-
I wake up, and, unlike most people would in the situation I'm in, immediately remember where I am. Even though I dropped on the couch and fell asleep right away yesterday. I look around and notice a small pile of clothes on the table, and a sticky note on top of it. I read it. In a neat handwriting there is written:
"Sorry for being so harsh earlier.
Good night.
Sherlock."
It is short, but somewhat sweet. I smile, and look at the clothes. We have there the famous purple shirt and a pair of black dress pants. I wonder if this is THE purple shirt. I'll make sure to ask Sherlock later. I quickly go to the "bathroom" right next to the detective's room and change, putting the sticky note in the pocket of the pants that are temporarily mine. I come out to find Watson making breakfast.
"Hey Sher—" He starts, then looks at me in surprise, "Y/n? Why are you wearing Sherlock's clothing? You guys look so alike when similarly dressed."
"Morning. Where's he by the way?"
"Probably still sleeping. But you didn't answer—"
"Has he only got one purple shirt?" I interrupt him.
"I don't see how it's related to the topic...but yes." He furrows a brow.
"Okay, thanks. Should I go let him know that breakfast's ready?"
"That'll be good, thank you."
I set off in the direction I came from, then knock at the famous detective's door.
"Eat without me! I don't eat when on a case." His voice shouts from inside.
"I don't care if you've got a case or not! It's not healthy. So get up and come eat right now, otherwise I'll personally drag your ass to the table and make you." I shout back.
"What the heck, Y/n?! Let me sleep!" His tone becomes more irritated.
"Sherlock Holmes, I'll give you a minute to come out. If you don't...well, you'll see for yourself." I say in a sly tone.
"You wouldn't dare. Also, my door is locked."
"Thirty seconds left." I look at the watch in the kitchen.
"I told you the door—"
"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six—" Interrupting me, the door flings open, revealing a tall man with (very) messy black curls.
"Okay, I'm coming. Happy?" He snaps at me.
I stifle a laugh, "Your hair is disarranged."
"And?" He looks me in the eyes, raising a brow.
I raise a hand and ruffle his hair, "It's handsome. You're handsome." I smile.
"Is that a confession?"
This time I laugh properly, "It's a statement."
"Mhm." He pushes past me into the kitchen.
"Woah, you actually made him come and eat? I'm surprised." Watson tells me as I enter behind Sherlock.
"I never said I'll eat." The male shakes his head.
"Oh, you will." I smile, "I wonder why you wrote—" But before the teasing even starts, he interrupts me.
"Fine. You win. I'll eat." He frowns.
"He wrote what?" Watson looks at me with interest.
"None of your business, John." Sherlock replies for me.
"Y/n!" John suddenly exclaims.
"Yes?" I turn to face him, and hear a small quiet gasp from Sherlock as I do so.
"Your cheek...how did you get such a nasty bruise?" Watson looks at my face with a shocked expression, "I don't remember you having it before."
"Oh, this." I shrug, "It's from yesterday when Sherlock punched me. Nothing important."
I reach to touch my cheek but a hand grabs my wrist. I turn and find the one that nobody but me was suspecting it to be: Sherlock. He is looking at me with horror, regret and shame in his eyes.
"We should get John to check that first." He explains his action, releasing my hand.
"Is it that bad?" I ask nonchalantly.
"It's awful." John sighs, "We'll have to postpone breakfast to after I've tended to the wound."
"You guys make it sound worse than it is." I shake my head, "But fine. Do what you must, John."
We leave Sherlock on his own while we go get the first aid kid and patch my contuse. Afterwards, John tells me to go back to the kitchen and eat without him as he needs to clean everything up and also grab something from his room. I agree and make my way downstairs. Upon entering the kitchen, I immediately go to the table and sit down. When I feel a stare on me, I turn quickly enough to notice the detective looking away.
"Is something wrong?" I raise an eyebrow.
"Looks like my punch really hurt..." He mumbles, though I can still hear.
"Nah, not at all. Wasn't your fault—I provoked you." I say simply.
"Yet I shouldn't have punched you. You even said thank you after that..." Again he whispers as if to himself, "Why did you?"
"That made sure I wasn't dreaming." I shrug, "Does it really matter?"
Out of nowhere, he turns his head to look me straight in the eyes, "What I'm trying to say is...I'm sorry." The last part was said so quietly that if I haven't been listening attentively, I would't have heard it.
"It's fine." I smile comfortingly at him, "It's gonna go away soon anyway. And if not; well, I'll keep a memory of my time here."
He just looks away, and stares at the wall as if spacing out.
"Hey, Sherlock?"
He only hums in response.
"I have two questions. Can you answer them for me, please?"
"Mhm." Again, only a hum, yet this one totally meant yes.
"First of all, why did you say that thing about a bed being better yesterday?"
"Because it would've been better if you slept on the bed." He replies. At this point I'm wondering if his answers are absentminded or not.
"And why did you write that little post-it note and gave me some of your clothes?"
"Because I wanted to apologize."
Alright, let's give a test question to see if he actually knows he's talking.
"What can you deduce of Mary?"
"She is-." He visibly snaps out of his trance and looks at me, "What was I saying?"
"You don't remember?"
He shakes his head.
"You weren't saying anything, dumbass."
"Don't call me a dumbass! I'm not one."
"For a detective you are." I chuckle, "Now eat."
"I'm not hungry. Also I'm on a case."
"We're not going through the same scenario again. Eat." I glare at him.
"Fine." He rolls his eyes and takes a bite of his food.
"Thank you." I smile, taking a sip of my coffee, "Wow. Did John know exactly how I like it or what?"
"I don't know, ask him." Sherlock shrugs.
"Any interesting cases?"
"Hm? No." He replies, "Only this one."
"Right. There is also the case of how you act weird towards me." I nod.
"Huh?"
"Nevermind. Let's eat."
-time skip-
"MRS HUDSON, THE DOOR!" I hear Sherlock shout as I sit on the stairs, reading.
"NOT YOUR HOUSEKEEPER!" She shouts back but goes to open the door anyway because why not. She passes me to get down, and asks me if I want to go up and see Sherlock as 'it's probably another customer and he may need your help'. I decline. Some moments later, she walks back up but this time with a slightly plump man following her.
"Good morning." He tells me, barely looking at me.
"Hey Gouvernement." I say, not looking up either.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him freeze in his tracks.
"What did you call me?" He asks slowly.
"Stop wasting your time on me and go see your brother for whatever reason you came to see him, Mycroft." I say, still refusing to lift my head up.
"Who are you?" I feel his eyes scanning me up and down.
"SHERLOCK COME GET YOUR BROTHER AND TELL HIM TO STOP BOTHERING ME!" I yell in the common room's direction, "ALSO HE'S TRYING TO BE ON A DIET AGAIN." I add.
"IT'S NOT MY JOB TO RUN AROUND THE FLAT TALKING TO PEOPLE. TELL HIM TO COME UPSTAIRS RIGHT NOW. THANKS FOR THE INFORMATION THOUGH." The amount of sarcasm he put in the last sentence was obvious. But of course I knew that he was low-key amused at the fact that Mikey was 'trying' to diet again.
"What is happening here?" Sherlock's brother just stands there confused.
I stand up and go to the living room, ignoring Mycroft's stare on me. Realizing I'm not going to stop, turn around, and call him to join me, he hurries behind me, huffing and puffing. As I enter the living room, I roll my eyes seeing Sherlock in only a blanket wrapped around him.
"Sherlock put some clothes on right now! There is a woman here!" Mycroft exclaims as soon as he sees his brother.
"Well hello to you too, Mycroft." Sherlock says coldly, "And I don't think Y/n minds; I'm covered after all."
"I'm not gonna stay here anyways." I shake my head lightly, "So don't worry about me overhearing something." I turn around and prepare to leave when a "Wait!" escapes Sherlock's mouth. I turn around and raise a brow; by his expression I can tell that the exclamation was unexpected, even for him.
"Uhm...don't forget to close the door when you leave." Sherlock says, trying to play it cool.
"Don't make Mikey storm out like that time you hid in a drug den, okay? I'm gonna try to sleep in John's room—he gave me permission of course—so don't disturb me." I say before exiting. He just nods.
I make my way to Watson's room and drop on his bed, closing my eyes and immediately falling into a deep slumber. I wake up hearing someone opening the door.
"Are you asleep?" I hear a familiar voice. I decide to pretend that I am, in fact, still sleeping to see if something interesting is going to happen.
"I suppose you are." The voice continues. I hear the person making their way to the bed and sitting at the edge of it.
"Mycroft already left, and John is out, so I came to check up on you, hoping you'll entertain me. Your jokes always cheer me up, even if I don't show it. You're a very positive person who didn't freak out even when you found out you switched universes. I admire that in you." They pause for a while, playing with the sheets as if thinking about what to say next, "I admit, I haven't felt like that around anyone since a long time ago. John does make me feel cared for, true, but nobody ever made me feel like you do. I feel...loved. I get butterflies in my stomach and..." They take a deep breath, "I suppose you can say I like you. However, I'll never actually tell you that as emotion is a weakness. On top of that, you'll leave for your universe soon anyway." I hear them shake their head. Then, they stand up and open the door. But before they could fully leave, I open my eyes and speak.
"You're truly stupid sometimes, Sherlock." I chuckle.
I see him freeze, then turn around.
"You're...awake?" He looks at everything that isn't me.
"As you can see."
"...How much did you hear?" He asks, as if hesitant.
"What do you think?"
"I don't know." He says uneasily.
"The Sherlock Holmes doesn't know?" I raise a brow.
He looks down, "Yes, I don't."
"I heard everything." I stand up, "Every." I take a step forward, "Single." Another step, "Word." With the last step I find myself right in front of the detective.
He gulps, "...And?"
I smile and engulf him in a tight hug, "I like you too."
He just stands there, shocked, before wrapping his arms around me.
To be honest, I don't think I want to go back to my universe.
another dimention [sherlock x reader]
Start from the beginning
