The Science of Seduction ❤ BBC SHERLOCK ONE-SHOTS/IMAGINES

Sherlock - Alive

( For the wonderful @Consulting_Angel !! I hope you don't mind me adding a bit of spice of my own into your request! Enjoy! )

I'm sitting outside of 221b Baker Street. The night is cold, but the million stars above make up for small chills that pass through my soul.

I huff out a smoke, my cigarette held between my index and middle fingers as I watch the smoke rise up into the sky.

I miss him. I can't stop thinking about him.

I loved him.

My head begins to ache painfully to my frustration, and I find myself throwing the cigarette on the ground and stepping on it.

I don't even smoke.

The fact that he jumped. The fact that I wasn't there when he did. The fact that he's gone. The fact that he's dead.

It's been eating me alive more and more everyday.

Everyone has moved on, except me. I can't. There's something wrong with me.

I bring my knees to my chest and bury my face in.

It's late, and nobody is outside.

Late enough to let out just a few tears...

My tears spill out, and my jeans soon become stained with them, and cold gusts of wind blow them away from my face.

I hear footsteps near, and look up from my knees, my vision blurry with hot, wet tears.

The footsteps stop in front of me. There is a male figure. One identical to Sherlock's; curls and long coat.

"Y/N?" I hear his voice, but quickly cover my face and cry more.

Why am I imagining him, now?!

"I'm sorry..." His voice says softly, as the figure nears me.

"Go away! Get out of my head!" I scream, standing up quickly and backing away, my back hitting the door.

"Y/N..." I hear the voice say again.

"You're not real..." I gasp out, as I feel hands hold me.

It's all so vivid. His hinted pine scent envelopes me. I can feel his trench coat, and his hot breath hitting my face as he looks down at me.

It's only a matter of time before I realize that this is real.

I am actually in what seems to be his arms, in a tight embrace. There's even a bouquet of flowers in one of his hands.

How is this even possible?

"I'm not dead, Y/N..." He whispers softly, running his slender fingers through my hair as I shudder to my horror.

I stare at the street in front of 221B, my eyes widened and wet. The ache in my head worsens.

"No...what..." I pull away and stare at his face, finding it difficult to form words.

I hesitantly run my fingers down from his curls to his cheekbones and jaw.

It's genuine skin.

It's Sherlock.

--------

"There was no need to do that..." Sherlock walks into his flat with his face bruised from where I punched him.

"I had every bloody right to! I thought you were dead...you didn't even bother to tell me?" I cross my arms, my eyes tearing up.

"I know...I know...But I did it to protect you. You're my secret, I couldn't let any of Moriarty's network find out about you..." He strokes my cheek as I cry into his chest.

"I'm sorry I punched you...I just missed you so much..." I hug him.

"No, it's my fault...you didn't deserve any of the pain I gave you..." He tells me wrapping his arms around me.

"Thank you for the flowers..." I sniff.

He chuckles and cuddles me sweetly.

I look up at his face, my brain still refusing to believe he was with me at last.

Refusing to believe he was alive, and well.

Refusing to believe I was in his arms.

"Are you really here now...?" I ask, gazing into the crystal blue orbs that are his analytical irises.

A small smile appears on his lips and he brings a hand to my face:

"I'm here."

"I love you." I admit, shortly after he finishes his sentence.

He slides his hands down to my waist and pulls me in close, our lips almost touching:

"You can't tell John..."

Before I can respond, his lips are quickly on my own. Pristine and to the point.

Without a care in the world we both deepen our passion, soon successfully making it to the bedroom.

I think I will forgive him. Just this once...