Sherlock x Reader

Lust overcomes betrayal

She looked at you expectantly, as you tried to process this unexpected information. She hesitated before continuing,

"It's Sherlock. Sherlock is the one who is going to join us, ______. We - I - had to do something about you two."

You froze, waiting for the accusations to start flying.

"From what John says, you two were intensely close and now... now John says that Sherlock refuses to talk about you. But then he said that Sherlock mentioned he'd already made his... his reappearance to you, so I couldn't understand why he'd tell you he was alive and then avoid all mention of you."

As Mary was talking, you managed to relax. They didn't - they didn't know. How fantastic was this? Had you ever been so happy at your betrayal being so expertly kept a secret? You couldn't even remember. But at least you could breathe again.

Until that restaurant door opened. Obviously it had been opening and closing before but this time you knew that it was him.

You hadn't seen him since he lost his temper at you and finally let out those pent up emotions. Since you tried to redeem yourself in his eyes. Since you kissed him and made him realise that he hadn't lost some particular feelings for you. God, he must hate you even more for that.

You kept your eyes trained on the table; on this scratch - this little scratch - ingrained in the wood. You absentmindedly ran your finger against the indent, which only made you more furious at its refusal to be whole and perfect. Why couldn't there be just one thing that could be perfectly perfect-

"No, Sherlock, don't you dare leave!" That was John shouting. Why was he shouting? You lifted your head up to see John a few metres from the table, holding onto Sherlock's forearm, who looked as though he'd walked in, changed his mind, and turned away to walk back out. Until John stopped him, of course. Sherlock must've have been kept in the dark too. Although you couldn't understand why he'd agree to go out with the happy couple. Maybe he was trying to make it up to John, for the pain he caused him. And of course, he doesn't think to make it up to you-

He had nothing to apologise for. Essentially you were even. In fact, Sherlock could be furious with you until the end of time before it would match the evilness of what you'd done. To him. You let your eyes find his. Fury was there, as expected. Malevolence. Disgust. Run-of-the-mill emotions for a betrayal. You kept your eyes focused on his, unable - or just unwilling - to hear what John was saying to him to make him sit down beside you. Yet, John actually managed to make him do it. But it didn't mean that the next hour wasn't agonising. You all ordered food, yet it was barely half gone by the time Mary decided that she had had enough. And so, she talked. She asked you questions about what you had been up to. You had to lie. 'I tried to kill myself to stop the guilt of betraying my lover destroy me' didn't go down well with new acquaintances. So you just omitted the couple of months you'd been...  you'd not been yourself. Mary asked Sherlock questions and he answered them with as much information as could be allowed. Apparently he'd dismantled Moriarty's whole operation. How he'd ever been in a state of mind to ever forgive you, you'd never know.

The worst was when Mary directed questions to the both of you. Because you could stand his frightening fury but it was his complete refusal to accept that you were there, to answer Mary's questions together, that slowly started to threaten your sanity. How could you keep yourself from falling apart when this man - your cruel love - was acting as though you didn't exist, when you knew that there was still something in him that desired you, that made him feel so much so that he had no other option but to hate himself - as well as you - for it?