Exception || Sherlock Holmes x Reader

➳ Chapter Six

"You'd have to be an idiot not to see it. You love it."

"Love what?" Sherlock questions, his eyes briefly shifting to you but neither you nor John notices.

"Being Sherlock Holmes."

"I sure did," you mutter.

"I don't even know what that's supposed to mean," Sherlock says.

"Sherlock, are you going to tell me how you did it? How you jumped off that building and survived?" John asks seriously.

"You know my methods, John, I am known to be indestructible."

"No, but seriously. When you were dead, I went to your grave."

"I should hope so."

"I made a little speech. I actually spoke to you," John says, acting somewhat embarrassed.

"I know. I was there."

"I asked you for one more miracle. I asked you to stop being dead."

"I heard you," Sherlock gently replies before turning around. "Anyway, time to go and be Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock waltzes toward the door, but stops and grabs the hat from the rack and slides it on his head. You smile at him as he leads the trio out the door where cameras begin flashing and taking pictures of the new team of detectives.

♖♖♖

Darkness engulfs the entire flat as midnight stealthily approaches. You sleepily drag yourself from your bed after being awakened with an overly dry throat.

You quietly walk down the steps and into the living room where you're surprised to see Sherlock sitting at his laptop with nothing but the light from the screen illuminating his face.

"Do you ever sleep?" you question, making your way to the kitchen.

"Einstein only slept-"

"-three hours a day. I know. But you're not Einstein," you say.

"Close enough," he replies, switching on a lamp and you turn on the kitchen light.

You notice that he seems to have finally unpacked all of the boxes as books now line the once empty shelves in the living room. You go to grab a glass of water when you suddenly hear one of the most beautiful sounds ever to exist.

You slowly turn around to see Sherlock with his back to you as he plays the violin facing the window. You begin to walk over and sit in John's chair as if mesmerized by each perfectly melodic note being played.

You prop your elbow up on the arm of the chair and rest your chin in the palm of your hand as Sherlock rhythmically shifts his body toward you to where each light reflects perfectly off of his face, making his whole pajama-covered form look enchanting.

Everything about this moment is tranquil and it's as if only the two of you exist in the world. You listen closely and realize the underlying sadness in the tone that makes your heart ache.

All too soon, Sherlock ends the song and slowly lowers his violin back onto the desk.

"That was... spectacular," you compliment while rising from your seat and taking small steps toward the man.

"Thank you," he says, not meeting your gaze.

"Why did it sound so sad?"

Sherlock looks up when the two of you are merely a foot away from each other. "Well, like most musicians, I play what I feel."

"Why are you sad, Sherlock?" you whisper.

"Because I'm alone. You were right."

You lightly shake your head. "All the people that were here yesterday are your friends, and you have your parents and Mycroft. You're anything but alone."

"That's not what I mean. Of course I'm not alone, I just feel lonely," he clarifies sorrowfully and you finally understand.

"Sherlock," you whisper, your voice nearly cracking.

You reach up and bring him into a hug before he knows what's happening and he visibly stiffens. It takes a few seconds for him to relax and wrap his arms around your frame.

"You have such a brilliant mind, Sherlock. Even though you're sometimes harsh, you're still such a great person. No one deserves to be alone, especially you. I'll always be here for you. I promise."

You and Sherlock pull away only enough for your eyes to lock and your noses are almost touching. Agonizingly slow, Sherlock starts leaning in and you find yourself seeking the touch of his lips on yours, and when they finally meet, it's as if the meaning to your two worlds has finally been fulfilled.

You savor the cold touch of his lips for every moment he does until you both pull away and your eyes flutter open to see his dilated pupils gazing into yours.

"Thank you."