(SERIOUS SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 ENDING OF BBC'S SHERLOCK BEWARE I'm adding a gif break just in case you don't read in time bc holy crap don't spoil season 2 for yourself like I did
The case I made up (it's kinda bad lol) that you have in the beginning takes place in the two month gap period between Moriarty's case and John's visit to Mycroft in season 2 episode 3
This one will probably have a lot of grammar mistakes just because of how late at night it is... please try to excuse them!
Also, I'm trying hard for these to be gender-neutral from now on!)
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It was the day I broke.
My whole world came crashing down in the span of a few seconds.
And so did Sherlock.
Before the fall...
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
I opened my eyes slowly, groggily lifting my head up to look at the time. 6:00. My alarm was going nuts, screaming at me to wake up. I let out a grunt and slammed my hand down on the snooze button, effectively silencing the disturbance of my slumber. But I actually have a job, so I guess I have to get up unless I want to be fired or yelled at by Lestrade.
I threw my legs out from underneath the warm covers and sat up, letting out a yawn. My hair felt awful, almost as if birds were nesting in it. I rose slowly from my bed and stumbled my way into the shower. I practically pulled my hair into submission as it refused to cooperate, and finally got it the way I liked it. After finishing up my shower, I wrapped a towel around my form and started to dry my hair.
Once it was dry and styled, I looked at the time again. 6:30. I got up fairly quickly and started to pull my clothes on. My white shirt (button-up, v-neck, t-shirt, whatever you prefer), my black pants, and my black shoes. I looked at myself in the mirror, essentially checking myself out, and walking to the coat rack. I grabbed my trench coat and swung it around my shoulders, then walked out the door.
I closed the door to my flat and locked it, then headed off to my car. I sat down in the driver's seat and started it, once again checking the clock. 6:48. Luckily, I live only ten minutes away. I work at the Scotland Yard as a detective sergeant. Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade is my boss, a kind man who is, in my humble opinion, too kind to Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock can text him a simple "Help" and Lestrade will dash to help him no matter what situation, only to find Holmes is asking for help on a trivial matter.
