Bookshelves (Sherlock x Reader)

•1•

Bookshelves Sherlock x Reader-
I paced around my library, scanning the hundreds of books that covered every inch of my room. The calming feeling they gave me interrupted all the anxiety the outside world gave me. None of the therapist my moms sent to my apartment could diagnose me with  anything more than anxiety, but I knew nothing was wrong, I just like books more than people. I curled up in one of my beanbag chairs and grabbed an old book, flipping through the smelly pages. The scent was uplifting, keeping me calm. I skimmed to my favourite chapter, and read it once more.

Sherlock's POV
"John! Do I have any cases?" I hollered, walking out in a sheet.
"Yeah, a woman wants you to figure out what's wrong with her daughter!" John shouted from the bathroom.
"Boring." I grumbled, sitting in my chair.
"Please give it a shot!" John pleaded, walking out of the washroom.
"Why?" I glared at him, lifting my violin from the floor.
"Because you're one step away from shooting the walls." John grumbled, sitting across from me. I smirked slightly, and played the beginning of a song. "Plus she's a lot like you, I hear." John commented. I raised a brow and looked at him.
"Fine, I'll meet with her." I sighed, placing my violin down and heading towards the door.
"Sherlock." John called after me.
"What?" I turned to look at him.
"Clothes." He ordered, gesturing to my 'informal' attire. I grumbled under my breath and walked to my room to get changed.

Your POV
I skimmed over my bookshelves once more, hearing the door open.
"Hello, mother." I called, placing the newest book in its place.
"Hello dear, I found a new specialist to come meet you!" Her tone was cheery, it made my jaw clench with dislike.
"Nothing is wrong with me." I said in a matter of fact tone.
"(Y/N)-"
"Mother." I cast a dark stare at her. She shivered under my stare, and turned away to the kitchen. "What time is this one coming?" I asked, turning to my bookshelf.
"Around lunch, hopefully soon." Mother replied, her tone was solemn. It didn't bother me, why was she so concerned with my life anyways. I gazed around at my bookshelves, all organized by genre and then subcategorized by last name. Pride swelled up in my chest, this was my best accomplishment.
"I told him about the charity you own." Mother interrupted my thoughts.
"Why?" I entered the kitchen, piling the cookbooks into a safe corner away from the oven.
"Because it's amazing! You own a huge charity, (Y/N)." Mother cried, looking at me with shock.
"It's a mediocre accomplishment, mother, I simply did something I love." I shrugged, leaning against the counter as she cooked.
"You own the Books for Children foundation, that donates books to schools and poor children all over England!" Mother shot a desperate look at me.
"I suppose that's something to take pride in." I shrugged, looking at the frying pan, which contained scrambled eggs. I grabbed a cuppa tea and moved to the reading room. A knock on the door caught me by surprise, not many people came here.
"That must be him!" Mom smiled brightly, walking to the door. "Hello sir!" Her tone was sickeningly happy.
"Hello, Mrs. (L/N)." A deep voice answered her.

"(Y/N)! Sherlock Holmes is here!"

I know this is short, but I promise the next few chapters will be longer!