Sherlock Horan | Narry AU

[6] Our Lifes Are Uncommon.

"Welcome, into my house." Sherlock opened his arms wide and smiled up at the ceiling. Harry reluctantly pushed him out of the way to separate him from the door so he could easily get into the room to place his stuff somewhere.

"Thanks-but you know I've already been here so let's not start the speech about how majestic this crappy apartment looks. In a succinct sentence, it's just not what Heaven looks like in my opinion. Sorry." Harry said and sighed as he sat down onto the couch. The room they were in wasn't exactly the most wonderful one, but Sherlock never required a luxurious one either. If he felt comfortable, then that's just what he needs. Mrs. Hudson kept him company sometimes, and that was awesome.

As assistant and co-worker, Harry had intended on moving in with Sherlock. It wasn't quite the best idea ever, but he didn't mind the mess around the apartement, as long as they were safe inside. Sherlock was playing violon for an hour and Harry was reading a book called 'How to kill a Mockingjay' . London was boring these days, so what else was there to do besides sitting with your ass down and blinking your eyes?

"Sher...?"

"Yes, Harry." Sherlock almost replied in a whisper, eyes darting out of the window as he paused his violon playing. The curly haired lad sucked in a deep breath before placing his book onto the table, glasses put just on top of the cover.

"Why do you like solving crimes so much?" He demanded the blonde haired man who still stood in front of the window, as Harry still faced his back. "What if one day, you'll die? Or get stabbed...or you know, poisoned?"

"Impossible." Sherlock responded as if it was a fact that everybody should know. It left Harry sometimes bewildered, the urge to dig a little deeper and do some research about Sherlock. Who was this man? The question wasn't going to be answered sooner or later nonetheless. Well, it all remained very mysterious. But mystery is perfect, both for Harry and Sherlock.

Before he intended on speaking up again, Sherlock raised his violon to his chin and started playing violently. It was as if he attempted to ignore the curly lad. But Harry, who untied the tensity from his body, relaxed back into his chair without any word escaping his lips. And that's how the room remained calm, silent...for the rest of the day.

The night was outrageous. A scandal, actually. The wind blew Harry's window open four times, despite that before going to bed he actually had made sure to lock the windows to be secure. Sherlock rested into another room, opposite from Harry's. He had to wake up Sher a few times for the difficulties, and that's how they both received issues at even living with each other at night.

"Dude, you sure that you locked the front door...?" Harry murmured as he entered the room of Sherlock - who was half-unconscious into his bed, leaving little snoring noises that was even loud enough to echo through the hallway. The blonde rolled to the other side of the mattress, retorting an affirming noise. "Look, I'm hearing strange noises over there. Shall I take a look?"

"Do what you desire. But as you leave, please Harry, quit entering my room. I'm trying to sleep here!" Sherlock mumbled into his pillow, hair into knots and a mess. Harry only rolled his eyes and sighed deeply, turning his heels and walking out before gently closing the door behind. That's when he went to take a peek into the living room, but seeing no unusual manifestations. Well, that's weird... He thought to himself as he pointed his flashlight through the dark in every corner of the room.

He shrugged, leaving to get back to his bed. But as he attempted to sleep, the creaking noises kept on going the entire night. It almost sounded as if someone was walking down the hallway, but since Sherlock slept tight, there was no way that it could have been him. Very weird...

In the morning, Harry walked into the kitchen like a Zombie. His face was pale, his eyes were blood red. Sherlock looked up and frowned instantly, "Well, seems like you were having a bad night." He said as Harry collapsed down like a whale onto his chair, he looked down at the eggs and bacon onto his plate, not even replying or blinking. "Well, breakfast will make it up to ya!"