SherlockxReader One Shots/Imagines/preferences REQUESTS CLOSED!!

SherlockxReader: Dancing Part Two

A/N: This will be short, btw.

Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: SherlockxReader (I honestly have nothing more to say. If you wanna read it, read it)
Warnings: None

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It'd been a month since you had moved into your new flat and you hadn't seen Sherlock once. You were actually glad you hadn't seen him because you knew it would most likely be awkward.

However, this morning was a surprise. And definitely not a good one.

You awoke from a nightmare to the sound of gunshots. You were filled with adrenaline, possibly from the nightmare you'd just had and possibly from the fact that gunshots were going off. Either way, you rushed out of bed, down the stairs, and through the door where the gunshots were coming from. When you opened the door, you were surprised to see a man sprawled out on a chair, pointing a gun towards the wall.

You stared at the man as he glanced at you. He had dark, curly brown hair, extremely high cheekbones, and the most beautiful eyes you'd ever seen. Dear god. It was Sherlock.

He took the gun and shot the wall, making you immediately cover your ears. "What. The. HELL is going on?" You shouted.

"Bored," the curly haired man replied simply.

"What?"

"Bored!" Sherlock shot the gun repeatedly in different positions. All the while you just stood there. When he finished, you only had one thing to say:

"Why the bloody hell would you shoot the wall if you were bored?" You blurted out.

Sherlock looked you up and down, making you flush. "Do I know you? You seem familiar."

You blinked. Did he actually remember? No way. You decided to act a little dumb. "Maybe. I dunno."

Sherlock shrugged, put down the gun as if in realization, and rushed to the fireplace behind him. That gave you enough time to inspect the flat. It was messy. That was practically it. Papers were scattered everywhere and the wall Sherlock was shooting at had a yellow smiley face spray painted on it.

You turned back to Sherlock, who was now searching the ashes in the fireplace. "What're you doing?"

"I'm searching. Isn't that obvious?"

"Searching for what, exactly?"

"My stash." Very specific. Suddenly, he jumped from the fireplace to the kitchen, which was covered with experiments and body parts.

"Right. Your stash. Very specific," you said.

Sherlock ignored what you said. "Who are you, exactly?"

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)," you replied involuntarily.

Sherlock suddenly stopped what he was doing. "(Y/N)?" He turned towards you, his hands suddenly going to prayer position, and closed his eyes. He looked like he was thinking deeply.

"Yes...?"

"Shut up. I'm thinking."

You rolled your eyes. In only a few seconds his eyes opened and his hands were removed. "Oh. That's right." He said. "I remember you."