Sherlock preferences

John oneshot - anorexia

Hey guys! This part seemed to be a very popular suggestion form my last update so I will be doing this now 😊. Once again, I am not writing this to trigger anyone or upset people, honestly, I'm just here for the fluff 😅. If anyone wants to talk about anything, I've been known to be quite helpful in the past so feel free to message me. A problem shared is a problem halved ❤️
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You frowned as you placed your copy of "OK" magazine -which you had scoured ten times that day already- down on the coffee table in front of you and brought your knees up to your chest to sulk. Every single page was the same...

"LOSE TEN POUNDS WITH THIS AMAZING JUICE DETOX!"
"GET SUMMER READY IN JUST A FEW SIMPLE STEPS!"
"HOW TO LOSE THE WEIGHT AND FEEL GREAT!"

"Is it actually possible to look like that?" You asked yourself aloud in the empty flat. You bit your plump lips as you pondered your own question for a moment.

You were absolutely sick and tired of it but somehow, the endless pages of impossible images and discriminating articles compelled you to read on. Your hand slid from your knee across to your stomach. You felt it. You frowned again. Raising from your chair, you pulled your top down and glanced at the clock. Relieved that John wouldn't be home for at least another half hour, you proceeded to meander your way to the bathroom to examine the full extent of your faults and inaccuracies.

The sun was blaring in through the bathroom window. The glass was roughly textured so what would have been a straight beam anywhere else in the house, appeared as more of a viscous orange hue which seeped through and glazed the walls and floor with a strange uneasiness. You bent down and opened the cabinet under the sink and reached into the abyss. Feeling your hand brush against something cold and harsh, you gabbed onto it and withdrew it from the cupboard. The scales. Drawing in a huge shaky breath, you placed it down in front of you, closed your eyes and stepped on...

135lbs

That's what it read; you could not believe it... Every article in that blasted magazine had made it VERY clear that anything above 110 was a 'bad number'. This seemed to be the worst number of all. You stared at your hips and legs, your stomach too, and your arms. You couldn't believe how John could love you if you were so clearly far from perfection. Suddenly, you heard a familiar click coming from the living room, John had returned home early. You frantically jumped off the scale and threw it carelessly back into the cop board (creating slightly more of a clatter than you had intended) and walked round the corner just as John entered, smiling with nonsensical enthusiasm.
"Good day?" You asked your ecstatic with a faux sense that nothing was wrong.
"Yes actually" he replied, still beaming, "we managed to solve a case two weeks in the workings! We've put away a murderer and I've finally managed to get Sherlock to eat again... He does get so awfully skinny when we work on a case..."
"Is that so?..." You asked inquisitively
"Yeah... He can lose up to 15 pounds in a matter of weeks. It's scary but digestion slows him down apparently."

You could feel the cogs begin to whir in your brain. Was this a bad idea? Obviously. Would it work?... Probably. 'A matter of weeks' you repeatedly chanted over and over again in your clouded head as John went to make himself a cup of tea. You were decided. This was how you were going to 'fix' everything...

Dinner time rolled around and John began to sift though the drawers in the kitchen trying desperately to find a pan. He got out some pasta from the shelf above him and placed it on the counter. You recoiled at the sight of it, you were not going to give in at the first moment.
"What sauce do you want with the pasta tonight sweetie?" He asked kindly as he leaned on the sideboard awaiting your reply
"Actually John, I had a rather large lunch while you were at work and I'm not that hungry at the moment,.. Feel free to make yourself something though" you smiled as innocently as possible as he raised his eyebrows with an unusual lack of suspicion
"Oh, alright sweetie. You can get something later then"
You couldn't believe how easy this was! A small jet of adrenaline shot through your heart and you could feel it pumping through every artery, every vein, every capillary in your body. 'I can do this'...

Two weeks rolled past. Bad. Very bad. Your choice not to eat had gradually evolved into an obsession, wincing every time someone even monitored food and the bitter taste of bile approached your throat at the slightest scent of calories. You had utterly lost control and John still had utterly no idea. He was out too often you see, when he is on a case, he gets so awfully tired that he hardly even acknowledges the world after he returns home. Over the days, the scale had read less and less...

135

133

128

125

120

115

111...

"So close...Still not good enough" you tortured yourself as you stated hazily into the bathroom mirror. Your hands were shaky, pale and cold to the touch; your hair was no longer shiny and your lips were cracked and flat. You didn't see yourself as beautiful anymore... You were just a fat mess that couldn't control her emotions.

You were so caught up in your self hatred that you had zoned out from the door's melancholy 'click' signalling John's arrival. He places his bag down on the floor and pattered his way to the bathroom. The sound of his footsteps made you freeze with an instant jolt of panic.
"Get out!"
You lunged weakly at the door and attempted to push it shut against him but your body was too weak to fight him and you limply slid to the floor instead. John managed to use the door to gently move your body enough to enter. Your tears ripped through his heart, he felt everything and nothing all at once. The only sensation that comes close to describing it is when you walk up the stairs, and reach the top thinking there is one more step than there actually is and falling for a split second before realising you didn't really fall at all...
"(Y/n)?..." He asked, his brittle voice breaking into fragments.
You replied with nothing but watery eye contact and silence. Your reddened orbs speaking completely for themselves as tears began to fall down your slightly hollowed cheeks. John (without saying another word) reached out his hand down to you and provided a sturdy method in which you could return to a standing position. You broke off eye contact momentarily, embarrassed that he had discovered you in such a weakened situation.
"I'm sorry John..." You choked quietly.
He held your hands once more and pulled your body into his
"You're sorry? You're sorry!? I SHOULD be the one who is sorry! How did I ignore this for such a long time? I'm a doctor for gods sake! I see what happens to Sherlock on a monthly basis! How the hell did I not see it happening to you! Sweetie I am so so so sorry!" His tears were more intense than yours (if that were at all possible) and he snaked his arms around your waist to cradle your fragile frame in his, protecting you like an artist would protect their masterpiece from the rain.
"This isn't your fault John..." You reassured him, still weeping into his neck. "I can't stop reading those stupid magazines! They present horrible self image and I guess I just let it slip too far..."
He stroked the tears from your face gently with a soft gesture from his fingers.
"(Y/n), I will remove all magazines from the house if you want... I'll rip them up, cover them in lighter fluid an burn them for all I care! Just as long as they can't hurt you anymore. You have to see that you are not fat, you've never been fat but even if you were, I'd still love you one hundred percent!" This made you smile ever so slightly and you pecked him on the mouth with your lips, cringing at how dry they felt against his tender skin.
"Come on... I'll make some soup, we will get through this one step at a time"
Your body froze bolt upright once again and you violently shook your head
"No. No! John I can't! I don't want to be fat again you can't make me!"
John gritted his teeth, squirming at the fact that he was being such an idiot.
"No... Of course not, I'm sorry... That was too fast. Sherlock handles this differently, we need to work this as a team."
"I agree..." You nodded, biting your lip. "I would like a cup of tea though John" you smiled innocently as you stated down at the scale across from you. He immediately caught on to this and licked it up, opened the window and threw it outside.
"John!!!" You cupped your hands over your mouth in shock but also to stop a giggle from escaping.
"There. That's better! Now, about that tea? Strong, hot and sweet?...just like you" he commented, smiling as you blushed, allowing some hint of colour to flush back into your deathly cheeks.
"Sounds perfect"
"Also you" he stated, smiling again. You blushed a more harsh pink as he lead you into the kitchen. This wasn't going to be easy, there would be obstacles along the way but no matter what, you would get through this with John at your side... One cup of tea at a time.