BBC Sherlock Imagines (Book 3)

Sherlock: Yer a Sneak, Harry

Request for  MagicTurtle625

~

"Woman, I am home," announced Sherlock Holmes as he paraded through the door of his flat. You gave a nod to acknowledge his presence, then buried your face back in the book. "Woman, did you not hear me? I said I am home."

"Mhmm," you mumbled, not really hearing what he said and ignoring his steps that stopped right in front of you.

"I have referred to you as 'woman' so as to extract a reaction from you such as 'oh my, Sherlock' or 'I am more than just a woman'. But not now, no. Instead, you," he grabbed the book out of your hands, "read this flimsy book without any apparent interest in me. Now (y/n), what could you possibly hold in your hands that might be of more interest to you than myself?" Squealing, you lunged up, grasping for your fictional dream world to be brought back to you. But he held it out of your reach. You cursed his long arms. Even jumping, he still kept it out of your grasp. 

"Sherlock, give it back NOW. That's MY book!" You yelled it with such fury and passion that his eyes grew wide with fear. Slowly his arm lowered, and when it was low enough, you grabbed it out of his hand and sunk back onto the couch. 

"Crazy woman," he muttered, shuffling into the kitchen with sinking shoulders whilst dragging his feet.

~

After two more hours of emotional trauma, you had finished the last book of the entire Harry Potter series. "Ahhh," you sighed, leaning back and resting your hands behind you head. In your mind, you surfed through the events of the book, the culmination of the entire series, and the epilogue that left you thinking "all was well."

"Finished?" asked a voice. Your eyes traveled to Sherlock seated in his chair. He was still dressed up from the day. You got up and walked over to him, placing your hand on his shoulders and moving up to his curly locks. 

"Yes, I am finished you said, removing your hands from his hair before he reach up and swat them away. You slumped on top of him, like reading that book had been the hardest thing you've ever had to do. And it kind of was. "How was your day?" you asked him. Your head was in the crook of his neck, and you waited to feel his vocal cords vibrate as he answered you with a sarcastic response. But he did not answer, there was no vibration. There was not even a twitch of his arms to move to wrap around your body that was planted in fetal position in his lap.

You moved your head out from his neck and looked at him. "Sherl," you said, grabbing a handful of curls. He was staring straight ahead, eyes fixed on the fireplace, or the wallpaper, or anything that was not you. Taking your pointer finger, you poked his cheek. "Sherlock. Hello. I'm right here. I asked you a question." No reaction, no change. Damn, he was good at ignoring you. And he looked damn good while doing it.

You groaned in annoyance, scrambling to get off his lap. You didn't have time to watch him wallow in whatever sorrows he was being dramatic about during this time. Instead, you would spend it finding a great Harry Potter fanfic to fill the empty hole inside of your heart that finishing the series left. While moving to John's armchair, still in it's home position, you thought there came a peep from behind you, or even a squeak of the couch cushion. Turning your head, Sherlock was in the same position, but you caught the last movement of his eyes as they went from you, back to the fireplace. 

~

The next day

Coming in from outside, you wiped your slightly muddy shoes on the mat of 221B. It had been a long day of work in the office. Being the boss woman was difficult, but someone had to do it, and you were damn good at it. 

"Sherlock, I'm home," you called as you climbed the stairs. 

"(Y/N)!" he yelled from the top of the stairs. He came down a few to meet you, grabbed your hand, and pulled you into the flat. "Sit down, now, please."

"Erm, okay. What is going on?" He was jumpy and moving spastically all over the room. "Did Mrs. Hudson slip something from her stash into your tea?"

"No, no no no no no no (Y/n)." He grabbed something from his chair and held it up in front of you. "This, this is what you slipped in my tea. This little wizard and his friends. How? How have you not told me about this before. If I didn't love you so much, I would be angry for hiding this from me."

That's when you realized, it was Harry Potter. He was reading Harry freaking Potter. And he was already on the second book.

"Sherlock, do you understand now why I was so distracted while reading this?"

"Shut up," he said, now sitting back in his chair and he continued reading.

You sighed in annoyance. He was always so mean when he got excited about something. "Do you want me to get you—"

"Already got them," he said, pointing to the rest of the series resting on John's chair. 

You rolled your eyes and walked to the kitchen for a drink. The front door to the flat opened and you heard John: "Hello Sherlock."

"Expelliarmus!"

John poked his head in the kitchen. "Should I be worried?" he asked. 

"No," I said. "Just don't be surprised if he starts making potions in the kitchens. And if he yells 'avada kedavra' at you, run."

A/N

Two posts in one day? Hell to the yeah.

Sometimes I just get these cravings to write, and to enter back into this fictional world of Sherlock that I enjoy so much. 

Question: What is something positive you have experienced these last 6 months?"

"In dreams we enter a world entirely our own."

- Albus Dumbledore