I strongly recommend listening to the song "Daddy Issues" by The Neighborhood while reading this chapter :')
I stumble out of the bar, the alcohol finally taking its toll on me. My eyes are red and swollen from the continuous tears. I look horrible. Everyone watches as I stumble down the street, having to catch myself on the side of the building, to prevent me from falling. It's a pathetic sight to see, but I don't care.
"Bless her soul," a woman mutters.
My feet finally stop. I look up to see a familiar building in front of me. I should go home, but I don't want to. It wouldn't be good to be by myself right now, and all I wanted was to be with him.
I stare at the familiar staircase. How on Earth am I going to make it to the top? I should've thought this through. But my drunken mind didn't care, I took a step up the stairs, and eventually made it to the top.
My head spins as I take sloppy steps towards the door, I stand in front of it for a minute. I should've gone home. I knock on the door, much harder than I intended. My knuckles continue tapping on the door until it opens.
"Can I help you?"
I stare at the man in confusion. Who is he?
"(Y/n)?"
I slowly turn around to see Sherlock standing behind me. My knees buckle, he catches me right before I crash to the ground. "Sherlock, just the man I was looking for."
"I'm sorry for the interruption, it appears that she's knocked on the wrong door."
The stranger nods and shuts the door. Sherlock walks me to his apartment, it's two doors down from where we were. I had thought the walk from the stairs was too short. We walk in and he walks over to his desk, not even saying a word.
I stumble over to his couch, falling down right in front of it. My head throbs as I sit up, leaning against the couch. I can feel his blue eyes staring at me, but I refuse to look his way.
"Are you drunk?"
I let out a laugh, "No, of course not."
He kneels down in front of me, grabbing my chin, and forcing me to look him in the eyes. I hold my breath, waiting for him to say or do anything. But he lets out a sigh and stands up. "You're drunk."
"Ah, the wonderful detective Sherlock Holmes has solved the case!"
"You shouldn't be getting drunk and wandering the streets on your own."
I roll my eyes, "Spare me the lecture, Sherlock."
"You shouldn't be getting drunk in the first place."
"That's rich coming from you," I say, rubbing my head.
He watches me, his blue eyes narrowed. "It's not as unsafe for me to drink as it is for you."
"I didn't come here to get lectured by a hypocrite."
I pull myself up to my feet, my head spinning as I do. His apartment is messy again, papers are all over the floor, and there are books stacked all around his desk. I'm sure Watson would have a heart attack if he saw this mess.
"Why did you come here then?"
I walk over to his desk, and he follows me closely. There's a bottle of whiskey sitting on his desk, I eye it cautiously. He must've seen me looking at it, because he quickly picks it up and walks off with it.
"I didn't want to be alone," I whisper.
Somehow, he hears me. Maybe it's because of his years of being a detective, or maybe it's because the universe actually does hate me. I curse myself for coming here. Even when I'm drunk I still think about him.
"Why would you be alone? Couldn't you go be with Timothée?"
"Timothée's at a meeting out of town."
I make my way to the door, "I should go, I'm sorry for bothering you."
I pull the door open but he slams it shut. My body slowly turns around to see him leaning over me, his hand still on the door. Goosebumps trail down my skin and my heart races.
"You can leave after you've sobered up."
"I don't want to sober up."
His bottle of whiskey is on the counter by the stove. My mind is already starting to clear up, probably from the rush of adrenaline I had on the way here. Just a little more whiskey couldn't hurt.
He steps away from me, I hate myself for missing his closeness. A knock on the door behind me echoes loudly. I step away from the door, Sherlock opens it and greets whoever it is.
"Good evening, Mycroft."
"Sherlock, my brother. How have you been?"
Sherlock looks at me before turning back to his brother. "Let's talk outside."
He shuts the door behind him, my eyes immediately go to the whiskey bottle. And before I even realize it, I'm already drinking the little bit that's left.
After a few minutes my thoughts begin to slow down, and my vision becomes hazy. The comforting feeling of numbness takes over and I let out a sigh. I slide down to the floor, holding the empty bottle, and rest my head against the wall behind me.
"I don't understand why he insists on bothering me."
I open my eyes to see Sherlock standing in front of me, although my vision is blurry I can still see the angry look on his face.
"What have you done?"
I set the bottle down, "Relax, I'll buy you another bottle."
He pulls me to my feet, I lean back on the counter. My legs shaking underneath me.
"It's not the alcohol I'm worried about," he snaps.
I push myself off the counter, my stride is wobbly, but I stay upright.
"It's too hot," I slur, pulling my coat off.
I drop the coat in the floor and collapse on to the couch. I watch as Sherlock picks my coat up, muttering under his breath. As he picks the coat up an envelope falls out of the pocket. He stares at it for a moment before picking it up.
"Don't touch that."
He eyes me curiously, "Is this what you're so upset about?"
I don't respond, and he gives me an intense stare. My eyes follow him as he hangs my coat on the rack by the door. The envelope is still in his hand, I pray that he doesn't open it. I'd rather him think I was an irresponsible alcoholic.
My eyes close, but quickly reopen at the sound of crinkly paper. I jump to my feet, falling down to the floor in the process. But it's already too late. He's opened the letter and is reading it.
I stay on the floor, watching him. Waiting for a reaction. He reads the letter for what feels like forever. Tears build up in my eyes, causing them to burn worse than normal.
"Who sent this to you?"
I shake my head, "I told you not to touch it."
"Answer my question."
"It's none of your business."
He reads the front of the envelope, "The return address is from Texas."
My chest tightens, the tears I tried so hard to hold back are streaming down my face like a relentless river. I beg and pray to whatever God is above that Sherlock forgets this ever happened. This is far more embarrassing than anything I've ever done before.
"Did your father send this?"
"Shut up."
He looks back at me, "He did. Didn't he?"
"Fuck you!" I cry out.
I push myself to my feet and lunge for the letter in his hand. He lets me grab the letter, I glare into his eyes, ignoring the sadness swirling within them.
"It's not true."
My eyes focus on the letter in my hand, I read it over and over. "Yes it is."
He takes the letter from my hand, and walks to the fireplace. The fire within it burns a bright red. He gives me one last look, before throwing the letter right i to the flames. My eyes widen as I watch the letter burn.
"Why would you do that?!"
The last bit of the letter burns and he finally faces me. "So you don't have to read those words ever again."
He sits on the couch, pulling me down with him. I stare at the fire across from us, maybe it's just the alcohol affecting my brain, but I swear the fire turned a deeper red.
His arms wrap around me, pulling me into his chest. My body finally gives into my emotions, and my sobs echo through the quiet apartment. He holds my shaking body, I feel disgusted with myself.
"It's okay, I've got you now," he whispers.
I cry and I cry, cursing myself silently each time I feel a tear slide down my face. Sherlock holds me against his chest so tightly that I can hear his heartbeat. I don't deserve to be in his arms, and I certainly don't deserve the comfort he gives me.
"This is embarrassing."
"You shoudn't be embarrassed," he says.
I sit up to look at him. His face is stoic, like always, but his eyes are full of concern. Not a single trace of pity to be seen.
"I'm tired. I should go home."
"You'll sleep here, in my room," he says, standing up.
He holds his hand out to me, I accept it, and allow him to lead me to his room. It's surprisingly clean, except for the stack of books on his night stand. He pulls back the covers and gestures for me to lay down. I kick my shoes off, and crawl into the bed, my eyes beginning to feel heavy.
"Good night," he says, taking a step away.
I grab his hand, stopping him. He gives me a confused look and I frown. "Will you stay with me?"
He looks back at the door and then to me, "Of course."
He sits on the edge of the bed, taking his shoes off as well. He turns to me when he's done, his body is tense. He's nervous. I hide my smile and lift the blankets up, "I promise I won't bite..... that hard."
He lays down next to me, rolling his eyes at my comment. I let out a laugh as he scoots away from me. "Come on, Sherlock. I'm sure you've slept with many women before."
"Yes, but there wasn't much sleeping involved," he says honestly.
I smack his shoulder, "That's not what I meant!"
His face reddens but I can see the hint of an amused smile on his face. "You should've made it clearer then."
A lock of hair falls in front of his eye, I reach out and push it away from his face. I rest my hand on the side of his face, waiting for him to push me away. He instead rests his hand on top of it.
"I'm sorry for the way I've treated you recently."
His thumb rubs my knuckles softly. My heart thumps against my chest painfully. If only he knew how powerful his touch is.
"I'm sorry too."
He pulls my hand away from his face, resting it on top of the mattress bewteen us. His hand stays on top of it, his eyes staring down at it.
"Do you fancy that Timothée boy?"
He finally looks up at me, waiting for my answer.
"He's not the one I'm laying in bed with."
He gives me a confused look, "What do you mean by that?"
"You're a detective, figure it out."
Author's Note: I fucking love this fictional man. Also, the Enola Holmes team should hit me up and let me write a scene for Sherlock. Because I desperately need to see the babygirlification of Sherlock Holmes on screen. Anyways, thank you all so much for reading! I truly appreciate each and every one of you. ♡