Why do all the writers have to break me and shatter my heart into pieces, throw them on the ground, stand on it and laugh at my face? I was reading a very good book when my favourite character died. And not even a graceful death, no, a cruel one. I closed my book in frustration and threw it on the ground. In frustration, I leaned against the back of my chair and put my fingers on my temples. The pillow that I had put against my belly as if it was an armour, had fallen to the ground along with my book when I threw it, filled with anger and sadness. How could this happen to me? I asked myself when I felt tears filling my eyes. No, I'm not going to cry, not again. I always cry over the deaths of my favourites characters but it makes me feel so weak, so little. I fought against the tears but they were stronger so I just let them run over my cheeks. There wasn't anyone around anyway.
My pillow was still lying on the floor so I picked it up and put it back against my belly. I used my sleeve to get some tears of my face but there were too many of them. 'What are you doing?' a voice spoke in my head. 'Are you crying?' it asked. I realised that it wasn't a voice in my head but Sherlock standing in the opening of the door, slowly walking towards me. 'Yes, you are crying. Why?' He sat down on the chair against me and picked up the book that had made me cry. He read the cover of the book and looked at me. I quickly looked away so he couldn't see me cry but I felt a finger at my chin that pushed my face towards his so I had to look at him. '
Why are you crying?' He asked me, looking concerned. 'Why do you care?' I asked him, even though we were very close these days. 'I care because I don't like to see you cry, give me the reason why, please.' He said, still with a look of concern in his blue shining eyes. I simply pointed at the book. 'This?' He said, 'Did this make you cry?' The concern in his eyes was gone, now there was a smile on his face and he laughed at me. 'Did a book make you cry?' he laughed.
I tried to grab the book out of his hands. 'He died! He died, Sherlock, he died! Why must he die?' He held the book behind his back as I tried to take it. 'Wait,' he said and I stopped with my unsuccessful attempts to grab it. 'Wait, so you're saying that you're crying because a fictional character died in your book? You know he's not re-.' He stopped because I gave him the death glare, something I gave everyone when they said that my favourite character wasn't real. I kept staring at him while my eyes filled themselves with tears again and I felt them running over my cheeks. His smile ran away from his face and the joy left his beautiful eyes.
'Why would you care about a person in a book?' he asked me. 'It's much more than that, for me at least. Caring is not an advantage.' I answered, still trying to hide my face. 'I'm sorry for laughing. I didn't know that you cared so much.' I tried to smile. 'it's okay. I'm probably overreacting.' Sherlock gave me my book back and rose. I put the book on the table as he left the room but he came back in no-time with a cup of tea. I always calmed down with a good cup of tea so I thanked him and drank some. 'Why don't we go and have some fun today? You will forget your book a little and I won't be bored, I just finished a case, you know?' he asked carefully.
'What would you like to do?' I took another sip from my cup and let the tea warm me from inside. 'We could go see a movie or something.' He said and I smiled. 'What?' he asked because of my smirking face. 'I thought that that was "dull, boring, predictable".' I said. 'You like movies, right?' He asked and I nodded with a small smile decorating my face. 'Sounds fun, let's do that.'
*Time skip*
We walked out of the cinema, both smiling bright. The film was nice, although Sherlock spoiled everything. His deductions were quite annoying sometimes, but I still had a great time. We walked towards 221B at night. Some people were still on the streets, but it was mostly empty. The moon was shining with the stars surrounding it like a wonderful mosaic. I was looking to the sky what almost made me walk into someone on the street. Sherlock leaded me away on just the right moment.
'Where were you looking at?' He asked after I thanked him. 'The sky.' I answered. 'It's beautiful, don't you think?' he said, looking at the sky with bright eyes. I nodded. It was cold, Sherlock turned his collar up and pulled his arm around my shoulder to warm me. And it worked. While a pleasant warmth surrounded me, we reached the door that lead us to 221B when he stopped waking and turned to look at me. 'Don't you ever cry again. It makes me feel... weird. Please, don't do it.' He said, looking at me with a confused look in his eyes as if he didn't understand the feeling he had when he saw me cry. 'I'll do my best.' I said, astonished by his sudden serious words.
'Do more than your best.' He said and then smiled a little. 'I actually had a great time with you, not boring of predictable at all. Most people are boing and predictable, you're different.' I am sure that I was blushing then. He leant in a little and kissed me softly on the cheek. I smiled at him, a bright and genuine smile. 'Come, let's get inside. It's freezing cold outside.' I agreed and we walked through the door.
John was sitting on the couch and he looked up when we entered. 'Hey, why are you both smiling?' he asked, amazed that Sherlock was smiling while knowing that there was no serial killer, Sherlock usually smiled when they were in the game, he loved those. Now he was smirking without an amazing case. 'Goodnight, John.' He said and afterwards kissed me again, now on my lips. 'Goodnight, love.' Sherlock left the room and left me with John who looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
'He kissed you.' John said. 'I know.' I answered simply with the smile that still hadn't left my face. 'So you guys are together now?' He asked me. 'I think.' I gazed at the door which Sherlock had used to leave the room and pictured him standing there again.
'I hope.'
John smiled at me. 'I don't know how you did it, but you've broken through his sociopath shield, congrats.' He said happily. 'Goodnight, John.' I told him and hugged him with a smile on my face. 'Goodnight.' I felt John's glare when I walked towards my room. With a smirk still on my face, I let myself fall on my bed. What a lovely day it had been. John was right, I, a normal stupid little girl that cries over a 'fictional' character, had broken through his sociopath shield. I closed my eyes and fell asleep immediately with a beautiful dream. When I stood up next day and entered the kitchen to make breakfast, Sherlock was there. He smiled again at me, a sight that I loved and that I will probably see more often. 'Good morning, Sherlock.' I said lovingly.
'Good morning, love.'
A/N
Maybe do you know Severus Snape, well, yeah... :'-(
I hope you liked it! Please comment to tell me what you think or to request. Thanks for reading. Catch you later...
-MS
(*Added later on* I just wanted to say that my one shots are getting better. I've learned a lot and changed my writing slightly. I really think I have improved it! At least... I fiercely hope! XD )