Trigger Warning: mentions of rape
Be safe, everyone!
<♥>
You entered your flat, smiling to yourself and humming a tune.
''You're in an awfully good mood,'' your roommate commented. ''Didn't think shopping for groceries was that entertaining to you.''
You smiled, not allowing him to ruin your happiness. ''Well, actually, Sherlock, I met someone!''
He quirked his eyebrow. ''You met someone? At a grocery shop?''
''Yes,'' you sighed happily. ''It was really romantic actually. I reached for a tin of biscuits and so did he, and then our hands touched.''
Sherlock looked at you, an amused expression on his face. ''So you're in love now? I didn't think you were the type.''
''I'm not in love with him! I only just met him, I'm not that crazy. We're going on a date, though. This Friday.''
''Considering how desperate you've been for a relationship, I suppose I should be happy for you.''
You glared at him. ''I can always count on you to ruin my good mood, can't I?'' You huffed and turned around, heading to the kitchen to put away the groceries you'd bought.
As soon as you were out of sight, Sherlock's smirk disappeared. His features adapted a solemn look as he stared at the floor.
You had moved in with Sherlock almost a year ago. The detective had put up an ad online after his dear friend, John Watson, got married and permanently moved out.
Though he could easily afford the rent on his own, his landlady wasn't having any of it. She forced him to find a flatmate, and after putting up the ad, he quickly found you.
You were a struggling author. You worked your arse off, but could never seem to find someone who believed in you enough to get you published.
For now, you had turned to freelance writing for websites and papers, leaving your dream of becoming a published author on a back burner.
You were being kicked out of your flat because you couldn't afford the rent. Desperate to stay in the city you loved, you had looked everywhere for a cheaper place, thus stumbling upon none other than Sherlock Holmes.
You had emailed him and met up with him shortly after. He had seemed to like you and offered you the spare bedroom almost instantly. You had been ecstatic and wasted no time moving into 221B.
To say the consulting detective liked you was an understatement, however. It started with you piquing his interest. He had found some of your work online and was impressed by the level of detail you put into your writing. He figured your eye for detail would come in useful if he'd ever get stuck on a particular case.
Once you had moved in with him, the interest rather quickly became fondness. Sherlock admired your kindness, though he'd never admit that to you. He was always pushing your buttons, something he enjoyed, but you never went that far with him. Surely, you had a temper, but you controlled it well around him, clearly considerate towards his feelings.
He had always been gobsmacked by your compassion. He never quite understood why you were so nice to other people even if those same individuals treated you horribly. When confronting you with it, you had said something along the lines of 'you never know who you're dealing with or what they could mean to you'. Sherlock was impressed by that. He thought you were clever.
Although soon the observant detective realised it wasn't just platonic fondness he felt for you. He had developed an attachment to you. He was in love with you.
Ever since you'd settled in 221B and focussed on a new point in your career, you had been craving a connection. Of course, you had that with Sherlock. However, you knew that would never lead to anything. He wasn't like that, so you thought.
You had tried dating, much to Sherlock's dismay. He'd always make small comments about it when he saw you on some dating app. Whenever you connected with someone, he always hoped it wouldn't work out. That was usually the case and the detective would sigh in relief.
This time he wasn't so sure it wouldn't work out. He had never seen you so dreamy about anyone before. It scared him.
''What's with the pout?'' you asked, forcing a cup of tea in his hands.
''No cases,'' he lied quickly, wiping the look off his face. He sipped his tea. Something else he liked about you, you knew exactly how to make a perfect cuppa.
''Well, you could call John. I'm sure he'd like to come over and entertain you.''
''I figured you'd keep me company.''
You shook your head. ''Can't. I need to find a dress for my date.''
Sherlock cringed at your words but played it off as him burning his tongue. ''I'll call John then.''
He did exactly that as soon as you left.
It didn't take long for the blogger to greet his grumpy friend. ''Hiya, mate,'' he said, shutting the door behind him. ''You don't look too happy.''
''Excellent deduction, John,'' Sherlock sneered.
''Alright. Spit it out. What's going on with you?'' He sat down in his old chair, waiting patiently for his friend to comment.
''(Y/N) has a date,'' Sherlock grumbled, clenching his fists.
''Well, that's fantastic! She's been looking for someone, hasn't she? She found someone then. Good for her!''
''No, not good for her!''
John sighed, resting his head on his hand. ''You know, Sherlock, people aren't designed to serve your every need whenever you want them to. (Y/N) has a life of her own other than solving cases with you.''
''That's not what I meant,'' the detective mumbled.
The doctor raised his eyebrow. ''Oh?''
Sherlock didn't comment. He sat motionless in his chair, staring at the floor.
''I see,'' John hummed. ''Something else is going on. Allow me to make a deduction of my own.''
Sherlock rolled his eyes but didn't protest. Secretly, he wanted John to figure it out. The detective needed help if he were to ever figure this out.
''You're upset because (Y/N) has a date, but not because it means she won't be able to go on a case with you. It's something else.'' He hummed in thought, his hand on his chin as he concentrated. ''If I didn't know any better I'd say you were in love with her.''
Sherlock looked up sadly, the corners of his mouth sagging and his eyes holding a pained look in them.
John was stunned. ''No...,'' he muttered. ''You? In love?''
''Yes, John,'' the detective answered simply.
''That's great! We have to do something about this date then, mate! Let's come up with a plan.''
~
You had to leave any moment now, but were struggling with your hair. You had never been skilled at doing fancy updo's or stylish curls, you always wore it how it naturally looked. But this time, you wanted to impress your date.
You had been anxious about it the entire week leading up to it. The guy you met was handsome and seemed nice, you desperately wanted this to turn into something. You felt butterflies at the thought of being in a relationship with this man.
Noticing the time, you gave up on your hair and rushed out the door. Shouting a quick goodbye to Sherlock before running off.
The second the door shut, Sherlock pulled out his phone and texted John, putting their plan into action.
It had taken some convincing, but finally, the detective had convinced his blogger to spy on you during your date. It was the only way Sherlock would be able to get close to him and find a flaw that would be a deal breaker for you.
They hid in the back of the restaurant as they tried to blend in.
''Seriously?'' John asked. ''The eyeliner moustache again? Doesn't bring back good memories.''
''You fell for it. Why shouldn't I use it again? It's an excellent disguise, unlike your ill-fitted fake nose and glasses.''
''I'm not going to argue with you, okay? We came here f –''
Sherlock quickly cut him off as he noticed you sitting down at a table with your date. He scoffed. ''Can't believe she fell for that guy of all people. I'm much better looking than him.''
John rolled his eyes. ''Just get on with it, would you? I'd like to go home at some point this evening.''
Sherlock snatched a menu from one of the customers and marched over to your table. Using it, he obscured his face. ''Would you like to order a drink, madame?'' he asked, putting up a ridiculous French accent and making his voice higher pitched than usual.
''Sure, yes. Thank you,'' you told him, too engrossed in your conversation to notice him.
Sherlock had to refrain himself from punching your date as he caught the man's gaze. Something about him just didn't sit right with the detective. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, though, and simply blamed it on his jealousy.
''We'd like your best wine,'' your date said, winking at you.
''Josh!'' you giggled. ''That will be so expensive.''
''Anything for you, Love.''
Sherlock almost gagged but kept his composure. Forcing a smile on his face, he said, ''Right away.'' before heading back to John.
''Any luck so far?''
''He's buying her expensive wine,'' he grumbled. ''She doesn't even like wine.''
''You would know.''
Sherlock shot him a glare before taking a wine bottle away from another table and bringing it to yours. He poured two glasses, keeping his eyes fixed on you as you kept talking to Josh.
John was staring at his friend, an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He knows how Sherlock could be sometimes and didn't want him to cause a scene or upset you. He was about to move when a hand was firmly placed on his shoulder.
''Excuse me?''
John turned around, staring at a taller man in a pristine suit. ''Can I help you?''
''I know every employee in my restaurant and you're not one of them. Care to explain why you're handing out my menu's?''
From across the room, Sherlock had noticed the trouble and stalked over. He pulled out the badge he had stolen from Lestrade earlier that week and held it up in the man's face. ''We're undercover. I suggest you try not to make a fuss and mess with our investigation or I will arrest you.''
The owner nodded and walked away without further comment.
''Lestrade is going to yell at you again for stealing that,'' John huffed, glad Sherlock got them out of trouble.
''I can handle it.''
You had finished your glass of wine and Josh was pouring you another one when you suddenly felt lightheaded and slightly nauseous. You put your hand on your head, shutting your eyes.
''Are you alright?'' Josh asked. ''You look unwell.''
''I- I'm fine. Just dizzy, that's all.'' Another wave of nausea hit you. You opened your eyes and noticed how blurry your vision had gotten. Your thoughts turned to mush and you struggled to think clearly.
Josh hauled you up by your arm, holding you tightly. ''Let's get you out of here,'' he whispered.
Sherlock saw how your date dragged you out of the restaurant, you barely able to stand on your feet. He grabbed John's arm, pulling him with him as he ran after you.
''Sherlock!'' John panted. ''What- What are you doing? You're causing a scene.''
He frantically looked around once they were outside, trying to spot where Josh had taken you. He heard hushed whispers in the alley next to the restaurant and followed them.
You were against the brick wall, barely conscious as Josh held you up. He tugged on your dress, trying to pry it off you.
You were too out of it to register what was going on around you. You moaned softly as you felt a pounding ache in your head.
Sherlock stood frozen for a moment before he felt the rage boiling his blood. In a few strides, he was right behind Josh and had him off you.
You sank to the ground, head lolling to the side as you struggled against your hazy state.
''Sherlock! Cut it out!'' John yelled, trying to pull his friend off the man he was beating to a pulp. ''Let the cops handle this. He's not worth it!''
He threw a few more punches before allowing John to pull him away. ''You are never getting out of jail,'' he hissed. ''I'll make damn sure of it.'' He quickly turned to you, his full attention now on you as John phoned the police.
You were on the brink of passing out when you felt two arms pick you up. As they carried you, you heard muffled sirens and voices around you. Eventually, you let the darkness take you.
You woke up the next morning, a pounding headache and sore limbs. You groaned as you tried to sit up to take in your surroundings. You panicked when you noticed you weren't in your bedroom. As you tried to remember the previous night, nothing came to you, sending you into a deeper state of utter fear and confusion.
Soon, the door opened with a soft creak, a familiar face meeting your gaze.
At seeing your distressed expression and the tears rolling down your cheeks, Sherlock quickly approached you, embracing you in a comforting hug. ''You're in my bedroom, it's alright. You're safe.''
''What happened?'' you sobbed. ''I can't remember last night. I don't understand.''
He gently shushed you, rocking you back and forth. ''Your date wasn't what he seemed to be. He put something in your wine when you weren't looking.''
This made you panic more. You started hyperventilating, the walls closing in on you as your mind raced with thoughts of what he could have done to you.
''Nothing happened,'' Sherlock quickly told you. ''John and I got to you in time. I threw a few punches at the guy. He was arrested afterwards.''
You stared up at him, fresh tears brimming your eyes. ''How did you know? How did you get there so fast?''
Sherlock gulped, avoiding your gaze. ''We may have been.. spying on you.''
He expected you to yell at him, to be furious with him, but that wasn't what he got.
You wrapped your arms tightly around him, hugging him as hard as you could. Soft cries were audible as you thanked him over and over.
He kept you in his embrace, letting you cry into his shirt. ''It's alright, (Y/N),'' he whispered. ''I'll always be there to save you.''
You wiped your tears, having calmed down somewhat. You looked up at your roommate, but frowned. ''Is that eyeliner on your face?''
His fingers went up to his lip. ''I forgot to wipe that off,'' he mumbled, cheeks flushing lightly. ''To be fair, John's disguise was worse!''
''You are a ridiculous man,'' you said, laughing lightly.
''I know,'' he answered. ''But I'm your ridiculous man.''