𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬

𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

Sherlock turned sharply and leapt out of his chair towards the kitchen, where y/n was standing, holding her right arm against her body.

"I found the knife in the sink," she muttered, biting her lip. Sherlock's concern grew as he noticed that she was shaking, clasping her arm.

He moved closer, reaching gingerly towards her.

"Y/n? What happened?"

"Nothing, I just scratched myself."

"Y/n, let me see."

"No."

Sherlock sighed, shaking his head, causing his curls to bounce. Y/n's cheeks burned. He reached for her arm, deciding to use force instead. But y/n's reactions were far to quick and she sharply moved back, lightening quick.

Moving fast when you have a rather large bleeding wound probably isn't a good idea.

Y/n's eyes slowly rolled back into her head and her knees buckled, causing her to fall, into Sherlock's outstretched arms.

He gripped her tightly, trying to keep her steady.

"Let go of me, Sherlock," she mumbled faintly into his shirt.

"I'll let you go, if you let me look at the cut."

"It's fine, you don't nee-"

Sherlock then squeezed her tighter, resulting in a weak shove from y/n.

"Fine, you can look but no...uh, doctory stuff."

He moved his arms down, one hovering behind her back, the other reaching towards her. He slowly brushed his skin along hers, causing butterflies in both of their stomachs. Gently, he prised her arm away from her body, pulling it slowly towards him.

"It's not that bad..." y/n mumbled, knowing her objections were wasted.

"Well, it's not good," Sherlock replied, not looking up.

From the start of her wrist to the crook of her elbow, there was a thick, deep line running four inches long, it was like a crimson waterfall. Even the slightest touch or movement sent shockwaves of agony up through y/n's arm, causing her fingers to twitch and her face to grimace.

"Y/n, you need stitches."

Y/n shook her head quickly, which then caused her head to spin and her vision to blur. Once again, her knees buckled, but this time Sherlock scooped her up into his arms, holding her small body against his. He chuckled.

Y/n had always been defensive, never wanting to accept help from anybody, especially not Sherlock Holmes. As he carried her over to his chair, he thought back to the time when she had gone shopping and returned with six very large bags; he had insisted on taking at least four of them, but she refused and attempted to carry 168 lbs up the stairs, which of course failed, and resulted in a trip to the emergency room and a fractured ankle.

He gently placed her onto the soft leather, grinning.

"I'm going to have to get John y/n, he needs to stitch this."

She limply pushed him away and tried to stand up, mumbling, "no."

"Y/n, it's either the hospital or John."

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling bile rise in her throat.

"No, Sherlock..."

He sighed, kneeling down.

"Y/n, please," the desperation in his voice, "y/n, I think you might have Anemia."

"No, I don't like Anime..."

"No, y/n, iron deficiency Anemia. It's caused by the lack of iron from blood loss. It causes fatigue and it needs to be treated."

Y/n opened her tired eyes, gazing at Sherlock's. She loved his eyes. They were sort of silvery blue, with gorgeous emerald streaks and a little brown fleck in his right eye.

"Then you treat it." She was mumbling, barely audible.

"What? Y/n, we need to get a professional doctor-"

"No. I don't want them. I don't want John or Mr Hefflypuff or Dr Nefario or any other guy. I want you."

"Y/n...I can't-"

"I don't care, okay? I do not want them. I want you."

They stayed silent for a second, with the only sounds coming from the busy streets of London. It was strange really- how everything could be so loud yet so quiet.

Sherlock sighed, defeated. He stood up and made his way over to the kitchen, reaching right up to the highest cupboard. Quietly, he opened it and shuffled around, looking for something. Eventually he found it and made his way back to y/n, who was now leaning her head limply against the back of the chair, eyes closed.

He gently took her arm in his hands and began cleaning the deep cut. They both loved the feel of their skin together. Soft and gentle. Warm and calm.

"Y/n, I don't have any numbing cream or anaesthetics. I'm just going to have to stitch it as it is."

"Mmkay," she mumbled, barely opening her mouth.

"Y/n? Are you sure you want me to do this?"

"I said. Only you. I'm...trying not to be sick."

Sherlock chuckled, nodding. He turned and selected a needle alongside the suture.

"Y/n, I'm going to start now. You can grip hold of me if you need to."

Gingerly, y/n sat up and rested her forehead against Sherlock's shoulder and gripped the back of his shirt with her free hand. He slowly began to stitch her skin.

"You were right- earlier," y/n mumbled softly.

"About what?" Sherlock replied, focusing on his new patient.

"About- something being wrong."

She paused, taking in a deep breath, digging her head deeper into his shoulder.

"I uhm. I lost my job. They um. They were furloughing a bunch of us and- I was one of them."

Sherlock sighed, "then they're idiots. Soon they'll realise that letting you go was the worst mistake of their lives." Y/n smiled into his shoulder, mumbling a thanks.

"I'm really not the best person to be doing this," Sherlock continued, over halfway through the stitching.

"That's not something you should say whilst you're doing it."

"Sorry, but, you chose me over the doctor so," Sherlock chuckled, coming to the end of the wound. It wasn't as painful as y/n was expecting it to be.

"You're an idiot, Sherlock."

"What? That's rather rude."

"When I said that I didn't want them, I wanted you...I literally meant it."

Sherlock grabbed the scissors and snipped the suture. Slowly, y/n lifted her head and gazed into his eyes.

"Sherlock, I meant that I wanted you. Like, in the human way."

"Y/n, I think you need some rest. You also need some food."

"I'm in love with you, idiot. Maybe I'm saying it because of the anime thing, but I'm not saying it because of it. I mean it. I have always meant it. I've just been too scared to say it because you don't love me back. But I'm saying it now. I love you, Herlock Solmes."

It went quiet.

"You're wrong, y/n," Sherlock spoke softly, staring straight in her eyes.

"No, I'm right. I love you but this ani-"

"No, y/n, you're wrong. Because my name is Sherlock Holmes and I am in love with you."

Without hesitating, his hand moved to the back of y/n's head, gently moulding to her shape. Carefully, he pulled her lips to his, intertwining their bodies along with their souls.

As their lips touched, Sherlock made a silent promise. A promise to never resist love again. A promise to always be there for y/n. A promise to love her forever.