Pin Drop (Sherlock x Reader)

Death

      Sherlock had stopped playing a little while ago and was now sitting on his chair with his knees pulled to his chest and his hands folded in front of his face. His eyes were closed and he looked so relaxed. I couldn't help but be a bit jealous at how he could just do that. Forget everything in the moment and just be in his mind. 

      His curly brown hair fell over his forehead in little waves that I wanted to gently push away to get a better look at his pale face. His jaw was set in a concerned frown and he blew some hair out of his face. His eyes crinkled slightly at the gesture and a smile played at my lips. Whether I wanted to admit it or not Sherlock was attractive. 

     "Leaver her be John." Sherlock's voice broke the comfortable silence that had settled across the room. I pulled myself from John's grasp and shot him a fuck you look before taking a seat. It just so happened to be John's seat and I draped my legs over the side of the chair and leaned my head against the other arm. 

     John began to protest at Sherlock when I sat in his seat. A smiled played at Sherlocks features before he told John to take a seat and shut up or get out. I whistled and hummed while they bantered back and forth. 

     "You two sure you're not gay?" The question mostly took John off guard and I heard a chuckled form Sherlock which definitely took me off guard. 

"I prefer to think of myself as open to possibilities." Sherlock shrugged. Alright so this was new. I had thought the great Sherlock Holmes was definitely straight. Apparently I was wrong. That challenged my thoughts for a moment. 

      "No. No. Definitely Straight. Thank you. Shouldn't we be moving on to actual questions?" John's passive aggressive tone was pissing me off and I shot him the finger. HIs little gasp made it better. 

      "Shut it chinchilla." I shot at him and focusing my attention back on Sherlock. He looked as if he was holding back on what he really wanted to say. Something was bothering him it was apparent to me in this moment that maybe having a woman in this room was not something that usually happened. "You're holding back on something Sherlly." 

      "I am thinking." His answer was short and so was his attitude. He wanted nothing to do with this conversation. He felt forced to be in this at the moment. "If Jim is dead, then what are you doing?" 

      A shock hit me. Jim was dead? That wasn't possible. I had seen him only, wait when had I seen him last. It had to have been years. How much time had actually passed since he locked me up? My world spun around me. I sat up and stomped over to Sherlock. My eyes filled with anger and fear. 

      "He is not dead. He can't be." His eyes shot sympathy at me as he stood and placed a hand on my shoulder. It was all in kindness, his actions. His tone was soft when he spoke his next words. 

       "He died over two years ago (Y/N)." I sucked in a deep breath when I had thought back to being let out of that cage. I had gotten food and water every day. I never saw anyone but Jim but, I hadn't seen Jim in so long. I was given written instructions with clothes and the jacket when my cell door just opened one day. 

      "No. This isn't possible. I couldn't have been trapped there for three years. I don't believe it. I refuse to believe it." I shoved his arm off of my shoulder and pushed him back into his chair. My hand was firmly pressed against his chest and John shot up from his chair. Sherlock held up at hand to him and he stopped what ever he was about to do. 

      I was vulnerable in this moment. My normally very solid walls had cracked. My only friend, my brother, the one person I loved, had left me. He had left me for his petty vendetta against Sherlock. I felt something wet slide down my cheek and I ignored it. I couldn't show them that I cared but, we were way past that now. 

      Sherlock reached a hand towards my face and wiped away the tear that had escaped the wall. His callused fingers were soft against my skin. I felt my tense arms shake before going limp. I collapsed into Sherlock who held me in his arms. He knew what it was like to feel broken like this. To loose something you cared for so much. I let the wall crack more and sobbed into Sherlocks shoulder. I heard John leave the room. Footsteps receded up some stairs and I heard a door faintly shut.  

       I pulled myself away from Sherlock and quickly stood and turned away from him. I wouldn't let him see me in this state. I would drown it with alcohol and smokes later on. This was not something people saw me do. Brake, fall, crumble. No one saw that. No one but Jim. I took a deep breath and I heard Sherlock stand. H felt him hesitate before placing a hand on my shoulder. 

      I grabbed his wrist and dug my thumb into his pulse point and backed him into a wall. "Don't. Touch. Me." growled at him before releasing him and walking back down the hall in which i had exited only hours before. I opened a door to what I thought to be the room I had woken up in only to find it being the bathroom. I didn't mind. 

     I turned on the hot water and let the bath fill slowly. I placed my hands on the counter palms down and squeezed as tight as I could. I looked at my face in the mirror for a moment and remembered what Jim used to say about my face.  

     "It's like a god has given you a gift." 

      I punched the mirror and felt splitting pain in my hand. I squeezed my eyes shut and held my hand in my other one as I sucked in a pained breath. When I opened my eyes pieces of the mirror surrounded me on the floor and on the counter. My hands were covered in crimson blood and little pieces of glass stuck out of the skin on my knuckles. 

     I washed my hand off and started to pick the little pieces of glass out of it. I didn't bother to clean up the floor before I slipped into the warm water awaiting me. It relaxed my muscles and stung my hand and ribs. I felt better than I did before. Much better. 

      I closed my eyes and decided that after my bath I would get my clothes, put them on, then go and get my stuff from the cell. Then I would never come back. I would never step foot inside this place again. I would run. I would run far. Maybe Africa or Japan. Somewhere with tourists and good food. Maybe Australia.