--In a world full of goldfish, I Found You-- A Sherlock X Reader Fanfiction

Return To Baker Street

Time skip to back at 221B:

After a long day of 'crime fighting' all I wanted to do was lay back on my double bed, close my eyes and sleep.  However, the mountains of cardboard boxes that consumed the apartment meant at least a couple hours of unpacking before I could do so.

I said goodnight to the boys before heading downstairs, mentally preparing myself for the abomination of brown cardboard I was about to view when the black door was opened.

Yep, just as I had left it-not that that was necessarily a bad thing.

I was about halfway through sorting out the boxes in my bedroom when I heard a faint knock at the door.

I opened it to see none other than my curly haired neighbor standing next to the door frame.

"Oh hi Sherlock, do you need something?" I inquired, unsure of the nature of his presence.

"I can't sleep." He stated blankly, staring at me with direct eye contact.

"I'm sorry, am I making too much noise moving all this stuff around?" I asked, looking down at my watch only to realize it was nearly two o'clock in the morning..

"No its not you, it's you." He sort of answers, stretching his hands out in frustration during the second 'you'. I moved out the way of the door to allow him to enter the apartment and give me an explanation as to why I was keeping his awake at night.

I didn't ask any more questions, but instead just looked him, straight in the eyes as he had done the very first time I met him and really, every time we had spoken since we met. I didn't know the man very well but I one thing I had become aware of was that he was like me. And like me, he like to talk. I knew if I stayed quiet long enough he would elucidate.

His eyes twitched rapidly as he attempting to deduce something, anything about me that he could.

"I don't understand you." He finally formed full words rather than syllables.

"You knew within 30 seconds of meeting John that he was an ex army doctor in Afghanistan with a psychosomatic limp so why did you still ask him about his profession? You're clearly very intelligent so why are you finishing a degree in your mid twenties? And you're a psychology major from the South West so why on earth would you need a shotgun?" He interrogated me in the same way he revealed his deductions but instead of providing solutions to questions nobody had asked, he was begging for answers to questions which had been devouring his night.

"OK, number one, yes, I knew everything I needed to know about John the second he walked through the door but I question his profession later on simply to make polite conversation." Sherlock nodded slowly, clearly dying for me to go on.

"Secondly, when I was eighteen I went into the air force, I thought I'd love the adrenaline. I was right, I did love it for the first year of training, but after another six months of having to follow order twenty four hours a day I was done. I left after eighteen months and had to wait another six  months to enroll at Exeter. Four and a half years late, here we are."
I explained, Sherlock beginning to seem less and less tense as he got the explanations he seemed to craved so deeply.

" And the gun? " He asked, but quite calmly this time.

"I wanted a gun."

"Why?" Sherlock questioned.

"I like to know I can protect myself, and its cool- I've only ever used it at the shooting range my cousin owns." That answer finally seemed to quench his thirst for answers.

"So just to clarify, you asked about John's job to be polite?"

"Yea, its not that hard to humor the goldfish, it becomes a habit after a while." I half laughed.

"Do you want any help with your unpacking?" He offered.

"I'm no goldfish Mr Holmes, you don't have to humor me." he grinned at my response.

"I'm not, you were a four patch problem, that much nicotine doesn't bode well for me sleeping in the next four hours anyway." Sherlock informed me.

"OK thanks, you can start with these..." I began, gesturing to a box of books and dvds on the floor.

"They just go on those shelves, it doesn't really matter what order they go in."

I knew that he would organize them in some form so why not let him be creative with his own ideas.

As I left to go into my bedroom to grab my other box of notebooks and important files, I saw him eyeing up my gun which was on the kitchen table.

"Don't touch my gun." I instructed him jovially, causing a smile to spread across his face. 

He really did have a nice smile.

Time skip:

We had been talking, joking and organizing for the best part of an hour and honestly,  It was one of the best evenings I had spent with someone in  a while.

"Ugh, I have to find a job tomorrow." I  complained. Sherlock looked at me with confusion.

"You already have a job, you're my co-detective." He corrected me.

"Sherlock believe me I would much rather spend my time solving cases with you rather than sitting in a hospital office all day but there's a little thing called rent which doesn't really go very well with no income." I laughed, wishing that I could afford to pay my living from my savings for the rest of my life in order to join the younger Holmes in his mystery solving endeavors.

"You will have income, I pay rent." He stated.

"You flat share." I pointed out.

"You live in the basement." Sherlock continued to argue as we  both moved closer and closer towards each other.

"Ugh its like arguing with myself!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms up in frustration.

"I know, it's fun isn't it?" He smirked.

"The best." I agreed. By this point our face may as well have been touching.

"So you'll take the job?" He asked, not breaking his gaze from my pupils.

"I thought I already had it?" I teased him.

"Now you're just being pedantic." He informed me, raising his eyebrows with his pale visage mere millimetres from mine.

"Now you're just flirting." I retorted, making the same expression. I was scared to move any nearer in fear of cutting myself on his razor-sharp jawline.

"So you'll take the job?" He repeated his question.

"Yes, on the condition you answer me one question." I replied. He leaned his head forward so it rested partially on mine, prompting me to go on.

"Why am I really so confusing that I keep you up at night?" 

"Because I'm a high functioning sociopath who doesn't understand how they feel about you."