Sherlock Imagines [ Book 1 ]

TELL HER ABOUT IT [ SH ]

Type: Sherlock x Reader

Warnings : None 

Listen boy I'm sure that you think you got it all under control

Sherlock Holmes was never good at communication.

Not even so much in a relationship sense, or a people sense, but just in general. He'd sit and assume everyone in the room just knew what he knew, had the same thought he just had because everything in this world is just so dreadfully obvious. Even when it came to things that sent shivers down his spine or wound his insides up into excitement, everyone else would be left grasping to random exclamations or a witty remark.

It was this lack of skill that led Sherlock Holmes to the rather creepy situation he found himself in at this very moment. 

John walked into 221b, grocery bags stacked rather high in his arms to the point he could barely see over them. "Sherlock, care to lend a hand?" He grunted as he stumbled his way to the kitchen, using his elbow to push jars of abstract liquids out of his way so that he could have the relief of putting his bags down. Usually, the clicking of glass as beakers and such were cleared earned Sherlock darting to the kitchen to explain to John how he just ruined the greatest scientific breakthrough since Newton discovered gravity. But this time there was no stampeed nothing but silence. John peered curiously over to Sherlock's chair, expecting to find the genius entangled in his own web of thought, but instead, he found no sherlock and... no chair?

The doctor turned to find Sherlock's chair pushed up all the way to the window, the back pressing against the glass as he was perched in it, holding up a telescope to the building across the street from them. It was pointed down towards the entrance. John paused, closing his eyes and taking a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose before he made his way over to the window and peered over his shoulder. "So, is there another murderer outside of our flat I should know about?" He questioned before his brows furrowed, eyes following the direction of Sherlock's telescope to find the familiar face of a member of Anderson's forensic crew chatting with a group of people. She lived in the flats across the street from them, always was kind to them whenever they showed up at the scene and was the first to move the yellow tape despite the numerous complaints from Anderson and Donovan.

"What did she do?" John tilted his head, hands in his pockets as he watched her as well, feeling rather creepy. "Should we call Lestrade? He should know."

"She cut her hair." Sherlock responded, never breaking away from his telescope.

"... I'm not sure how that's illegal Sherlock." John hummed, raising an eyebrow.

"It's not John. I didn't think I would have to tell you out of all people that." Sherlock dismissed.

"Then why are we watching her through the window?" John questioned.

Sherlock didn't answer, but the way he zoomed in when she specifically started talking to a man seemed to be all John needed and snatched the telescope right out of his hands and whacked him (lightly) on the head with it. "Sherlock Holmes you are not spying on innocent women from our window."

Sherlock's eyes widened. "I wasn't spying John. I was... observing." 

"Sherlock. That was downright stalkerish. Imagine how Greg would feel to know you watched his sister with a telescope in the window." He crossed his arms but noted how Sherlock's glance always seemed to move back to the window. His hands fidgeting a bit in his lap, and it was in that moment John realized that Sherlock was actually nervous. He couldn't help his smirk, she was a very attractive woman and bright too. "Sherlock, if you like her then go tell her that."