Benedict Cumberbatch Imagines

Grief (Sherlock)

You saw him lying there, you saw him jump, you saw him dead. The man you loved, the man you spent so long trying to get to see you as anything besides a colleague. You both finally admitted your feelings to each other, he finally told you that he has had feelings for you for some time now. In his own way he told you he loved you. Your first kiss ended up being your last, your only. Sherlock Holmes was dead. Jumped off of a building right in front of you less than a week after you started seeing each other which made it hurt so much more. You finally knew how he felt, you finally knew your feelings weren’t one sided and he did this. Your heart was broken. 

John and you spent weeks comforting each other, even Mycroft came over regularly to check on you. After a few months you decided you couldn’t stay at Baker Street anymore. You lived in the apartment building right below Sherlock and John which is how you met him in the first place. You would see him coming and going every day and of course you found him extremely attractive. It took you weeks to talk to him. You worked for a special unit with the detectives at Scotland Yard. Your job was to talk people down from hurting themselves or others. Sherlock found out and he realized how useful it would be to have you on his little team. Lestrade filled out all the paperwork needed in order to make it happen. That is how you and Sherlock became colleagues which is what led you to fall in love with him. 

When Mycroft came to see you, you were outside packing your things into your car. You had found a place on the other side of town. Being in this area, seeing all the places you used to go with Sherlock hurt too much. You needed to get away for your own mental health. You hadn’t been doing well. You weren’t sleeping, weren’t eating, you just couldn’t take care of yourself. 

“So you’re really leaving?” Mycroft asked, approaching with his famous umbrella. Mycroft and you always got along. He often daunted on Sherlock and liked to threaten John but you and him were friends. 

“Yes. I can’t stay here. Everytime I walk through that door I expect to see him at the top of the stairs or hear him running down the stairs yelling “the game is on”…. Banging on my door  when Lestrade informed him about a new case. I stare at that door like he’s going to come back but he’s not he’s not he’s gone and I can’t!” You started crying, putting your hands over your ears.

“Y/N look at me.”  He pulled your hands away from your face. “I know it hurts, believe me I know but he wouldn’t want this for you. You’re not taking care of yourself. John told me you're not, you’re exhausted, you’re not drinking water or eating. Sherlock wouldn’t want this.” 

“Well it doesn’t matter what he wants now does it! He’s dead, he left me not the other way around! If he cared about what was best for me he’d still be here!” You yelled. Your mood swings were concerning to Mycroft. You never spoke like this to anyone, yes grief affects people differently but there was something off it almost reminded him of when Sherlock was….

“This is a lovely sweater dear. Is it new?” He asked, taking your hand. You looked confused at the sudden change in topic and Mycroft used your confusion as a chance to pull up your sleeve. Your arm was riddled with needle bruises. 

“You’re using. You saw what these drugs did to Sherlock, why would you start!” He yelled. He was furious not just with you but with himself. How could he not have seen this coming? He was supposed to be looking after you, you were one of the people Sherlock insisted he looked after. 

“It helps. At least for a while.” 

“You need to stop this. It didn’t help Sherlock, it was his biggest enemy. The drugs are what helped destroy him. They are part of what drove him to do what he did.”  Mycroft scolded.

“They won’t kill me, I'm not that lucky.” You chuckled.

“That's not funny.”

“It’s not meant to be. I have known Sherlock for almost a decade, I have loved him almost as long. I finally got the one thing I wanted, the only thing I wanted and now he’s gone!” You yelled. “Sherlock, John and this job was all I had. Working with the local police was okay but it wasn’t as fun or as productive as it was with Sherlock. I don’t want to go back to that. My job, my friends and my life became more meaningful and it was all because of Sherlock.”