Shows [Reverse Harem x Reader]

Fifty-Nine

The next day's morning after Watson's unfortunate interruption, you needed air, and distance from Sherlock Holmes and his infuriating ability to make confessions of love feel like laboratory experiments.

Also, yesterday, you felt like a slave as he had you work all day.

"I'm going to the chemist," you announced, pulling on your gloves with perhaps more force than necessary.

"We're low on silver nitrate, and someone used all the glycerin for some experiment."

Sherlock didn't look up from his microscope. "Take an umbrella, it will rain within the hour."

"The sky is perfectly clear."

"Barometric pressure suggests otherwise. Also, you're angry with me."

You paused at the door.

"I'm not angry."

"Your breathing is elevated, you've buttoned your coat incorrectly, and you just called the apothecary 'the chemist,' which you only do when emotionally distressed." He finally glanced up, his grey eyes unreadable.

You feel thankful that he mistook it for  'anger' because you are

For a moment, you almost smiled. Almost.

"I will be back within an hour," you said instead, and stepped out into the London morning air before he could analyze you further.

Sherlock watches you close the door, before speaking to John.

The door clicked shut, and silence settled over 221B like dust.

Watson set down his newspaper with deliberate care, the kind of movement that suggested he had been waiting for precisely this moment.

He looked at Sherlock over the rim of his teacup, one eyebrow raised in that particular way that meant he was about to say something his friend wouldn't want to hear.

"Well," Watson began, "that was unpleasant."

"What was unpleasant?" Sherlock still hunched over his microscope, adjusting the focus with unnecessary precision.

"The fact that you just let the woman who confessed her love to you yesterday walk out of here looking like she wanted to throttle you with your own violin strings."

"She's behaving strangely," Sherlock said finally with a sharp voice.

Watson blinked. "Strangely? Holmes, the woman just declared her feelings for you in the most direct manner possible. I would say her behavior is remarkably consistent."

"No." Sherlock straightened abruptly, turning to face his friend with that intense focus that meant he was about to launch into a deduction.

"Not her feelings, her patterns. They have changed."

"Changed how?"

Sherlock began pacing, his hands moving in agitated gestures.

"She's wearing her Thursday perfume today. Not the lavender she always wears on Tuesdays, but the rose water she reserves for Thursdays. I have observed this pattern without fail for three months."