Random Fandom Imagines 2

Sherlock Fandom

John stood with Lestrade watching Sherlock analyze another crime scene, which was always a spectacle, but today was a marvel all on its own. As Sherlock moved about the recently deceased, you followed behind quickly making correct deductions on your own.
"Great, now there's two of them," John muttered to Lestrade, "and I get the pleasure to live with them both."
"It can't be that bad," Lestrade said in a weak attempt to comfort John.
"Trust me, watching my sister slowly evolve into another Holmes has been quite the calamity."
Meanwhile, you and Sherlock worked in tandem to rapidly solve the murder before you then dragging John along back to Baker Street. "Y/N that was..." John began, now sitting expressionless in the cab.
"It's okay John. You can say it was marvelous... or wonderful... maybe even incredible," you teased as John wordlessly nodded along finally realizing the gravity of his newfound situation.
Sherlock's long fingers ran over the keyboard fervently trying to find some bit of information on your recent disappearance. It had been approximately three weeks, four days, nine hours, and fifteen minutes since your supposed disappearance... approximately anyway.
For the past three weeks John, rather, had been mostly silent. The once inspiring captain had regressed into the war-torn soldier from a lifetime ago.
"Sitting there staring won't help find her John," Sherlock remarked, tiring of John's antics.
John's head snapped back into the real world and stared vengeance into Sherlock's soul. "What do you want me to do Sherlock? Huh? I'm tired of your futile efforts to find my sister. She's been missing for almost a month now, and she still isn't home. I made a promise, Sherlock. I made a promise to our mother that I would look after her, and now she's gone."
Sherlock turned back to his computer, regretting his unnecessary comment to Sherlock, but John wasn't done yet. As Sherlock tried to move back to his work, John rose from his chair.
"What do I tell my mother, Sherlock? How do I tell my mother?" John asked before he grabbed his coat and keys and left the flat.
The clock slowly rolled over to three a.m. and Sherlock placed four nicotine patches on his arm, after all this was a four patch problem. John had recently returned from his... excursion, but he went straight to his room to leave Sherlock alone, yet again.
A knock on the door pulled Sherlock out of his many nicotine-fueled thoughts. He pushed back his chair and approached whoever was calling at such an hour. Suddenly you were standing before him covering in blood, bruises, and bandages.
"Y/N," Sherlock whispered.
You looked unstable on your feet and unsound in your mind. "Moriarty," was all you could mumble before falling into Sherlock's arms.
The physical recovery had been down right awful, but now as you stood in 221B, you realized the mental recovery had only just begun. Sherlock and John helped guide you into your bedroom before they got you in bed and left you to rest.
"Internal bleeding, countless bruises, and PTSD as well. We're in for a ride," John said saddened. He wasn't dealing well with what had happened. While you would be just fine in the long run, the veteran knew too well what was coming. "I think I just need to be alone Sherlock," he said before he wandered into his own bedroom and shut the door.
Sherlock sighed before he sat down in front of your door to help you get through the night.
A rustling from your room awoke Sherlock as he quickly sprung into attack mode and surged through your door to find you turning furiously in your sheets. "Y/N," he called as he sat down on the edge of your bed. "Y/N," he continued to call sweetly, "wake up. Please, wake up."
Slowly your eyes peeled open and a wave of relief washed over you as you recognized Sherlock's face. "Sherlock, he's here. He's in my head." His heart crumpled as tears began to fall down your face. "I see him when I'm awake, and I see him when I fall asleep."
His hands moved to cradle you gently before he began to attempt to calm you down. "Y/N, I know. Trust me I know, but you're stronger than him, you're better than him. Oh my god, you're so much better than him. If anyone can beat him you can, darling."
Your fragile head perked up and stared into Sherlock's eyes. "You kept me going, you know. I wanted to be as brilliant as you are."
"Y/N you're a better person than I will even be," he admitted, his eyes locked onto your lips. "I don't like you because you strive to become me, I like you because you make me strive to be more like you."
Finally, your lips moved closer and closer to Sherlock's calling lips before you touched them ever so gently, but ever so grandly. "Y/N, you make me human," Sherlock slurred before you both fell against your bed.