Heavenly Holmes • Sherlock x Reader

3 • doll

A/N: James McAvoy as Klausssssss
What do you guys think of him? Tell me in the comments!

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I wake up in a different room this time. It's still freezing cold, and I'm on a gigantic old bed, caked with dust and laced with spider webs.

I had drifted off to sleep in that strange screaming man's arms, it seems. He must've put me here.

No time to ramble my thoughts. I have to get out of here.

Quickly, I make a move out of the bed and walk to the door, keeping my footsteps quiet.

The room is small and empty, all except for that giant bed and an old fashioned vanity in the corner.

I make an attempt to turn the knob, doubting it would be this easy, but

It opened.

I freeze, and watch with wide eyes of happiness as the door swings open slowly, slight creaking sounds erupting from it.

My toes are tipped as I peek out to see a corridor with many windows along its walls.

The shutters of the window go crazy as wind and snow slap them, but to my curiosity, I take a peek out of a window.

I was up in the skies somewhere.

Somewhere far from home.

There is a nauseating pain in my stomach as I look out that window. All hope of escaping drains from me quickly, and I take a staggering step backwards, because I know that window won't last long,

A cumulonimbus thunder roars a beam, lighting up the entire corridor if only for a brief second, and I collapse onto the ground the moment it does.

Who knew hell was in the sky?

I cover my ears and curse profanity under my breath as I freeze in the center of the corridor, unable to move from fear.

That's when I hear his distant voice, smooth like liquid silver, ringing through my ears:

"Serenity, my darling..."

He runs to me from the other end of the corridor, crouching and wrapping his strong arms around me as I shudder and try to push him away.

"I'm not Serenity!" I scream, moving away from him as tears well up in my eyes.

This place, his arms. It was all too unfamiliar and uncomfortable for me. I wanted to go home. To Sherlock, to William.

"Do not cry, my love...I'm sorry for forgetting your name...what was it again?" He cups my face as more thunder crashes along with a storm of tears running down my cheeks.

I look at him with wavering eyes of trust and distrust:

"My name is Y/N...please, take me back home...please..." I beg, sobbing into his chest as he holds me.

He pulls away and wipes my tears with a small smile someone would give to a scared child:

"You're dead, darling. This is your home now. And I will take very good care of you, my brand new doll."

I look at him with my mouth agape and shake my head vigorously, scooting away from him.

He was bloody crazy.

"I'm not dead...I can feel my body, my emotions, my thoughts." I swallow dryly, standing up and backing away.

His small smile stays as he stands back up on his feet, and walks closer to me the more I back away:

"Y/N...your rags of clothing are ripped.."

"S-So?" I raise a cautioned brow at him, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I back away slowly with careful steps.

"Let's play dress up."

I back into a door, and when he is only a few inches away from me, his hand extends to the knob and that door my back was pressed against is opened, causing me to stumble backwards a bit.

He gets a tight hold of my arm and I see that the room is flickering between the light of an almost broken lamp and total darkness.

It's filled with eroding mannequins. Some naked, some clothed in dark old dresses, all having either an appendage missing or chipped shards of the crusted porcelain.

He selects one dress I can't see, and comers back to me, pressing my chest gently against a wall and removing the scraped shirt and pants off my body, before turning me to face him.

His hands were cold as he slipped my items of clothing off. But I made no attempt to get out of this situation. His actions were gentle. Like a child dressing their doll. I felt like a doll at this moment. Unemotional. Unmoving.

There is no expression on his face as he casually slips my arms through the dress and rotates me once more to lace up its back.

He is gentle with each knot, humming baroque tunes as he tightens the dress on my waist with each second, until the silk laces are all knotted along my spine in pristine intricacy.

The dress is loose on the arms but painfully, irrationally tight on my waist. It was velvety black material with silken blue engravings along the hem of the waist and arms, not a puffy dress but a slender one.

I could barely breath.

His eyes scan me with delight, and he takes my hand in his cold palm, leading me back across the corridor and to the room I had awoken in.

He makes me sit in front of the vanity, and I look at my inhumanly drained complexion. Maybe he was right. Maybe I really was dead.

He brushes my hair, stroke after stroke until every strand is perfectly straight and he places his hands on my shoulders to look into the mirror with me:

"Oh, Y/N."

I look away from the mirror and make a noise of discontent.

"Now you're ready for the big party." He says casually, placing a kiss on my cheek.

"Wait." I look into the mirror at him, and his bright eyes gaze into my own from there with inquiry.

His hands travel down from my shoulders to the tightest of my waist, where he wraps his arms around, pressing his torso on my back. A sentimental act.

"It's Klaus...Holmes, right?" I ask shakily.

He simply sighs and buries his face into my hair, nodding slightly, irritation perhaps?

"Do you have...brothers?" I ask carefully.

His eyes find their way to my own through the mirror once more, except this time it's not kind, bright eyes...

This time they're narrowed, and cold. And the moment I see them I know I've made a mistake asking.