Sherlock Imagines [ Book 1 ]

Demons

Type: Songfic (demons by imagine dragons)

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader (same from Alive)

Warnings: Mentions of self harm, suicidal intention

Requested by: jackskellingtonrulz5

READ THE AUTHORS NOTE ITS IMPORTANT

When the days are cold and the cards all fold

A heavy rain poured down on the city, you pulled your coat around tightly, hoping to seek warmth from the thin fabric. It'd been a long day, Greg had lost the lead on a case he'd been working on for years and he's completely lost it and yelled at you, Anderson had elbowed your coffee over on your computer 'accidentally', Donovan had dropped off four more loads of paperwork for you to complete, and that was only this morning. You sighed, 221b coming into view, your cab had broken down a couple blocks back, you decided to walk it instead of waiting for another.

And the saints we see are all all made of gold

You wanted to crawl back into bed and just stop existing for a while. Even Sherlock seemed to not want you, he'd been flinching away slightly when you touched him or hugged him. To save yourself the pain of having to show up for work tomorrow, another long laborious day for what, some money in the bank?

It seemed your life had become a cycle, work, sleep, work, and occasionally babysit your fiancé. You stepped up the stairs, opening the door to 221b. Water dripping on the stair case as you walked up to your flat. You opened the door, pushing it closed. You'd grown tired of working, you've also grown tired of existing. Nothing seemed to make you happy anymore, Sherlock was out and about for this case all the time now, leaving you home alone pondering life and your meaningless existence.

When your dreams all fail and the ones we hail are the worst of all

You looked around the living room, not finding your fiancé. You peered in the kitchen, empty. "Sherlock?" You called, "down here!" A voice piped up, you cocked your head and realized the couch had been pushed out slightly. Sure enough of your boyfriend had crammed his entire long body down behind your couch, "what the bloody hell are you doing down there?" You questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Thinking." He responded, he continued to keep his eyes closed.

"Right. Well if you need me, I'm gonna change and dinner." You dropped your purse on the couch, walking towards your bedroom. You rolled your sore shoulders, you sifted through your drawers for something comfortable to wear.

And the bloods run stale

You grabbed a doctor who t shirt and sweatpants, tying your hair up in a loose bun and sliding the clothes on. You stepped out once again and towards the kitchen. Pulling out various out a lot or two, grabbing various ingredients along the way.

"You're upset."

You jumped and turned to find Sherlock looking over you, he'd made no sound before entering. "I'm fine." You smiled before turning back towards your recipe.

How do you tell the person you love that you simply want to stop existing? That everyday had become a burden?

Telling him everything was alright was much easier.