You were fearless. You weren't scared of anything. Not murders, not explosions, not even your own death. You were never frightened by anything.
Except maybe one thing.
You sat in 221B and rested on the couch while your boyfriend, Sherlock, sat in his thinking space. You glanced around the flat. You were bored, so bored you might've resorted to 'pulling a Sherlock' and shooting the wall. Suddenly, you saw something crawl near your foot. It was a spider, a large Daddy Long-Leg. You kept yourself from shrieking as you slowly raised your feet and climbed to the highest vantage point you could get to, which was, in this case, the top on the couch. You watched it, unable to take your (E/C) eyes off of it for fear of it moving and not knowing where it was after that.
"(Y/N), why are you on top of the couch?" Sherlock's voice asked you. Without taking your eyes away, you answered.
"There's a, uh..." you explained shakily. "A spider on the floor." You took your eyes off it for a second to look at Sherlock, who now was eyeing the unmoving arachnid. You fixed yourself on it once more, noting the smallest movements it was making across the carpet.
"Why don't you just kill it?" Sherlock asked. "It's just a spider. Why would you be afraid of spiders?" You took a deep breath.
"I have arachnophobia," you admitted sadly. "Other than that, I'm not really scared of anything else." You clung even more so to the edge of the couch as the spider scuttled a few centimeters. You felt Sherlock stand behind you and place a reassuring hand on your shoulder.
"Come now, love," he said as he carefully pried you off the edge and onto the cushion. "I'll help you." You became a bit more terrified as you had gotten closer.
"No, Sherlock, stop it," you pleaded, but your determined boyfriend ignored it. He made his way around the couch and crouched next to you.
"Give me your foot," he ordered. You reluctantly held out your left foot, which was wearing a thin layer of a slipper. You took a deep breath. "Ready?" You didn't want to nod, but prior to the situation, it seemed you didn't really have a choice. You watched slowly and carefully as Sherlock lowered your foot onto the spider, causing you to whimper. You suddenly became terrified and started to bash your foot on the carpet where the spider had been, desperate to make sure it was dead for good. Suddenly, Sherlock grabbed your ankle and looked up at you with a smirk.
"Now, was that so hard?" he asked with an obvious and triumphant smirk. You sighed and kicked him, then kicked off the slipper across the flat.
"Don't you ever make me do that again!" you said angrily, though you couldn't help but grin a little.
"Are you still scared?" he asked, eager to see the results of his experiment.
"Course I'm still scared," you said with a bit of a pout. "But thanks." You smiled. He sat with you and wrapped his arm round you. He ran his long fingers softly up your exposed arm softly, imitating spider legs. In return, you happily smacked him on his cheek.
