Sherlock Imagines & One-Shots

Sherlock: Pillow Fight

One would think that after 3 months of hearing Sherlock Holmes playing violin at 4 AM in the morning, one would get used to it. And one would be...

WRONG!

NOTHING, I REPEAT, NOTHING! CAN GET YOU USED TO HEARING THAT INFERNAL INSTRUMENT AT SUCH AN UNGODLY HOUR!

"WILLIAM SHERLOCK FREAKING HOLMES!" You shout angrily as you stomp up the stairs to his flat.

Sherlock paused in his playing and calls,

"Freaking is not part of my name."

"Freaking is not part of my name" you mocked as you plopped down on the sociopaths sofa.

You stare over at the arrogant man, feelings his eyes looking over you. You would be willing to swear that steak was coming out of your ears. Of all the times you wished you could melt someone's head, now would be the time.

You stare at that unruly brown mop of curls willing them to burst into flame and Sherlock to go running around the flat like a headless chicken.

"(Y/N), you do realise that staring will do nothing to stop me."

You let out a humph and tighten your grip on the arm of the sofa. His music is rather lovely, but not at four am in the bloody morning.

You drop your head to your shoulders and glare at him as you attempt to stifle a yawn, unsuccessfully you might add.

Your eyes kids drop closed and you push all thoughts of nursing Sherlock out of your mind until you wake up yet again.

However, when you do wake, your murderous thoughts return right away.

"SHERLOCK WHY IS THERE A SEVERED FOOT BESIDE MY HEAD!?"

You hear Sherlocks brisk footsteps as they come over to where you're laying down. A hand blocks your view of the foot and picked it up.

"I was wondering where that got to," he mutters.

You snort is disregard.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you misplaced the foot two inches from my face, by accident."

He turns away from you but you see a smirk plastered on his stupid face.

"Oh you think it's funny? I'll show you funny!"

You use the sofa as a springboard and launch yourself at his towering figure. He turns around just as you collide with him, causing the giant to tumble to the ground.
For
You land on top of him, pinning his hands to the ground. Sherlocks face turns red as he looks at the position you both are in. "It would appear that we are in a bit of a predicament"

Your cheeks turn red and you turn your face from him to observe your position.

Before you can look back at him, a soft fabric collides with the side of your head.  You stagger to the side and look at him, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Oh it's on." You whisper before diving for the pillow on Sherlocks arm chair. Sherlock uses the time to gather three more pillows.

You sneak your hand over the couch to grab one pillow when a pillow smashes into your hand.

"Fucking hell!"

Sherlock leaps up and tries to jump behind the couch while throwing pillows at my head. You scream and fight back with pillows of your own.

"This is my base HOLMES!"

"Not for long!" He yells back as you both pelt each other with pillows.

Soon your forces are depleted and the room is covered in them. All that's left is the last pillow I'm your hand. You grin at Sherlock evilly as he tries to back away.

"(Y/N), (Y/N), give me the pillow." You gently tap your finger against your chin, pretending to be in deep thought.

"How about no!" You tell the last word as you chuck the pillow.

Perfect shot.

It hits him right in the face with enough force to send him reeling.

You start dying of laughter at his falling figure.

But you failed to notice him growing closer and closer to you until he cries out.

"HA!"

He digs his fingers into your sides making you laugh even harder.

You cry out for Sherlock to stop as his tickling become fore aggressive. Tears of joy met your eyes as you begin to wheeze. You wriggle trying to escape the detective but he grabs you and pulls you close, tickling you harder.

"SHER- ha! -SHERLOCK I GIVE! YOU WIN!" You cry until he stops.

You mutter softly as you fall against the detectives chest, exhausted.

You can hear his heart racing against his chest, he must be just as tired as you. But, the detective moves from behind you, causing you to sigh. That was short lived.

Sherlock gives you a hand up and you crack your back.

You glance around the room and sighed.

GREAT!

Johns going to have a conniption.

Pillows are scattered everywhere, someone's tea has been spiller over onto Johns laptop. (Sherlock is definitely getting the blame for that) and the severed foot is stuck in between the cushions of Johns favourite chair. Overall, it looked like a war zone.

Sherlock grabs his coat and scarf off the hook and you look up at him in confusion.

"Lestrade texted me. There was a brutal murder at a galley. Want to come with?" He smirks at you.

You nod and follow him out of the flat.

Well that was fun.