BBC Sherlock One-shots and preferences

Sherlock: War of Hearts

*Sara's​ ​p.o.v.*

I​ ​took​ ​a​ ​deep​ ​breath​ ​and​ ​entered​ ​inside​ ​221B​ ​for​ ​the​ ​first​ ​time​ ​since​ ​Sherlock's​ ​death​ ​two years​ ​ago.​ ​This​ ​is​ ​the​ ​first​ ​time​ ​I​ ​was​ ​able​ ​to​ ​gather​ ​up​ ​the​ ​courage​ ​to​ ​set​ ​foot​ ​in​ ​here​ ​again, despite​ ​the​ ​fact​ ​that​ ​our​ ​last​ ​conversation​ ​still​ ​haunts​ ​me​ ​to​ ​this​ ​day.

*****

(This next part is a flashback)

​I​ ​stormed​ ​up​ ​the​ ​stairs​ ​of​ ​221B​ ​and​ ​made​ ​my​ ​way​ ​into​ ​the​ ​sitting​ ​room.​ ​I​ ​sat​ ​down​ ​on​ ​the couch​ ​and​ ​balled​ ​my​ ​hands​ ​into​ ​fists.​ ​Moments​ ​later,​ ​Sherlock​ ​joined​ ​me​ ​in​ ​the​ ​room​ ​and​ ​sat​ ​in his​ ​seat.​ ​"I​ ​don't​ ​know​ ​what​ ​you're​ ​so​ ​upset​ ​about.​ ​I​ ​was​ ​only​ ​trying​ ​to​ ​save​ ​you​ ​from​ ​getting hurt,"​ ​he​ ​said,​ ​picking​ ​up​ ​a​ ​book​ ​and​ ​reading​ ​it.​ ​"You​ ​don't​ ​get​ ​it,​ ​do​ ​you?"​ ​I​ ​asked.​ ​"As​ ​my friend,​ ​it's​ ​my​ ​duty​ ​to​ ​make​ ​sure​ ​that​ ​the​ ​person​ ​you're​ ​with​ ​is​ ​worthy​ ​of​ ​you.​ ​This​ ​guy​ ​clearly wasn't,"​ ​he​ ​replied.​ ​I​ ​shot​ ​off​ ​the​ ​couch,​ ​walked​ ​over​ ​to​ ​him,​ ​grabbed​ ​the​ ​book​ ​and​ ​tossed​ ​it across​ ​the​ ​room.

He​ ​looked​ ​me​ ​in​ ​the​ ​eyes​ ​and​ ​said,​ ​"I​ ​do​ ​believe​ ​that​ ​was​ ​rather​ ​uncalled​ ​for."​ ​I​ ​shouted, "You​ ​want​ ​to​ ​know​ ​what's​ ​uncalled​ ​for?​ ​You​ ​taking​ ​every​ ​chance​ ​to​ ​ruin​ ​my​ ​relationships​ ​when​ ​I start​ ​to​ ​show​ ​the​ ​slightest​ ​bit​ ​of​ ​happiness.​ ​I​ ​know​ ​you​ ​can​ ​always​ ​figure​ ​out​ ​the​ ​worst​ ​about​ ​a person​ ​almost​ ​instantly,​ ​but​ ​did​ ​it​ ​ever​ ​occur​ ​to​ ​you​ ​that​ ​maybe​ ​I​ ​never​ ​wanted​ ​your​ ​fucking input​ ​in​ ​the​ ​first​ ​place?"​ ​"Pardon​ ​me​ ​for​ ​attempting​ ​to​ ​be​ ​a​ ​good​ ​friend,"​ ​he​ ​said,​ ​sounding​ ​like he​ ​was​ ​starting​ ​to​ ​get​ ​a​ ​little​ ​mad.

"Sherlock,​ ​what​ ​would​ ​you​ ​know​ ​about​ ​friendship?​ ​The​ ​only​ ​relationships​ ​in​ ​your​ ​life that​ ​have​ ​even​ ​come​ ​close​ ​to​ ​having​ ​some​ ​sort​ ​of​ ​semblance​ ​of​ ​friendship​ ​are​ ​the​ ​landlady,​ ​your flatmate​ ​John,​ ​and​ ​Lestrade.​ ​You​ ​know​ ​why​ ​you​ ​had​ ​no​ ​friends​ ​as​ ​a​ ​kid​ ​and​ ​why​ ​everyone​ ​pretty much​ ​hates​ ​you​ ​now?​ ​It's​ ​because​ ​while​ ​you​ ​may​ ​be​ ​the​ ​most​ ​intelligent​ ​person​ ​people​ ​tend​ ​to come​ ​across,​ ​you're​ ​a​ ​gigantic​ ​arse​ ​that​ ​apparently​ ​cannot​ ​seem​ ​to​ ​fathom​ ​how​ ​the​ ​most​ ​basic​ ​of decent​ ​human​ ​interactions​ ​work,"​ ​I​ ​said.​ ​"You're​ ​not​ ​wrong,"​ ​he​ ​said.