⚜Sherlock Imagines⚜ {Wattys2017}

The Make Up

Hey guys!
THIS IS LONG OVERDUE!
Sorry for my hiatus there, my life has just been crazy and today I promised myself that I would try and write something! I thank you all for your patience, it means the world to me. Once again, sorry for the wait...but we're Sherlock fans so I guess we're used to waiting huh!
(Warning: profanity)

Much love,
~Stéph❤️Redangel259~
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Sherlock Holmes
You violently stabbed a gelatine mannequin with a butcher's knife. I mean it was part of your job, but it was also very therapeutic and satisfying when you could let out your anger on something that wasn't Sherlock Holmes. It had been one month, two weeks, four days, and 19 wasted mannequins since that day with him. You couldn't seem to get over him, and wasn't any better because the place you work is the place where you two met. Just fantastic.
You messily wrote down your observations and chucked the mannequin off the metal operation desk. You took its place and laid down on the cold and slightly sticky surface.

"Ugh, Sherlock Holmes. " You whined, "Why can't you just leave my mind!" You stared up at the bright overhead lamp, hoping it would be possible to burn the detective out of your pupils. Instead it just really hurt your eyes so you looked towards the door instead. As soon as you closed your eyes, three sharp knocks were heard from the two giant doors.

"Oh my god, I literally just closed my eyes." You mumbled. Assuming that it was another colleague of yours, you shouted, "Come on in! Watch out, the door is a little heavy!"

To your surprise and fear, a colleague was not standing there. Instead, there was a tall man with dark curls and high cheekbones. "Hello (Y/N)." said Sherlock. Frickin. Holmes.

"DEAR GOD---!" You yelled falling off the metal desk and onto the floor. You landed with a thump, groaning as you knelt up from the ground.

"Oh no, are you alright?" The man stated, peering over the desk.

Was it really him? He had the nerve to come back here? You rubbed your eyes and just looked over the table, your nose poking out on the ledge. You saw him. He was right there. You took a deep breath.

"Y-yes I'm fine. Mr. Holmes." You said standing up, not looking him in the eye. There was an awkward silence for a while before you decided to speak up again. "What do you want?" You stated, this time looking in his icy, beautiful, eyes.

"I'm here to deliver you an invitation to my funeral." Sherlock said stone faced.

You gave him a puzzled look. Was this another game of his?
Then you realized your last words that you said to him from your last encounter.
Don't expect me to come to your funeral. Of course you never really meant it, but at the time you were glad you said it. In fact, you still didn't want to give yourself any pity for saying it.

"Thank you for the offer, but I don't deal with dead people in fancy boxes, only ones in plastic. But I can figure out the cause of death for the deceased if you want. Although, drug tests aren't that hard to do." You said sassily, while trying to maintain somewhat professional and monotone.

"I'm clean." Sherlock stated, taking off his jacket. "But I'm sure you already knew that, right Miss. (Y/N)? What are the physical changes? Yes. Pinker flesh, clear tone of voice, no more sunken features, steady pulse, even complexion. Did I miss anything?" Sherlock raised his eyebrow and walked closer towards you. Your heart started pounding. It was true, he looked clean. He was freshly shaven as you could smell the remaining fragrance of his aftershave.