Professor Posh ➳ Teacher x Student/Sherlock x Reader

The Diogenes Club

I'm in a cab now, with Mr Holmes after he told me he pretended to love me because he thought I was a murderer and wanted to arrest me.

I had been staring out the window as rain poured onto the streets and droplets trickled along the glass, making traffic and shop lights much more prettier. I tried to enjoy it- however my current situation was far too messy.

But I don't blame him completely for my impulses. How could I? He was much older, and I was just a student. It was scandalous and exciting while it lasted, but everything we did was purely platonic to him. So why shouldn't it be to me? Why can't I let it go?

The look in his eyes when he told me he didn't feel affection. He's some sort of sociopath. Perhaps I can find some closure in that fact...

"You're thinking too loud." His voice rumbled my ears. I sighed and looked straight away from the window.

He pressed his lips together as he tilted his head and tried to capture my gaze ahead.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" He asked softly.

I squint slightly before turning my head to look at him questionably.

"I mean- about what we did." He stated simply, his pale face calm and cold as stone.

My cheeks felt warm as a blush crawled up and I shook my head. I hated this. I hated flustering over him. He's terrible. He hurt me.

"It's much appreciated." He said coldly, and I scoffed at him.

The cab then halted to a stop and he stepped out quickly dashing ahead as his coat flowed behind him. I stepped out soon after and tried to keep up behind him as I glanced up at the complex which had such expensive grandeur to its exterior.

The interior wasn't any different in further impressing me and my intrigues.

The Diogenes Club was engraved at the check in desk.

I followed Sherlock further inside, through doors and rooms filled with people who were in a state of complete silence until we stopped at door different from the rest.

Sherlock turned and stared down at me intently:

"I'm going to do all the talking. You're the sob story."

I roll my eyes- not sure what that even meant. He opens the door and strides in boldly, I followed and my eyes widened when I saw a man sitting behind a large desk.

He was in an expensive suit, polished, refined, and a little older than Sherlock with bright eyes that shot up and gave me an uninterested glance before locking onto Sherlock with a mean glare. He seemed to be in the middle of writing something before we entered.

"Mycroft." Sherlock greeted.

"She's quite young, Sherlock. Even for you. What's the gap...ten years?" He said rudely.

I stared at him inquisitively- grabbing his attention with my eyes before Sherlock could reply. The room was silent as I tried to read him. He seemed familiar. Mycroft. What a weird name.

"Can I help you?" Mycroft finally asked, irritation present in his tone as his eyes glared up and down my entire body.

I kept silent and let him get a good view of my entire outfit that consisted of jeans and a sweater with those judgmental eyes. Sherlock stared at us both before speaking up: