Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

VI • 6

Sherlock's POV:

"What was all that about?" You were pissed. You couldn't believe that I'd had had the guts to reprove your friendship with Jim.
You had come home 10 minutes ago and had immediately begun yelling at me.
I sat silently on the sofa, wordlessly allowing you to take your anger out on me. I didn't mind. I understood that you were upset.
You paced back and forth in front of me, yelling and kicking files across the room. I looked down, never saying a word.
Finally, you calmed down, and I spoke, tentatively.
"(F/N)," I sighed. "I was not attempting to be a father figure. I was certainly not trying to reprove your general choice of friends. If that's how you took it, I- I'm sorry." The words stuck in my throat as though they were painful to say. "I just got a feeling from him. A bad one."
You had made some chamomile tea and were sitting across from me, letting the steam rise into your face.
"Okay. I'm sorry I yelled at you. But I'm not sure I'm going to allow your hunches to govern my choice of friends. I'm an adult, Sherlock, I can take care of myself."
I sighed, running a hand through my curls, but didn't say anymore. I then got up and began to pick up the files you had kicked around.

******

Your POV:

The next day, you again had lunch with Jim. You had no idea what Sherlock meant by getting a bad vibe from this guy. He was so polite.
"I like him." Jim said suddenly. "Sherlock I mean. He seems like a decent fellow."
"Ugh, you don't know the half of it. He tried to convince me yesterday that you're dangerous. That I shouldn't talk to you."
He smiled. "That's just plain old jealousy right there."
"What?" You looked up, rather surprised.
"Jealousy. He's being protective of you. You know he loves you, right?"
"Jim, he's not capable of love." You almost laughed.
"I wouldn't be so sure." He responded, mysteriously.

Your lunch break was up, but you pondered over Jim's words.
Did Sherlock love you? Really? You couldn't quite comprehend that. He even called himself a sociopath. There's no way he was capable of loving another person. But then, he had actually apologised for offending you the day before. He had attempted to shield you from danger that he believed was present.
The more you thought about it, the more you realised that Sherlock Holmes was trying to love you.

******

"John?"
"Mm? What's up, sis?" Your brother looked up from his laptop. You were sitting at the dining table in 221B.
"What's he like?"
John looked bewildered. "Sherlock? You already know him."
"No, I mean, what's he really like? I've not been here very long. He's not really opened up."
John closed his laptop, sensing a long conversation at hand. "Uhhh, (F/N), that's not an easy question."
"I'll wait." You looked down at your breakfast, shoving the eggs around with your fork, but not bothering to eat.
"Well, he's a good friend. He's intriguing, fascinating even, but immensely frustrating."
You snorted in agreement, and John smirked.
"(F/N), what's this really about? I know you already know this stuff about him."
Good ol' John. He sees through everything.
"I- I've got this friend at work. Sherlock came in one day, and after seeing us together for about two minutes, Jim decided that he loves me, Sherlock that is. I can't stop thinking about that now." You looked at your eggs the whole time you spoke, as though they were terribly interesting.
John smiled. "(F/N), I-" He was cut off as Sherlock burst out of his room with a bed head worth mentioning, wearing the same cotton pyjamas and blue dressing gown that you'd first seen him in, muttering something about eyeballs and sleeping late.
John rolled his eyes and smiled.
"Morning, sleepyhead." You chuckled. Sherlock grunted in response, already preoccupied with a jar of eyes he had retrieved from the fridge.
John jabbed a thumb towards the oblivious Sherlock and mouthed 'That's what he's like.'
You smiled. There wasn't much more to say.
"Won't you two stop talking about me behind my back?" Sherlock accused without turning around.
For a terrifying second you were afraid he'd heard what you'd told John.
"What have you, eyes on the back of your head?" You gawked.
"No. Simply a well polished teapot in front of me." You could hear the smirk in his voice.
"Oh God, you little.." You couldn't help laughing.

Sherlock loved your laugh. He smiled to himself, glad he'd been the cause of it, even at his own expense. He'd heard everything you told John. It made him warm inside. He'd never felt that way before. He'd wanted to continue listening, but he had actually forgotten about his eyeballs. He'd been so worried about the well-being of his experiment that he hadn't even considered that showing himself awake might postpone your conversation with John. He only hoped he'd be within earshot when it resumed.