Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

X • 10

Your alarm went off at 6:30. You usually set it at least half an hour earlier than necessary. You liked some chill time before you had to get ready for work.
You had fallen asleep on the sofa, and as a result, you were very sore.
You stood and stretched, your back letting out a satisfying crack.

You sat back down on the sofa and your mind immediately went to last night.
Last night.
You smiled. Last night was good.

Sherlock too was thinking about last night. He had immensely enjoyed having you along. You were a wonderful assistant, and he was fond of you. Yet, he never would've considered you to have that kind of relationship with him. He had never felt that way about anybody, but he couldn't deny how he'd felt when you'd kissed him.
Still, he thought it best to pretend it had never happened. He couldn't allow emotions to destroy his career.
He would forget about it.. Until it happened again.

You couldn't help but wonder how Sherlock felt about it. He hadn't ended the kiss, but he certainly hadn't furthered it.
He probably didn't know what was going on.
You chuckled to yourself.
Genius detective baffled by kiss.

You could hear banging around upstairs. Smiling, you slipped a dressing gown over your bed clothes and tied it as you climbed the stairs.
As you opened the door, you saw John coming down the stairs from his room. He looked half asleep and when he saw that you had come to deal with Sherlock, he waved in the general direction of the kitchen, where the banging originated, and went back upstairs.
You smiled to yourself. It almost felt like you and John were parents to a child throwing a fit. Almost.

"No of course I don't want a different bloody slide!" Sherlock bellowed from the kitchen.
"I need type B blood, not type A." He answered himself, calmly.
You couldn't help it. You burst out laughing.
He came around the doorway of the kitchen, surprise and indignation on his face.
"What're.. Why are you laughing?" He demanded, although he could feel himself beginning to laugh. Contagious. Crap.
"Bloody.. Real blood.. Oh God Sherlock." You were laughing too hard to explain why it had been so funny. He probably didn't even know that 'bloody' meant anything other than covered in blood. His stupid genius would never fail to amuse you.
You had collapsed into John's chair in fits of laughter, but now that you had calmed down a bit, you wiped the moisture from your eyes. Sherlock had resumed his work in the kitchen, which involved several blood samples, various chemicals, a microscope and the microwave.
You wandered into the kitchen.
"Can I help?" You asked, absentmindedly.
He spun around to face you, surprise in his eyes behind their protective glasses.
"You want to help?" He asked in disbelief.
"Why not? Are you sexist?" You smirked at him.
He turned slightly red and looked away. "No. It's just that you usually don't like my, uh, experiments."
You chuckled. "Well I have to go to work in an hour, so show me this bloody blood."