BBC Sherlock Imagines

Sherlock x Reader | His Scarf

Description: You're out with Sherlock, and it's a bit chilly, he gives you his scarf and you refuse to return it from then on.
Warnings: Fluff, Swearing
Word Count: 1192
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Sherlock was one of the nicest boyfriends I have ever had. I'm sure his friends would argue on the 'nice' part, but it's true. He always made sure I fell asleep in the bed and not on the couch, made sure I never slept in for anything, when I'm in rushes in the morning, he'd do anything he could to help.

Currently we both were having a very boring evening, and decided to go on a walk and try to find a new restaurant we haven't been to yet. Since we eat out frequently, I knew it would be a long walk, but I forgot my scarf inside and it was very cold out.

Shivering, I cross my arms to try and trap any warmth I can, Sherlock walks fast paced in front of me, and I have to jog a bit to get back up to his side.

"It's so cold." I say, wrapping my arm around his, trying to steal his warmth. He looks down at me and knits his brows in confusion.

"Why aren't you wearing your scarf?" He asks. Of course he would notice, I always wear my scarf anywhere, it even surprises me that I somehow forgot it at home. In response I shrug my shoulders, and he slows down a bit then stops. He reaches up to his scarf and tugs it of his neck, then wraps it gently around mine.

"But you will be cold now!" I say.

"I think I'll manage." He says, taking his arm back in mine. I smile and hug his arm sluggishly. He smiles back at me and we continue walking.

Ten minutes later we reach a restaurant, it's quite fancy too. We get seated in a table near the middle. It's a small square table made of dark wood, with a light hanging from the ceiling that brightens up the surrounding area. In the middle of the table is a small flower in a small pot. We eat together, striking conversation about work and home, a bit of fluffiness from me that he rolls his eyes at, but I can still tell he's smiling under it. After almost two hours of dining, I start to get tired and we decide it's time to leave. I stand and wrap my coat and his scarf back around me, he laughs when I put it on.

"What?" I ask. He just shakes his head at me while giggling. The waitress comes and drops the bill on the table. Sherlock hands the cash to the woman and we make our way back into the chilly air.

"My my Sherlock, you've been such a gentleman tonight. Don't tell me you're going soft now, are you?" I tease.

"I am not!" He says, overdramatizing every syllable. A cab pulls its way on the street and Sherlock waves to it. It pulls over beside the curb and we step in.

"Baker Street, number 221B." I say, buckling my seatbelt. I pull out my phone to see if I've gotten any notifications, and there wasn't any important ones. Before turning it off I check the time, 8:58pm. I slip the phone back into my pocket and lean on Sherlock's shoulder as tiredness washes over me. Keeping my eyes open was a terribly hard war, but I didn't want Sherlock to have to yank me out the cab and carry me upstairs. A long sigh escape from my mouth, and Sherlock slips his arm around me. My eyelids begin to feel very heavy, but then the cab stops. I look out the window and see the oh so familiar door of our flat. We exit the cab and make out way up. I annoy Sherlock with my slowness as we are walking up the steps, and he picks me up, quickly stepping up the steps and placing me in the doorway. I laugh at his impatience and kick off my shoes. Sherlock goes and sits back behind his laptop, and I make my way to the bedroom.

I change into my nightwear and practically jump into bed. The covers are messily pulled over me, and I think I am so tired that when my face hits the pillowcase, I'll be out like a light. But that is not the case. I toss and turn for what feels like forever, I give up on repositioning and get up to grab a drink of water.

When I reach the kitchen, Sherlock is still sitting behind the laptop.

"I thought you would've been asleep by now." He says, standing up and shutting the laptop. I shrug my shoulders and fill the cup with water.

"Can't sleep, I guess." I answer.

"When are you coming to bed?" I ask, even though I know the answer. He looks away and I know that means he's not planning on coming to bed. I nod and give him a sweet kiss goodnight, which he returns.

As much as I love Sherlock, I wish that he would take care of himself. Eating more, showering more, less drugs and of course actually going to sleep at night. It sucks seeing the people you love treat themselves so terribly.

I leave the kitchen with my glass and head back to the bedroom. When I walk in I see my coat on the floor along with his scarf. I set the glass of water on the nightstand and pick it up.

'If Sherlock doesn't want to come to bed I guess this will just have to be the next best thing.' I think to myself, hugging the scarf to my chest. I crawl back into bed and cover myself with the blankets, holding the scarf like a child holds a stuffed bear. This time, I fall asleep fast, and it isn't until close to sunrise that I wake up.

My eyes flicker open and the first thing I see is the clock, 7:23am. I sigh and lay back down, closing my eyes. I feel beside me, and find Sherlock's scarf still laid by me. I take it in hand and hug it close to me. Without any effort put into it at all, I push myself over to lay the other way and see Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed, a small but noticeable smile spread across his face.

"Are you going to keep that forever?" He laughs, gesturing to his scarf.

"Yes." I say, hugging it.

Sherlock lays down beside me, chucking the scarf to the other side of the room and replacing it with himself. I cuddle him close to me, taking advantage of his loving state. He presses gentle morning kisses to my shoulder as I run my fingers through his messy charcoal curls.

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Guys I swear every time I update this book we hit a new milestone.

Thank you so much for 600 reads!

I'm not very happy with this one, but it's still cute nonetheless.

May we meet again.

- SW -