Dark Secrets (Sherlock x Reader)

To Love, Or Not To Love

You slammed the door shut and locked it. You leant against the door and closed your eyes, trying to calm your breathing and gather your thoughts.

Just a few hours earlier, Sherlock had asked you to come up to his flat to help him with an experiment.

You immediately agreed, not thinking much of it. That was until he shut the door and cornered you.

''Wha- What are you doing?'' you had managed to stutter out.

''Experimenting,'' he had said, his voice low and calm.

He gently pushed you against the wall, capturing your gaze and keeping his eyes fixed on yours. He took notes of the redness on your cheeks, your quick breathing and fidgety hands. He then slowly wrapped his hand around your wrist, feeling your quickened heartbeat against his skin.

He got lost in thought and you had pushed him away, not wanting to deal with him any longer. Now you were pathetically hiding from the detective in your flat.

You couldn't help it. You felt your eyes burn as a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

You felt so overwhelmed, so confused by your own feelings. You didn't know how to cope with them or deal with them. You were just confused. Scared and confused.

You sat down on your sofa, bringing your knees up to your chest as more tears fell. You hadn't cried in a very long time. The last time was twelve years ago at the funeral of your mother. After that, you closed yourself off completely, not letting anyone in anymore. You became a cold, distant person, but in truth, you were the opposite. You just hadn't realised that for a long time.

When your mother passed, you felt like you lost your best friend. You never had a good relationship with your father as he was never home, so when she died, you felt completely alone. To cope, you shut down. And you had stayed that way for a very long time.

Not anymore. Ever since you met Sherlock and befriended him, you felt feelings stirring in the pits of your stomach. You felt warmth and acceptance. It made you crave more. You needed comfort. You needed friendship. You needed someone to hold you and tell you not to fear what you were feeling because they were feeling it too. To tell you it was okay to let yourself feel things again no matter how afraid you were.

Sherlock had awoken that side of you and you loved and hated him for it. You wanted to believe this could turn into something- something meaningful and special, but instead, you got a lousy experiment he used to toy with your feelings.

It hurt. You hadn't felt hurt by another person in years. You never gave anyone the power to.

Upstairs, Sherlock's mind was spinning. He took note of everything about you during his experiment and he came to the only possible conclusion. You had feelings for him.

Knowing this freaked him out. It freaked him out more than any serial killer could.

He had feelings for you. Real genuine feelings for you, and you had them for him.

He was at a loss. A part of him wanted to go downstairs and face you, tell you what he finally realised and show you what you meant to him, but he was held back by his rational thinking.

He remembered his brother's lessons clearly.

Don't ever let your heart rule your head.

Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side.

He couldn't risk it. Whatever way he was feeling, it would pass. It was just a fluke, he thought. He didn't love you. He was just in love with the idea of you, with the idea of having someone like him.

That's how he rationalised his feelings, and it worked for a while. Though, not for long.

He still wanted you. He couldn't shake that thought. He couldn't get you out of his head.

After endless pondering and frustration, he couldn't take it anymore. He picked up his phone and called John.

''John, I need your help,'' he spoke once his friend answered his call.

''You need my help?'' he asked, incredulously

''Yes.''

''Alright, alright. Yes, of course, mate. What do you need help with?''

''It's about (Y/N).'' Sherlock bit his lip, holding back a sigh. He didn't want John making fun of him. This was a serious issue and he needed help.

''Christ, is she okay? Did something happen to her?'' He sounded panicked.

''No, it's not that. She's fine. I just need advice.''

John was stunned. Not only did the Sherlock Holmes need advice, he needed advice from him. ''What did you just say?''

''You heard me perfectly. I am not repeating myself.''

''Right. What do you need advice for?''

Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He couldn't do this. ''Never mind.'' He quickly hung up and tossed the phone. What was he thinking?

His thoughts were soon interrupted, however, by the ringing of his phone.

''What?'' he snarled, answering the call.

''We have a case, Sherlock. I'll text you the address. We need your help with this one.''

''I'll be there as soon as I can.''