One-shots/Short Stories

BBC Sherlock

Based before Season three and four. Also inspired by Me Before You (if you know what I mean. . .)

Beware of feels!

The Suicide

"Your life is not your own. Keep your hands off it."
-Sherlock Holmes

He stared into his kitchen with a bored look on his face, the sound of his client rambling on going through one ear and out the other. Lately the days have been quite tedious for The Great Sherlock Holmes. John was off on one of his dates, Molly had no body parts for him, cases Lestrade offered were boring, and Mycroft - don't even let him start on the topic of his brother.
"Boring!" Sherlock shouted, jumping off his armchair and leading the man out of his flat. "Thank you for wasting my time. Leave."
"B-But -" the man flustered. "My wife, Mister Holmes! My wife is possessed, I swear -!"
"Yes, very interesting - you know what you should do? Keep your wife away from the drugs she's hiding under the bed." He slammed the door on the man's shocked face. He groaned out loud in annoyance, stomping to his window. He looked out, hoping to see something interesting - and he did.
The thing came into a form of a woman - a distressed woman. She was walking down the streets anxiously, always looking over her shoulder and at her surroundings. She had red puffy eyes, her cheeks red and her clothes wrinkled and worn out. Sherlock was curious about the woman. Why was she acting that way?
"Not drugs." he muttered to himself. She didn't have the signs of a withdrawal. "Family problems? No. No family. An orphan. Breakup? No - wait, yes. . ." He huffed at the sign of sentiment. "People these days."
He looked at her closely. Clothes wrinkled and worn out? Where was her coat for the cold? No bag for women essentials? All she held with her was her phone and wallet that were in her jean pockets. No key, though. Was she. . .?
Sherlock hurried down the stairs, intending to catch up with her. She was going to kill herself. She was going to commit suicide.
"Wait!" Sherlock yelled, weaving through the afternoon crowd. "Wait! Miss! Wait!"
He finally reached her, pulling at her arm. She faced him with a gasp, her glassy brown eyes staring up at his green-blue eyes. Sherlock looked into her eyes, finding it surprisingly hypnotising. Snapping out of his gaze, he shook her backwards and forwards lightly. "Are you crazy?" he hissed at her. "Don't do it."
"D-Do what?" she stuttered, not even moving out of his grasp.

"Kill yourself."

She stared at him in surprise, while Sherlock simply stared more into her eyes, looking for any clue that she'd listen to him. He saw none.
"How did you -"
"You don't have any essentials with you for a day out except a wallet to hold your money for when you hail a cab, and your phone. You don't have a coat with you meaning you won't be needing it anytime soon. You've been recently crying, and you have been in the same clothes for days. You're a mess." He shook her again, but more lightly. "Your life is not your own. Keep your hands off it." He released her, instead grabbing her hand and handing her his spare coat that he quickly grabbed before he chased after her. "Put this on. Let's go for a walk. Fancy chips?"

***

"Why are you doing all this just because of a relationship went wrong?"
They sat underneath the cover of the bus stop, eating at their chips. It was silent between the two when he had spoke up.
"It's not because of that - I mean, it's part of it, but not all."
"Then what is it?" Sherlock looked to her curiously. She continued to stare straight ahead, nibbling on her chips.
"I don't have anyone." she murmured. "My parents died at a young age. Any family relatives shun me away because I'm not up to their standards. I don't have any friends, people find me weird -"
"I don't." Sherlock imputed. She smiled at him gently and continued speaking.
"The relationship I was in really mattered to me. It was the first relationship I ever went in, and it lasted for three years. Three years I devoted my life to that man, only for it to go to waste." She picked up another chip. "He cheated on me and told me he never loved me. That it was a mistake and no one could ever love me. Made me realise that there's no hope for me to have a family, be in love - a happy life." She looked down at her lap with a bitter laugh. "Sounds stupid now that I say it out loud."
"Not really." Sherlock admitted. "I see where you're going at this. You've been abandoned. Neglected. Betrayed. Manipulated."
"I've had too much pain enter my life." she mumbled. "I don't want it anymore."
"You can't just chuck away your life." Sherlock told her, grabbing a few of her chips and eating it. "You have many years to live."
"Doing what?"
"Anything." Sherlock shrugged. "Travel the world, start a business, become famous." He looked at her in the corner of his eye. "Fall in love."
"That would be a long time. Give or take a few million years."
"Why don't we make a deal." He turned to her. "Give me six months. Six months to change your mind. I can see you still want to continue on to what you were starting before I came. Give me six months to change your mind."
"And if you don't?"
"Then you can kill yourself." She looked at him momentarily.
"Make it three months."
"Deal." They shook hands. "Now, let's go."
"Go where?" She stood up along with him.
"Anywhere." he shrugged. "What's one thing you really want to do right now, at this moment?" She shrugged in reply.
"Go see a movie."
"Okay. Let's go."
"What - it's almost midnight!"
"So?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her. "Got any specific movie you want to see?" She had no choice but to follow him.
"A movie featuring Sebastian Stan."