The Big Book Of Cumber-Character Imagines

Sherlock

 ----Story 2 part 1----

"Have a good day, Ms. Y/L/N," Your therapist said as you grabbed your purse. "You too Stephanie," You said, throwing her a quick fake smile. That pain in your chest still throbbed, but at least these monthly visits were helping. You heard your phone ding, and dug it out of your purse. 'Y/N, we're set up a meeting on for thursday at 12:30. Is that okay?' you read your boss' message to you. You nearly almost stumbled into someone, and mumbled an apology. 'Ya, I'm available for a 12:30 meeting on Thursday,' you replied, and stuffed your back into your purse. As you stepped out of the building, the cool London air felt refreshing almost. The office that you were in was incredibly warm and stuffy. You hailed a cab, ready to go home.

You fumbled with the keys to your flat, and finally was able to unlock the door. After these appointments, you would normally go straight home, lock yourself in your bedroom, and just think about what you and the phycologist talked about that day. And that was exactly what you did. You slammed the door shut, and threw you bag onto the dining table. You pulled your coat off, and hung it on the coat hanger. You didnt hesitate to go to your room. You slammed your bedroom door shut behind you, and leaned against it. You inhaled a deep breath, and let it out slowly as you slid to the floor. You kicked your shoes off, and rested your chin on your knees. You had really no idea what to do with your life. Everything that you seemed to have, everyone that you seemed to love, you have lost.

(Flashback to when you were 10)

"Did you enjoy the movie, Y/N" Your mom said with a chuckle. "Yes mom, I loved it!" You grinned, and she gave you a smile in return. "Too bad the only showing that we could get was this late! Aren't you tired?" She sighed, and you shook your head. She didn't know this, but every night when she went to sleep, you'd turn you reading light on, and read till' past midnight. So you were pretty used to staying up late. You and your mom were walking down a dimly lit street. Every once in a while, a car would drive by; granted that this wasn't the most populated area in London. "Where are those cabs? They better be in service at this time, I checked," Your mom said, looking a little frustrated. The two of you started walking farther down the street, where the lights were getting even dimmer. More alleyways were popping up, and you started to get nervous. "Mom, I don't think this is a good idea. Maybe we can just walk home?" You said, uneasily, pointing the opposite direction, the way your home was. "C'mon, Y/N. It's okay, there has to be a cab somewhere..." She said, squinting to look farther down the street. And that's when you saw him. A shadowy figure, stumbling in an alleyway. Heading towards you and your mother. "Mom..." you gulped, the man now visible to you and your mom. She turned around and froze. He was tall, and wearing a hooded jacket. In one hand, he had a bottle. In the other, he had a gun. "You two seem lost," he sneered, and the way he stumbled obviously meant he was drunk. Then, he raised the gun, and pointed it towards you mother. "Give me your purse," he said slowly. You felt your mom stiffen besides you. She slowly looked down at you, and mouthed one word: run. You slowly backed up, keeping an eye on the man. Your mom took slow steps towards the man, gripping her purse. Then, she did something that she shouldn't done. She used all her might, and swung the purse at his face, hitting him hard. (her purse was heavy).That was your signal. And you bolted. You ran the opposite way down the street, not looking back. But you swore you heard a gunshot in the distance. Your lungs were dry and seemed to burn, and tears were streaming down your face. 'She's okay. Mom is okay,' you kept thinking to yourself, but you knew that she wasn't okay. You were aware that you wouldn't ever get to see her again.

You realized that you'd been sitting in your room, weeping for two hours. You slowly got up, and opened the door. You took a deep breath, and entered your living room. It was getting darker out. You closed the curtains, switched on the lights, and plopped onto the sofa. You studied the condition of your flat. Work papers were scattered on tables, and your purse was still on the dining table. You sighed as you got up, and hung your purse up. You put some lasagna in the microwave, and thought about the past two hours. Losing your mom was only a fragment of the things that had happened to tear you apart.

Okay, I'm really sorry that there is no Sherlock in this chapter. It is just setting the back round for you in this scenario. I promise that I will incorporate him in the second part of this story.