Sherlock Imagines and Preferences

An Old Friend

Requested by AC_A99 

I hope you all like it! Let me know what you think of this imagine, I always love to hear from you in the comments. Have a lovely day, everyone! ♥

~***~

''Thank you.'' You paid the cabbie and got out of the vehicle. A small smile displayed itself on your face as you looked at the door in front of you. You hadn't seen him in years. The two of you were best friends since you were both young children, but you nearly stopped communicating completely when you joined the military. But that time was over. During one of the many attacks, you got shot. The bullet wasn't fatal luckily, but it did disable you. You were no longer considered well enough to assist your colleagues and you had to resign. It was the most painful thing you ever had to do. You scolded yourself for being so careless. The injury in your stomach could've been prevented if you had been more careful, but you weren't. It was your own fault and you could only blame yourself. You hated yourself for weeks as you stayed in the military hospital to recover. You knew your career in the army was over and you knew you had lost your passion. But you realised you couldn't allow that to get you down. You knew what depression felt like and you refused to ever walk those roads again.

It was hard. You had nowhere to go after being released from the hospital. That's when you decided to reach out to your old friend. You knew he still lived in London and had a spare room, he told you that many times. You hadn't seen him in ages and you were kind of nervous to see his reaction to seeing you again after so long. Nevertheless, you hoped he would be happy to see you again. The smile grew bigger as you raised your fist to the door, knocking a few times. You waited patiently for a few moments and then finally, the door opened.

''I'm not taking any—'' You looked up at the tall detective, grinning from ear-to-ear. He met your gaze and his mouth dropped. He quickly pulled himself together and he started smiling, too. ''(Y/N)!'' He exclaimed. ''Hi, Sherlock.'' You greeted. He pulled you inside, hugging you tightly. ''Mycroft and I were starting to worry, we hadn't heard from you in weeks.'' He muttered. ''Why are you here?'' He wondered, pulling back from the embrace. You smiled sadly, looking down at your stomach. Sherlock got the message and instantly felt bad for you. He knew how much the army meant to you. ''I got shot and had to resign.'' You mumbled, biting your lip to stop the tears from falling. ''And you need a place to stay.'' Sherlock finished. You looked back up at him and nodded. ''I understand, of course, if you—'' He cut you off before you could finish your sentence. ''Nonsense, (Y/N). You can move into the flat below mine, 221C. I'll tell the landlady and make sure all your stuff gets here as soon as possible.'' You smiled and embraced Sherlock once more. ''Thank you, Sherl.'' You mumbled. He smiled softly and patted your head affectionately. ''Just looking out for an old friend.'' He stated. ''Now, join me upstairs for some tea.''

You laughed along with Sherlock as he told you about a recent case of his. You had never heard a story more ridiculous and you doubted whether it was completely true. It still entertained you, however, so you didn't question it. You sipped your tea and stared out of the window. You had most certainly missed the streets of London, but you also missed the action and the thrill of adrenaline you felt every single day you were fighting for your country. You knew you could never go back, but you could still dream. ''(Y/N)?'' Sherlock spoke quietly, disrupting your innocent daydream. ''You're not doing okay, are you?'' He asked softly. You smiled sadly and shook your head. ''The army was everything to me, Sherl. I loved being there and fighting for what's right. And it's all over now.'' You sighed. ''If only I hadn't been so careless.''

The door of 221B flung open and both your heads snapped into that direction. ''Oh, good morning, John.'' Sherlock greeted, relaxing back into his chair. ''Morning.'' He said. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you sitting in the chair in front of Sherlock's. ''Hello, who might you be?'' He wondered. You set your tea cup back on the table and stood up with some effort. 

''I'm (Y/F/N), an old friend of Sherlock's.'' You introduced. ''It's nice to meet you, (Y/N). I'm Doctor John Watson.'' You shook his hand and then quickly sat back down when you started to feel pain again. ''How come you've never told me about her, Sherlock?'' John wondered. The consulting detective shrugged, brushing it off. ''You never asked.'' You giggled and shook your head fondly. ''You still haven't changed, have you?'' Sherlock smirked and winked dramatically, causing you to laugh again. ''I should head back to the hotel where I'm staying and make sure everything's packed.'' You decided after pulling yourself together. ''Need help with anything?'' Sherlock wondered. You shook your head, smiling gratefully. ''No, that's okay. I'll text you when I'm ready to move in downstairs.'' With some assistance of Sherlock, you got up from the chair. ''It was nice to meet you, John.'' You said sincerely. ''Yes, it was nice to meet you as well.''

---

You carried a heavy box into your new flat with a lot of effort. The bullet wound in your stomach was starting to sting again and you were having a lot of trouble getting everything in your flat. The pain suddenly became too much to take and you dropped the box. You clutched your stomach and leant against the wall, taking deep breaths to numb the pain a little. Soon, the door upstairs opened and none other than John Watson came rushing to your aid. ''Are you okay? Why didn't you call for help?'' He rambled. He picked up the box and put it in your flat before rushing back and helping you inside as well. He gently placed you on the couch and sat down next to you as you tried not to cry out in pain. ''May I take a look?'' John asked, pointing at your stomach. You nodded, the ability to form words not really present at that moment.

He carefully raised your shirt and inspected the scar that was beginning to heal. ''Where'd you get that?'' He questioned, surprised to find a bullet wound instead of something else. ''I joined the army about five years ago, but I got shot not too long ago and I had to resign.'' You explained, jaw clenching. ''You were in the army?'' John asked, stunned. ''Why is that so surprising to you?'' You shot back. ''Oh, no, no, I didn't mean it like that! I was in the army, too. I resigned a year ago after getting shot in my shoulder.'' He quickly recovered. 

Your lips formed a small smile. You had no clue John used to work in the military as well. John and you were quite similar and had developed a good connection over the past few days and you had grown to like him as more than a friend, but you didn't think he could ever feel the same way about you. Finding out another similarity only caused those feelings to grow and your cheeks were soon coated with a faint blush. ''We really are quite similar, aren't we?'' John smiled, scooting closer to you. ''Yes. Yes, we are.'' You agreed, smiling too. ''Who knows? Maybe there are more similarities we have yet to find.'' John stated. ''Would you like to have dinner with me and find them?'' You grinned widely and nodded. ''That sounds lovely.''