Sherlock Imagines & One-Shots

Never Been Good At Listening (Sherlock)

"You will not." Sherlock sounded exaggerated, annoyed with your stubborn insistence to join him on the case since John was busy. Underneath all the dramatic exaggeration however you sensed anger, which in turn angered you. Who did he think he was for telling you what to do or not to do? Simply because you weren't John Watson didn't mean you were a complete useless idiot.

"I'm coming" You crossed your arms staring at Sherlock with determination. You wouldn't be left behind, actually you would proof to him that you could be as useful as John. To make a stand you even took a step forward still keeping stern eye contact with the taller consulting detective. "I am coming."

"No."

After that it was a staring contest, neither of you would back down, both determined to get the upper hand. It was often like this when Sherlock and you got into an argument, you might not have been as brilliant as the great Sherlock Holmes, but his intelligence never intimidated you. One couldn't really tell with Sherlock, but sometimes you thought that was something he really liked about you. And sometimes - like today - he seemed to out rightly loath you for being stubborn.

All of a sudden you heard someone at the door of his flat, instinctively you turned your head to see who it was. Everything went extremely fast after that. Your eyes met with Mrs Hudson's who entered with a happy expression that turned into a little still happy frown "You two are having a moment, aren't you?". Followed by a very distinctive clicking sound. Your head shot right back at Sherlock who had a huge fake cheerful grin on his face as he clicked the second half of the handcuffs to a chair. Mrs Hudson, totally ignored by both of you, shrugged and went into the kitchen to check on something.

"You're not coming, (y/n)." Sherlock said once more, not leaving room for discussions since he turned around to get his dramatic coat while you stood there, bound to a freaking chair, throwing curses after him.

A few minutes after Sherlock dared to leave to actually leave the place to go on the case by himself, Mrs Hudson reappeared from the kitchen. She hummed some Iron Maiden tune to herself, totally unaware of your presence. Only after you cleared your throat did she look over at you.

"Oh dear" Was all she said after you held up your cuffed wrist with a helpless sight. You were furious with Sherlock, he wouldn't hear to end of it - as soon as you got out of these cuffs.

"Any idea where he keeps the key?"

"Absolutely none" The elderly landlady said, making her way over to you to collect an empty tea cup that must have been sitting there a couple of days by the look of it.

"Thanks anyway, Mrs. H" You sighted again almost giving up on the situation. Sherlock really did make your furious at times especially times like this, but you also couldn't deny the spark you felt around him, which made dealing with him a thousand times harder. Goddammit, caring really wasn't an advantage sometimes.

When Mrs Hudson left you frantically looked around the room. There had to be something to get you out. Suddenly your eyes settled where the tea cup had been minutes ago, there, absolutely innocent as if it had always been there, lay a little silvery key.

"You're a saint, Mrs H" You muttered under your breath when you grabbed it to go follow your idiotic detective friend.

"Sherlock!" You yelled through the empty warehouse, there was almost no light coming through the dirty old windows and the air smelled moulding. If it weren't for the heated words at the other end of the huge production hall you would have sworn no one had been in this place for years. As it was you made out your friend in his dark coat and three more people who didn't look happy at all. With your presence already revealed, you made your way over, almost instantly a red dot of a snipers gun appeared on the front of your jacket. So indeed not so friendly company.

"Who's this?"

"I have absolutely no idea"

"Well she sure as hell seems to know you" One of the men sneered, his hard face directed towards you. An uneasy feeling began settling in your guts.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes. My hat has more social media accounts than your small brain understands words." Sherlock seemed to be his usual self, aggravating the obvious bad guys by his unbelievable arrogance. That's why you wouldn't let him come without you or John. That's why no matter how brilliant he was he needed his friends. And that's why despite the red dot on your chest you stepped right between Sherlock and the men.

"Don't make them mad, will you?" You hissed while Sherlock groaned at your actions.

"Will you not be stupid and obvious?" He hissed back, more emotion in his words than you had ever heard before. It wasn't just simple anger about your behaviour but worry too. Sherlock cared enough to not want to see you get hurt, that made your heart skip a beat.

Then there was the sound of a loud bang, really you heard it before you actually felt the painful burning hit in your chest. It was a second of wondering if outside a thunderstorm was breaking loose, before you felt the impact. Even after a sharp pain went through your whole body, starting close to your left breast, you were astonished. Your thoughts were running slower than normally, the world seemed to be wrapped in a bubble of cotton.

Around you there was a lot of movement all of a sudden, behind the whole cotton there was yelling and cursing – "What did you do, man?" "Let's get outa here" – but really your brain didn't process much. All you focused on was ignoring the sharp pain and waiting to see if there was more thunder to this storm.

"(Y/n)" The deep voice you knew you were supposed to recognize but couldn't totally place, was closer than the others. Maybe you could focus on that instead of the already moved on storm. There was warmth on your shoulders too and on your chest, especially there it was spreading starting to cover more and more of your upper body. It felt like warm water from a shower running down your body.

Did people lie down in showers? When you tried to focus your eyes on something all you could make out was a ceiling like construct. Strange. Next came a face into your field of vision. Dark locks, high cheek bones and eyes in the most fascinating grey. Your own (e/c) eyes held onto them, fascinated by the mix of emotions you saw in them. There was anger, hurt, worry all the painful emotions you didn't understand why he'd feel them.

"Listen to me, you got to stay awake, okay?"

"But I'm sleepy" You mumbled only now realizing how heavy your eye lids felt.

"You can't" The voice of the grey eyed man you identified now as your friend Sherlock was stern. "You won't. For once listen to me, you stubborn idiot."

"Don't call me an idiot" You replied, struggling with the words, something in your throat was tight. You felt like you were gurgling some water and trying to talk at the same time, you almost stopped bothering to speak at all but there was something you needed to tell him. "Don't tell Mrs. H I came after you."

"Why would..." He took a deep breath, realisation settled into his eyes "She gave you the key didn't she?"

"Promise. Don't tell her."

"Promise." There was a sad smile on his lips and even more sadness in his eyes, "I'll make sure you come out of here alive. Then I'll make you confess your stupidity to her."

"Try me" You felt a smile tuck on your lips, while the liquid, you had been gurgling, ran down out of the corner of your mouth. After one more good look into his beautiful grey eyes you closed your own, a sleepy darkness welcomed you immediately. You had never been good with listening to Sherlock's orders.