Recovery from Reichenbach (Sherlock X Reader)

Classics

Your walking pace becomes slow and dragging. You've been walking for almost to hours and it was starting to rain. To your demise, it was starting to rain harder. 

And harder.

And harder.

Until it was pouring, soaking you in a second. Your heart was beginning to ache even more than when you thought Sherlock was gone forever. It pained you to imagine the fact that Sherlock was out there, wanting you, and you were too stubborn to give in.

You finally decided to motion for a cab after realizing how cold and drenched, and not to mention, tired you were.

To your relief, a cabbie saw you right away. He pulled over and you got in. Your mind was still a little hazy, John said it would take time for the drugs to fully wear off.

"Cardiff please," you instruct.

The cabbie nods and asks, "Any place in Cardiff?"

"Novotel Hotel," you answer with a yawn.

"Tired, Miss?" The cabbie questions in his Irish accent.

"Just a bit," you say, half lying. Truthfully, you were very tired! So tired, you're just fighting to keep your eyes open now. The cabbie smirks secretly and starts to drive, shifting the gears swiftly. You look out the window, staring at the starry sky above. 

"What are you listening to?" you ask, trying to make conversation with the man since you were going to be in his cab for the next two hours or so. 

"Just some classics," he answers nonchalantly. 

"Could I hear?" You ask. Classical music reminded you of  the past, with Sherlock. 

You wake with a jolt. A nightmare had just entered your mind and you were petrified. You breathe heavily as you cry silently. As soon as you let out a small whimper, Sherlock bursts through the door. 

"What's wrong, my love?" He asks, concern evident in his voice.

"It's nothing, just a bad dream," you reply, your voice and body shivering from the vivid images. As soon as he here's this, he picks you up bridal style, carrying you out to the living room. He sits you down on the couch and walks to the other side of the room too retrieve something he always soothes you with. 

His violin.

You found Sherlock's own compositions incredibly relaxing. He starts to play as he walks back and sits beside you. You nuzzle your head onto your husbands lap and close your eyes, taking in every note, rhythm, and slur. 

Eventually, your breaths start to slow and steady as you fall asleep for the second time that night only this time was different. You felt more secure and confident, venturing into the dream world once again.

When Sherlock noticed this he set his violin down. He gently raises your small body up and nudges himself between the couch and your body, holding onto you tightly but gently at the same time. Not long after you, he falls asleep with his head resting on your shoulder.

"Sure. I'll turn it up for you," the cabbie responds, delighted that you share something in common. He does as he says and you lean your head back, taking in every aspect of the song like you did once before. Before you were broken. 

You nearly forget about your worldly problems as you let the music take you away. Shortly after, you give into your body's demands for sleep. And you sleep.

Meanwhile, the cabbie looks back at your sleeping figure and grins, taking out his cellular. 

"Hey, I have Y/N," he waits for the person on the other end to speak, "No, she doesn't know it's me. No, she's not hearing this conversation, she's asleep. Ok, see you soon. Bye."

Little did the driver know you were listening for you had stirred when he started talking. You knew what you had to do. You had to escape. You had to jump out of the moving car...