Multi-Fandom Reader Inserts

New Addictions (Sherlock Holmes BBC)

You sit in the armchair by the window in a flat at 221B on Baker Street, where your friends and coworkers, Sherlock Holmes, and John Watson, reside. You're reading a book, awaiting your friends' arrival. The pair has gone down to the station to further investigate the latest homicide in the area. Honestly, it has stumped all three of you, even Sherlock.

You look up when the door to the flat opens. John enters, Sherlock following in suit. Sherlock removes his scarf and his jacket as John comes closer to you.

"How's the case coming?" You question John as he strides past you. You glance up at him as he passes, a displeased look on his face as he limps with his cane. Sherlock walks past, also, straight to the kitchen to fix himself a spot of tea.

"Going no where," he sighs and begins to remove his jacket. "If anything, we may be moving backwards."

"And Sherlock can't figure it out?" You further inquire. You spent the morning scouring the internet for information on some persons of interest. You did not find much, but wanted to wait for John and Sherlock to return with either more evidence, or a miraculous solution from Sherlock. Obviously, you're getting neither at the moment.

"He's got his head in the clouds," John scoffs, heading for the door to go to his room upstairs. "He hasn't been able to focus for days." With that, he exits to retire to his bedroom for some alone time. You sit back in the chair and stare at the wall, a puzzled expression now taking shape in your features. You find a spot on the wall to concentrate on as you plunge into a marine of thought.

John is very correct. Sherlock has always seemed very odd to most. But lately, he's been acting even stranger. His strong attention to detail and incredible amount of observation has been lacking as of late. His mood swings have come to a minimum, remaining in a calm state for a majority of the past few days. In addition, Sherlock has seldom worn his nicotine patches. He claims they help him concentrate, which would explain why he hasn't been able to focus. But a feeling deep down in your gut tells you that isn't the issue. As if all of that isn't enough, he has also been more considerate towrads you and others. Sherlock has always been quite rude, but his antics haven't been showing. Worst of all, he doesn't seem to feel the need to solve this case. It's like he's not addicted to it anymore. The rush of it all isn't enough any more.

Sherlock enters the room with two cups of tea. He places one on the end table next to you.

"Thank you," you say, giving him a small grin. He returns it for a moment before moving around the room. He paces over to the window and drinks his tea in silence. He's obviously thinking. Possibly about the case on his hands.

You watch him carefully, slowly sipping your tea. His actions fascinate you. Sherlock has always been mysterious and unpredictable. You've always admired that about him. It gives you a rush when you're around him. It's the anticipation of what Sherlock may do next that keeps you going.

When his cup is empty, he places it on his desk.

Sherlock paces a few more steps before breaking the silence. "I have been thinking about something lately," he contemplates, stopping in front of you. "It's been plaguing my mind and I can't seem to rid of the thought."

"And that thought is?" You inquire, looking up from your book.

"It's more of an experiment, actually," he mutters.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes," he comments, taking more steps. "Judging by the way you've been acting around me lately, I'd guess you'd have some romantic feelings towards me."

"Sure," you snort, acting interested. His antics never fail to surprise you, but it can be exhausting trying to keep up with the nutcase that is Sherlock Holmes. The man is incredibly unpredictable. It's easy to learn his habits in a matter of days, but he never fails to surprise you. "I'm pretty sure you're wrong. You're just a good friend, Sherlock. Nothing more."

"I have noticed you observing me lately. I'm guessing you've seen the changes in my behavior," he continues, ignoring your objection. "How do you feel about public displays of affection?"

"Uncomfortable," you mutter, shifting in your chair.

"I see." Sherlock paces around the room once again.

You look back down at your book and continue to read. Just as you hear quick footsteps coming toward you, you glance up. Sherlock approaches you with haste, bends down, and plants a kiss on your lips. It takes you off guard, but you don't have to think about returning the favor and kissing him back. Sherlock's finger finds a place under your chin, lifting your head up slightly.

The sensation is something unusual. Almost awkward, since you didn't know Sherlock was capable of something like intimacy or romantic contact. He feels emotion, yes, but he is never one to show them, since it seems to keep him from being able to think logically. This is obviously just one of his curiosities, you think, and he means no romantic towards you.

Sherlock relases your lips from his and pulls away slighly. You open your eyes and find his face inches from yours, his eyes studying you. His eyes bore into yours and observe your every breath and blink. It seems he looms over the chair for hours before standing upright again. His expression remains neutral, but perplexed in some way.

"That was not unpleasant," Sherlock comments, cocking his head to the side for a moment. "How do you feel about that, (Y/N)? Was that uncomfortable?"

"That was fine," you gasp, clutching your chest. You were not expecting that. "You were good."

Sherlock looks around the room before speaking again. "I've made my conclusion." He folds his hands and starts for the his own bedroom.

You lean froward in your chair and watch him walk, open-mouthed.

That did not just happen, you think. Never in a million years could that have happened.

"You can't hide everything from me, (Y/N). I see everything." Sherlock gives you a smile for a second before changing his facial expression to neutral, and navigates out of the living quarters.

You begin to look down at your book, a blush creeping on you face. You knew you couldn't hide it forever. You're taken off guard when Sherlock returns in the doorway.

"I almost forgot to mention," he begins, obviously oblivious to the fact that he startled you. Sherlock gives you a knowing look. "All I can say is, I think I've found a new addiction." He gives you a half smile and nod before exiting once again, leaving you alone.

You drain your cup of tea and decide to return to your own flat. Your mind swims with the events that unfolded before you mere minutes before.

As you walk down the street to your flat, your phone buzzes and beeps in your pocket.

You find a single text message, reading: "I meant you. -SH."

You smile down at your phone before putting it away.

He's not the only one with a new addiction.