Professor Posh ➳ Teacher x Student/Sherlock x Reader

Culprit

"Y/N? I thought I heard you screamin-"

I drop the stiletto blade and it makes a loud clank on the pavement that rings through my ears. My hands tremble as I stare at them with disbelief, fear, anger, regret and a strong will to end my life right here. Right now. It's too much to process in one sitting. I don't know where to look at first. The blood? The pavement? The stab wounds? The blood on the pavement coming from the multiple stab wounds? 

Sweat gathers at my temples and on the surface of my palms. A cold gust of wind brushes through me and numbs my entire being. I slap my hands onto my face without feeling anything. I realize that in this moment I am incapable of doing anything. I can't even cry. My shoulders start shaking and I feel as if I am becoming a creature of calamity. A living storm. What have I done. What have I done?

"Oh my god-" Is all I hear, before I tune out everything else he says.

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"Y/N!"

Sherlock's voice hits my mind like a jolt of electricity, and immediately drags me out of sleep. I sit up quickly and everything seems blurry at first. Soon, I meet his eyes with more clarity as my vision adjusts to the lighting of the room I am in. Sherlock places his hand on my back to keep me from falling back onto the bed. I look at him as my heart sinks. I cover my face with both of my hands. Please tell me it was all just a dream. A really bad dream...

"Y/N...are you alright? What's wrong?" Sherlock sits on the bed and pulls me closer in a tight embrace. I start sobbing into his chest as he rubs my back awkwardly.

"Is he dead?" I sniff and look up at him. He squints, a confused expression on his face.

"Who?" He asks with the tilt of his head.

Maybe it was just a dream after all...

"Um..."

"You're being silly, Y/N...you probably just had a bad dream." He says quietly, pulling away from the hug to look at me with eyes of amusement.

I sigh and nod,

"Yea...where am I?"

"Your dorm. You didn't do anything but sleep all day...if you wanted to hang out with me that badly you should have said so." He teased with a chuckle.

I punch his arm playfully and laugh, extremely relieved that I actually didn't kill anyone. But something was nagging at me from the back of my head. It all felt so...real. The way I stabbed into his abdomen with the stiletto...that feeling still remains on my hands and it makes my palms sweat.

"Ah, is she feeling better?" Mr Hiddleston asks as he enters the room with a cup of hot tea. His eyes meet mine and he smiles pitifully.

My heart sinks. I can't tell whether or not he knows.

"Th-that tea looks good..." I make an attempt to pretend like I don't know what the hell is going on.

"Oh, this?" Mr Hiddleston points to it, "I can make you some if you'd like, darling.."

"I-I'll make it." Sherlock says quickly, before standing up with flushed cheeks and a glare in his eyes as he leaves the room. I frown.

Mr Hiddleston walks over and takes a seat on the bed in the same spot where Sherlock was sitting. He glances back once to make sure there is nobody there, before leaning in a bit closer to whisper to me:

"Y/N, it wasn't a dream. I brought you here as quickly as I could," He said quickly, his voice shaking and his eyes inhibiting a psychedelic color that I have never seen before "I disposed of the b-body myself....I don't know what happened b-but..."

My heart races in shock as I try to process the entire situation. Tom looks away from me and stares at the duvets of the bed as his eyes start to tear up too. He was scared too:

"I know you had a g-good reason. You must have..."

"He was going to rape me..." I say quietly, wiping the tears that fell without my knowledge.

Tom bites his lip firmly, before looking at me again. He opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted:

"I didn't know if you wanted green or black so I mixed a little bit of bo-" Sherlock stops mid-sentence as he walks back in the room with a hot cup of tea and notices Tom and I talking. He glances at me first before averting his analytical gaze towards Tom. His eyes narrow. He starts reading.

"O-Oh! I love black and green tea mixed!" I lie, in an attempt to cause Sherlock to snap out of his deductions about Tom and avert his attention to me.

"Really?" He asks, walking over and handing the warm cup over to me without moving his gaze from Tom.

I take it with both of my hands as I watch the gaze being exchanged by both men. It makes the entire room cold and my body tenses up. Sherlock was now glaring at him with intensity. Tom stands up and smiles faintly at me as he nods his head to us in a very nervous-looking goodbye before exiting rather quickly. 

I silently take a sip of the tea, waiting for Sherlock to collect the data he had gathered about what actually happened as he stares at the door that Mr Hiddleston had just walked out of. I brace myself for him to ask me why or how or when I killed the man. He blinks and turns his head to look at me:

"I don't like you hanging out with him." 

My eyes pop back open in slight surprise:

"W-What..."

"Tom Hiddleston. I don't want you to see him anymore."

"But he's one of my professo-"

"Outside of class, I don't want you to see him. Ever." Sherlock says sharply.

I decide to stay silent and not question him, quietly standing up from my bed. I walk in front of my mirror and stare at myself. I was in a grey tank top, and shorts. My arms bare and bruised, my legs scratched up and my knees sore and red.  Sherlock comes closer behind me.

"So tell me...what did he look like?" He leans in, quietly into my ear.

I snap out of gazing into my own eyes through the mirror and turn my head to glance at him:

"Who?"

"The man he murdered."

My heart skips a beat in utter shock due to the horrific miscalculation Sherlock just made. I freeze and feel myself go pale. This was almost unbelievable to me. He must be joking...right?

Sherlock wraps his arms around me and chuckles deeply:

"Your beloved Mr Hiddleston isn't as sweet and kind as we thought, hm? I'm surprised you went undercover without telling me..." 

In this moment, I feel as if I am going to collapse:

"W-Wait-"

He presses his lips on my cheek for a brief kiss before I can say anything and pulls away from me, grabbing his coat and preparing to exit through the door:

"I'll be back in two hours. We can discuss the evidence you gathered then!" He leaves, shutting the door behind him.