Heavenly Holmes • Sherlock x Reader

15 • fog

"Y/N, wait.." Sherlock walks after me, as I step outside.

I turn around to face him, my voice shaking:

"Of all people I thought you would trust me."

His face pales as he stares at me, unable to object to this stabbing truth.

And it only hurts me more. As my heart breaks, the last bit of hope inside me that secretly wanted him to lie and say that I was just overreacting.

"You're lost, Y/N."

"What..."

He chuckles weakly and looks down, unable to stare into my eyes any longer as I catch a tear roll down his cheek. His voice cracks:

"You're lost in your own...

sick...mind..."

I feel my heart drop in my chest as I try to look at him through the tears welled up in my eyes. He couldn't even look at me anymore.

"I'm not sick..." I say with a small voice, as my throat feels dry and lumpy.

He is silent, his head held down so that I cannot see his face. I can feel him crying.

As I stand there I feel something rush within me. Something inside of me jumps, like an adrenaline high. I look over to the side:

There is that delusional man again.

Klaus.

His figure is blurry, distorted of shape and line. He is pale and wears a sickening smile.

I feel my body tremble, with the sudden urge to run. But Sherlock stands up straight, he steps into my view and places his hands on my shoulders. His broken eyes meet mine. The treacherous figure named Klaus disperses with the fog.

When I look at Sherlock I finally see all the things that I've done. It comes in broken pieces of memories. Shards of recollections. The killing, the display. I would leave my therapist and spend the hours committing homicide upon the innocent. But why? Why?

He pulls me into his chest and holds me tightly  as I cry quietly into his shoulder. His voice wavers:

"They won't be able to find out who did it....not without me..." He rubs my back soothingly with his shuddering hands.

It takes me a moment to process the meaning of his words.

"What...? You have to tell them, Sherlock..." I cry.

"N-No! I've lost you too many times already..." He says shakily, "and each time...you've come back as broken as you were before..."

I pull away from him to look at his face, "What if I hurt someone else?! Who's next?" He turns his face away to the side, "William?!" I scream.

His expression suddenly turns cold, and he turns his face back to look at me. His expression is calmer now, more calculative in finding a solution, but his breathing is still unsteady.

"I'm sorry...I-I didn't mean to scream at you..." I cover my face with my hands and start crying again.

His breathing hitches, as I feel his arms wrap around me again, more gently this time. I hug him and rest my head on his shoulder.

He places trembling kisses on my neck, as I feel my panic attack die down:

"You're sick..." He whispers.

His lips brushing my ear, I feel his trembling breath travel down my spine:

"But every sickness has a cure."

The urge to suffocate my lover or myself begins to develop. And so, I push Sherlock away from me. Gently, carefully so as to not do any more harm to him than I have already done. Sherlock's eyes are wild but also sincere as he stares at me.

My apparition named Klaus appears once again, closer this time with a distorted visage, stark in similarity to that of a rotting corpse. Dark eyes and pale, fragmented skin ripping at the grey seams that wrinkle into his sickening smile. He peers over Sherlock's shoulder.

I take a step away from him but stumble backwards as the apparition behind Sherlock grows taller and taller. It towers behind him darkly, like a shadow. I fall on my butt at the insane sight in front of me as it begins to whisper faintly...

kill him...kill him...

"Stop it, Klaus...please..." I am crying before I am even aware of it.

Sherlock crouches down to my level and stares at me with a different look in his eyes:

"Klaus...?"

His voice makes the shadow disappear suddenly, as I snap out of my state of panic and look at him with utter fear and confusion as to what was going on.

I don't know how to explain what I saw. I don't know how to explain how I feel. So, like an infant without any knowledge of language or means of communication-

I break down.

Sherlock pulls me into his chest. I don't cry. It is a heartfelt sob. One that comes from deep in my chest, rumbling my ribcage and vibrating my vicious veins. An internal pain that slowly drains me of all of my energy. It sucks the soul out of me and makes death seem like the best option. A life of shadows and labyrinths suddenly does not feel like a life worth living at all.

"Is that what you're seeing...?" He asks softly, rocking me in his arms as my anxiety ridden sobs die down into short- breathless cries. "Klaus?"

I nod as he helps me stand up. I am thankful that nobody was out to see me collapse like that. He rubs my back soothingly as we walk back towards 221B, a silent decision that maybe we should both just stay home today.

He shuts the door behind him as I walk upstairs with exhaustion and a sting skirting my eyes where I had cried.

I feel him walk behind me, and I have nothing left of this life but to crawl into the bed, and feel his slender arms around my hollow vessel of a body, as I dream about the eyes of my son and the lies that he will have to grow up with.