Benedict Cumberbatch Imagines

IMAGINE: Sherlock Rescuing You

You walk down the street with Sherlock Holmes, your closest friend and crush. Sherlock, John Watson, and you work on cases together. You're in forensics and, even though Sherlock swears he doesn't need help, you've helped him crack more than a few cases.

     Over the past couple of years, Sherlock has come to respect you greatly and even consider you his best friend, next to John, of course. And while he hasn't shown any romantic feelings for you, you hope one day he will return your feelings.

     "Well, this is where we go our own ways. I can walk home by myself." You say once Sherlock and you come up to the street that leads to your home.

     "I'll walk you home." Sherlock offers a little protectively.

     You laugh softly. "Sherlock, you walk me home nearly every night and nothing has ever happened to me. I'll be fine. You go on and get home. It's late." His eyebrows furrow, debating. "I'm serious! I live only five blocks from here. I'll be home before you know it." You reassure him.

     "I don't know, Y/N..." He trails off.

     You put your hand on his arm and stare up into his eyes seriously. "Sherlock. I can take care of myself. I appreciate you wanting to walk me home every night, I really do, but it has been a long, busy day for both of us. You need to get home safely as well. So let's both go our separate ways and call it a night, okay?" You say and then smile.

     "Okay." He sighs, relenting.

     You squeeze his arm. "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight." You murmur, before heading off down the dark street. You feel Sherlock's eyes on you until you turn down your street and walk out of sight.

You walk down the street and spot your home, two blocks away. A chill is in the air so you wrap your coat more tightly around yourself. That is when you notice a figure on the opposite side of the street walking in the same direction as you. He keeps looking at you. Your eyebrows furrow. Has he been following you since you turned down your street? Your step quickens slightly. So does the figure's on the other side of the street. You hear footfalls ten feet behind behind you as well. You're definitely getting followed.

     You whip out of your phone and punch in Sherlock's number. Once the strangers see you pull your phone out, they rush at you. You take off running as you wait for Sherlock to answer his phone.

     "Come on, come on, come on." You plead, getting a little panicky. You run past your house, not wanting to lead the strangers there.

     Sherlock picks up. "Hello, Y/N. Is everything okay? Are you home now?"

     "Sherlock, help me! I'm being followed!" You cry out softly.

     "What?!" "

     "Two people are chasing me. I can't-I can't go home. They'll find me. They'll know where I live. Where do I go? What do I do?" You ask, full-on panicking.

     "Okay, okay, I'll be right there. Double back. Come towards Baker Street." He directs.

     "Okay." You breathe. You glance behind you. They're getting closer. Fear wraps itself around your chest like a steel band.

     "Whatever you do, don't hang up, Y/N. Do not hang up." Sherlock instructs. You can tell he's trying to keep his voice calm, but he's failing badly. He sounds as panicked as you.

     "Ok—" You're about to say when the figure behind you jumps you. You scream as you're thrown to the pavement, your phone flinging out of your hand.

     "Y/N!" Sherlock screams through the phone.

     You fight off your attacker, clawing at his face and kicking like a maniac. You knee him in the abdomen and he curses, letting go of you for just a second. You scramble away from him just as the other figure tackles you. He's much stronger. Together, they pick you up, kicking and screaming, and drag you to a small car.