Sherlock Imagines

~ Overworked ~

Requested by CaptainSwanEriel
[Sorry for it taking so long to publish. Wattpad's writing station glitches a lot for me. I feel so bad! I'm sorry, it's not my best work. Requester, you are always welcome to request more due to this. I am truly sorry.]

I'll admit, I've been working a lot. I never really thought of anything of it though. Every once in a while, I get an extra work load and miss a few meals here and there. My stomach would protest once or twice through the hours, but I ignored it. I took no notice of when I ate or how much whenever I worked.
I came into 221B feeling a little woozy. I was worried about Sherlock, Lestrade and Molly saying he was being distant and insensitive once again. Of course, this was the usually behavior for the detective, but they say it has gotten like he has reverted to the cold stranger everyone else sees. Upon entering Mrs. Hudson was first to greet me at the stairs.
"Hello, (Y/N) dear! Finally finished that work load?"
I tried to laugh, the effort draining more of whatever energy I had left. I felt hysteric.
"I wish. Just coming home to take a break and see what the boys are up to."
"I bet Sherlock's mood will improve with you around."
She smiled as I headed up the stairs in confusion. My vision blurred as I struggled up the stairs. From what I could hear, I heard muffled movements and a shout. When I reached the door, I took a moment to chase the fuzzy feeling away. John startled me as he walked out of the door, displeased.
"Hey. Done with work?" He seemed surprised to see me. Distracted, I ignored the question and asked,
"Is everything okay?"
"Sherlock and I had a little disagreement over this case. He's been a bloody arrogant twat recently." Then he seemed alarmed when he saw my expression. "Sorry, I didn't mean-"
"It's fine, John. I'm just messing with you. I've heard that opinion from many people." My head began to buzz from the laughing.
He takes a deep breath, and awkwardly motions for his exit. I nodded already losing concentration on him. I knocked on the door, suddenly realizing how strong the feeling of exhaustion and sickness was. The door was opened by the exasperated consulting detective. His eyes light up strangely.

"My love. Hello." He seemed drawn back and perplexed. My head's pounding seemed to worsen.
"Sherlock." My ears rang and my world darkened.

><><><><
Sherlock

As I deducted (Y/N), she was quite prostrate. Her face drained of colour and her stance weaker than usual. Calling my name, she approached for a form of affection, but toppled into my arms. She said nothing. I caressed her face and quickly realized she had fallen unconscious. Laying her head back on my shoulder, I felt a sudden difference in her structure.
I traced over and felt the scapula quite well. I perceived her ribs were also more noticable. Her stomach gurgled loudly. I began to wonder what (Y/N) was doing to herself. Anorexia, bulimia, depression, cachexia, she shows no signs of any of these. Then again, she could have gained it during her long period of work. I checked her pulse, and it showed she was in no immediate danger. Carrying her over my chair and carefully laying her down, I sat directly across and dove into my mind palace for the long hours waiting for her to come to.

><><><><
Y/N

I suddenly awoke in a different place in the flat then I remembered being at. Sherlock was perpendicular from where I was, seeming to be deep in thought.
"What happened?" He muttered. You shifted uncomfortably as your stomach growled. "Answer me. Your body structure has significantly shifted, and it hasn't been in a healthy amount of time."

 I stare a centimeter away from his face, not daring to meet his gaze for an explanation. "You could have caused multiple health issues. You had so many instances to come home and rest! [Y/N], it would be in your best interest to answer!" He yelled. Flinching, you drew back more in the chair. Sherlock was truly upset.
His gaze goes soft and so does his voice. "Why didn't you tell me you hadn't eaten anything sooner?"
I open my mouth to answer, but my stomach groans and hurts in response. Sherlock examines me carefully and unravels your arms for your stomach. He places his hand where you had, and rubs gently. He smiles as the pain is erased from your face. We stay in a peaceful quiet for moments, till he remarks. "You're home now, and you're eating. What would you like for dinner?"