Sherlock imagines

First fight as a couple (part two)

A/N Gosh, I'm so sorry people, this is the least productive I've been since the day I was born. My brain kind of decided to just give up on everything important, and I am running low on inspiration and motivation. Hope this is worth reading.

Mycroft: (continued)
Two days later, you heard a knock on your door. You almost cared enough to put down the half empty bottle of whiskey. Another knock. More insistent this time. You sipped the whiskey and hoped that the knocker would go away. "Open now, Y/N, or I'll break the door down. I know you're in there!" Him. You wasn't prepared to meet him, not yet, not now. The knocks disappeared for a minute. Did you tell him were you hid the spare key? The lock clicked, and you rolled off the sofa and landed on the floor with a soft thump.

On the way down you accidentally got wrapped in your blanket. There you were, a drunk, pathetic, and heartbroken burrito, on the floor between empty bottles. Mycroft's gentle arms lifted you up, and placed you on the sofa with your head in his lap. He stroked your hair and whispered your name, over and over again.

Graham:
You got Greg lunch every once in a while, and mysteriously, you always arrived the exact minute Sherlock and Johns cab pulled up to Scotland Yard. You chatted with John all the way to Greg's office, handed him the food with a kiss on his cheek and left with a remark about his messy desk. Valentine's Day was just around the corner, but to Greg, it didn't seem like you remembered.

Your small talks with John became more frequent, and Greg decided to confront you about it. You had spend the night on Greg's couch, and early in the morning you tried to sneak off. Greg stopped you in the hallway, and put his hands on his hips in a very bitchy manner. "And where do you think you are going?" He demanded to know, clearly very displeased. "Um.. to Baker Street. I'm helping John with a... case, yes." You silently cursed yourself. Wow, Y/N very convincing. He will surely let you go now, doofus! "Y/N, we need to talk." You reluctantly followed Greg to the kitchen.

He sat down, and you followed his example and sat on the other side of the dark wooden table. "Sweetheart, you have to tell me what's going on. The few times you're here, you're always sneaking of at the crack of dawn. Today I managed to catch you. Tell me, and don't lie!" He was heating up, almost yelling the last words. Your insides were tying knots on itself, but you had to do something. "Me and John-" Greg didn't let you finish, but jumped up like he had been struck by a jolt of electricity. "I knew it!" He shouted, loud enough to wake every neighbour for miles around. "The blond guy takes the pretty girl, and the useless, grey haired Detective Inspector must be alone!" You blushed and smirked when he called you pretty, but his mention of the "useless, grey haired Detective Inspector" immediately stopped your smile. You rose too, and yelled back at him. "Now, you listen to me! Don't dare to call yourself useless!" Greg seemed a little taken aback, but his anger pushed him even further. "But that's the truth, isn't it? Why else would you leave me for blogger blondie?!" You stepped closer and answered him in a borderline crazy tone. "John is helping me find the perfect present for you! For Valentine's Day!" Greg stopped dead in his tracks and went white as a sheet. You continued. "He knows you in another way, and I thought it would be helpful to get his opinion! I just wanted to give you the perfect present." You weren't crying. This was his fault and his problem. Greg's face was now redder than a phone box, and after a long pause he stuttered "So you- you and John aren't... you know..." you let him struggle as much as he wanted. "Ehrm... together?" You rolled your eyes and and asked, in a softer voice than you had used all day: "I thought the main part of a relationship was this little thing called 'trust'?" Greg's face became even redder, and you were surprised that it hadn't exploded already. "Just... call me tomorrow, okay." you left the building. You had forgiven Greg on the spot, and you knew your behaviour had been suspicious. And suddenly, you knew exactly what to give him.

Jim:
You got fired. Just out of nowhere your boss called you to his office and told you to pack up your stuff and leave. No explanation. Jim was... not happy, to say the least. "It's alright, babe. I'll just find a new job." He was walking around in circles, probably wondering how many times he could stab your boss in the chest before the poor man died of blood loss. "28 stab wounds..." he hissed, and you took a deep breath. You knew him too well. "Honey, it's okay! Don't get so worked up over it!" He grumbled something and left the room. You sighed and went back to your computer. Of course you weren't happy, but you had to calm Jim down before he did something you would regret.

The next day you were watching the news. Or you were looking at your phone, with the news in the background, intending to start listening if anything important came up. "Today, the body of 47 year-old John Williamson was found in his office." You jolted up, full attention to the screen. John Williamson? He was your boss. "He was found with several stab wounds in his chest, and all his files thrown around the office. The police are still investigating."

Without even turning off the television, you grabbed your coat and stormed off. This man could make you furious. The wind blew your hair in your face as you stomped your way to Jim's flat. You knocked on the door 4, 5, 6 times, not caring about the skin on your knuckles turning a bright red colour. Finally he opened the door, in a suit, as usual.

"Hey babe, found a job yet?" He smirked, looking as self satisfied as your childhood cat when she had left earthworms in your tennis shoes. You pushed by him, closing the door behind you. "I can't believe you!" You exclaimed, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. The corners of his mouth dropped slightly and a puzzled look could be seen on his face for just a second. Then his smile returned and he led you to the living room with a gentle push. "Listen Y/N, he had it coming," you didn't want to hear his excuses. "No you listen! I just got fired okay? That happens! Am I happy? No. Did I take it out on innocent people? No!" Jim's smile was completely gone now and he looked genuinely puzzled. "But he wasn't innocent. He fired you!" His confusion made you feel something you had never felt with him before. You felt scared. How could he think that killing a human being would ever make it better? "Y/N, I don't understand, what should I've done?" You took a step back, baffled by what he had just said. How could he not know what else to do? "You could've done nothing! Or helped me with finding a new job! Or... or anything else than commit first-degree murder!"

Your nose began stinging, and your eyes started to water. You fumbled around in your pocket for your keys, still keeping eye contact with Jim. You found your keys and clutched them tight, each of them held between two fingers. You knew this wouldn't provide you with much protection, but you were feeling a bit safer. "What are you gonna do next, huh? Strangle the waiter for messing up your order? Poison the cashier for giving you the wrong change?" He looked taken aback, but angry. He took a moment to collect himself, and when he looked you in the eyes, his own were cold but understanding. "Just... go home now. I'll take you out for dinner on Friday. Good?" You nodded slightly, and relaxed the hand around your keys. On the way home you asked yourself why you were still with him. The answer came immediately: even though he could make you sick, you really, really loved him. You just wished he was less... murderous. But that, you guessed, was a problem for another day.

A/N: wow, it's finally done! I guess I still have it in me! What I don't have in me is inspiration, but if you have any ideas, praise or criticism, please leave it in the comments!<3
-ND