Sherlock X Reader One Shots || 𝐹𝐿𝑈𝐹𝐹 + 𝑆𝑀𝑈𝑇

"You Have A Lot Of Explaining To Do" (Part 1)

CONTEXT:

Sherlock is in love with his flatmate, Y/N, and accidentally misreads some signals.

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Sherlock flipped his coat collar up against the already bitter winds of November as he walked, head low, down the soaking London streets. Rain spat from the sky in a furious sheet, turning the view in front of him a miserable grey; despite the orange street lights. Tucking his arms closer to his body, he shoved his hands deeper into the depths of his pockets, balling them into fists to try nurse any sense of feeling back to the tips of his chill-kissed fingers.

He couldn't wait to get back to the flat, where his flatmate was undoubtedly waiting for him. Always compassionate for others, Y/N would welcome him home and be at the ready with a thick blanket, which she would proceed to wrap around Sherlock's sodden and aching shoulders while telling him he should have got a cab even though the store was just down the road, that he shouldn't have gone at all.

And Sherlock would shake his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he placed the milk on the table and told her it was really no trouble.

Sherlock smiled now, at the thought, and quickened his pace as a bristle of excitement fizzed up his spine when he wondered if his best friend might offer him a grateful hug or one of those special smiles she does just for him, for braving the weather just so she would have milk for her hot chocolate and breakfast tomorrow.

Sherlock has had a crush on his flatmate for a while now. They'd lived together for over three years, but it was only now that he really started to realize that maybe he wanted to be more than flatmates. More than friends. It had happened slowly, and then all at once. Like he was walking down a gentle slope, then suddenly tripped, and was rolling down, faster and faster, head over heels, and couldn't stop no matter how hard he had tried.

He'd tried at first, when the feeling had shocked him one day; a slight tugging deep in his chest for apparently no reason other than the fact that Y/N was smiling at him; her grin creasing the corners of her eyes and framing the hues of her iris in a joy-filled crescent moon shape. Sherlock had just stared, and a look of confusion crossed Y/N's face. She'd asked him if he was alright ---features laced with so much genuine concern--- and Sherlock had felt a strong urge to lean down that little bit to close the gap between their lips.

He hadn't done that though. He'd shaken his head as if to clear it and offered Y/N a wobbly smile and a 'Yeah, I'm fine'. Then he'd forced himself to look away, Y/N shrugging and deciding to cook dinner while the confused detective laid on the sofa and contemplated what that feeling had meant. He'd deemed it a fluke, a one-off, and doubted it would happen again.

But then it started to happen a lot.

Then all the time.

At first, it scared him. What if he gets so distracted by how Y/N's hair was reflecting the light that he missed a vital clue in a case? What if he was so immersed in what she was saying about the latest book she was passionate about that a criminal got the upper hand and they both suffered for it?

But then he realized that it wasn't just up to him to keep them safe. If he let his guard down, Y/N would prevent anything bad from happening. She would have his back. Be there for him. Plus; it felt really nice. Those moments when tingling sensations licked at the tops of his legs and crept up his stomach. When his heart fluttered each time Y/N touched him; graced her elbow against his accidentally as they crossed in the hall, sat close to him in a cab so their hips pushed together. Sherlock loved it, relished it, and slowly his crush festered itself and after months, he knew it was more than that.