Sherlock X Reader One Shots || 𝐹𝐿𝑈𝐹𝐹 + 𝑆𝑀𝑈𝑇

"You Have A Lot Of Explaining To Do" (Part 3)

Sherlock opened and closed his mouth several times before managing to stutter: "Like a romantic date? With candles and wine and..." he lost his train of thought there, realising with a hollow feeling that he didn't know what dates were like because he'd never been on one.

"Yeah," Y/N answered, her brow furrowing in a way that suggested she was a bit miffed. "Why do you seem so surprised?"

'Surprised?' No, 'surprised' was the wrong word. 'Devastated', 'distraught', and 'shook' came to mind, but they weren't strong enough either. They didn't fully capture the stabbing sensation Sherlock felt at the mental image of Y/N clasping the hand of another man, kissing him and---

He didn't let himself get any further down that road. "I'm not surprised. It's just..." He wanted to say: 'You're mine' but bit it back, cursing at himself for being so possessive, so jealous and petty. He didn't mind loving her and her not loving him back, so much. But her not loving him back and dating someone else? Having to watch her do that, kiss him good night when he walks her home, invite him up to her room, eventually move out, the idea was torture. "All the time you've lived with me you haven't gone on a... date." The word was sour on his tongue.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Well, I feel settled in now, you know? I'm settled into our apartment, settled into my new job, settled into my new life. Tom kept asking me to go for a meal with him and I kept putting him off, but now I think I'm ready to get out there."

"Tom?" Why did he know that name? "Tom as in Tom?"

"Yeah. Don't sound so appalled, he'd be a great partner."

Sherlock huffed as if he thought the exact opposite, but really he completely agreed, and that was why he was appalled. He'd met Tom only once, when Sherlock had dropped the lunch Y/N had forgotten to take off at her work. He'd found Y/N chatting to a tall brunette (Sherlock would be lying if he said he hadn't self-consciously tried to stand up a little straighter when he stood next to him), his perfectly tailored suit complimenting his athletic build, blue eyes bright and genial. Y/N had introduced them, which Sherlock hoped he'd looked convincingly pleased about, and he'd grown even less pleased as their conversation went on. Tom was open and compassionate and romantic and the sort of person who always asks how your weekend was.

Almost the exact opposite of Sherlock.

Tom was perfect.

"Why get back out there with... Tom, though?" He wouldn't mind so much if it was Gary---that five-foot-nine guy she chatted with at break, or Michael---the one with a terrible lisp and bad hair, but Tom? His heart did a painful little twist. Tom would be forever. Tom would make her breakfast every single morning, Tom would send her flowers when it wasn't even valentines day, Tom would ask her to marry him and they'd keep photos of it on the fridge they'd own in their cosy three-bedroom house among finger paintings by their two children--- "I mean, he's okay, but, Tom? Really?" Sherlock wished he would just shut up, but his mouth didn't seem to be a part of him that he could control right now. He hated how he was acting, here was his best friend telling him intimate details about her life, probably looking for support, and all his jealousy-riddled brain made him do in response was question her choices. He should want her to be with Tom. She deserves a Tom.

"Yes, really. I don't know what you mean, he's nice, he's friendly, he's attractive---"

Sherlock wanted to take the blunt little cake knife he'd eaten his brownie with and stab himself violently in the chest.

"---we have only exchanged small talk, to be honest, but I'd really like to get to know him more."

Sherlock made a whimpering noise at all the ways she'd get to know him, but hid it by hurriedly clearing his throat. "Yeah, but... Tom."