Sherlock X Reader One Shots || 𝐹𝐿𝑈𝐹𝐹 + 𝑆𝑀𝑈𝑇

What Happened In Room 32 ((Final) Part 9)

Quietly: "No, I wouldn't, because I didn't want to scare you away."

Sherlock stared at her fixedly, and said in a measured tone: "'Wouldn't or 'didn't'?"

"Didn't. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to scare you away." Y/N was still holding one of his wrists and gave his arm a little shake in helpless agitation. "God, Sherlock, I felt so much love for you that night I thought I was going to pass out from it. I still do, right now. I did before you kissed me, I did before the wedding, I did weeks ago because, well, Jesus, Sherlock, how could anyone not fall for you?"

He was so still, eyes wide and unblinking, that if it wasn't for the frantic pulse flurrying under her fingertips Y/N would have worried he was dead.

"You danced with the Y/N who wanted to kiss you, you made love to the Y/N who wanted to kiss you, you woke up with, ate brunch with, went home with the Y/N who wanted---wants---to kiss you. I thought you saw it as just a fling, you aloof fool, you. You said nothing so I said nothing, I thought you were just...I don't know, using me or something. But we hadn't specified that it meant something so I had no right to be upset with you when I thought you'd finished with me."

Moving for the first time since Y/N had started talking, Sherlock distractedly let the laundry basket fall to his feet and took the side of her face in his now-free hand, his expression softening as he tenderly cupped her jawline. A swell of sadness had turned his grey eyes a delicate, damp, pastel blue and Y/N wondered for a horrible second if he was about to cry. "Don't. Don't say it like that. Don't talk about it like that, I can't believe you thought I'd ever..." his voice trailed off, not being able to bring himself to say the word 'use', and Y/N realised that touching her hadn't been something Sherlock had meant to do because he hastily retracted his hand.

'You're focusing on the wrong part,' Y/N wanted to say. She wanted to stand on the upside-down laundry basket so she'd be tall enough to properly grab his shoulders and give them a good shake. She very nearly did, but then they probably would have had to buy a new laundry basket.

And there was no need. Sherlock's expression had broken out into a restrained smile, hesitant, hopeful elation waiting for the go-ahead to brighten his eyes. The struggle between belief and disbelief brought a pained tautness to his voice: "You've fallen for me?"

"More than you could possibly imagine."

The use of his own line, or maybe simply at what it meant, made Sherlock...beam? Was that word strong enough? Is it accurate to say someone is beaming when actually they are doing way more than that, their whole being glowing with so much elation it could power the whole of London and maybe half of Canterbury? He brought his other hand to rest on the back of Y/N's neck, pushing it up to tangle his fingers in her hair as if he needed to touch some part of her, any part. Breathless, his gaze flicking from Y/N's eyes to her lips as he stared searchingly down at her face:

"But, at the hotel, when John gave us our phones, you didn't want him to see me, to see we'd---"

Y/N had felt like she was invading his space a few seconds ago, but now, so close to his body, she was reminded of how perfectly they slotted together, how every part of him seemed to be designed specifically for every part of her, and that sense of being an imposter was replaced by an instinctual, thrumming sense of belonging. "It was all a misunderstanding, a stupid misunderstanding." She slid her arms around his neck, pulling him down to press kisses to any part of his skin she could find.

He took this as permission to tug her into a proper embrace, gathering her closer, crushing her against him as he took her offering with passionate hunger.