Sherlock Imagines, Oneshots and Preferences

(uni!lock) How would you know?

Mehhhhh, two concepts: Sherlock always signing off his texts with his initials because he thinks nobody would've saved his name +  unbeknownst to everyone else, his wallpaper is a photograph of both of you. He'd hide in embarassment if you ever found out, though.

💞💞💞

Sherlock frowned and rolled over as his alarm blared. His exams had just finished that morning and he'd decided to take a nap to catch up on all the sleep he'd lost over the past week.

He lifted his face off the pillow and squinted at the afternoon sun through the window. What time is it? His hand shuffled under his pillow, searching for his phone. After a few seconds of struggling to read the numbers on his screen through his tired, sleepy eyes, he let out a groan.

3:30.

He was supposed to meet (Y/N) at 3:30 for lunch! The duo always went out somewhere to unwind the day their exams ended.

(Y/N), I'm afraid
I'll be late for
lunch. Give me
10 minutes.
SH

He clicked the send button and went back to his home screen, staring a second longer at the wallpaper, a photograph of you and him. Your eyes were squeezed shut and a wide smile was spread across your lips, both your hands wrapped around a smiling Sherlock.

It was a secret. Nobody has seen that home screen wallpaper yet, hidden behind the plain black lockscreen of his phone.

He got out of bed and pulled on a black denim jacket over the t-shirt he had slept in, before searching under his bed for the Converse sneakers he had kicked off right after his exam.

He'd probably be late but you were always late anyway. You'd be happy it wasn't you for a change, this time.

💞💞💞

"(Y/N)."

"Sherlock."

"Sorry I'm late," he said, one hand running along the light stubble on his chin.

"I just got here, too. Woke up only when you texted me," you smiled.

"How did your exams go?"

"Good. ...I guess. Well, I certainly hope so. And I assume I don't need to ask you, Sherlock Holmes."

He smiled.

You took in his form, wrinkled tshirt and messy hair, the slight 5 o'clock shadow visible from where you sat. He looked amazing.

You'd probably been staring at him a while too long, you realised as Sherlock's brows creased into a questioning frown and he smiled and tried to ruffle his hair back to place with one hand while straightening his tshirt with the other.

"Oh, oh, by the way, your text-" you quickly began, clearing your throat in an attempt to ease the awkwardness.

"What about it?" he questioned absently, pulling a chair out and sitting down in front of you. He smelled like three days worth of deodrant and Red Bull, but my, did that not stop you from sending heart eyes his way.

"Why do you always sign them off?"

"Hmm?" He frowned, scanning the menu in front of you.

"SH." You pushed your phone towards his face and made little air quotes as you spelled out his initials.

It took him a moment before he finally raised his brows, a soft "ah" as the realisation struck him.