Professor Posh ➳ Teacher x Student/Sherlock x Reader

Systemic Sɛxt

I'm running, but do I know where I am going?

Perhaps not.

I dash down the hall, skipping steps as I run down the stairs of the dormitory and make my way past people walking by. They stop and stare as I run as fast as I can, but it doesn't stop me. Two glass doors, glossed over with my reflection stand in my way until I extend my arms and push them open, letting the cool surface of the glass freeze my palms. The sun hits me and I realize it's only mid-day. The air is humid and hot, my tank top slowly starting to stick to my skin. 

My breathing is labored as I spot an empty area under one of the core campus park trees. I walk over quickly and drop myself on the grass, under the shade provided from the tree. I lean back on the trunk, the bark catching the cotton of my clothing and some small strands of my hair as I lie my head back and breathe. 

My chest is rising and falling rapidly. I don't feel well at all. I was about ready to murder Jim Moriarty after killing some random man earlier this morning. What was I becoming? Who the hell am I? I recall gripping the knife with such ease, seeing my reflection in the blade penetrating my senses and almost providing me with comfort equivalent to that of humane affection...none of it made any sense. I'm not a monster. I'm not a kill-

"Um...Miss Y/N?" A gentle voice called out from above me.

"M-Mister Hiddleston!" I sit up quickly from leaning against the tree and push myself to stand up. 

I dust off the dirt from my skirt and top that may have gathered and clear my throat. The hot sun was beaming beneath us, and he stared at me with an expression of slight worry:

"Everything alright? I thought you'd be in your room resting after...um-" He trails off nervously. 

"No! I need to talk to you right now in private, Mister Hiddleston, please." I say, glancing around at some students beginning to take notice of our conversation. 

He sighs and rubs his forehead nodding in understanding "Right, right... um" He glances around before gesturing me with his head to follow him, "come with me."

- - - - - - - -

Mister Hiddleston takes me into his classroom and locks the door. I pace around the room stressfully until he walks back over to his desk and leans against it, crossing his arms:

"..so, what's going on? Did someone find out about the man you- um..." He asks cautiously, knowing very well that I am upset.

I stop pacing and stand in front of him, sighing. Might as well just rip the band aid off and get it out before I waste any more time:

"Sherloc- uh...Mister Holmes thinks you're the one who killed that guy." I explain quickly, "He's convinced you're some cold-blooded killer."

Mr. Hiddleston's face twists into one of discomfort and he gulps, looking down:

"Well..that's..." He laughs nervously, trying to downplay the severity of the situation but failing miserably "that won't do." 

Then grew a tense and heavy silence between us. 

I could tell he was incredibly anxious given this sudden turn of events, and it only worked to make me feel even more guilty about the whole thing. This was the last thing he needed. Because of his kind nature and gentle heart, he had gone out of his way to not only help me hide the body but take the blame as well, and look where that got him. He didn't deserve to be a part of this mess that Sherlock and I were involved in. 

I close my eyes and sigh deeply, bringing my hands to my face in disappointment:

"This is all my fault."