Beautiful Distraction - Sherlock X Reader

Chapter 32 - Because I Took Your Pulse

First things first:

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️ Trigger warning: mentions of self-harm, but nothing graphic. But just in case I put the possibly triggering parts that you can skip between this: #######

Oh, yeah, and do buckle up because we're going to take a LONG ASS walk. This is the longest chapter I'd written so far, having 7283 words not counting these notes of mine. So,... yeah. Pack a lunch.

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After Sherlock had (in a rather rude way) chased her away from his room, (Y/n) decided it would be for the best to just go home and go to bed. And she did just that. She quickly changed in her pyjamas and just stared up at her ceiling for hours. John had come to ask for her help with searching their flat for any drugs Sherlock might've hidden. She refused, unable to deal with any of it.

The whole conversation really made her feel like crap, more-or-less. He cared about her, that much she figured, but she really didn't know why. If it weren't for Irene Adler she maybe would've let herself believe that he returned her feelings. That maybe Sherlock Holmes was ready to let her get closer to him, like no one had ever before. But sadly, Irene Adler was involved and she crushed all of (Y/n)'s hopes.

She glanced at the small box he'd given her. It was wrapped in (f/c) wrapping paper and had a small bow on it that beautifully matched the wrapping's paper colour. She supposed he'd wrapped it himself, considering how sloppy it was. It made her smile in spite of herself. As sloppy as it was, it was clear that he tried his best and that small gesture meant the world to (Y/n). Even though they hadn't really been getting along lately, he still remembered to find her a gift. That surely meant he still cared about her, right?

Her fingers were itching and her heart raced with curiosity, but she didn't want to unwrap it just yet. She couldn't. Things he said still bothered her, and knowing herself, she knew they'd bother her for a long time. And there it was again. That feeling she hated the most.

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The empty void that started somewhere in her chest, spreading throughout her whole body. Sadness, guilt, shame, anger - all boiling deep inside her. She looked at her arms and the products of those feelings that were all gathered on them. Smaller and larger stripes of skin that were a couple of shades paler than her usual colour, signs of a nasty habit she picked up back when she was still with Jim.

Everything about life and relationship with Jim after he'd shown her his true colours made her believe that pain was what she was meant to feel and it soon became something natural. All the ways of converting her emotional pain physical she used were her way of making things easier. Because it really did feel easier. When the pain was physical you could point at the aching spot and say: "There. That's where it comes from". Emotional pain was different. You couldn't say where it hurt - it just did. Badly, and she couldn't deal with it.

Gradually, she became addicted to it, so now whenever she did it, she did it because it felt familiar and safe. Of course, there were still times when she did it to shake off the guilt, sadness or anger, but now habit was the main initiator.

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No, she mentally scolded herself, don't. For John's sake, if not for your own.

With that thought, she turned over and forced her eyes shut, hoping sleep would come to her rescue soon.

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The atmosphere in Baker Street once again became dull and gloomy. (Y/n) was again feeling bad, Sherlock was still cold, if not colder than usual, and John and Mrs. Hudson just hoped things will be okay again. They were doing everything in their power to talk with both of them and maybe make them sort things out, but to no avail. Both, Sherlock and (Y/n) were stubborn and it soon became clear to John and Mrs. Hudson that they will sort it out when they're ready to.