Multi-Fandom Imagines

Daddy Issues (Sherlock x Reader)

A/n: Hello everybody! Today is March 25, 2021. Dude, Sherlock is one of the greatest shows ever. Season 2, episode 1 is HORRIBLE to watch around family, but my mother wouldn't allow me to watch it without her. It was very uncomfortable but honestly not as horrible as I thought it would be. We laughed together more than I anticipated.

Warnings: Parental abandonment i love yall so much ok

also sherlock and y/n are not together yet

Y/n closes the letter, wiping the tears from her eyes. She mentally scorns herself at crying over the man who left her when she was so young. He doesn't deserve her emotions. Mrs. Hudson, who also read the letter, sits Y/n down on Sherlock's armchair and places a cup of tea in her hands.

Her dad finally died.

All these years later, all these years after abandoning her, and all these years after she pushed her trauma aside and made a life for herself as a consultive detective with Sherlock and John, he still found a way to weasle himself into her life and cause her pain.

In her peripheral vision, she sees Sherlock stand in the threshold, staring at her. Her face maintains its numb look as her grip tightens around the white porcelain teacup and nibbles on her chewed up thumb.

Y/n is pretty sure Mrs. Hudson explains what happened, but she doesn't really hear. She's lost in flashbacks of her short but influential childhood with her dad. Sherlock kneels in front of her and peers into her face, desperately trying to analyze her as he can anyone else.

But it's just like all the other times he's tried it.

He can't.

\--/

Y/n leans against the window overlooking Baker Street, watching the people bumble around their lives happily and peacefully. She sighs, wishing she could go back to forgetting that letter ever existed and burned it like she should have.

Sherlock stands next to her, in his signature purple shirt and black jacket. His eyes flit about her, trying to read her to no avail. It's clear she's lost in thought however, not even recognizing his presence. "What are you thinking about?" He asks in his sultry voice. His lids are heavy, like he's tired, but he's watching her closely.

Y/n looks up, stirred from her consciousness. Her eyes flicker down to his lips for a split second, tracing his prominent cupid's bow with her mind like she's done so many times. "Whatever you're thinking about," she replies, stepping closer and fiddling with his lapel.

Her eyes begin glazing over again as more memories of her father are brought back. She's jolted out of it when she feels Sherlock's hand slipping around her waist and the other cradles her chin with his thumb and fore-finger. "Tell me something that I'll forget. You might have to tell me again."

Y/n squints at him, dizzied by this exchange. "It's crazy what you'd do for a 'friend'."

Watson bursts through the door with bags of groceries. He stares at the two and blinks. "Am I...am I interuppting something?"

Y/n pulls away, settling her back against the window again and avoiding Sherlock's gaze desperately. "No, no. You weren't interuppting."

John nods sarcastically. "Right. Well, I bought you Ice Cream and these...'Chromatica' Oreos. I know you enjoy a bit of Lady Gaga."

"Thank you, John!" Y/n laughs, hugging her friend tightly. Sherlock scowls at them, feeling the twinge of jealously in his gut that he feels whenever she talks to...well, anyone that's not him.

\--/

Y/n sits cross-legged on her bed, the door shut and locked. She continues re-reading the letter of her father's "untimely demise". Untimely indeed. And wholly unnecessary. Still, the tears fall and she presses the letter to her chest, lips curling in a silent sob.

The tears aren't for him though. They're for what could have been. What she missed. He had so much time to rectify his mistakes, and he never did. Suddenly, her bedroom door swings open and slams against the wall.

Y/n jumps up, prepared to attack whoever it is. She notices her hair pin jammed into the lock and Sherlock waltzes through the door, pocketing the pin, then shutting and locking it. His eyes flicker from the letter to her tear-streaked face. 

He squats down in front of her, cradling her cheek in his hand. That does it. A sob escapes Y/n's lips and she presses into his hand, desperate for affection. He watches her, and as much as he hates it, he even finds her crying beautiful. So much anguish and emotion. "Go ahead and cry. Nobody does it like you do. I know how much affection matters to you."

Sherlock draws himself closer, watching her slick eyelashes flutter open to catch his blue eyes looking into hers. "But if you were my little girl, I'd do whatever I could do. I'd run away and hide with you. I know that you have daddy issues, and I do too."

Y/n presses her lips into Sherlock's urgently, grabbing the lapel of his coat and drawing him to his feet. She gets up on her knees on the edge of the bed and wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers getting lost in his curly mane.

"I'm not entirely here," she mutters into his lips.

"Neither am I. None of us are," he responds, stroking her cheek.