Multi fandom imagines

Sherlock - Sherlock

It had been two years. Two years since Sherlock had died. I had just gotten back to the flat I was now living in, aka, Sherlock and John's old flat. I needed a new place to stay, since the place I had been living in, sort of got burnt down.

John didn't really want to live there anymore, since it only reminded him of Sherlock, which just ended up hurting him. So, in the end, it worked out. No, I wasn't happy Sherlock was gone, in fact, if he wasn't the place I was living in before wouldn't have burnt down.

Yes, there is a direct link between the place burning down and Sherlock's death. Let's just say, the day after he died, I may have gotten way to drunk, then got into box of matches. I lit a candle, then whilst dancing around my flat, trying to make my mood only slightly better, if I could, I knocked them over and set the place ablaze.

Now, I am most certainly not saying that it is Sherlock's fault that the place is burnt down, but it is his fault. Luckily I was the only person in the building at the time of the incident, so no one ended up getting hurt. Luckily, after losing all of my things, and my flat, I did have Mrs. Hudson, and she paid to help me replace things, let me live in 221B, and paid for me to get some new clothes.

I was so thankful for her, and John. Sherlock, he was, well, I don't know what we were actually. I feel it would be an understatement to say that we were just friends, that would be as if I was completely ignoring the things that had happened between us. But on the other hand, it would be an over exaggeration if I had said that we were together, because we had never truly been together, not really. We had chemistry, of course, but both of us were generally oblivious to each other's feelings for the most part. Either that, or we chose to ignore it, because we didn't want things to get complicated.

I say we didn't want things to get complicated, but in actuality, things were complicated.

I unlocked the door to the flat and walked in. I was, shocked to say the least when I saw Sherlock sitting in his old chair. I shook my head, almost sure I was hallucinating. I shut the door behind me. I shrugged my shoulders, trying to ignore what appeared to be Sherlock, then walked to the kitchen to put the groceries I had just picked up away.

I put the groceries away, and couldn't help but occasionally glance out to the living room to see if he was still there. Sure enough, every single time I looked, Sherlock was still there, sitting in his chair, reading a newspaper. I didn't understand, I thought he was dead.

After I had finished putting the groceries away, I walked out of the kitchen and back into the living room. I sat down in John's old chair, which was right across from Sherlock's.

"What the actual hell?" I said, sort of loudly.

"Is something the matter?" Sherlock asked before putting down the newspaper.

"You're, not dead." I said, an obvious amount of surprise in my voice.

"Yes, that's been established." Sherlock said.

"Um, yeah, so since freaking when? You faked your death? I would have liked to know." I said.

"That would have put all of you in danger, and I couldn't have risked that." Sherlock said.

"I went through an emotional hell. And you've been alive this whole fucking time? Are you serious?" I said.

"Yes, I am. Of course I've been alive this whole time. I couldn't have only been alive part of this time, that wouldn't be scientifically possible." Sherlock said.

"That's, just, that's just wow. Fantastic. Honestly, that's great. Great, now I'm not gonna be alone in this flat. I mean, obviously you're still gonna live here. I mean, obviously. And like, okay. So, I'm just gonna, wow. I, I don't even think my brain knows how to process this right now." I said.

"Take your time, I understand this is probably a lot to take in." Sherlock said.

"Probably? No, no. It's definitely a lot to take in. I mean, you faked your death. Fuck. I'm so mad at you. I thought I lost you." I said.

"I need you to understand that I was doing it for the safety of you and everyone else." Sherlock said.

"Did anyone know?" I asked.

"Mycroft, and Molly Hooper." Sherlock said.

"Wow. Wow. Of fucking course. Molly knew, but God fucking forbid that I knew!" I yelled.

"Do calm down, this isn't worth stressing over." Sherlock said.

"Calm down?! You want me to fucking calm down!? No! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you, Sherlock! Fuck you!" I yelled.

"Are you done with your temper tantrum?" Sherlock asked.

I took a deep breath then sighed. "I just, I thought you were gone. My brain, it didn't know how to handle that. I didn't know how to handle that." I said.

"Because of your feelings for me?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes." I said.

"You care so much that you didn't know how to process what happened?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah. I mean, I tried everything I could think of. I tried alcohol, that was a bad plan. I tried therapy, that didn't work. I tried a grief support group, that didn't help either. Nothing worked. Nothing helped, and my brain didn't even know how to process the pain that I was going through." I said.

"Had you never lost anyone before?" Sherlock asked.

"Of course I had lost people before. Losing people is just another part of life Sherlock. But I had never lost someonr that I had actually had feelings for. Most likely because I had never really had feelings for many people." I said.

"I do have feelings for you as well, believe it or not.' Sherlock said.

"Why wouldn't I believe it?" I asked.

"I'm a high functioning sociopath." Sherlock said.

"So? That doesn't mean you can't have feelings or love. Sometimes that just means you feel and process things differently. It doesn't make you any less human" I said.

"How would you know?" Sherlock asked.

"I sorta majored in psychology in college." I said.

"Makes sense how you know so much about people's thinking patterns, and motivations." Sherlock said.

"That, and I just have excellent deduction skills." I said.

"Yes, you do." Sherlock said.