BBC Sherlock Imagines

Sherlock: He Gets Jealous

"C'mon Sherlock," you said grabbing your coat and opening to door to the stairs. In 20 minutes you both were supposed to meet John and Mary, Lestrade, Molly, and some others, for a small get together. John and Mary had called a babysitter for little Louise, this was the first night they would be back out on the town with you guys. He glanced up at you from the computer and his eyes widened.

"I hope you keep that coat on all night." You rolled your eyes at his protectiveness, it was a simple sleeved black cocktail dress.

"Oh don't get your knickers in a twist," you replied, throwing his coat at his face.

~

The evening had been spectacular, it was good to finally catch up with the gang. You oggled at pictures of little Louise, laughed at Scotland Yard stories from Greg, and Molly confided in you about her newest love interest. All was well. Until you had noticed Sherlock sitting quietly by himself, not even talking to John. You excused yourself from the group and walked over to him.

"Why are you pouting?" His hands were in prayer formation under his chin, his elbows resting on the table. He acted as if he didn't hear you. The lot of you had been here for 2 hours, and by the looks of your boyfriend, it was time to go. "Let's go," you sighed, sad to leave your friends. You bid them goodbye, hugging each while brainstorming another time to meet up. Sherlock acted as if nothing was wrong. meaning it must be a big deal. The cab ride home had been silent, and now, walking up the stairs, nothing but the creaks of the steps echoed around 221B. Sherlock was ahead of you, his long legs skipping two steps at a time. By the time you made it upstairs he was laying on the couch, his back towards you. Not wanting to bother him too much, you went to change into the shorts and shirt you had brought - Sherlock liked that you wore your own clothes. Swallowing your pride, you marched to the couch where he still lay in the same position.

"Okay handsome, what's wrong?" you asked cheekily. No answer. "Sherlock Holmes," you huffed. You were used to his childish behavior, but you were already peeved about having to leave the party early and was not in the mood to play games. He sat up suddenly.

"We could've stayed," he stated simply.

"You didn't look to be enjoying it," you remarked. He mumbled something but you didn't quite catch it. "Come again?" you asked.

"Oh nothing, only commenting on how happy you looked to be seeing everyone. Mary, John, Molly... Lestrade." He said Lestrade's name in a high pitched tone, his eyes rolling dramatically.

"Sherlock Holmes," you started, a big smile spreading across your face, "are you jealous?" His face snapped up and fury rose in his eyes, turning his baby blues to icy frost. You smirked, happy to know that you had sparked some sort of emotion out of him, although you hadn't meant to. His fury passed and he tried to play it off.

"Jealous? Of Lestrade?" he asked, feigning surprise, a fake chuckle that sounded like he was experiencing puberty again escaping from his lips.

"You're so cute when you're jealous," you teased, ruffling his curls. His eyes flicked down to you, and he squinted.

"Oh dear (y/n), I'm not jealous. Feeling jealousy would imply feeling emotions and you and I both know I do not take part in that dangerous game," he said smiling sweetly.

"Oh dear Sherlock, I'm not stupid." His smile faded. "But fine, since you're not jealous I'll just call the group and tell them to come over here, I never did get to hear the end of Greg's story." You turned around smiling devilishly. A hand grabbed the phone out of your hand before you type in a number. Got him.