BBC Sherlock Imagines

Sherlock: Comforting

Request for @FandomGirl_704

~

He was gone. Just like that, gone. Nobody expected it, the doctors did not see it coming, it had hit the whole family like a wave, and now you were all struggling to keep your heads above water. The funeral was in three days, not that it mattered, you had been mourning his death for over 48 hours now, a service would do nothing for you. The only thing it would do is cause a bunch of crying, a a side effect you had not encountered yet. Your body felt bare on the inside, like a big blanket was stuffed into every socket and muscle, wrapped around every bone, making it so you couldn't move, and sucking up every liquid in your body.

74. So young, too young. A lighthearted knock came from the door, you didn't bother looking up.

"(Y/n), are you awake?" You nodded slightly, Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed. "Do you want something to eat?" You shook your head in response. "Do you want to try and do something today?" Again, just a head shake. He sighed lightly, then stuck out his hand in front of your face. After taking a deep breath, he let it trail down the side of your face, a small stroke that already made you feel better than the hundreds of texts and calls you had received lately. You shuddered trying to get in a deep breath, and Sherlock pulled away. He stood up, then paused over you. An internal battle was being fought behind his eyes, you could see the colors swirling anxiously. In one swift move, he bent down and placed a light kiss on your forehead, then exited the room quickly, embarrassed at his publicly displayed sentiment. You sighed happily, that small gesture enough to ease your mind for the time being.

"John, I said everything you told me to."

"Did you do anything besides use words?"

"I did that stroking motion we practiced, and then I kissed her on the forehead." Lately, it had been silent around the flat causing your hearing to become quite sensitive. Sherlock and John held their cases elsewhere for now. So now, when their whispers were barely above a murmur, you could hear clearly what they were saying. Silence ensued, and you closed your eyes to drift off again into a blank sleep, but more conversation had floated into the room.

"John, I'm... worried about her. Why is she so sad?"

"It's like when you pretended to commit suicide, it's not easy to move past somebody's death."

"So, you're saying she could be like this for two years, maybe more?"

"Only time can tell Sherlock."

"But I miss her. She-she's not the same person. Her smile is not there anymore. I miss her smile John."

"Give her time Sherlock." Your eyelids fluttered shut, your heart was trying to break free from your chest. Sherlock's words, his obvious care for you, had ignited something, but it could not burn like a wildfire through your whole body like usual, could not travel to your fingertips. The sadness had frozen your core, making it nearly impossible for any sort of happiness to reach you.

~

Violin playing? What's wrong with Sherlock? I better go see. Then it hit you, momentarily sleep had blinded you, you had been thrust back into normal life, only to be pulled back to reality seconds later. The familiar tug came to your heart. Oh god I miss him. The violin continued, a melancholy song that was strangely comforting. The clock on the bed stand red 3:42 am. You had slept for over 12 hours. On cue, your stomach growled. Disgruntled, you moved from the bed for the first time in two days. Your joints popped ceremoniously, and you stretched your body. Man, I stink. You decided to take a shower. Showers were always good, a break from reality where nobody could bother you. Sherlock had given you the space you needed these past days, a lot of it, which you were fine with, but something about the solitary confinement of the shower appealed to you. You grabbed a towel from the cupboard, then turned on the shower. You stripped down, throwing your clothes in the hamper, and tested the water. Lukewarm, good enough. Water poured over you, and you started with the shampoo. Your movements were forced and rugged, your body trying to get used to putting in effort again. After a couple minutes, you stepped out of the shower, the steamed filtered around you. Back in the bedroom, you dressed in running shorts and your favorite sweatshirt. The violin playing had stopped, and so had your bat like hearing. The kitchen was empty, but from the door you saw Sherlock typing away furiously on his computer, back towards you.

"Morning," your voice cracked. Sherlock jumped up, hitting his knee against the desk, causing papers to fly everywhere. Baffled, he looked to you in disbelief and moved from the desk. Eyes fixed on you, he ran straight into his desk chair and knocked it over. He tried to catch himself before he went down with it, and his fingers hooked on to his coffee cup. He fell, coffee flying all over him, a mess of papers surrounding him. An uproarious laugh came from inside you, a chain broke loose, and suddenly you were laughing, loudly. Looking up, he smirked, proud of himself for making you laugh, making you do anything but sit in the bedroom and sleep and stare. But after a couple minutes when you were still laughing, he clumsily emerged from the wreckage and stood in front of you. You were hysterical, you touched a curl that stuck out from his head, and another fit of laughter escaped from you. He cupped your face and looked into both of your eyes, then peered into your mouth. Moments later he threw his hands up in the air, they landed on his head and he messed with his curls muttering,

"I broke her." You couldn't help it, he actually thought he broke you, like you were a robot that had an out of place bolt. But you were, in a way. The death of your grandpa had taken a piece out of you, you weren't whole. The memories flooded back - him giving you piggy back rides, him teaching you how to fish, him patching you up after you fell off the bike in front of their house, him telling you how proud he was after you graduated, him dancing with you at your wedding, him telling you he loves you. Suddenly, a gush of streaming water rushed out of your eyes. Damn you tears. As much as you hated crying, it felt good. A weight lifted from off of your heart. Sobs raked through your body, and a pair of arms caught you before you fell down. They tugged you close, then picked you up bridal style. You grabbed tight to Sherlock's tie, fisting and unfisting it with every shake of your body. He laid you down gently on the bed, then padded to the other side and got in, dress clothes and all. He crawled to you enveloping you awkwardly with his arms. He wasn't used to this, you knew that, but it was the thought that counted. Eventually he adjusted his arms, you fit perfectly between them, your head resting gently underneath his chin. His slow breathing beat against your rapid one. His hands stayed perfectly in place, not a move came out of them. He cleared his throat.

"I saw this in a movie once. I don't know if what I'm doing the right thing or-"

"You're doing great." You assured him through your runny nose and sniffles. "Now stroke my hair and tell me everything will be okay." He followed instructions, only breaking protocol to grab you a couple tissues. After awhile your breathing slowed, the tears dried, and the snot was wiped away. When he must have thought you were asleep, he whispered "I love you."

"I heard you," you teased.

"I know."

A/N
Only Sherlock would have to be given lessons about comforting someone by the person he is comforting. Sign me up though, I'm okay with that.

You know, I really do spoil you folks. 4 updates in 24 hours? You lot are lucky I don't have a life. Seriously. But you are all also spoiling me - I REACHED 1k VIEWS! My happiness is through the roof. Two more votes and I will be called to update tonight, another daily double.

Just an FYI, in about 5 minutes it will say there is another update, I'm just editing something in my last imagine that was pointed out to me that I need to correct. So sorry if it gets your hopes up, but I'm just letting you know.

Also, I will not be able to write on Monday, so I guess these four updates make up for it.

Other than that, it's the same story folks. Keep commenting, voting, and requesting. Comments make my day, in case you cared.

Enjoy