BBC Sherlock Imagines

Sherlock: His Dream

You felt the covers shifting around you and the morning sun temporarily blinded you as you peeked through your eyelids. The space next to you was bare, but still warm. Prying your eyes open you saw Sherlock exiting the room in a hurried manner. You stretched and yawned, then headed into the bathroom for a routine morning shower. After steaming up the bathroom, you got dressed in the bedroom. The smell of breakfast cooking wafted in through the crack in the door and your senses were happy. Zipping up your jeans, you made your way out to the kitchen. There, you found Sherlock frying some eggs and cooking hash browns. You leaned on the door frame and watched him carefully; he was still in his pajamas and robe. He turned around, finally noticing you. His expression was distraught at first, then robotically changed to joy as he hurried over towards you.

"Morning love," he said in a high pitched chirpy voice, then kissed your cheek. You look skeptically at him as he galloped back to stove, flipping over the eggs. He moved the hashbrowns around, and glanced back towards you, a huge smile spread on his face. "Are you hungry?" You nodded your head slowly, unsure of what was really going on, and sat down at the island. Moments later, a plate full of food was placed in front of you, along with a cup of tea.

"Eat up," ordered Sherlock cheerfully. Too cheerfully. You looked him in the eye trying to read what was going on. This was not the Sherlock Holmes you knew. You normally made breakfast for him, and you normally kissed him on the cheek, to which he would wipe it off. He stared back, his expression not breaking, that sickly sweet smile still painted on his face. Still suspicious, you got a forkful of food and brought it up to your mouth, then brought it back down suddenly when you had an "AHA!" moment.

"Sherlock Holmes are you doing another experiment on me? What did you put in the food this time?" His face dropped completely at your accusation.

"No no no," he started exclaiming, begging almost, "this isn't an experiment! I promise. I just wanted to make breakfast for my wonderful wife!" You squinted your eyes, not sure if you believed him, especially since he used the words "wonderful" and "wife" in the same sentence. He'd done many experiments on you in the past, for example, when he pretended to cheat on you to test how fast your heartbeat sped up when angry (he had snuck a heart rate tracker on you sometime that night) or when he snuck a homemade sleeping pill into your eggs and you were knocked out for 14 hours. So you had reason to be skeptical.

"Well excuse me for being suspicious. You only act like this when you've done something wrong or are going to do something wrong. So which is it?" You crossed your arms to show you were waiting for an explanation and wouldn't settle for any excuse.

"The one time I actually do something nice for you out of pure affection and you accuse me of doing an experiment!" he huffed angrily. Not believing his facade still, you just gave him another look, but still he fought back.

"I'm doing exactly what you want me to do (y/n), I'm being a model husband. I made you eggs with no hidden sleeping pills and I even kissed you on the cheek! What more could you want?" he begged. You smiled slightly as his curls flopped around his head, as if they too were on their knees and begging. "Do you need me to say 'I love you or something?'" he added on, disgusted at even the thought of such things.

"No of course not, why would I want my husband to ever tell me he loves me? That's insane," you remarked dryly, your smile fading.

"See this is why I married you, you understand," he said, not catching you blatant sarcasm. For a second there was total silence. "So will you eat the eggs?" he asked quietly, like a little boy.

"No Sherlock! What's the big deal about eating the eggs? If this wasn't an experiment then it wouldn't matter," you fired back, confident you had finally caught him in the act.

"I just wanted to do something to make you happy so that you don't," he cut himself off, "nevermind." He took the plate of eggs and walked towards the garbage. You no longer felt confident that this was another one of his experiments. You hopped off the stool and ran towards him, then ripped the plate of eggs out of his hands and put it on the island.

"What's going on?" you asked him, cupping his face in your hands so he had no choice but to look at you. He was silent, so you waited till he was ready. You dropped your hands from his face once your arms got heavy, and instead entangled your fingers in his limp hands that hung by his side.

"Are you going to separate from me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper and his head bent low. Your jaw dropped open and confusion leaked into your brain. Does he really think I'd ever leave him?

"Sherlock," you breathed, not sure what to say. "Why would you think that?" His head snapped up suddenly and his eyes were dark.

"You said it last night." You searched your brain for anytime you may have joked about it and he took it seriously, but you couldn't remember a thing. "You said it right when we got into bed last night, after I knocked over your bottle of perfume and spilled it all over the place."

"Sherlock, I spilled the perfume last night remember? I tripped over a sneaker and bumped it off the table?" His eyes crinkled, and you watched him get lost in his mindpalace. Seconds later he resurfaced, and his cheeks pinked slightly. He cleared his throat.

"Oh yeah," he admitted sheepishly. Still, you were lost.

"So why again did you think I was going to separate from you?" you asked, still lost on the subject. His lips twitched slightly.

"I had a dream that you did."

"Well that makes sense now. You know I'd never leave you in real life. I love you too much and c-"

"Okay I get it," he said, stopping you before you started fully gushing (which he secretly loved).

"Now I'm leaving you," you said, mustering the most pissed off look you could, but you were obviously joking. You turned to walk away.

"Wait," he said, and right on time a hand pulled you on the arm and spun you back around. Instead of being greeted by the lips of Sherlock Holmes as per usual, a plate full of (now cold) eggs was in your direct vision.

"Eat your eggs first."

A/N

12 days till Christmas.
19 days till the Special.