The Art Of Deduction ➢ Sherlock x Reader

Fairwell & Bittersweet Kisses [16]

Y/N POV

I didn't even have the chance to say goodbye to him. I couldn't even tell him that everything would be okay. That we would solve the problem. Both. Together.

James Moriarty gave me the opportunity to stay for the a few days, before my supposed death would occur. Everything he had planned out. With great intricacy, and thought, Moriarty was sure it would stumble Sherlock.

Sherlock was still on the couch, his alabaster completion was tinted with pink due to the fever, and I smiled thinking how innocent and calm he appeared.

"Y/N....?" He croaked, squinting his pale eyes.

"Yes, Sherlock?" I replied, stroking his curls.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" He asked, worriedly.

My eyes glassed over like porcelain, and I warmly gazed at him through hooded eyelashes, and my lips curved slightly upwards. Without effort, I flashed him a dazzling, bright smile, one so dazzling that it outshines the sorrow that envelops me whole.

The one I truly felt. With a tone so deceitful, that I could turn a lie into reality and with a tone that could fool even Sherlock Holmes.

"Yes I'm fine." I replied. My face said one thing, but my heart said another.

"Y/N...Come lay down with me and just be lazy. You - you seem kind of tried." His longer, slender, violinist fingers caressed the edges of my jawline and I could feel my heat beat slightly faster.

I would miss this.

"Of course." I exhaled, and hugged Sherlock closer towards me. "Your going to get me sick, Sherlock." I added cheekily.

I would miss him.

"Then we could be sick together. Just be sloths all day." Sherlock chuckled, despite being sick his voice was still baritone and rich. It was music to my ears.

I think I love him. Completely and utterly, Enamoured.

My eyes fluttered shut, and I cuddled deeper into his chest and listen to his beating heart.

But does he feel the same?

"What are we?" I squeaked, as he clutched me harder. Protectively. Almost as he knew I would be gone in a couple days...

"We are not love. We are much more than a mere, petty thing like that. We are indefinite and undefined, Y/N. Much, much, more than love." Sherlock affirmed, and gave me a soft, tender kiss on my lips.

Bittersweet.

I kissed him back again, and this time as a farewell. Perhaps, this would be the last time.

"Goodnight, Y/N." Sherlock whispers into my ear.

Farewell, Mr. Holmes. My dearest, Sherlock.

"Goodnight." I say back softly as I drift off into deep slumber.

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hoped you like this sad yet sweet goodbye with ur Sherlock. ( look at the media section for a lil laugh :3)

in case ur confused the bold letters is u thinking :)

comment & vote, loves 💖 tysm for the 1K it means a lot to me.