Sherlock Imagines

Pillow War

One would think that after 3 months of hearing Sherlock Holmes playing violin at 4 a.m. in the morning one would get used to it. And one would be...

WRONG!

NOTHING I REPEAT NOTHING CAN GET YOU USED TO HEARING THAT INFERNAL INSTRUMENT AT SUCH UNGODLY HOURS!

"WILLIAM SHERLOCK SCOTT FREAKING HOLMES!" You roar angrily as you stomp down the stairs to his flat.

Sherlock paused in his playing and calls,

"Freaking is not part of my name."

"Freaking is not part of my name, freaking is not part of my name," You mocked under your breath as you collapsed on the couch.

You stare over your purple polka dotted nightgown at the arrogant man. You would be willing to swear that steam was coming out your ears. Of all the times you wished you could melt someone's head with your eyes NOW is the most important. You stare at that unruly mop of brown curls willing them to burst into flame and Sherlock to go running around the flat like a headless chicken.

"(YN), you do realize that staring will do nothing to stop me."

You let out a humph and tighten your grip on your nighty pulling it closer.

His music is rather lovely BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN HE IS ALLOWED TO PLAY IT AT FOUR AM!!

Your head drops to your shoulder and you glare at him trying to contain a yawn. Unsuccessfully I might add.
Your eyelids droop closed and you push all thoughts of murdering Holmes out of my mind till you wake up.

However when you do reawaken your murderous schemes are pop right back into your mind.

"HOLMES WHY IS THERE A SEVERED FOOT BESIDE MY HEAD?"

You hear Sherlock's brisk footsteps as they come over to where you're laying down. A hand blocks your view of the foot and picks it up.

"I was wondering where that got to," Sherlock mumbles.

You snort in derision.

"Oh yeah. Yeah I'm sure you just "accidentally" placed it TWO INCHES FROM MY FACE!!!"

He turns away from you but you see a smirk plastered on his stupid face.

"OH YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY? I'll SHOW YOU FUNNY!" You screech standing up on the couch and using it as a springboard propelling yourself at the detective.

He makes the mistake and turns around.

"(YN)-"

He's cut off as you tackle him to the ground. Sherlock groans as your foot hits his stomach.

"Ha.ha. It was hilarious," You growl standing up and brushing yourself off.

Sherlock groans again.

Rolling your eyes, you slowly trudge away back to the couch. You're nearly there when something fuzzy slams into the back of your head sending you staggering forward.

You whip around and Sherlock is there with a stupid smart arse grin on his face holding another pillow to throw at your head.

"Oh it's on, Holmes," You whisper before diving for cover behind the couch.

Sherlock uses the time it took you to gather your supplies to grab another three pillows.

You sneak your hand over the couch to grab one when a pillow smashes into your hand.

"CRAP!"

Sherlock leaps up and tries to jump behind the couch while throwing pillows at my head. You scream and fight back with pillows of your own.

"THIS IS MY BASE HOLMES!"

"Not for long!" He yells back as you both pelt each other with the pillows.

Soon your forces are depleted and the room is covered in them. All that's left is the last pillow in your hand. You grin at Sherlock evilly as he tries to back away.

"(YN), (YN) give me the pillow."

You gently tap your finger against your chin pretending to be in deep thought.

"Ummmm...how about NO!" You yell the last word as you chuck your pillow.

Perfect shot.

It hits him right in the face with enough force to send him reeling.

You start dying of laughter at his face. But you neglect to notice his growing closer and closer to you until he cries;

"HA!"

And digs his fingers into your sides making you laugh even harder.

"H-haha-HO-hehehehe-HOLMES LET ME-hahahah-GO!" You cry.

He pretends to think about it.

"How about no?" He mocks tickling you harder.

You start to wheeze as tears of laughter pour down my cheeks. You wriggle trying to escape the detective but he grabs you and pulls you close tickling you even harder.

"I give-haha-give up! You-haha-you win!" You wheeze and the tickling stops.

"Ugh," You mutter falling against the detective's chest.

Boy was that exhausting.

You can hear his heart racing in his chest. He must be as tired as you are. The detective moves from behind you and you sigh. Funtime is over.

Sherlock gives you a hand up and you crack your back.

You glance around the room.

Great.

John's going to have a conniption.

Pillows are scattered everywhere, someone's tea has been knocked over onto John's computer...you're definitely blaming Sherlock for that one, and the severed foot is stuck in between the cushions of John's favorite chair. Overall it looks like a warzone.

Sherlock grabs his coat and scarf off the hook. You look up at him in confusion.

"Lestrade texted me. There was a brutal murder near the Thames. Want to go check it out?" He explains looking down at his phone.

You nod and follow him out of the flat.

The tall intimidating detective in the black trench coat followed by the girl in the polka dot pjs.

Come at me tabloids I dare you, You mentally challenge.

There's probably going to be a double homicide when you get back.

The murderer? An angry flatmate who missed out on an epic pillow war.