BBC Sherlock Imagines (Book 2)

Teenlock: Insecurities

Again, thank you myfirstnameisagent (may you RIP) for this idea she blessed me with before her passing

~

You ran out your backdoor and hopped the fence, not caring about the rip in your jeans you just created or the mud that spread itself on your face when you misplaced your landing and fell on the ground. You pushed yourself up and dug around in your pocket for your phone. It was dark outside and the light from your phone momentarily blinded you. You turned down the brightness and hurriedly typed in the number you now had memorized by heart, then pressed the phone to your ear.

"Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up," you prayed, staring up at Sherlock's dark window. Three rings passed then a throaty voice answered.

"(Y/n)?" it said, and instantly you felt a million times better.

"Sherlock," you cried, a fresh set of tears falling, "I need you. I'm outside in your yard."

You were still staring at his window and you saw the curtains move slightly. Seconds later the porch light turned on and Sherlock poked his head out. "Come in, but be quiet." You scurried up the deck steps and followed him inside. You grasped his hand in the dark and he led you upstairs to his room, closing the door behind him. He turned on the lamp in his room and you realized he was shirtless. And in his boxers.

"Uh," you said scratching your head nervously, "can we turn the light off?"

He looked at you like you were crazy. "If you turn the light off we can't see. We're not dogs, we don't have night vision."

"I know, that's the point. Otherwise I'll be..." Your eyes trailed down his body, then snapped back up to his glimmering eyes. "Distracted." Instantly the light turned off. You sighed and tried to find your way to the bed, but ended up tripping over a box and landing up sprawled on the ground.

"I told you to be quiet," whispered Sherlock, somewhere on your left.

"Well it's hard to see when the light is off."

"You wanted it off."

"Yeah, after I safely made it to the bed Sherlock." You got on your hands and knees, deciding it may be safer to crawl to the bed. Soon though, a pair of hands lifted you up from the armpits and dragged you onto the safety of a warm mattress. You didn't question how Sherlock knew right where you were (sometimes you swore he had superpowers), but instead snuggled closely into his chest and let the beat of his heart soothe you.

After a couple minutes of silence he said, "You needed me?" in a gravelly voice that made you thankful you were already sitting down. Memories of the whole night flooded back into your mind and tears fell again. He was still shirtless, and therefore could feel them trailing down his chest. "(Y/n)..." he whispered again. His chin hovered right above your head and you felt it move with every syllable.

"I hate girls. They're so mean," you whimpered. You felt him sigh.

"Your friends? Again? I don't know why you don't just hang out with John and I."

You laughed a hearty chuckle and it felt foreign in your sad body. "You guys don't understand periods or bra discomforts or-"

"Okay I get it," he said swiftly, not wanting to hear anymore. "What did they do this time?"

You buried your face in his chest. How do you tell your boyfriend your deepest insecurities? What if he never noticed them before and suddenly they became crystal clear? "You know how you get mad when Jim exposes your weaknesses?"