Sherlock x Reader

A new flat mate.

Finally. Someone has moved has moved in with Sherlock. You were quite surprised but at least now he wouldn't be throwing things about and firing his gun at the wall... Well, you hoped he wouldn't. You still couldn't understand why anyone would want to move in with him. Sure, it was a pretty decent flat but still. It's Sherlock. Yesterday, he had told Molly and you to wait to see if bruises would appear on the corpse after a certain time. And why would there be bruises? Because he'd whipped the body with his riding crop. Oh well. At least you were always amused. Although you couldn't help feeling sorry for Molly. Because although her crush on him disgusted you, you could sometimes feel the heartbreak she went through every time she tried to ask him out and was shot down rather brutally every time.

Dr John Watson. That was the name of Sherlock's new flat mate. Although, you didn't actually meet him when you first found out. No, you knew his name from the body that had turned up. One of the "serial suicides". Except this one had left a note and Sherlock was dancing around his flat like it was Christmas. When John first came over, you were already at work of course, Sherlock never bothered to say that there was someone else living here apart from himself and Mrs Hudson. You didn't find out until you and Molly got a call saying Sherlock had caught the killer. Although the killer was dead, so both of you had to do an autopsy, even though he'd clearly died of a gunshot wound. You came home tired after all the hubbub so you had gone straight to bed. So, technically, you should say that Mrs Hudson arranged the "meet and greet". You woke up in the morning to insistent knocks on your door, which turned out to be Mrs Hudson with a tea tray, laden with tea and biscuits.

"Oh, get dressed ______, I was going to congratulate Sherlock on him solving that case last night. All those serial suicides!"

You smiled sleepily.

"I know, I did do autopsies on all of them."

"Oh, it must be strange working with all those dead bodies!"

"It's really not that bad and there's a big advantage. No complaints from the patients," you replied laughing slightly. "I'll just get changed then Mrs H."

"Of course dearie! And put something nice on, I'm sure you want John to have a good first impression of you." You stopped in your tracks, already in jeans and a dark peasant blouse. John?! You quickly brushed through the mess in your hair, grappled your phone and rushed through your door, nearly knocking over Mrs Hudson's tray over.

"Be careful ______, I don't want tea all over my dress!"

"Uh yeah, sorry Mrs H. Wh-who's John?" You closed the door behind you and started walking up with her.

"Haven't you met him already? Well, this will be a nice meeting for you two! I only met him two days ago but I really don't have enough time to ask him anything. But he has a sore leg so I wouldn't mention it too him, gets the nerves going." You nodded and knocked on Sherlock's (and now John's) door. Sherlock opened it and immediately saw the tea and biscuits.

"Ah, tea! And biscuits, too! Well come on in, Mrs Hudson!" He glanced at you. "And I guess ______ can come in as well." You stepped in and frankly, were amazed at how different it looked. It was less messy but you could feel that it wasn't a solitary getaway for the "high functioning sociopath". And you saw John. Army doctor, you thought to yourself. You'd seen enough of the type, those wanting to help in the war in any way. He must have got shot in the leg and sent back home. Of course. You thought this without changing your expression from the usual guarded gaze and saw him stand.

"You must be ______," he said holding out his hand for you to shake. Screaming internally, you briefly shook his hand. God, how you hated doing that.

"Yes. And you're John? Mrs Hudson mentioned that you'll be staying here now. Obviously Sherlock didn't think to mention this at all." You saw him chuckle.

"Yeah, I'm guessing Sherlock doesn't bother with things like that. Is that his real name? Sherlock?" You sighed.

"It must be, he doesn't respond to any other names." You walked up to the sofa and sat down. That man may be a sociopath but damn, he has good furniture! ((No innuendo intended.)) You looked up and saw John staring.

"What?" That seemed to snap him out of his daydream. "So how has civilian life been for you, Dr John?" He seemed to be startled but composed himself.

"Ah, so you figured it out ______," Sherlock walked into the living room from the kitchen as he said that. He had a mouthful of biscuit and the crumbs were spilling onto the carpet. Though they were hardly noticeable.

"Sorry, you told her who I was, Sherlock?"

"No."

"Then how-"

"Think about it John, she's an ME with a functional brain. Of course she figured out you're an army doctor."