Dark Secrets (Sherlock x Reader)

The Funeral

It was the day of the funeral. You were getting ready in front of the mirror as you quickly tried to come up with ways to hold a conversation. You were never one to socialise, but that was usually what people did at a gathering like this.

You hurriedly did your hair and rushed out the door. You were running late as you forgot to set an alarm before passing out the night before.

You raised your hand and a cab soon stopped. ''Cemetery, please,'' you said as you got in.

The cabbie raised his eyebrows at you as he started driving. ''Going to a funeral then? You're dressed for one.''

You rolled our eyes. ''No, I'm a serial killer and like to visit my victims every now and then.'' That shut him right up. Good. You didn't need any more useless conversations than you'd have to have once you got there.

The ride was short and quiet. You were so caught up in your thinking, you didn't notice the driver's tensed posture nor the anxious looks he was giving you. Not that you cared.

Once the vehicle stopped, you handed him some cash and got out. You noticed the driver reaching for his phone. ''I'm not actually a serial killer. I'm a detective, idiot.'' With those words, you shut the door and marched to the group of people gathered together.

You stood at the back, not wanting to interrupt any of the speeches that were currently being held on a small stage next to a photo of Violet. She looked a lot older, but you recognised her gentle, kind eyes. It made you smile a little.

''Don't you know it's inappropriate to smile during a funeral?'' a deep voice next to you spoke.

You snapped your head to the side and observed the tall man standing beside you. ''Just thinking of the past,'' you defended.

He chuckled lightly. ''No need to get defensive. I was just trying to make conversation.''

''Who are you anyway?'' you asked. ''How did you know Violet?''

He finally took his eyes off the woman speaking at the microphone and turned to look at you. ''She was my mother.''

You cleared your throat. ''I'm sorry for your loss,'' you said awkwardly. ''She was a good person.''

''She was.'' He reached out his hand. ''Sherlock Holmes. You are?''

''(Y/F/N).'' You shook his hand.

''How did you know my mother?'' he wondered. ''I don't think she's ever mentioned you.''

''Your mother and mine were good friends. I visited your mother a lot as a kid before my family moved to Scotland.'' As you answered his question, you took the time to properly scan him up and down. He was tall, handsome.. but that was all you got. You hummed in thought.

A smirk played on his lips. ''Something wrong?''

''You're a tough one to crack, aren't you? I usually can tell all about a person, but with you.. just blank.''

The smirk spread into a grin. ''I was about to point out the same about you. You are certainly tough to read.''

''We just have to get to know each other the old-fashioned way then,'' you offered.

''I suppose we do,'' he agreed. ''Why don't we start right away? I know a quiet place we could go to.''

You raised your eyebrow. ''You're skipping your own mother's funeral?''

''The important part is already over as you are quite late. It's just speeches now. Not my type of thing.''

''Not my type of thing either. Sure, let's go somewhere.''

''Follow me.''

You eventually made it to a small restaurant close to Baker Street. Sherlock went inside, the door shutting in your face. 

You huffed and pushed it open, walking in. ''You're not much of a gentleman, are you?''

''You seem like the type who can handle herself. So why would I bother?''

You sat down across him. ''Why here?''

''Owner owns me a favour. Besides, it's close to my flat.''

''Where do you live then, Mr Holmes?''

''Sherlock, please,'' he insisted. ''221B Baker Street. It's right around the corner. Just a few minute walk.''

You scoffed. ''You're serious? I suppose we're neighbours then.''

Sherlock looked at you curiously, but before he could get a word in, you were interrupted.

''Sherlock! It's so good to see you!''

You saw the man hug Sherlock. You chuckled at his discomfort.

''Anything on the menu, whatever you want, is free.'' He placed some menu's on the table. ''For you and your date, it's on the house!''

''Oi, I am not his date,'' you countered.

''This is Angelo. I got him off a murder charge,'' Sherlock explained.

''He cleared my name!''

Sherlock rolled his eyes, hiding the small smirk on his lips as he stared out the window. ''I cleared it a bit. You still went to prison for house-breaking.''

Angelo ignored him and instead looked at you. ''I'll get a candle for the table. It's more romantic.'' With a wink, he turned around and walked off to the kitchen.

''I'm not his date!'' you shouted after him.

''Don't mind him,'' Sherlock insisted. ''Let's get to the important part. Why can't I deduce you?''

''I could ask you the same thing,'' you shot back.

Angelo returned, placing a small, glass bowl containing a lit tea-light on your table.

''Thanks,'' you muttered.

He gave you another wink and a thumbs-up before heading back to the kitchen to get you your food.

''How's your father holding up?'' you asked, moving on from the previous topic. You were trying to be thoughtful and nice. You didn't know why, you weren't usually one for comforting words. You always left that to whoever you worked with. You solved the case, they comforted the families. But here you were, making an effort to be nice to a man you had only just met and knew hardly anything about.

''I've never been one to understand people's emotions,'' he answered. ''Then again, I have a feeling you're the same.''

You nodded. ''I'd say so, yes. I usually leave that to the people I work with.''

He hummed. ''You're a detective. I mean, you must be.''

Again, you nodded. ''And so are you.''

He smiled. ''Indeed, I am. Where is your mother if you don't mind me asking? You said she was a good friend of my mother's.''

''She passed away when I was sixteen.''

Sherlock's eyes softened. ''I'm sorry for your loss.''

You chuckled at his attempt at comforting you. ''It's alright. It was a long time ago and I've long moved on.''

His eyes were still focussed on you. ''I think I'm finally getting something from you. Not much, but at least more than you have.''

''Oh, I've got nothing,'' you answered truthfully. ''Why don't you share your deductions with me, Sherlock?'' You smirked, leaning forward. ''I'd love to hear.''