Sherlock x Reader

Confessions.

You sighed and turned away from him.

"What are you doing here? I thought you didn't care about.. well, people in general. Being a 'sociopath' and all that."

"Just because I'm a high functioning sociopath, doesn't mean I don't care about those that matter." You looked back at him, shocked. You matter?! Like hell you mattered! You had nothing to do with him, you were nothing like him. You had virtually no friends, seeing as you only talked when it was absolutely necessary and spent at least half your week on your laptop. You laughed at how absurd his sentence was. You? Matter? Your laugh rose in volume until you started to keel over and felt tears at your eyes. Even Sherlock was starting to look slightly worried now. At least it was a change from his usual expressionless mask. Your hysterics gave you an energy boost and you got up from the bed not noticing the pain, being preoccupied with laughing so much. Because he didn't try to stop you, you ripped out the heart monitor cables again and looked at Sherlock. Even with your hysterical mind, you caught every detail of his face, every strand of his tousled hair. And you knew that however much you denied it, you would always feel something for him. You didn't know how much, but the realisation was enough to calm you down and stop laughing.

"Sherlock..," your voice had gone low and hoarse, the laughing tears drying on your cheeks. "I don't matter. I never have. I'm not interesting, I'm just average. You must have made a mistake with your deductions or-"

And suddenly his face was right in front of yours, not worried or expressionless but angry.

"I never make mistakes, ______. So when I say you are intresting, I'm right. When I say you matter, you matter. Admittedly, you might not matter to others as much as you do to me but that doesn't mean you don't at all." He stopped, running a hand through his already messy hair. You looked down at your bare feet, still trying to make sense of what he just said.

"Look ______, I'm not really sure of how these things go but I think they start something like this." You looked up, about to say something. Well you would have if you weren't stopped by his mouth on yours. It wasn't a long kiss. But just long enough to make you blush and your heart rate to quicken. Thank god you weren't still hooked up to the monitor. Maybe you would've liked to stay like this for longer, his hand gently holding the side of your neck, you with both your hands in his hair. But then he pulled away, leaving his hand at your neck. He smiled at you but looked wary, probably because he expected you to fly off again and lock yourself in another room. You couldn't do that now, not when he literally expressed the fact that you matter that much to him. But you wanted to. To just lock yourself away from feelings and push them out, instead of dealing with them. And of course, potentially getting hurt. You didn't want that to happen again. You couldn't let it happen again. You couldn't.

You could feel your muscles tensing up, ready to run as far away as possible. Far enough so you could just forget. Then you wouldn't get hurt. That's what matters, right? Self presevation? But through your conflicting thoughts, you saw his face again. And he was sad. Maybe not obviously but it was there. It was there in the line of his mouth, in his eyebrows. It was there in his eyes, which were happy just seconds ago and now looked tired and... You couldn't even describe it. It just looked like he was offered something that meant the world to him and was snatched away.

How were you meant to react? On the one hand, you wanted to turn and run away but on the other, you desperately wanted for him to have a smile again, you wanted him to stand close to you, looking at you as he did before you ran and got stabbed. Like you were that one puzzle he would always try to work out. You tried to avoid looking at him but you could still feel his hopeless stare.

He knew you could run. But he also knew you could stay. There's so much he knows and remembers. From little things like how you and John took your tea to your entire backstory. So what could he find interesting about you?! The question kept popping up in your head, like an annoying ringtone. But you had to find out! You'd be stressing for days if you didn't find out. Surely, Sherlock would tell you... wouldn't he? Or would he say 'it's obvious' and leave you more worried than before? Probably the latter but...

You had to make a choice.

Keep up your defences and not run the chance of getting hurt? Or knock them down to be with him?

Run or stay?