Sherlock Imagines [ Book 2 ]

Evermore [ S.H. ]

Type: songfic [ Evermore by Dan Stevens ], THIS SONG FUCKED ME UP ITS SO PRETTY STAB ME WITH A SPORK I CAN'T

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Warnings: drug use

I Was the one who had it all, I was the master of my fate

His footsteps wore into the floor as his steps quickened, pacing back and forth. His mind was racing and his heart was aching, both becoming unbearable. His fingertips danced along his bruised wrist, yearning to pierce his pale skin and inject what was becoming his only source of life. The only thing keeping him from doing so would be the fact that another dose would indeed guarantee certain death. Even though the concept of death was more than appealing as he trudged towards the window, the aching growing with every step.

I never needed anybody in my life, I learned the truth too late

He pushed the curtains aside to reveal her walking away, rushing from the stairs of 221b and across the street. He yanked them closed, threating to tear them off the rod. He'd spent his entire alone, alone was what protected him. So why was she different? He threw himself on the couch, between her and Mary he couldn't bare to lose yet another person he placed his faith in. The detective rolled onto his side, his long form curling up ever so slightly. His mind began to spin, the high of the drugs seeming to only make her image more vivid. Her (eye color) eyes sparkling like bright gems, her (Hair color) hair cascading down and her lips curved into a smile. Her picture burned into his mind, as it desperately tried to latch onto anything but her with no success.

I'll never shake away the pain, I close my eyes but she's still there

He laid like that for sometime, wallowing in his own misery as time passed. His mind plead and begged for him to silence it with the cut of a needle. He rolled off of the seat, landing on his feet as he moved towards the bedroom where his stash resided under the bed. He paused, hand on the doorknob as he stared at the wood in front of him. With the twist of his wrist he'd be enclosed in a space filled with... well her. He had the choice of being filled with the very essence of the woman he pushed away and retrieving his sweet relief or remain hollow and cold but safe from memories.

I let her steal into my melancholy heart

It's more than I can bare

He sighed, twisting the doorknob open. Everywhere he looked he saw her – she was in the clothes scattered across the floor and the smudged eyeliner on the pillowcase. She was in the bathroom with the makeup piled on the sink and the straightener unplugged. The residue of her perfume was everywhere and invasive. All he could breathe, see, hear was her. He couldn't help the sudden anger that washed over him, it was his fault she left. He clenched his fist but the anger seeped through his fingertips, before he knew it he was led down a path of destruction. He kicked the chest in front of the bed, he slammed the door. He pushed things off dressers.

Now I know she'll never leave me

Even as she runs away

She wanted to help him, in desperate attempts to make him see reason she would use every last breath to reassure him that Mary's death wasn't his fault. She tried to hide the needles and the drugs but he found them, she pulled the syringe and the cigarettes from his hands. But because he was a stubborn arse, because he couldn't see how grateful he should have been he was forced to deal with what remained of her being rather than her. He was left with being able to see nothing but a (eye color)gaze boring into him.

She will still torment me

Calm me, hurt me

The memory of her was bittersweet, her warm touch and smooth voice seemed to be a shield from the opposing world.