Sherlock Imagines and Preferences

The Night We Met

Requested by michufer

Song: The Night We Met by Lord Huron

This is probably one of the oneshots I'm most proud of. I completely lost myself while writing this and the beautiful song that was requested only added to that. I enjoyed myself immensely while writing this and I hope you all like this oneshot. I highly recommend listening to the song, you won't regret it. Thank you so much for reading, voting and commenting. Have a lovely day ♥

~***~

I am not the only traveller

Who has not repaid his debt

I've been searching for a trail to follow again

Take me back to the night we met

Sherlock's hands travelled to your waist, his eyes never leaving yours. A small, content smile on his face as he tightened his grip, holding you firmly. Your arms wrapped themselves around his neck as you gazed into his beautiful blue/green orbs. The corners of your lips motioned upwards as the music started playing. Sherlock had composed and played the song himself and tonight was the first time you heard it. He had been adamant on making you wait until your wedding because he wanted to make the song even more special to you. Beforehand, he had explained to you that the song he wrote specifically for you held every emotion he had felt during your three-year-long relationship. It was his message to you through mesmerising melodies and he knew that once you'd hear it, you would understand how much he loved you. And he was right. Tears rolled down your cheeks as Sherlock began to manoeuvre you across the dancefloor. Not once was the loving gaze between you two broken. His eyes spoke the words to the sweet melody and completely overwhelmed you. Sob after sob escaped your lips as he continued to smile softly and lead your first dance as husband and wife. He knew you knew what he was trying to tell you without having to use words. He had never been someone who was good at expressing his emotions through speech, but he still wanted to be able to tell you how special you were to him. 

His song was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. You understood the unspoken words and silently replied to them with your tears. It was a magical moment of silence between the two of you, the music guiding you as the dancefloor became a sacred place for you and Sherlock. This was where it all began, the ground that would be the start of many happy memories and the start of many dances together. It was a moment so pure and so magical that it could never be described using words, it could never be relived for it was too special and too unique. You and Sherlock knew that and cherished every second of the magical evening. No one else mattered to either of you, it was just the two of you, dancing along to Sherlock's heart-warming speech. It was a moment that would never be forgotten.

And then I can tell myself

What the hell I'm supposed to do

And then I can tell myself

Not to ride along with you

You raised the silver spoon to your lips. Your face scrunched up as the saltiness of the soup attacked your taste buds. ''Did you change the recipe or something?'' You asked, wiping your tongue on a napkin as your face read an expression of pure disgust. Sherlock rolled his eyes. ''Now that's overreacting a bit, Darling. And no, I didn't.'' He stated. ''Then why is it so salty?'' You exclaimed. ''It has always been salty! You love that, remember?!'' Sherlock argued. A sudden wave of nausea washed over you and you jumped up, leaving the dinner table as you hurried to the bathroom. Sherlock called your name in confusion and fright, following you. He got there just in time to see you bending over the toilet and throwing up all the contents of your stomach. His face softened at the sight of you. He carefully sat on the edge of the bathtub and rubbed your back in a soothing manner. Sherlock pulled your hair back and muttered calming words in order to make it a little easier for you. You raised your head from the toilet bowl and wiped your lips on the handkerchief Sherlock handed to you. ''Thanks.'' You muttered weakly. You leant your back against the bathtub, in between Sherlock's legs. He played with your hair as you took a moment to catch your breath and force the nausea to stop bothering you. ''Are you feeling better?'' He asked softly. He repositioned himself on the floor and let you rest your head on his shoulder as he continued to stroke your hair. You managed a small smile and a nod. He frowned, but kept quiet for a moment. ''Maybe it was the soup?'' You offered, the colour in your face starting to come back. Sherlock pretended to be heartbroken and spread his lips in a hurt manner, his hand on his heart. ''There is nothing wrong with my soup, young lady! It is exactly the same as always and if something is off about it, I would be throwing up as well.'' He defended. You giggled a little at his childlike behaviour. ''If it's not the soup then what is it?'' You confronted him. The muscles in Sherlock's face tensed up and soon you copied the same anxious expression as you realised. ''No...'' You laughed nervously. Sherlock swallowed thickly and nodded. ''I suggest you take a test and find out, Love.''