Sherlock Imagines & One-Shots

Stages (Sherlock) Part One

Sherlock Holmes was not stupid.
Quite the opposite, actually, but that's besides the point. He wouldn't deny the existence of love- or sentiment, as he called it- but he was proud to announce that "that particularly appalling parasite of frivolous emotional attachment" did not have its grip on him. He regarded sentiment as a waste of perfectly good minds, addling the brain of its hosts and hindering all that was good in the world. It was a plague, an animalistic desire tearing down humanity for the sheer purpose of- of nothing, really. It was just a disease.
Lust- more specifically, romantic entanglement- was even lower, in his opinion. It was a primitive urge that only tangled the cords of logic and reason, causing even the best to fall into the eager, ever creeping snare of domestic hindrance. It was an abomination of emotions and pathetic desire, and he was quite firm he'd never succumb. He'd put up every defense, building up his walls and positioning archers at the gates. Try to approach and pew! Shot down with a few snaps of degrading dismissal. And over time, the fortress had only solidified.
So then how the literal hell had she gotten in?



STAGE ONE
Denial
Noun / De - ni - al / English
: refusal to admit the truth or reality of a statement or charge
: a refusal to satisfy a request or desire

Damn it.
He was staring.
Again.
Sherlock quickly shot his gaze back to his work, his breathing slightly uneven as he tried to refocus on... damn. He couldn't even remember what he'd been doing.
Well, he did. He'd been watching Quinn. The way she laughed at John, her voice ever so American and her teeth ever so white. The way her brow would scrunch when she was deducing, creating tiny little creases in her wintry skin, soft, soft skin that just begged and ached to be touched. The way her hair fell down her back, glinting as it reflected the cool light of the lab, overwhelming Sherlock with the inexplicable urge to run his fingers through her silky locks- for the sheer purpose of science, of course.
Obviously.
The way she smirked, her stupidly memorizing lips tugging up wickedly, a smirk that hid the secrets of the universe, secrets Sherlock ached and longed to know. The way her hips dipped and rolled as she clipped across the room, her steps almost a strut, and Sherlock couldn't bring himself to tear his gaze away. The way she looked at him with her stupid, stupid, stupidly gorgeous eyes, tightening his gut as she rose a brow, causing his throat to become rather dry as she-
"Are you trying to deduce me?"
Sherlock blinked, reality flooding back into his skull so hard it hurt.
Shit.
He reflexively pulled a scowl upon his face, ignoring the slight irregularity of his pulse as he glared at the woman smirking down at him.
"Or do you just like what you see?" She settled her elbows upon the table, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes as she wiggled her brow suggestively.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Please. If you're implying I'm sexually intrigued by you, I'm afraid you're not as bright as Mycroft gives you credit for."
Quinn was unfazed, a lazy grin spend across her face. "You don't have to fancy someone to appreciate their looks, Sherlock." She winked at him, and Sherlock's lungs tightened, as though someone had filled his lungs with helium.
But then she turned, and it was gone.
"Isn't that right, Johnny?"
John snapped up from his nap, blinking away the distorted daze of sleep from his eyes. He swiped his mouth across his creamy jumper, wiping off any drool that had settled there.
"Muhm?"
"Exactly."

John yawned, straightening as he surveyed the two detectives, bleary-eyed. "What time is it?" He asked, the musty tang of sleep still swirling on his tongue.
"Dunno. You've been asleep for about an hour." Quinn replied absently, scrolling through the messages on her phone.

"Well, I wouldn't have fallen asleep in the first place if it wasn't for you two assholes keeping me up all night." John said, running his hands through his hair.

He paused.

"I don't mean that like- nevermind. But honestly, you two, do you really need to stay up so bloody late? Unlike you two, I've got an actual job. I need to wake up at six, and if I can't sleep till five, it's sort of a bitch."