This is my first Fanfiction. Basic on Sherlock BBC series.
I know, and also, I read lots of them, there's many other story out there about our lovable Sherlock and his Reader. but still, I want to write down my version, with my own reader back story...
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You run into Sherlock's flat after you make sure that your flat was saved and changed your clothes. "You called my mom?"
"Yes."
"What happened? She's at the grocery apparently." You handed him a note from Mrs. Hudson that she left on the refrigerator.
"Need to borrow her phone." Sherlock puts the note on the table and rolled up his sleeve.
"You need what?" you asked him to make sure you were not miss hearing. Sherlock just glances at you, then continue doing his business in the couch. "Is that three patches?" You pointed at his left arm. There are three nicotine patches patched on his arm. Again, he just glances at you, the he laying down his back in the couch. "I wish I can make you stop your addict," you said.
"Yeah, me too," he said gazing beyond the flat's roof.
"Then stop,"
"Not mine," Sherlock cutted you. "Yours."
You lost your words and blinked randomly, "Well, at least I do my best," you tried defended yourself. "So, John still not here?"
"Soon," Sherlock answering while he texted something on his phone.
"Why you need my mom's phone? You have yours in your hands." He didn't answer, he putted back his phone into his pocket, then closed his eyes. You sighed watching him. It's kinda cute, though, Sherlock, playing "don't care" guy, but it's suck at the same time.
You walk towards the pink case. Open it, and try to examine it. After you found what's strange on it, you close the suitcase, turn you way to Sherlock's laptop on the table. Wasting time, waiting Sherlock to open his eyes to talk about it.
"I'll borrow your laptop."
No answer.
"I'll take that as a yes."
Sherlock still quiet.
Alright, never mind him.
You're reading some crime cases on the Yard's Police data base, there's nothing interesting. Criminal's now days so lost of passion, there were just simple cases that even Anderson can solved them. You've almost killed by boredom when you heard Sherlock deep sighed and footsteps coming over the flat.
"What are you doing?" John asked, looking Sherlock squeezes his left arm as he sighing.
"Nicotine patch," Sherlock lifted up his sleeve, "Helps me think. Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. "
"Bad news for brain work, apparently," you said sarcastically, turn your face from his laptop.
"Well, good news for breathing," said John.
"Oh, breathing. Breathing's boring," Sherlock ignored John's words.
"It that three patches?" John winched at Sherlock's arm.
