Sherlock x Reader

Such a despicable soul.

And then the door opened.

"______? Oh, thank god it's you. Sherlock's been up for hours, and he has been driving me insane. Where did you go, anyway? You look a bit... peaky." It was John who opened. At least you had time to compose yourself and snap out of your stupor.

"I just went out for a walk. The light was coming in through the window and it was annoying me too much for me to have been able to go back to sleep. I'm sorry for you having to deal with Sherlock, I can imagine how annoying he was." You tried to put life back into your voice, you truly did. But it was the combination of fatigue and some slight partial insanity that kept you locked in the moment of a couple hours ago.

"Well, at least you're back, ______." He steeped aside to let you in and you walked in long strides, intent on getting to bed as soon as possible. But an obstacle in the form of Sherlock stood between you and the bedroom door. Well, it was his bedroom to be fair. You couldn't blame him. But if he's the genius that you know he is, in a perfect world, he would step aside and let you be.

But nothing can be perfect and you were left standing just a foot away from Sherlock. You were so hyped up now that the numbness had left you but you had to surpress the surge of adrenaline. You couldn't give away the game. Assuming that Sherlock hasn't already figured it. You could give up. And you wouldn't be blamed for it. Your acceptance could be passed off as a brief moment of insanity.

No. You couldn't. The idea of an almost impossible challenge had already awoken your senses. The wall of suspicion and doubt was already building between you and him. And you liked it. It was sick, but you liked it. You felt truly alive. And you hated yourself for it. Why couldn't you just be content with being in a relationship with the smartest man you'd ever known, who was also very attractive? Why couldn't you just settle into a girlfriend lifestyle and let go of your childish need for games? There were girls that would kill to be in your position right now, Molly being a shining example. But no, ______, you just have to have the game, the challenge, because settling into a normal lifestyle just isn't good enough for you.

"______?" The sound of your name brought you back from your troubled thoughts and Sherlock's hand on your face brought you back to reality. His hand was warm, cupping your cheek, and you couldn't help leaning your face into his hand. And for a moment, a wave of calm washed over you and you felt so content.

But this moment couldn't last forever. You had to compose your thoughts. You had to properly think about what you were going to do. Because you knew you were going to do it. You knew that you would start betraying Sherlock just for the sake of your childish side. How much more pathetic could you get? But you couldn't sort all this out right now. You needed to sleep. Desperately. Sighing, you took Sherlock's hand away, holding it in both of yours. Now, your brain was moving sluggishly and you stood for a while, just looking down at your hands around Sherlock's. The surge of adrenaline had left you as quickly as it had come and you couldn't wait to be lying down on a bed. Well, his bed.

You really needed to be sleeping. Giving yourself military-style commands, you let go of Sherlock's hand and skirted around him, just managing to slide into the gap between him and the door. As you passed him another thought occurred to you. You seemed to be coming up with a lot of these when you were fatigued. Sherlock had always had difficulty in properly analysing and deducting stuff from you. This had just occurred to you, and you realised that you could keep your betrayal a secret.

Hopefully.

You'd commited to this now, mentally at least, and you couldn't turn back now. You couldn't do this to yourself. Not when such a tantalising challenge had presented itself to you, from the mouth of a certain Jim Moriarty. At least this thing wouldn't be blown over in 10 minutes.

Huh. This could turn out to be quite fun.

Too tired to smirk to yourself, you opened the door to Sherlock's bedroom and were about to close it before you felt his lips on yours. Impassioned and spontaneous, you didn't know how to react to this kiss. So you just let it happen, and gladly kissed Sherlock back. You knew that he knew that you were hiding something. You might as well make the most of this. But all too quickly, Sherlock pulled himself away but leaned in to whisper into your ear,

"What could you have been doing from 2 in the morning that left you so dejected?" His voice sent a shiver down your spine. Another reminder of your tiredness. But you used the last of your energy to whisper something back before closing the door to him.

"Well, you'll just have to find out... Won't you?"