Sherlock preferences

I need you

⚠️Trigger warning⚠️ -

This chapter was requested and will contain themes of depression and suicidal thoughts. If you are in any way triggered by things like this, please, don't read on. ❤️
----------------------------------------------

It was a comfortable, Tuesday evening and the flat possessed a certain undisturbed beauty. A kind of natural silence that allowed the sounds of the London streets outside to make themselves known. Sherlock was sitting cross legged in his chair -as always- and the warm licks of the fire provided a sharp contrast against the milkiness of his skin, causing his cheekbones and razor-like jaw to cast black shadows across his cheek and neck. You smiled as you took in his elegance. His thin, sophisticated fingers created an inverted v-shape under his chin which paraded his protruding intelligence.
It was at times like this you hated... As beautiful as they were, they merely provided you with ample time to pick apart your relationship. Sherlock always seemed distant and unloving but you assumed that this was just his character. A lot of his time was absorbed by work. Understandable. He is amazing at what he does. What really starts to worry you, however, is the cancellation of plans.
"Sherlock?" You whispered, trying to clench his attention from the abyss of his mind palace "Sherlock." You tried again, this time seeing his hands stir slightly and his pupils moved about underneath his closed eyelids. With one last "Sherlock!" His eyes were wide open and the expression adorning his face was far from pleased.
"What do you want?" He asked coldly
"We have plans tonight remember? A reservation at six? At the new place own the street."
Sherlock was unimpressed "(y/n)... I am on the very brink of solving a case I've been working on for a month and you disturb me for something as trivial as eating? Unbelievable..." He muttered.
"Well... It wouldn't hurt to spend a little time with your girlfriend!" Your voice was elevated and was even brimming on annoyance in tone.
"Actually, yes it would! I got so much more work done before you arrived! All you are is a distraction! I can't deal with this anymore. It's over."
You froze. Sherlock angered further.
"You heard... We are finished"

You belongings were moved out by the end of the week... "Goodbye Sherlock"

The following months were hell on earth. Most days, you could barely bring yourself to leave your bed so your body became paler an weaker. The days you did emerge, you just threw on a hoodie and gazed lifelessly out of your upper story window. You would look down at the pavement below and think
'How easy would it be to just jump? Just end it all now... All this pain? Sherlock doesn't care... Why should I?'
You looked down and traced your fingers along the fresh plasters on your arm and winced as you caught the skin with your sharp nails. Every day, you would try to muster the strength to just open the window... Just let yourself die! You couldn't do it... One thing kept on rattling round in your brain. Something Sherlock told you ages ago

"Taking your own life. Interesting expression - taking it from who? Once it's over, it's not you who'll miss it. Your own death is something that happens to everybody else. Your life is not your own. Keep your hands off it.'

Every single day... That stops you...

- Six months since you moved out -

The flat was silent. Not the good kind of silent... Not the silent Sherlock liked. Sherlock usually liked quietness but what is the point in silence if there is nobody to break the silence to? Nobody to impress with analytical deduction? Nobody to prove wrong? Nobody to love?... Sherlock sat back in his leather armchair and crossed his legs, trying uncomfortably to enter into his mind palace. He found it unusually hard that day. As he finally settled, an image formed in his head. Your face, standing at an open window. You were wearing the same clothes you wore when you moved out, a pair of leggings and a flowing white top. Sherlock felt his body grow cold and tense up as the image distorted. The window became larger, much taller and wider than you. You stepped up into the window ledge and Sherlock began to sweat
"No..." He mumbled to himself quietly as his blood pumped faster and faster around his body. You tilted your head downwards, elegantly sweeping the hair from your face and tucking it behind you ears. Suddenly, your head tilted rashly upwards and made direct eye contact with his thoughts. He felt your lips move...
"Goodbye Sherlock" you whispered as your body fell forward, plunging to the ground lifelessly...

"(Y/n)!" Sherlock screamed hysterically, wrenching forward in his seat, his nails digging into the upholstery and sweat pouring from his forehead and chest. The infernal ringing in his ears was masked only by his dangerously heavy breathing. He was on the verge of losing consciousness.
"My god... What the fuck have I done?"
He whispered feverishly to himself, clawing his fingers though his hair like some kind of enraged beast. He swallowed hard and reached impatiently for his mobile phone. He dialled Mycroft's number as his fingers quivered: his bitten nails getting in the way of his typing.
"Mycroft! (Y/n)'s address! NOW!"
He hung up, panicked and threw on his shoes (not even bothering to don his signature coat) and barrelled down the steps of 221b before practically throwing himself into the street outside. His phone pinged...

'The address brother dear. And for god's sake... Don't do anything stupid.'
(-address-)

-MH

Sherlock scanned the address hurriedly as he hailed a cab. Suddenly, it hit him... Deduce! Come on Sherlock! Now! He began to speak aloud to himself:

"Fairly late in the day, people will be coming home from work, London is very large so taxi's are a preferred option to walking. The result? Traffic. A lot of it... With the congestion, (y/n)'s flat is a 10 minute ride but... If I take the underground and run... I CAN BE THERE IN 3!!"

He shouted at a passer by as he ignored the taxi and pelted off down the road towards the underground system, his mind palace wake-up-call still tearing his brain painfully to pieces.

Three minutes of breathlessly sprinting later, he arrived at your door achy headed and nose bleeding from the intensity of his impulsive sprint. He clenched his hand into a tight fist, his nails digging into his palm, leaving red arches in his skin. Desperately, he pounded on the front door and waited for a response. As he waited, the heavens above him cracked: rain poured down. Slowly at first but soon, it was drumming down onto his head, flattening his curls which were already sticky with sweat. His eyes widened exponentially as he heard the key click in the lock. One click... Two clicks... Three clicks... You were turning it slowly. The exact second the door opened to reveal your face -alive but only just- Sherlock launched himself towards you, embracing your cold, hoodied, makeup less figure with the strength of ten armies. Despite the obvious shock you displayed by his unannounced outburst, he showed no sights of letting go of you. You were actually forced to drag him inside, his arms still chained round your torso, just to get him out of the hideous rain.

Your back was sodden and warm with his tears but you forced yourself to maintain a composed stance as he broke down.
"S-Sherlock?..." You managed to whisper as he finally forced himself to let go. "What are you doing here...?"
He looked up at you with huge, watering, orb-like eyes and ever so slightly bit his lip, unmasking his fear of rejection.
"(Y/n)... I... I... NEED you!" He managed to choke through the tears. He cupped your now tearing face with his hands and spoke again "I have felt empty without you these last six months... It's just not the same without you being there! I made a mistake and.. I wanted to ask if you would c-come back..."
You swallowed, trying to comprehend such a huge request in the spot.
"Sherlock"
"Yes?" He replied, hopefully.
You closed your eyes, leaned in and felt your lips connect with his...
"I need you too..."

----------------------------------------------
A/n - sorry this part took so long to write... I wanted to be sensitive to the subject. I don't usually write about things this serious, nor have I experienced them. So, if I have made any insensitive mistakes, please, let me know. I will change them as soon as I can. Xxx