Sherlock preferences

Writingmas - Day 4

Sherlock oneshot - Christmas outfit

"Ughh... For the last time, I do not care what you wear to this stupid party!" Sherlock droned wearily as he rubbed his eyes with lethargic effort. The pale, walls of the changing room -complete with some variation of freakish modern lighting- were intimidating to Sherlock. He just wanted to leave, and you were taking too long to decide...
You twisted round, unsurely in your booth as you critically analysed your twelfth dress of the evening. It was a pretty red/burgundy colour and had long sleeves and a plunging neckline. The entire ensemble appeared to display a sheen which made your body glow.
"Okay, what do you think?" You sighed, stepping out past the heavy grey curtain and standing unsurely in front of your boyfriend. For a few moments, his senses were delayed. This unfamiliar setting was putting him on edge and so the time it took for his to respond to your simple question lagged and buffered a little as if he were a robotic entity, calculating a reply. As he opened his eyes, his mood changed.
"Wow" he mumbled, transfixed on your outfit. "I think this is it". He forced himself not to smile too much but he couldn't deny you looked absolutely gorgeous in it.
"If your sure?..." You asked, reinforcing his praise
"Of course. You look beautiful! You always do."
Sherlock always had a manner of giving compliments which made you blush even when they were only little comments. The low pitch of his voice coupled with his innocent personality made for a rather attractive speaker.
"Ok then", you grinned from ear to ear "let's go!"

- at Christmas party later that evening-

The dimly lit room -in which you were all gathered- was buzzing with an ethereal energy which cast violet and hazy blue lights across the room from the speakers. As you danced, you had somehow become separated from Sherlock in the crowd and you were now simply stood, awkwardly, against the wall with a drink in your hand.
From seemingly nowhere, Anderson swaggered up to you, clearly very heavily intoxicated.
"Well, well, well. We meet again (y/n)" he slurred and swayed in the darkness in a pitiful attempt to sound suave.
"Great..." You whispered under your breath and took a mouthful of the horribly made, cheap, 'woo woo' cocktail that Greg had sloshed together ten minutes before people had begun to arrive.
"Been thinking 'bout me have you?" Anderson purred disgustingly as he fell against your side "my, that is a bonny Christmas outfit isn't it?" He spoke, reaching for the neckline when you slapped his hand away forcefully.
"Easy tiger!" He warned you weakly, raising his eyebrows to supposedly stake some kind of superiority over you. It didn't work.
"Leave me alone Anderson! Or I'll get Sherlock."

"You wouldn't..."

"I would!"

"Oh no you don't!" He lurched forward, trying to clumsy cover your mouth but instead ended up pouring his beer down your cleavage. "Oops?..."

"SHERLOCK!!" You hollered over the heads of the guests, still dancing aimlessly together with no clear start or end point. They just obediently followed along like sheep. Within mere seconds, Sherlock had appeared at your side and stared down at Anderson with a look comprised of anger, repulsion and annoyance.
"How many times do I have to tell you?... Do NOT touch my girlfriend!"
Anderson gave a quiet whimper before building up some courage (or stupidity) to retort:
"Well, she shouldn't dress so provocatively! She's basically asking for it."
In that instant, Sherlock froze. Every single drop of colour drained from Anderson's face as Sherlock tightened his fist and stepped forward. With an immense crack, Sherlock's knuckles collided with Anderson's stupid face. For a while, he laid passed out on the floor, damp with alcohol, but when he finally awoke, he fled, with tears in his eyes, to hide in the bathroom. Sherlock exhaled with his eyes closed in an attempt to expel some if he anger which had boiled over inside him, scorching his heart. He was alarmed by what he heard next.
"S-Sherlock?... I'm not asking for it am I?..." You questioned, slightly embarrassed as you rubbed the sleeve of your dress. Your sudden nervousness was obvious and Sherlock's heart was pulled once again.
"What!? No! Of course not! Nobody asks for anything! It's just idiots like him that don't understand personal boundaries... I may not be a people person but even I now that behaviour like that is absurd... Are you okay?..."
You nodded, tearfully as Sherlock held out his arms as a kind of comfort blanket. A buffer zone between your emotions and harsh reality. You slid your arms round him and clung onto his waist tightly shaking through jerky, shallow breathing.
"Shh... It's okay... I'm not letting you go" Sherlock comforted you as he rested his chin on the top of your head.
"And for what its worth, I still think you look stunning."
You looked up at him, tears in your eyes but unable to lynch back the grin which had crept it's way onto your face.
"Thank you, Sherlock." You closed your eyes and pursed your lips, meaning to give him a quick kiss on the cheek but he intercepted you. Your lips met in a joyous magnetic attraction which seemed to silence the rest of the party for a single, glittering moment.
"Home?" You suggested, tiredly as you broke apart.
"Home." He nodded in response. You left, hand in hand (with Anderson still sobbing in the toilet).

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A/n- if you were wondering, this is the dress I was thinking of:

I bought one the other day and it is so fricking comfortable 👌🏻