Sherlock x Reader

Much too alike, dear

You were walking through a forest of black and white. Black trees, white leaves, black grass and a white path. The sky overheard was a swirl of red - all kinds of red. Crimson, burgundy, scarlet and carmine danced around each other, almost hypnotic in their movements, almost forcing you to dance around in circles before you could force your head down to look ahead into the seemingly never-ending forest. You had no idea which way to go, if going ahead would lead you out or force you further into the belly of the forest. All you knew was that you had to keep moving forward or that thing - the thing you felt watching you, following you, practically breathing down your neck - would catch up. And that would be the end.

So you kept moving forward.

The forest was exactly the same, the same branches grazing past your face, the same leaves falling just as you passed them, even the same white rocks camouflaged in the white path that constantly threatened to trip you over. You felt that thing creep up closer and closer. You slowly sped your pace up to a speed-walk, then a jog before going into a flat out sprint. The branches that had just grazed past were now slicing into your skin, the leaves had turned to hail and flew after you, the rocks grew into boulders and made a maze out of what had been a simple, straight path. You kept running and running, your lungs on fire, blood running down your face, your limbs going stiff from the bruises erupting from the relentless hail. On and on it went, and the thing just kept getting closer. It kept getting closer and no matter how fast you ran, it got closer and closer until you felt its fingers creeping up your back and around your neck and-

You sat up so fast that it sent what you could see of the room through your sleep-ridden eyes into a spin, but you kept yourself from falling back onto the bed. The phantom fingers lingered on your neck and you scratched at the delicate skin, desperate to get rid of that creeping feeling. You were almost at the point of hyperventilating when hands, someone else's hands, wrapped around your wrists and placed them around your bent up knees. You didn't want to look up. If you looked up then that person - he - would be real.

"Your dreams won't follow you into real life, ______. You of all people should know that."

He started to take his hands away but you clung to them as desperately as you had tried to shake off that thing, just seconds earlier. And finally, you looked up. God, that face just never failed to take your breath away. Those eyes, that straight nose leading the way down to the surprisingly soft lips. You wondered briefly whether he was actually more vain than he seemed and took the time to use lip balm or whether he was just blessed with perfect genes. Probably the latter, the lucky bastard. Dammit, how could you allow yourself to get lost in that face, you weren't allowed, you were not allowed to do that anymore.

You felt his hands pulling away again and this time, your clinging did nothing to keep them attached to your own hands. The face showed no sadness, no pity. No nothing. Not even any regret at what happened. Like he didn't care. He probably didn't. Yeah, why would he care about having anything to do with you? You brought this on yourself, you created this distance, it was your fault, all of this.

But you had to try. You had to try to fix things. And something had happened last night because he started it. He initiated the kiss, all of it and you'd just followed suit. And what did you have to lose? Nothing you hadn't already lost.

You noticed him walking to the door. How did he move so fast? Or where you just daydreaming for far longer than you realised?

"Wait. Please, just wait." His hand kept reaching out for the doorknob. "Goddammit, Sherlock, I said wait! God, how fucking hard is it to just listen to someone who isn't you?" He turned around. And finally, there was an emotion. Amusement, a smirk.

"So you've finally found your voice? It's been radio silence for, how long now? Over a month? And when you finally deign to grace me with your words, you hurl abuse at me. Classic move, ______. Very in character." He was still smiling but there was an anger just behind his eyes, just starting to burn and threatening to spill over.