Dark Secrets (Sherlock x Reader)

Two Years Later

Sirens could be seen and heard everywhere around you as you ducked underneath the yellow tape and made your way onto the crime scene.

Several people were already surrounding the corpse, including your boss, Greg Lestrade.

You quickly approached him. ''So, what is it this time around?'' you asked.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. ''Another female victim around twenty years old. She was shot once in the stomach and once in the head. Her purse is missing but she is still wearing expensive jewellery, so I doubt this was a robbery gone wrong. Personal motive from what I gather.''

''Did you find her ID?''

''No, nothing of the sort. Anderson is working on finding out who she is at the moment.''

You hummed in thought as you circled the body, letting your eyes scan every detail.

''What can you tell? Is it linked with the other murders?''

''No, it's not. This is a separate case much like all the others.''

''(Y/N), are you sure we're not dealing with a serial killer here? This is the fifth murder this week! There has to be a pattern here.''

You shook your head. ''I can guarantee you, Greg, this is not a serial killer case. These five murders are all separate. There's nothing that connects them.''

''You're the expert,'' Lestrade mumbled, scribbling on his notepad.

''I have a few things I can tell by looking at the body, but I'll need her ID and background information in order to piece together who was responsible.''

''She knew her killer then?''

''Oh, yes, definitely. Call me when you get the information!'' You began walking away but were stopped by a hand grabbing your arm. You turned to look at your boss.

''Are you sure you want to be alone today? I know it's a tough day for you. We could grab some coffee when I finish up at the crime scene? Get your mind off it?''

You smiled. ''Thank you for the offer, but I'll be fine. I need some time alone today.''

He nodded. ''Alright. Take care then. I'll see you tomorrow at the office.''

You said your goodbyes before you began your journey home. As soon as all the people you worked with were out of sight, you dropped your smile and façade.

Today marked the two year anniversary of Sherlock's death. It was an especially hard day for you, but you wanted to spend it alone like you always did. You didn't want people to see how bad you were doing still after all this time.

It took you a long time to pick yourself back up enough to start working again and lead a somewhat normal life, but the pain of losing the man you loved never really went away. You were still grieving.

To the outside world, you seemed to be doing fine. You were a tremendously talented detective with many solved cases under your belt, you socialised when necessary, and always seemed to be in a good mood. Though, they didn't see you when you were alone.

You still lived in 221B, you hadn't been able to leave as the sentimental value was just too much to leave behind, but that didn't make it any easier.

You still cried yourself to sleep most nights. You still had horrible nightmares of the day you lost him and everything you had gone through while you were held captive by Moriarty.

You had considered therapy but didn't feel up to being so open and vulnerable with someone. So, instead, you settled with suffering in silence. That's how you lived your life for the past two years and how you'd continue to live it. You didn't think you could ever move on from him.

You unlocked the door and hurried inside to escape the cold air outside. It was still quite early in the evening and you decided you wanted to visit Sherlock's grave for the anniversary of his death.

You grabbed yourself something quick to eat and went out the door again, making sure to lock it.

On your way to the cemetery, you picked up some flowers and a hot coffee. Bad weather had been predicted for that night and you wanted to keep yourself as warm as possible. Of course, you had the blue scarf tied around your neck. You never went anywhere without it even on the hot summer days.

You pushed open the rusty gate and followed the path to his grave. You had been visiting at least once a week, but tonight was different. It was more difficult.

You felt your chest tighten and your breathing speed up as you approached the headstone. It was still as shiny and beautiful as the day it was placed there, you had taken good care of it.

You put the flowers on the ground and kneeled down in the grass. Warm tears rolled down your cheeks as you mustered up a sad smile. ''Hi, Sherlock,'' you croaked. ''I know I already visited you this week, but I wanted to stop by again for the special occasion.''

The wind howled around you and swept the scarf around.

You tied it tighter around you and curled up against the headstone to keep warm. ''It's been two years now since you left, but it hasn't gotten any easier. I still miss you. I know everyone else does too, but they seem to be handling it much better than me,'' you chuckled softly. ''I remember we used to take walks on evenings like this whenever we didn't have a case to occupy our minds with. I'd always get cold, but you'd give me your scarf to warm me up.''

More tears fell from your eyes and wet the part of the scarf that was pressed against your face.

''I miss you so much, Sherlock,'' you sobbed. ''I know you did what you did for me, there isn't any other explanation, but there had to have been another way. You didn't have to leave me, Sherlock. I didn't want you to leave me!'' You buried your head in your gloved hands as you cried loudly.

Your sobs were drowned out by the sound of the strong wind and it only spurred on your breakdown more. No one could hear you, no one could see you. You were free to let your emotions run wild and not be judged for it.

As the first raindrops fell, you dried your tears and got up from the ground. You pressed one last kiss to the top of the headstone before wrapping your coat tightly around you and walking away.

You walked home the entire way, not bothering to take a cab even though the rain was soaking you to the bone.

You didn't care if you got ill. It didn't matter. Nothing really mattered anymore.

Once at the flat, you changed into dry clothes and covered them in one of Sherlock's robes. You settled down in his chair and soon fell asleep to the clattering sounds of the rain hitting the window.

You were woken up not much later by a loud, blood-curling scream coming from downstairs.

You jumped out of your seat and rushed to the door, pulling it open with so much force, it slammed against the wall behind it. ''Mrs Hudson?'' you called. ''Mrs Hudson, are you alright?'' You quickly made it down the stairs but froze at the sight in front of you.

''Oh, (Y/N),'' your landlady sobbed, looking at you with sympathy in her eyes.

You ignored her. You were frozen in place, your mouth hanging open and your eyes widened in shock. You couldn't move, you couldn't speak, but you felt every emotion you had ever felt bubbling up inside of you.

''(Y/N),'' his deep voice said.