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high-functioning-lokipath · 2 years

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sherlock realizing he has a crush on you while he's talking aloud? Since it helps him think better?

A/N: @gaitwae you made me write a 2072 word oneshot...how dare you...JK THANK YOU 😍

TW: The case Sherlock and you are working on in this story deals with Domestic Abuse. There is nothing graphic depicted of the actual abuse, only mentions of injuries and the fact that it happened. There is a somewhat specific description of murder (it's probably tame compared with actual murder mysteries but it a bit more detailed than I usually am)...and don't worry...everything does have a happy ending 🥰

"It must be Torry!" Sherlock exclaims, jumping up from his chair and angrily pacing in front of the wall where you and he have pinned all the clues. He stops dead in his tracks and yells angrily. "But she's too short!"

"Sherlock," You groan, rubbing your forehead. "Let's just take it from the top. Samantha's husband is murdered. The next day, it's revealed by her best friend, Torry, that the husband had been abusing Samantha. The only possible suspects so far are the two women. Samantha, as you decided, is too emotionally worked up to have killed her husband regardless of how abusive he was. Torry is angry enough but is too short to have stabbed him at that angle. So that leaves us with 1 dead, no suspects."

"We need to talk to Torry again. I need to find out about Samantha."

"Alright, Sherlock, I'll call her and we'll have lunch tomorrow to talk."

"Tonight, I need to talk to her-"

"Tomorrow, Sherlock. Tomorrow,” You interrupt, giving him a pointed look. “It’s nearly midnight.”

He rolls his eyes and huffs. “First thing in the morning.”

“We can’t wake her up at the crack of dawn!” You yell, rubbing your brow. “Look, how’s breakfast? It’s a good compromise for both of us.” Sherlock curses but doesn’t disagree. You smile and hug him regardless of his dislike for physical contact. “Now go to bed, Sherlock! You need to sleep, no matter what you want to say.”

Sherlock huffs once more but goes to his bedroom. You head on up to yours and flop on the bed. Sleep illudes you, however, as you think of what you’re doing. Sherlock and you had met a few years ago on a crime scene. John had recently moved out and Sherlock was desperately in need of a new crime buddy. The rest, you could say, is history. With the exception of one simple fact. You'd fallen in love with Sherlock. Sure he sometimes did or said things that gave you hope, but even if he had feelings for you, he'd never recognize what they were. You knew your chances with him were astronomically low but, now matter how much it hurt you, you stayed by his side. He needed you and you needed him.

The next morning, you met up with Torry at a cafe nearby for breakfast. Sherlock asked all the questions he needed and seemed quite pleased with the result.

"A work friend!" Sherlock grins. "This changes everything!" You chuckle at his excitement and the two of you head off to meet this co-worker of Samantha, hoping to find more clues.

When the two of you arrived at George's house, you were surprised to see Samantha answer the door. "Oh, hello there," She said, trying to force a smile. She seemed slightly happier, but was obviously still reeling from the events of the past few days.

"We're here to see George," Sherlock states matter of factly. Samantha suddenly looks terribly frightened so you smile softly at her.

"He's not in trouble, we just want to ask him a couple of questions in case he knows anything that can help." She nods slowly, letting the two of you in. George walks in the room and immediately wraps his arm around Samantha, glaring slightly at you both.

"What do you want?" He demands. Sherlock steps forward, ready to fight, but you grab his arm, pulling him back.

"We just have a couple of questions for you, George. Nothing serious but we need to find out if there's anything you know that could help us." He agrees and the four of you sit down in the living room. Thankfully, Sherlock is able to ask all the questions he needs to before abruptly standing up and rushing out the door.

"Where is he going?" Samantha asks.

"Home, probably," You chuckle. "I apologize for his behavior, he's brilliant but sometimes misses social cues."

"It's alright," Samantha smiles. "My George can be like that too sometimes." George blushes brightly and shakes his head.

"She's right, unfortunately," He admits. You laugh and smile at the two.

"Well, I'd better catch up with him. Thanks again!"

Hours later, Sherlock is still pacing in the living room of 221b. "Why is this so difficult!" He yells, shooting at the wall.

"Sherlock!" You scream, quickly jumping up and grabbing the gun from him. "I thought I had this hidden from you!" You shake your head and sit down. "Maybe you just don't have the right angle. You're sure it's not George either?" You ask.

"It can't be. He's the right height but doesn't have the right motive."

"Being in love with the victim's wife isn't the right motive?" You ask incredulously.

"They're not in love," He replies, making an expression as if the very word had given him a bad taste in his mouth. You raise your eyebrows at him, surprised that he didn't even notice the extremely obvious.

"Did you not see the way they looked at each other?" You ask.

"They looked at each other no differently than you and I do," He says, not looking at you as he looks over the clues again. "He kept his arm around her to comfort her, she stayed close to him for the same reason. She was happier because she was with a friend. Nothing about that means lo-"

"Sherlock," You whisper, eyes welling up with tears, voice cracking. "I'm sorry, I need to go." You hurriedly grab your coat and run out of the apartment.

Sherlock frowns and your reaction. He goes to text John for help but stops. You could be right. If George loves Samantha, he would have wanted to get her out of that situation. Wanted to protect her. He's the right height and build. Perhaps Samantha had come to work badly injured and he couldn't take it anymore. All in the name of love.

He sits down in his chair, running through the scenario in his mind palace.

Samantha gets up early, long before her husband wakes, to get dressed and leave for work. He doesn't let her have a car so she carpools. However, he doesn't allow her around other men. That's why she's up early. She carpools with her co-worker George. George knows her husband is a jealous man, she's told him that much. But he always worries that it's worse than that. Sometimes she has strange bruises that she can only explain as "being clumsy" even though he's never seen her drop a single thing or trip over nothing.

"Where's the motive for murder though," Sherlock wonders. "Most would simply call the police because they're too scared to step in. Why did George have the gall to not just defend Samantha but murder the abuser?" He decides to test your theory.

There's a bus station near Samantha's house. She could easily take that to work but the bus passes are expensive and George notices that she never has a lot of spending money at the cafeteria even for lunch. So he offers to pick her up for work even though he lives across town and she leaves very early. He doesn't mind the extra drive even though his shirt is extra wrinkly at the end of the day. He likes Samantha a lot. He thinks she's very attractive but he sees the wedding ring so he doesn't say anything. He doesn't say anything until one day Samantha asks him to drop her off at the corner instead of in front of her house. She tells him that her husband is very jealous and that's why she leaves extra early for work. She doesn't want her husband to see George. He respects that. But then he notices the other signs. One morning she gets into the car, a brand new bruise on her arm. "I wouldn't treat you like that," He says before he can stop himself. Samantha looks at him with an expression he's never seen before on her face. It quickly goes away, replaced by a look of amusement. "I'm just clumsy," She says. George doesn't believe it. Then it finally happens. He's running late. He gets to her house as fast as he can but it's already happened. Samantha is running out to the car, screaming. Her husband chasing her outside. He has something in his hand but George doesn't even notice. His eyes focus on the pure rage displayed on the man's face. Before another second passes he jumps out of the car, grabbing the hunting knife he had from his trip last weekend. He steps between the man and Samantha, pushing him back and stabbing him in the chest. Time seems to stop for a moment, an eerie silence falling as the man falls to the ground. George looks around in case anyone saw but no neighbors are outside. He turns to Samantha and she throws herself into his arms.

Sherlock replays the last part in his mind, checking the angle and force to see if it would match. For a brief moment as he imagines it, he sees your face in place of Samantha's. He feels a flash of rage as he's never felt before. "I'll kill him," He yells angrily, snapping out of it.

"Kill who?" You ask, having had to come back because you forgot your wallet. Sherlock looks at you, standing in front of him completely healthy if not a little emotionally overwrought. He feels tears spring to his eyes unbidden and he quickly turns away.

"What is happening?" He asks himself, unfamiliar with these emotions. Clearing his throat he speaks up, answering your question. "John, forgot to buy milk."

"Sherlock," You laugh despite yourself. "You're the one who forgets milk! And besides-" Your voice becomes background noise as the realization hits Sherlock.

It's obvious George loves Samantha. He wouldn't have murdered the man if he didn't love her.

"I was ready to kill him," Sherlock thinks, looking back at you. You've stopped talking, knowing he wasn't listening, and are now looking for your wallet among his mess on the table. A few stray hairs are falling in front of your face. The ones you always frustratedly push back. Sherlock tells you to leave them down. They frame your face and bring out your features. You're wearing the coat he bought you. You begged him to let you have a coat like his but he insisted you looked better in this one. And your phone. He finds himself smiling a little at the memory. You wanted a pink case. He refused on the grounds of never wanting to see a pink phone case again. So instead you got a purple one. It matches his favorite shirt perfectly. A fact he never forgot, loving when you match him in some small way. All the memories he has of you suddenly have a new light and it hits him.

"Dear God I love her," He says.

"What?" You exclaim, dropping the glass beaker you were moving. The glass shatters but you pay no mind, only seeing the deep emotion reflected in Sherlock's eyes.

"I said that out loud, didn't I?" He asks, panicking. "Do you feel the same way? Could you? I've never given you any reason to love me. But you're always here for me." He looks at you directly, "Do you love me?" He asks.

"You're asking?" You reply with a smirk, walking over to him. "The great Sherlock Holmes needs to ask something." Sherlock looks away in embarrassment, unsure of how to handle the emotions he's feeling. "Oh Sherlock," You whisper, grabbing his hand. "You really can't tell, can you?" He opens his mouth but finds he has no answer. He shakes his head, still not looking back to you. "Sherlock, among many other examples I could give as proof," You smile, stepping purposely into his line of sight. "I bought a phone case to match the bloody purple shirt you love so much."

"You did that on purpose?" He asks. You nod, blushing brightly. He reaches up and wraps his finger around that little lock of hair. For the first time since you've known him you see a completely genuine and relaxed smile appear on his face. "You love me," He whispers. Looking back into your eyes, he smiles even wider, finally able to acknowledge what he should have a long time ago. "And I love you."

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