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john: yeah, women are cute, but have you seen a curly detective getting really excited about murder and smiling while seeing a body and all the clues it has?
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β’ summary: reader accidentally confesses her feelings to sherlock and he reacts rather sweetly. but later.
β’ word count: 2,014
β’ warning: none
a/n - in case anyone doesn't know the first quote is by tolstoy, i do not own any credit for that.
MASTERLIST
He stepped down, trying not to look at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.
You never understood these lines until you started living with Sherlock in 221B. It was hard not to look at him, and inhale every detail of his face. The curve of his lips, the razor-sharp cheekbones, the deep baritone voice that'd send shivers down your spine, the way you wanted to run a finger along his pale neck . . .
Disgusting! It was disgusting how intoxicated you were by him!
You always have kept your emotions to yourself, much like Sherlock, but not because you hated showing weakness or sentiment but because you wanted no parts of those emotions and their consequences whatsoever. To say that your experience in the romantic field is huge wouldn't be right, but you've played the field long enough to know when to stop.
And yet here you are, letting yourself down, enjoying the obnoxious rush of dopamine, and getting urges to tangle your hand through Sherlock's hair every time you're in his company.
Your shoes click audibly on the sidewalk as you walk beside your roommate, carrying grocery bags in your hands. He's talking about some experiment that he conducted at Bart's. You stopped listening after he said pancreas. Your eyes flickering from the ground to Sherlock's eyes, then back again to the ground. It's hard to keep up with his gaze. You don't like it because it makes you nauseous, but most importantly it scares you because your eyes may tell something that your lips couldn't. You try your best to keep up with his story by humming in agreement occasionally.
Sherlock had agreed to accompany you to the grocery store this morning and you were visibly surprised by that. You'd joked saying he'd woken up on the right side of the bed and to that, he said nothing except gave you one of his smug smiles.
"So would you do it?" He stops, now focusing on you.
"Yes! Absolutely!"
You have no idea what he's talking about but as long as he's not asking you to chase a criminal, you're fine with everything.
His lips curve into a satisfied smile as he looks down at you before leaning in towards your face and whispers.
"At least try to be a good liar."
Your eyelids flutter rapidly as you feel mortified by the sudden proximity. Sherlock steps back, still smirking, then strides ahead with the heavy bags as if they are weightless. You jog behind him struggling with the bags but catch up with him quickly.
"Sorry, I guess, I zoned out." You chuckle answering sheepishly.
"Well, at least I didn't look like a lunatic talking alone, even though it was actually the case." He teases giving you a look from the corner of his eyes.
"Yes, I mean, that is true. But it's almost always that I don't understand what you're talking about even when I'm paying attention to you soβ¦" You trail off shrugging your shoulder as Sherlock rolls his eyes.
"What did you want me to do?" You inquire.
"Donate a pair of lungs."
You stop and look at him with an alarming frown. He chortles in response. Of course, he said that to check if you were listening earlier.
After walking in silence for a couple of minutes he speaks again.
"It's none of my business, but you were zoned out for almost . . . . eight minutes, which suggests you have something on your mind that's troubling you. If you want . . . ." He drawls awkwardly looking straight ahead as you raise an eyebrow. ". . . . you can tell me about it."
"Look at you, talking like a normal friend." You smile at him.
"Trying." He shrugs.
The air suddenly becomes thick. You wonder if he's figured it out and take a long pause to respond as you know he's waiting for you to say something.
"It's . . ." You swallow hard and try to sound casual. "Nothing big actually. Could be dealt with."
He gives you a side glance before snorting.
"I know it's not nothing big. But it's fine if you don't want to bring that up."
You know, it shouldn't be awkward, but your feelings, the things going around your head and the fear is making you awkward and anxious. You continue to walk ahead in the cold silence looking around at the stores.
There's a kid eating ice cream across the street and a few steps away from him is a couple walking hand in hand. You turn your head away from them and look forward only to find another couple walking ahead. You're not sure if they actually are a couple but you think they are. You don't understand why your brain is suddenly spotting cute couples on the street but it's really not helping your situation. You walk past a flower shop and your fingers brush adoringly against the petals of the white lilies from a bouquet, still deep in thoughts.
"I like someone." You mumble, your heart booming in your chest.
"I'm sorry?" He turns his face to you.
"I like someone. It's troubling me." You say clearly this time, raising your face towards him.
"Oh."
That's all that comes out of his mouth but his face does hold a surprised expression.
"Okay." If you're not imagining things then one would also interpret the look on his face as a disappointment.
"Soβ¦β¦ what's troubling you?" He finally asks after a series of 'ohs' and 'okays'.
You laugh at his response.
"You really don't know anything about crushes, do you?" You get a funny look in return.
"Not from any personal experiences, no." He keeps his head straight ahead.
"Well, it feels like I'm trying to travel someplace that doesn't exist." Your tone changes to an intense one.
"So, does this person not reciprocate your feelings?" He turns to look at you curiously.
"Yes, I think he doesn't. At least not in the way I have feelings for him."
"Well, just forget him then. What's the point of wasting your time on someone who doesn't care? There are plenty of other men in the world for you." He shrugs nonchalantly as if he just gave you the easiest solution to the problem.
"You think it's easy to get over someone? I can't just forget him, I see him every day!" You blurt out irritated.
"Every day? Don't tell me it's someone from the Scotland Yard. The place is filled with morons." He scoffs.
"No!" You wince. "And it's not important! The point is, your advice isn't very helpful."
"I never said I'd give you a piece of advice. I said I'll listen." He points out. "Tell me more about him."
You squint at him surprised and utter an 'okay'.
"Well, he's . . . pretty . . ." You feel a bashful smile growing on your face.
"Pretty what?"
"Pretty." You state laughing.
He looks at you condescendingly and you gasp in defense.
"Sherlock, just because you don't appreciate people's appearances does not mean everyone else shouldn't too!" He only rolls his eyes and urges you to continue.
"He's funny, and quite smart too. Actually he's really smart."
You reach Baker Street. Sherlock opens the door for you and you step inside. He does it without realizing it, like it's his second nature, but it makes you smile warmly.
"Sweet. He's very sweet when he has to be." You can't stop smiling and he scrunches up his face at your words.
"Though he is a dick most of the times." You chuckle. " But again no one's perfect."
"Sounds oddly familiar." He remarks suddenly giving you serious look.
"He is." You gulp.
He knows. He knows. He knows. There's no way he doesn't.
The longer he looks at you the smaller you wish to become.
"Oh great! You're back." Mrs. Hudson comes bursting through her apartment as she notices you two halfway through the stairs. "You two, alright?" She asks looking between the two of you.
Sherlock answers with a firm yes without breaking eye contact. But growing nervous you break it and turn to Mrs. Hudson with a small smile.
"Would you take a look at the vacuum cleaner for me? It's stopped working." She explains in a hurry.
"Give me a minute." Sherlock answers quickly gesturing to the bags. "I'll help you fix it."
He rushes past you with bags then enters the apartment. You tail behind him like a puppy, but with a sad face. He stands in the middle of the room looking lost as his eyes roam everywhere but on you after dropping the bags. Then he heads straight out of the door clearly feeling uneasy about the situation.
Your eyes linger on the doorway a little too long, wishing he'd come and say at least a word, but he doesn't. You lay on the couch and stare at the ceiling wondering if it was a mistake.
Maybe you shouldn't have discussed your feelings with Sherlock. You knew it'd come to this. It always does. This has happened before. What were you even thinking? That he'd somehow be happy and confess his love for you too? What kind of fairy tale miracle were you waiting for?
You get up and head to the bedroom hoping that a nap would help you escape your thoughts.
- - - - - - - - - -
It didn't. You tried to rest but you couldn't. Every time you closed your eyes you saw Sherlock looking down on you, ridiculing you about being weak and rejecting you. So instead you cried, read a few chapters from a book, nibbled on a piece of bread, and spent the whole afternoon in Sherlock's bedroom since he never decided to come back after fixing Mrs. Hudson's vacuum cleaner.
It was evening now and John was back and watching the TV. You'd asked him if he knew where Sherlock was but he didn't. So you didn't press more about it and went to make yourself something to eat.
You stand in the kitchen while making some instant noodles and hear a shuffling noise in the living room followed by John's voice.
"Who are these for?" You hear John ask.
"No one." You recognize the deep voice.
There's a pause, then you hear a few footsteps, and soon Sherlock's standing adjacent to the dining table. He's holding something in his hand. Flowers. He's holding flowers in his hand. They are white lilies, just like the ones you saw this morning.
You look up at him and he looks a little embarrassed, cheeks tinted pink. His adam's apple bobs as he steps forward.
"These are for you." He says softly looking at you before his eyelids flutter several times nervously.
His blue eyes have never looked more beautiful and you wonder if this a dream. Your face is a blushing mess as you feel a tingling sensation in your toes and stomach. John's face catches your attention and he gives you a teasing smile. You bite your lip embarrassed. He'd always assumed that you'd liked Sherlock and you'd denied it, every time.
"John." Sherlock turns to him and John raises his eyebrows in response. "You're making her nervous." Your eyes go wide at his comment.
John raises his hands in defense and goes back to the TV.
You slowly take the flowers from his hands while his lips hold a delicate smile that you've never seen before. He leans forward and places a delicate kiss on your cheek, then steps back again.
Your lungs fill with so much air it becomes hard to breathe. You frankly want to throw yourself out the window just so you could confirm whether this is a dream or not.
"Thanks." You breathe out. "So . . . . what's this about?"
"You know very well what this about." He smirks and stands straighter locking his hands behind.
"Are you sure? Really?" You ask doubtfully.
"Would you like a formal letter?" He sasses back.
You roll your eyes and step forward grabbing him by his collar. His lips press against yours and it's all that you've been waiting for for a long time.
And although you can't see, you're sure that John's jaw is touching the floor right now.
special tags: @starks-hero
π―οΈ a/n: hey everyone! thank you so much for reading! requests are open, so if have any requests for sherlock let me know. hope you're having a lovely day!
