Sherlock One-Shots and Preferences

Moriarty - One Sided Love part 2

The mention of Moriarty made me frown. Everything that he had done started to bounce around in my mind again. I sighed and told John that I was tired, he nodded and I made my way to my room. John was kind enough to change my sheets so I was welcomed home to fresh sheets. I climbed into bed after removing my socks and sweater and didn't truly emerge until a few weeks later. I had shut myself out of the world, it seems that life just wanted to undo it's pants and take a big ol' dump on me. I felt depressed because I was depressed. It's like I didn't know what to do because there was so many things to do and if I were to start I wouldn't be able to ever reach victory.

When you think about self harm, you think tiny blades stored away some where that one would regularly use. Well...not really. I had somehow come to the conclusion to try cutting. No voices told me anything, nothing really sparked my interest about it...I just thought that maybe it was a way to escape for a couple minutes. So I ended up here in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet with a kitchen knife in my hand. I twirled it in my fingers a couple times and almost dropped it once. I fumbled to catch it and luckily I skipped it clattering on the ground. I sighed quietly in relief and looked at the blade, licking my lips and putting the edge to my wrist. I pressed it in very softly, the cold metal infected my wrist and I thought about chickening out. With one deep breath I pressed the knife in and slashed down quickly. Let's just say it's no 'relief'. It's pain and everything like it! My eyes widened and I tried to contain my moans of pain. Blood dribbled in a steady stream from my wrist, I didn't want to move it because it hurt so bad.

Someone must have heard my squeaks and deep breathes, because a short knock on the bathroom door almost made me hit the ceiling.

"Y/N?" Sherlock's deep baritone voice purred from the other side of the door. I cursed mentally and cradled my wrist, but all I did was make my hand stained with blood. The faster my heartbeat the more blood that poured out, I couldn't calm myself down and the amount of pain and deep red that I saw made me want to pass out.

"Yes?" I replied as normally as I could though my voice was hushed and high.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked, I could imagine his face scrunched up with his brows furrowed as he listened to my weird grunting and squeaking.

"Uh um, yeah fine." I rushed out as I tried to apply pressure to my wrist. It didn't really work, I only hissed in pain as more blood dribbled to the ground, staining the bath at and probably the floor.

"Alright." Sherlock said a little confused. There's no plausible way I could cover this up, tears started to bubble in my eyes as I knew I was in big trouble.

"Wait Sherlock please!" I cried, his footsteps immediately faltered as he turned on his heels towards the door again. "I messed up! I did something really bad!" I said, my chest started to heave but a sharp pain stopped me. I yelped in pain, now my lungs hurt and my wrist is on fire with pain.

"What did you do? Open the door!" Sherlock jiggled the door knob but I remembered that I had locked the door. I stood up and lurched towards the door, all that blood loss had made me light headed. My hand fumbled to unlock it, and the door swung open and almost hit me if I hadn't dodged it within a millisecond. Sherlock was looming over me, looking at every inch of me with his piercing eyes. His eyes fell to my wrist and his hands quickly grasped around it, squeezing it tightly to stop the bleeding. I screamed out in pain as tears slipped down my cheeks, Sherlock didn't really care about my pain, I think he mainly focused on stopping the bleeding. He hollered to John who came to barreling towards us, John's eyes widened at the blood covering the floor and I, but instead of staring like a fool he pulled his cell phone out and called the paramedics, explaining my situation as Sherlock told him what to say. I was speechless, here I am bleeding out while my two flat mates are tending to me. Here I was trying to practically kill myself. My knees gave out at the thought of everything really. Sherlock held me as I sank to the ground in some sort of trance, I could hear him screaming at me but I made no acknowledgement of him, I just let everyone do their thing absentmindedly; and like that I was back in the hospital.

I only needed stitches and that's really all, but all the blood on my hands and shirt made me look like I just murdered someone. Sherlock and John walked up to my little spot in the crowded hospital. Sherlock was clearly unhappy and John looked pitifully at me. I hated that look, and I knew every day for the rest of my life he would look at me like that, like I was sick.

"Why would you do that?" Sherlock frowned, his plump lips tightening into a thin line. I only swallowed and looked down, not saying a word. Within seconds Sherlock's hands were gripping my shoulders tightly and shaking me roughly. "Do you know what that would do to me?" Sherlock growled, his curls bouncing as he spoke.

"I-I don't know..." I stuttered out. I had never seen Sherlock so infuriated by something, he was so mad that his pupils dilated. I could feel his breath on my neck, we were in such close proximity that I couldn't help but blush. I could see all of Sherlock's features, the tiny little details that make Sherlock so attractive; the little speckles of dark or gold in his eyes, his Cupid-bow lips, how his curls fell sloppily onto his face.

John watched Sherlock and tapped his shoulder. "Be easy with her Sherlock."  Within that second of John putting his hand on Sherlock's shoulder he pulled me into a hug, which was extremely odd for Sherlock Holmes. His lips radiated warm breath onto my neck and ear, and I swear I will never forget the words he whispered to me.

"I don't know what I'd do without you Y/N."

He pulled away and Sherlock's eyes seemed to lock onto mine, and I somehow knew, everything was about Sherlock.

I was interested in Moriarty because I wanted to have the satisfaction of knowing that I helped Sherlock, I wanted to make him impressed, I wanted to help Moriarty because I thought that if I saved London then I would become something in Sherlock's eyes. I self harmed because I couldn't see something so bluntly obvious, that I  seemed to be secretly in love with Sherlock Holmes. It was so secret that I kept it from myself.

And the funny thing was, I found out not too later that Sherlock Holmes was  in love with me as well.

Sooooo that was a bad ending but I really wanted to get this out, I've been really busy with school and stuff so forgive me for slow updates. -3-

-CW