Sherlock Imagines and Preferences 2

Anniversary Gift

''Are you sure, (Y/N)?'' 

''Positive.'' You smiled reassuringly at him and he caved. 

''Alright, fine. But I want you to call when you figure it out. And be careful, okay?'' 

You nodded. ''Thank you, Greg.''

Slowly but surely, all policemen left the warehouse. The minute the last one left, Sherlock shut all entrances and locked them. ''Just in case we're not alone here,'' he explained after noticing your questioning gaze. 

You nodded and sauntered over to the body, scanning it with your eyes. ''He was killed just like the victims back then,'' you deduced. 

Sherlock crouched down and took a closer look, using his magnifying glass. ''How's this possible?'' He mumbled after a while. 

''What's wrong?'' 

''There are no traces of the killer, not anything. The body is perfectly clean.'' 

''Maybe it was The Black Lotus? They are experts.'' 

Sherlock shook his head. ''No, Darling, look at the crime scene. No one found an origami flower before we came here. It's their trademark, they leave it on all their victims. This wasn't done by them.'' 

''Oh, right,'' you muttered, slightly disappointed in yourself for not realising.

Sherlock got up and dusted off his coat, storing his magnifying glass back in his pocket. ''Love, I want you to guard this place, don't let anything slip past you,'' he ordered. ''I need to enter my Mind Palace and figure this out. I am missing something important, I can feel it, but I just can't put my finger on it.'' He sighed, pulling at his hair in frustration. ''I need to think.'' He sat down on the floor, back leaning against the wall. 

You watched as he placed his hands underneath his chin. As soon as his eyes closed, you knew he was gone. Nothing would be able to get him out of his concentrated state. A bomb could go off and he wouldn't even notice. Once Sherlock entered his Mind Palace, there was no way to get him out of it.

You sighed deeply. It would probably take a while for Sherlock to jump back into reality, so you decided to just walk around the warehouse for a bit to avoid boredom. However, your tactic failed and after sauntering about for thirty minutes, you were on the verge of freaking out. 

You hated being bored. You hated being of no use to solve a case, it made you feel inferior. You just wanted to prove to everyone that your ability to deduce was just as well-developed as Sherlock's. And although you were close to his level, you weren't quite there yet and it often got on your nerves.

As you fought an internal battle, creating arguments in your head just to kill the time, you heard a single click echo through the nearly empty warehouse. Your head snapped into the direction of the noise as you tried to find the source. ''Hello?'' You called, slowly walking towards the stack of boxes where it came from. ''Hello?'' You called again.

One of the boxes ripped apart as a knife burst through. 

You jumped back in fright, fumbling on your belt to grip your gun. Adrenaline coursed through you as someone dressed in full black came running out of the ripped side of the box, holding a knife and a gun in his hands. 

''Stop!'' You yelled, still trying to get your gun from your belt. 

The criminal shot the lock of the main door a few times and dragged the heavy door open. He turned to you, flashing a sickening smile before raising his gun and firing a bullet. 

Before you could comprehend what had happened, you fell to the floor. 

The door slammed shut with a loud bang and the man was gone. 

You tried to get up to chase after him but then the pain hit you. A groan escaped your chapped lips as you rolled onto your back. You looked at your stomach and saw your blood-drenched shirt. You hissed in pain and took off your scarf, applying pressure to the gaping wound the bullet had left. 

Your head rested on the floor as you kept pushing onto your injury, groaning in pain as you did so. ''Sherlock!'' You yelled. ''Sherlock!'' 

You called his name again and again but he simply didn't hear you. He was right in front of you against the wall, but he was so deep in thought that all the noises were drowned out by his mind.

Blood continued to ooze out of your wound, your scarf completely useless by now. Frustrated, you threw it to the side and used your hand to block the blood flow instead. But it was no success. More blood left your body and you began to feel lightheaded as the pain increased. 

You knew if you didn't do anything now, you wouldn't survive. But you were in no state to move and Sherlock didn't hear you. 

With all your remaining strength, you managed to sit up. Dizziness struck you and you nearly fell back, however, you managed to balance yourself. You got onto your knees, clutching your stomach. 

The phone in Sherlock's pocket caught your eye and you managed to crawl towards it before collapsing on the floor once again. Black spots clouded your vision as you gripped his phone. You clumsily unlocked it and slammed the buttons one by one. Your arm fell limp to the floor next to your head, the phone still clutched in your hand as your eyes began to close. 

Finally the beeping stopped and someone answered the phone. ''Hello?'' 

''Greg,'' you groaned before your eyes fluttered shut. All strength left your body and the phone slipped from your hand. A faint whisper left your lips and the darkness won.

You slowly opened your eyes, the constant beeping noise drumming into your sensitive ears. You groaned softly as light seeped through your eyelids. After a second or two of adjusting, your vision cleared up and you managed to get a good look of your whereabouts. 

Everything was sickly white and the room smelled of disinfectant. You instantly realised where you were; the hospital. 

Turning your head sideways, you saw Sherlock sitting loosely in a chair, arms hanging limply over the edge as his chest slowly rose and fell. His face was slightly red and his eyes were puffy, tear marks evident underneath. 

With a lot of effort, you lifted your hand and placed it on his knee. This small movement caused him to jerk awake and frantically look around the room. Once his tired eyes met yours, the tears started to flow again and he embraced you tightly. ''(Y/N), oh, (Y/N), I am so sorry.'' He cried.

You gently placed your hand on his back as a soft smile spread on your lips. ''It's okay, Sherl,'' you croaked. 

''No, no, it's not okay! You could have died and it's all my fault!'' He sobbed into your shoulder as you calmly stroked his back, burying your face in his curls. 

''You were thinking, Sherlock. We both know you completely zone out when you're in your Mind Palace, it's okay.'' 

He raised his head and looked at you, tears evident in his eyes. ''It shouldn't be like that! It put your life in danger, Love. All because I couldn't figure out that stupid case.'' 

You smiled softly and wiped the tears off his face. ''I'm alive, aren't I?'' 

He nodded. 

''Then stop beating yourself up about this. It's not your fault!'' 

''But what if you didn't manage to call Lestrade and warn him? What- What if—'' 

You cut him off. ''But I did manage, Sherlock! And he arrived on time! It's okay. I am not angry nor am I upset. It's who you are and I love you.'' 

He smiled slightly, tears still trickling down his face. ''I love you, too. I promise this will never happen again. I'll keep you safe from now on.'' 

''Thank you,'' you whispered. 

He bent down and gently placed his lips on yours. The kiss didn't last long but it held all words that weren't said but needed to get out somehow. 

You knew he was sorry and that was enough for you. You were still alive and you were still together. And that was all you could ever need. 

Happy anniversary indeed.