BBC Sherlock Imagines (Book 2)

Teenlock: Meet the Holmes

Thank you to your stepmom, myfirstnameisagent, for facetiming me during this and singing Taylor Swift

~

"Do we have to do this?" Sherlock asked you. You two had just told your parents that you were dating. There had been a lot of hugging and "I knew this would happen eventually" and Sherlock had never looked more uncomfortable. Your dad had pretended to be the tough guy, trying to seem nonchalant when he mentioned the gun he always kept accessible in the house, but couldn't keep the act going for five minutes before he started laughing, put his arm around Sherlock's shoulders, and messed up his hair like he was his own son.

Your mom, of course, made you two take a picture and insisted, despite knowing Sherlock for his whole life and knowing how much he hated PDA, that he put his arm around you. He complied of course, not because he wanted an excuse to touch you, but because he would do anything your parents asked him if it meant they would approve of him more. Of course, they already approved enough; they knew he wasn't in it for the physical part, plus they had know him his whole life. So really, Sherlock had nothing to worry about.

"Yes we have to do this. It won't be that bad," you said, elbowing him in the side playfully so he'd loosen up. He caught your arm with his hand and pulled you close to him. You two were standing just out of view from his house, which you knew he had done on purpose. Even after dating for two weeks his touch left you weak in the knees and you didn't think you'd ever get used to being this close to him.

He knew he had this effect on you, which explained the malicious smiled that played on his face. Then it disappeared. "No, it will be bad, as bad as if each of your toenails were ripped off one by one. Your parents were manageable, I mean I even let them hug me for gods sake. But my parents... My mom... You know it will be ten times worse (y/n)."

"Don't be such a drama queen," you said, pushing past him and walking towards his house. He caught up to you a second later and walked beside you silently. When you reached the front door it opened before you could even touch the doorknob.

"Thought you two would be stopping by soon," greeted Violet. She smiled knowingly at both of you as you entered inside.

When she was closing the door Sherlock whispered hastily in your ear, "She knows." You gave him a look, shaking your head and rolling your eyes, but his eyes stayed looking paranoid. He looked over your shoulder, his eyes scrunching in confusion. "Did someone die?" he asked, no sensitivity whatsoever in his voice. You turned around to where he was looking and saw Siger and Mycroft sitting on the couch sulking.

"Just our mother's sanity," muttered Mycroft.

"Now now," fussed Violet. She went to sit by Siger on the couch, then motioned for you two to sit down on the love seat. "No one died Sherlock. I just thought it would be nice for us to have some quality family time," she smiled.

"The last time we had 'quality family time' it was because you thought Mycroft was hiding something. And you had him sit on this love seat. And now I'm sitting on this love seat. So tell me mother, what do you think I'm hiding?" His tone was clipped and you punched his leg lightly, giving him a look that said she held you in her womb for 9 months, be nice.

She looked between the two of you and your stomach dropped. Oh my she does know. Suddenly she broke into a fit of words."I just want you two to be safe, you know make the right choices."

"Okay I'm leaving," announced Mycroft, practically running out of the room.

Sherlock buried his face in his hands, but you held on strong. "Violet, Sherlock and I are-"

"SHUT IT MISSY," she snapped at you. You were taken aback. Violet had known you since you were in diapers, you couldn't believe that just because you were dating her youngest son she suddenly forgot who you were.

"Okay, intervention time," said Siger. "Come on Sherlock, let's leave the ladies to work it out. Violet, remember what we talked about." He gave her a warning look and Sherlock followed behind him out of the room, smirking evilly at you as he rounded the corner and disappeared. Lucky bastard you thought.

An awkward silence filled the room and you tapped your foot nervously against the carpet. "I'm sorry," blurted out Violet. "It's just, Sherlock, you know." You nodded your head and she took a deep breath. "My baby boy is sensitive. He deserves the best there is. Now I'm not saying you're not the best there is, I think you are. You understand his... moods. And you probably know more about him than I do.. It's just, I'm scared for him, and for you."

"For me?"

"Well, I know how cold he can be sometimes. I just don't want him to shut you out, and then you shut him out and it's this endless circle of hurting each other." Her voice suddenly cracked and her eyes watered. "You two have have been best friends since you were in diapers. Your mother and I have been dreaming of this moment for god knows how long, which explains why she called me seconds before you guys headed over here." She sighed happily, reaching over and grasping your hand. "I'm happy, I am. I'm sorry about earlier."

"Don't be, I totally understand," you smiled. "And it will take a whole lot to get rid of me," you reassured her. At that moment Sherlock poked his curly haired head around the corner.

"Ugh, you're still here?" he asked in a disgusted tone. "I was hoping my mom would scare you off, but since you're still here do you want to watch a movie or something?"

"Wow you sound so excited," you retorted sarcastically.

"He is dear, he just doesn't want to admit it," she answered, patting your leg and standing up. She walked over to Sherlock and kissed his crazy hair.

"Mom, you're ruining my act," grumbled Sherlock.

"Good luck (y/n)," she chuckled, leaving you two alone. He walked over and sat beside you, your elbows touching.

"Glad to see my mother didn't slit your throat or skin you alive."

"She just cares about you," you defended. Sherlock rolled his eyes stretched his arms out across the back of the love seat like you'd see in a cheesy teen love movie. You leaned back, your neck hitting his arm. Out of the corner of your eye you smirked at him and he looked at you confused. "Smooth move," you said pointing to his arm. He twitched slightly and tried to move it, but you clung on and brought it down around your shoulder again. A puking sound came from the bottom of the staircase and you both looked up.

"I think I may die of overexposure to sentiment," stated a very grossed out Mycroft, his nose stuck up in the air.

"Well wouldn't that be just our luck?"

A/N

Don't worry guys, more teenlock is coming. Just getting it all out of my system right now lol.

So myfirstnameisagent is dead thanks to Mark and Steven who announced the Johnlock will never happen... RIP. Her funeral is in my next imagine and you all are invited. Stay tuned till next imagine for the funeral of a lifetime (hahaha laughing at the irony of that)

(I don't have time for a question so put down a random question for me to answer or don't, but next imagine I will have 2 questions for you to answer to make up for it)

(I love you all more than my brother's dog loves ambushing me and attacking me when my back is to him (which is a lot))