You're in Sherlock (Sherlock × Reader)

A Scandal in Belgravia: Chapter 7

Christmas came quickly after that, just being a few days after your accident. You'd been discharged on Christmas Eve and John had come to the hospital early in the morning, insisting on giving you company on the way home. He'd tried to get you to stay at the flat again, but you'd refused. Sherlock probably wouldn't enjoy your company after you'd fought with him. That's the one thing about him that annoyed you the most. If you disagreed with one thing he said or did, it was game over. You felt like this might be the end of the game, you and Sherlock's game. Is that all you were to him? His game? All this time? You didn't even feel like you were his friend anymore. Maybe you didn't want friends anymore. Why would people care anyway? Sherlock clearly didn't.

You gave John a very forced smile as he'd asked you what was wrong as you sat on your new couch in your flat. You hadn't realized he was still there when you'd gotten lost in thought.

"Can I be honest with you, John?" You asked, rolling the hospital bracelet on your wrist between your fingers. You stared down at it, your mind feeling blank and dark.

"Of course." He nodded, stepping further into your musty flat.

"Am I just a piece in the game? Sherlock's game, your game, whatever this is? Am I being used? Was any of it real, I mean really real. Or was Sherlock just infatuated with me because he didn't understand me and now that I'm no longer extraordinary he's moved on to his next target." You leaned further into the couch, letting it envelope you. You wished you could just sink into it and stay there forever and never have to deal with anyone ever again. John looked at the ground for a long time before looking back up at you, his face stoney.

"You think because you're human that you're not extraordinary? Y/n, I've seen what you can do. You're talented, heck you're practically better than Sherlock. But Sherlock... he's a complicated man, as I'm sure you understand. He disappoints people easily and he never knows how to make it right. He pushes people away instead of dealing with his internal conflicts. Whatever happened between the two of you, you're going to have to step up and really tell him what you feel or else he might not make it right. I know for sure we- he never used you. You're our friend." John told you. You nodded, pondering it over in your head as you pulled your legs toward your chest.

"I don't really know how to express my feelings. I don't even know what I feel anymore." You spoke softly, an internal battle rising in your throat.

"Just say what's on your mind. You don't have to assign a feeling to it, feelings are complicated and complex and even I don't understand them and I've had them my whole life. Don't beat yourself up, Y/n. Now, get some rest because we're having a Christmas party at our flat tonight and you're coming." John said. And before you could argue he was through the door and up to his flat.

***

You awoke hours later to someone knocking on your door. You yawned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you reluctantly peeled yourself from bed.

"Yes?" You asked groggily. You pulled the door open, glancing up and down at John. Oh, god. You thought, waiting for him to talk.

"Please come up and join us, Y/n. Everyone is already up there and asking where you are!" He smiled at you and you glanced over his ruffled sweater, and drink in his hand.

"Let me guess, Sherlock's being Sherlock." You asked. You leaned onto your door, you knew John wanted you up there with all of them, but you just didn't feel included. Ever since Sherlock started chasing after Irene, you felt empty. Like something was missing. You didn't know what it was, nor did you care. Ever since you met Sherlock, you felt more like yourself now than you had ever felt. Emotionless. You weren't even mad any more, just empty.