You're in Sherlock (Sherlock × Reader)

The Sign of Three: Chapter 1

(Omg, omg, omg! So, this is my 100th chapter and I'm SHOOK! I cannot believe we've come this far and wow, this has been a journey y'all. You are all awesome! Anyway, I'm apologizing in advance about this chapter, because it's going to be one hell of a ride. Well, this whole episode is going to be in general. I promise it'll end out okay, just hold on tight. Enjoy and remember I love youuuu!!!!)

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A few weeks before John and Mary's wedding, something within Sherlock seemed to change. There was a shift of sorts. A shift even you yourself couldn't quite pin your finger on. He was keeping secrets, well Sherlock always had secrets, but this was different. It wasn't a case. It wasn't a game. At first, you thought maybe his actions were because he was stressed about the wedding. You ruled that out as a possibility when all the symptoms he'd been showing didn't quite fit together in the right way. Then maybe you thought it was not having enough cases and maybe he was just getting restless. Maybe that justified his sneaking around and weird actions towards you. To no avail, you had to rule that out as well. You were finding cases left and right for the man and he was always preoccupied. So, there was still a missing piece. That made you think about the way he'd been acting, acting not like himself. Sherlock was known to be an arsehole, he was an aresehole, but he'd always had a soft spot for you. That's why you worked so well together. You were similar in so many ways and just... understood each other. But he'd been distant lately, even saying harsh things he'd never spoken to you before. Of course you could take it, you'd spent your whole life taking it. But this, this was something you'd never understand. So, you did what any rational person would do, you went to Molly Hooper. One of your closest friends and the person who seemed to know the most about this stuff, which was funny because she was very bad at conversation. But she was your last hope, your last resort. You needed to know what the hell was wrong with Sherlock Holmes.

"He's been lying to me, Molly. He goes out a lot and doesn't want my company, he doesn't talk to me as much, he barely comes to bed some nights. He's... rude. He..." Tears spouted in your eyes as you gazed down at the cream coloured mug that you clasped tightly in your shaking hands. It wasn't like you to worry about Sherlock like this, it wasn't like you to seek help. You were just so... lost on what to do. You couldn't say anything to Sherlock about it because he was Sherlock. He'd dismiss it, not express what he truly felt. Your worst fear about putting your heart on the line for Sherlock seemed to be coming true. He always said he was a man of science, that love was a chemical defect always found on the losing side. When you confronted him about these things, he always said you were his exception. Now... doubt seemed to be eating away at you. You let yourself love Sherlock so much it overtook you, reconstructed your brain's chemistry to learn how to love, how to feel emotions. You just hoped you hadn't made a mistake, that Sherlock was wrong about everything he ever had to say about emotion and about love. For once, Sherlock had to be wrong. He needed to be wrong, for your sake.

"Well, that sounds like Sherlock." Molly looked at you, her eyes reflecting your sadness. You could tell she pitied you, but you didn't want that. You just wanted to know what was going on with Sherlock. You'd been fine, then all the sudden something had changed.

"No, you don't know him like I do, Molly. He's compassionate, sure he doesn't know a lot of things about relationships, but neither do I! We make it work and we're happy. He is the only man on this earth that could ever understand me and make me feel the way he does... I'm sorry." You choked on your words, taking the outstretched tissue in Molly's hand. "I love him, God. I love him." You shook your head, unable to keep the tears from seeping from your eyes as you dabbed your face rapidly, trying to stop the tears that seemed to not stop flowing down your face in streams. The tear gates were open and they didn't seem to want to close anytime soon. "It's so dumb, just a little bit of chemical activity in my brain can make me feel this way. It's stupid."