Sherlock Holmes x Reader I Killed It

I Killed It – Sherlock Holmes

For That1Chick

A/N: I decided, instead of doing these in order like the OTP challenge, I'm gonna write them as I come up with ideas, like the soulmate series. I don't know who requested first and if I go in numeral order, I'm going to get stuck and take forever to update, so I'm gonna go by what I feel like writing. Some of them I immediately got ideas, some of them I can't think of any.



You returned home at the weary hour of three o' clock in the morning, followed by Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. As you were John's sister and Sherlock's girlfriend, they insisted that you stay with them while you found a place of your own, and your love of a good mystery intrigued the detective enough to let you join in his cases. John was surprised at the brunet's immediate acceptance of you and immediately wondered if he was growing human emotions such as love and admiration. Sherlock dismissed all such accusations, but even you had begun to notice the way his face lit up when you entered the room. He was good at hiding it, but you were clearly something special to him.

Your relationship with the brunet was in no way typical. He often paid more attention to cases than he did to you, which was when you pulled out the big guns. As a mortal man, even he could be distracted by the right amount of bare skin, so after John had gone to bed, you would change into a lace baby doll gown with matching panties and strut around whatever room Sherlock was in until you caught his attention. At first, he would make some comment ("You'll freeze. It's the middle of December."), but after a while, his ability to ignore your smooth skin glistening in the moonlight diminished, and you often won the fight for his affections against whatever case he was working on.

Emotions were still something he struggled with. He had begun to understand when people were mad at him, but he had yet to learn how to comfort someone when they were sad, or recognize that they were sad at all. He could read all of the signs, but unless it was blatantly pointed out to him, he didn't fully grasp the concept.



The following morning, you headed into the kitchen to fix tea and breakfast. Sherlock was already awake, of course, though you had expressed on numerous occasions how lonely you felt when you awoke to an empty bed. He seemed disturbed by your concern but had yet to remedy the problem by actually staying beside you until you were awake as well.

Your gaze flickered to the table where a small fishbowl sat, full of water and colorful rocks. It had been a present from Sherlock shortly after you begun dating and you realized that not even being his girlfriend granted you attention when his mind was lost in a case. He had gotten you a purple beta fish which you promptly named Sherly, much to John's amusement, and Sherly kept you entertained while Sherlock was busy. There wasn't much to do with fish – all you could do was feed them and change their water. But he was beautiful and you enjoyed watching him swim around while you had your breakfast and morning tea.

Something was off today. You turned on your heel to look at the fish bowl head on, and your heart dropped. Instead of happily swishing through the water, Sherly was floating atop the surface, body limp and color fading. You stood frozen on the tile floor, your eyes brimming with tears as you stared at the aquatic pet.

"Morning, (y/n)," John greeted as he sauntered into the room. He stopped short when he saw your crestfallen expression. "Sis? What's wrong?"

He followed your gaze to the fish bowl, letting out a small "Oh..." sound when he saw what you were looking at. "I'm so sorry."

You wracked your brain trying to understand how he could have died. You fed him every day and you changed his water once a week. He was right in the kitchen, so you could always check on him with ease. Then you thought back to the reason you had come home so late, and realized that the three of you had been awfully busy lately. You must have skipped feedings lately, and the water in the bowl was looking a little murky. Had you been so preoccupied that you hadn't taken care of your pet?

"Sherlock..." John called, heading into the living room. The next thing you knew, Sherlock was beside you, a blank expression on his face.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Sherly's dead..." you breathed, choking on a sob.

Sherlock looked at the dead fish in the bowl before looking back at you? "So? It's a fish. I'll get you another one."

A sob escaped your throat at his dismissal and his eyes widened, realizing he'd done something wrong. He instantly took you in his arms, letting you cry into his chest and fist your hands in his shirt.

"Why are you crying?" he asked softly.

"I killed him," you managed between sobs. "I didn't take good enough care of him while we were working that case. It's my fault!"

He carded a hand through your hair, a calming mechanism he'd learned after you'd begun doing it to him when he got stressed out.

"I... I'm sorry..." he stated awkwardly, not entirely sure what he was apologizing for as he had no part in the death of your pet.

"He was a present from you. I named him after you and everything! I can't believe he died!"

Everything clicked into place. You associated the fish with Sherlock and your love for him, and the fish dying made you feel like a bad girlfriend.

He led you to the living room where John had already vacated and sat you down on the couch. He took you in his arms, resting your legs across his lap. Your head rested on his chest as he held you, his warm presence calming you.

"I'm still here," he mused, causing you to look up at him.

"I'm not going anywhere," he continued, leaning down to kiss your head.

You smiled softly and snuggled into his chest. "I know you're not."

He rested his head on yours, and the rest of the morning was spent in a comfortable quiet.