literature

Tedious Celebration [Sherlock X Reader]

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Published: Mar 16, 2015

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Literature Text

A Unexpected Romance from a Tedious Celebration

[Authors Note: This is probably the most OOC Sherlock one-shot I’ve ever written… so my apologies in advance, BUT DON'T LET THAT PUT YOU OFF. It was a random idea that came to me in the car one afternoon, personally, I love it. Opinions?]

  The day of John and Mary’s wedding all went to plan. There were cheers and smiles all around from the guests and public service workers. You threw confetti in the air as your long distance cousin walked proudly out of the church with his newly wedded wife, followed by that handsome best man and the ghastly looking chief bride’s maid. You, personally, would have picked something other than violet, but hey, it wasn’t your wedding.

  You stood aside with the rest of the guests as photographs were snapped of the couple. Glancing around, hardly any of John’s family was here, nobody you particularly knew besides the other distant cousins standing at the back, the rest were unknown, possibly the couples friends. Although, the older looking, grey haired gentleman standing next to the yellow honey-flowered looking female… whatever sort of dress she was wearing, looked rather handsome as well. Hmm, perhaps you should move to London.

  The ride with your distant cousins in their car was awkward, neither of you spoke. The last thing you could recall them saying was “Oi! That’s my biscuit!” and those days were long gone! Yet, despite being 'adults', you still found yourself single and hardly ready to mingle. Men just couldn’t keep up with you.

  As the car pulled up in the car park of the hotel where the reception would be, you could just feel your feet wanting to kill you. The line of people waiting to get inside was dreadful. You hurried over, not wanting to be last in line and huffed, there had to be at least twenty people in front of you, oh God.

  Tenth in line, your feet were ready to depart from your body. Your heels were hell and you knew that before you’d put them on this morning, yet decided to anyway, what a stupid idea. You stepped out of them, picking them up and looking at just how really high the heel really was, any more and you’d be a ballerina. Now at ease, your feet felt great, to hell with the small hidden pebbles on the stoned tiles.

  Now finally it was your turn to give all that fake happiness to the couple, “Hi, John! Thanks for inviting me.” you smirked, leaning in and hugging him, then his bride.

  The best man, who stood aside the happy couple, hummed to himself, beginning his deduction. He glanced down at your feet and then the heels in your hand, interesting.

  As you pulled away from the couple and peered up at the tall fellow as you walked by, you couldn’t help yourself, “Oh, see something you like?” you spoke sensually, sending him one of those sexy looks.

  The fellow looked blankly at you, realising he’d been caught observing too long, “Hmm? Oh. Yes, I rather like those shoes, mind if I borrow one?” he asked, walking inside alongside you.

  The request was peculiar, yet you sent him a curious smile as you handed one over.

  He smiled, taking it and admiring the heel, “Fancy assisting me with a problem?” he asked.

  Blinking, you didn’t think it was this easy to pick up a man in London, “Oh, I don’t even know your name and here’s you coming on to me?” you shook your head, holding your other heel and still walking with him until he had stopped.

  He frowned, holding out his hand towards you, “Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective… and I wasn’t coming on to you.” he explained, looking slightly awkward at the end.

  Smirking, you shook his hand, introducing yourself and rolling your eyes, “That’s what they all say.”

  There was very little that the Detective hadn’t already deduced about you, possibly desperate for a man, smart, confident and independent. Perhaps he’d found someone decent to converse with at this tedious celebration. He escorted you over towards the food table in search of anything red… tomato ketchup did the job. He pulled the bottle out and squirted it on the heel of your shoe.

  Your mouth gaped in shock, “Hey! Do you know how much these cost?!” you yelled, looking up at him.

  He sighed, “No, but you’re helping me solve the murder of a young woman who was stabbed with an odd long object.” he smiled, shaking the shoe slightly.

  “Oh.” you blinked, watching as he pulled over a bread roll and stabbed it.

  “Perfect.” he smiled, taking both objects over towards the D.I of Scotland Yard. Oh, the other handsome looking chap.

  “Sherlock, It’s my day off!” he huffed, looking at the objects in almost disgust.

  “Yes, Graham but look, the woman was clearly stabbed with her shoes. It explains why they were missing! Don’t you see?!” Sherlock stressed, watching as the D.I put the bread roll down.

  “We’ll deal with this another day, Sherlock. Have a day off! Get a glass of champagne.” he finished, lifting his own glass to take a long swig.

Now moving away and topic-less, you decided to break the tension, “So how come you’re not up standing with your girlfriend?” you asked, gesturing over towards the chief bride's maid at the far end with your near-empty glass.

  Sherlock looked around, frowning momentarily before turning back to you, “Girlfriend? No. Uh, girls aren’t really my area.” he explained.

  You blinked, looking up at him and smiling, “Oh.” you chuckled.

  The Detective then shook his head again, “No, not that either. I consider myself married to my work.” Thank God not all the nice, well, reasonably nice, guys weren’t taken or gay.

  As the night progressed, after the daunting longest best man speech in the history of best man speeches, you were finally allowed to continue mingling with others. You approached the Detective once more as he glanced down at the mini food table, admiring the choices and possibly deciding on what to pick, “Any chance I can have my shoe back yet?” you smirked, leaning over and picking up a small sausage roll to only pop it in your mouth.

  Unhygienic and messy was the Detective’s first thoughts, but he subsided them, “Hmm, yes. It’s over by where I sit.” he informed, watching you plate up with various items.

  Turning to him, he was more curious about the food you held in hand than the rest on the table. You smirked, picking up the first thing you chose, that being another mini sausage and held it up towards his mouth, “Are you going to join me for dinner, Detective?” you questioned softly. And unexpectedly, he took the food, eating it and watching you walk away, peering over your shoulder and sending him a mischievous smile.

  After a good five minutes, the Detective joined you at the table, bringing over two glasses of cava and a few mini desserts from the other table. He parked himself down aside but facing you and was stuck on how to initiate a conversation.

  You smiled, pulling your chair closer to his and picked up something else from the plate, holding it up for him and he took it once again, perhaps feeding him was his weakness. You soon moved on to the desserts plate and speculated which one first, “Hmm. Chocolate, vanilla or strawberry?” you asked, leaning back on your chair, your feet in a rather delicate spot between the Detective’s opened legs, resting on the chair.

  “Uh… Don’t care. Surprise me.” he shrugged.

  And that you did. As you picked up a small piece of chocolate cake carefully between your fingers, your foot crept closer to the man. And as soon as he took the cake in one, you made sure he had no choice but to lick your finger with it and your foot happily gave the man a hell of an after affect down below. You smirked, nibbling your bottom lip and whipped up some cream, licking it off your own finger and watching the Detective, “Is it good?” you asked, gently manoeuvring your foot as if you’d done this before.

  Sherlock blinked, swallowing the cake and coughing to clear the awkwardness, “Uh, the cake? Yes…” he blinked once again, picking your leg up by your ankle, “Excuse me.” he spoke, getting to his feet and rushing off.

  What the hell was happening? That was the big question Sherlock had to ask himself right now and who the hell were you exactly? He approached the happy couple, looking rather distressed, possibly uncomfortable, “John, can I have a word?” he smiled, pulling the man away before he could answer, “Who’s the female I’m sitting with?” he questioned seriously.

  John glanced over, watching you smile over at the pair and send a flirty wave towards the Detective, “Oh. Her” John chuckled to himself, “That’s one of my cousins, she lives somewhere up north.” he explained, “She’s always been one for flirting, it’s nice to see you actually taking a break.” he said, patting his best friends arm and moving back towards his wife, leaving Sherlock standing there alone and uninformed.

  Sherlock at least hoped you’d stay sitting, but you didn’t. You got up and wandered over to him, “Aren’t you going to ask me to dance?” you questioned, placing your hands on the lapels of his jacket.

  “Can you? I’m not about to give you lessons.” he spoke, removing your hands from exploring.

  The music had slowly changed to a gentle, romantic sway, something the Detective could dance with. He placed his hand on your waist as you pushed close to his body, possibly too close for his liking. His other hand placed firmly in yours and he began to lead the way, “You haven’t stepped on my feet yet, that’s a good sign.” he joked, breaking the awkward daze of lust and need you were giving him, but it didn’t, if anything, it made it more racy.

  There was only so much of a shy, possibly unconfident man a woman could take before the need was unbearable. Your chest began to rise and drop a little faster, your pupils almost exploded and your cheeks flushed with pink, all things the Detective noticed instantly.

  “A- are you alright?” he asked, regretting it instantly.

  You slowly pulled away from him, keeping your hand in his and gently pulling him over to the nearest set of stairs, “You owe me a pair of heels.” you reminded him, tugging down on his shirt collar until his lips met yours.

  And all that took Sherlock by surprise. He kept his eyes open wide and frowned, placing his hands on your waist before his light-headedness got the better of him, causing him to become paralysed.

  You pulled away from him breathless and nearly fanned yourself, “Wow,” you breathed, possibly impressed with the no skill he added, yet it was still stimulating, “Let’s get a room.” you smirked, pulling him along by the tie.

  Sherlock reacted quickly, holding the material so he didn’t get strangled in the process, “N- No, you see, I don’t do these things.” he blurted quickly, almost in a panic.

  You pouted, “Not even just this once? You’ll never have to see me again… it’s just fun.” you explained quiet and sensually.

  And with that, the Detective stood thinking, thinking for a long while in his mind palace as he redid deductions, every type of outcome from the activity and every outcome if he didn’t do the activity.

  “Oh come on, Detective.” you spoke, distracting him, “Loosen up…”

After reserving that room, you could hardly wait to get the Detective in there. But getting through the door, there was a minor struggle as you walked backwards and he walked forwards, trying so hard not to tread on your toes as the passionate kiss evolved into something much deeper.

  He took no time in deducing the dress you wore, analysing the perfect way for you to slip out of it, revealing the best sight he’d seen in a while. He slowly, yet quickly, began to discard his own clothing until being down to his boxers. Where you decided a bit of teasing and fun wouldn’t hurt…

  And with that, the night continued. The guests in the foyer continued to party with the newly-weds well into the night. John searched for his best friend after not seeing him for a while and assumed he’d left. And apart from that, it was a success indeed.

As soon as morning arrived, Sherlock woke up early for once, tangled in the crisp sheets of the bed and looking around for you, finding you in front of the mirror, making last minute touches on your make-up.

  “Good morning, sleepy head.” you smiled, looking at him in the mirror, “John and Mary will be leaving soon so hurry up. I’ve sorted your clothes out.” you said, turning around and slipping into your shoes, not the ketchup covered ones, a pair of black sleek ones.

  Sherlock glanced over towards the chair in the room. His shirt was neatly hung over it along with his trousers and everything else he'd discarded, his shoes neatly lined under it, how unexpectedly lovely.

  After the awkward feeling from last night’s activities, the Detective dressed in the bathroom, taking an extra moment to himself to mentally prepare for the day. As he exited, you held the door open ready, holding your little suitcase that you'd brought with to London.

  Little did Sherlock know that as he exited and closed the door, Molly and her fiancé were leaving their room.

  “Morning” you smiled over to them as they passed, Sherlock and Molly exchanging confusing and embarrassed glances as her fellow happily greeted you.

  Right, downstairs, where everyone would be… great, Sherlock awkwardly followed you down to the foyer where most of the guests gathered, ready to wave off the happy couple as they left for their honeymoon. Some of the guests, the ones that knew Sherlock, looked rather confusingly at the pair of you as you’d joined the group together.

  “Morning.” you greeted to the nearest people.

  Sherlock stopped just behind you, trying to avoid eye contact with any and every one for as long as possible…

  The happy couple was then waved off as they set out on their new journey in life together, well, the beginning of their new lives together. After that, most the guests went their own ways after the send-off, leaving Sherlock awkwardly answering questions from Lestrade while he chuckled to himself.

  Now alone, Sherlock stumbled over to you, “Uh, fancy breakfast?” he asked hesitantly.

  You tilted your head and smiled at him, normally after a one night stand the man couldn’t get away quick enough, yet here was Sherlock asking you out for breakfast, “I’m surprised. Normally the male tends to get away as far as possible from the woman he’s slept with the night before.” you explained, slowly walking alongside the man, heading towards the restaurant section.

  “Well, I’m not normal. And going by the contents of your case I’d say you were sticking around for longer than today… perhaps we could do dinner as well?” he smiled.

  Hmm, at least he was a gentleman.