literature

The Obsessed Heart [Sherlock x Reader] 2

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Published: Apr 25, 2015

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Literature Text

Chapter 2: Old faces

  “(Your Name).” he spoke surprisingly, blinking and then averting his gaze.

FLASHBACK:
  You giggled as you playfully ran down the flowered path, stopping and looking back every so often as a small boy with darkish hair followed, but seemed reluctant to do so.

  “Come on slow coach!” you yelled, then waited silently to see if he responded. But seeing the boy dart out from the bushes and head straight for you only made you squeal and laugh before setting your little nine year old legs to run as fast as they could away from him.

  The boy never really said much. His name was Sherlock Holmes. He was in your class at school and he never really had or made any friends, it was just you. And he was kind of cute.

  Reaching home, you squealed again as your mother stood in the doorway awaiting your arrival. She looked a tad confused as she saw you run up the path and right in the house without stopping.

  Sherlock, knowing this was certainly the end of the line, stopped at the start of the walkway up to 8 Evergreen Drive, warily watching your mother as she stood silently before going inside and closing the door.

  Upstairs, you jumped up on your bed and crawled over to the window, pulling back the netted curtains and waving at the boy.

  Smiling, Sherlock waved back, then pulled his small backpack over his shoulders more comfortably before turning and leaving, making his own way home.
END FLASHBACK.

  You sent him a small smile before nodding your head and speaking, “I see you remembered. It’s been a long time...”

  “Ten years and three months actually,” he interrupted sharply and then regretting it as he’d exposed himself to your next question, just knowing you would damn say it.

  “So you’ve been counting the days since you last saw me? That’s sweet.” You giggled, looking down at the space between you both before taking a step forward and placing your hand on his arm, “It’s good to see you.”

  Sighing quietly to himself, Sherlock looked down at your hand, watching it as if it was some sort of deadly animal before he moved away, opening the door wider, “Would you like some tea?” he asked.

  Feeling a tad awkward from his actions, you nodded, stepping inside the warm hallway and taking your coat off, “That would be lovely, thank you.”

  “I live upstairs,” he explained, watching as you looked slightly muddled as to where to go.

  Nodding, your crossed your arms over your chest or under it should I say, and smiled, beginning to take lead up the stairs and entering the world of the strange boy, now matured into a man. As you stepped inside his flat, you could immediately tell he hadn’t changed a bit; he was still weird and different from others. The place actually looked nice.

  Following, Sherlock went straight into the kitchen, putting the kettle on and busying himself with the tea making process.

  Meanwhile, you sat down in the green leathered chair, looking up at the mantel above the fire, fascinated in his little bug collection and the other little possessions he had that were strange.

  “I thought I told you not to move!” John huffed, exiting the bathroom rubbing a towel over his head as he dried his hair with it.

  Taken by surprise, you looked over towards the kitchen at hearing the strange voice and stood up out the chair, “Oh, hi.” You spoke, watching as the fellow looked slightly shocked.

  “The doorbell rang.” Sherlock explained as he poured the boiled water from the kettle into the small teapot filled with two teabags.

  Nodding, John didn’t even care now. He changed his mood instantly to a more pleased one and smiled, “Oh, hello.” he greeted, walking over towards you and holding out his hand.

  Smiling, your shook his hand gently, about to introduce yourself but Sherlock did the introduction for you as he appeared aside you both, holding the tray of tea.

  “John, this is (Your Name), she’s an old school colleague of mine. And (Your Name), this is John Watson, flat mate and work colleague.” He spoke, placing the tray down and pouring a small amount of milk into his cup.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You smiled, letting go of the man’s hand and taking a cup and saucer from the tray.