Sherlock x reader One-shots

Haunting Nightmares

My eyes were straining to see any source of light that might have been evident, pupils dilated to their furthest point. All I can feel is the cold, concrete ground underneath my bare feet, the shackles around my wrists and ankles, and the chilly breeze blowing through the thin piece of cloth he  called clothing. 

Closing my eyes and just trying to get some sleep during an unbearable situation, the door eerily opened to an entity I did not want to be in the presence of. Foot steps, achingly slow, pace towards me, my heart beat becoming erratic and its thumping ever-present in my ear.   

"Hello, Dear. How are you today?" He  said to me, the smile evident in his tone.

Confused that it was another day entirely, I curtly replied, "Same as yesterday, James."

"Ah, I see we're on a first name basis now, (Y/N)." That evil son of a bitch whispered in my ear with a hint of disdain towards me calling him his actual name.

Not having the energy to keep the conversation going I quietly suggested, "Why don't we just get to the torture part of this 'arrangement' and just call it a day, so I can maybe, just maybe try to get some sleep."

"Whatever you say my dear."

Yanking me up from my position on the floor, I was promptly blind-folded (which wasn't really necessary because from what I could tell we never left the room) and gagged with my ankles and wrists still bound to decrease my chances of maneuvering. I didn't even try to fight it anymore, it wasn't worth the exhaustion.

I was then led to a chair and stereotypically tied to it to, once again, limiting my efforts of escaping, which were quickly depleting anyway. I then heard the split-second 'ch ' of a lighter being lit with an inhale of what I presumed to be a cigarette following it.

After minutes of sitting uncomfortably in the steely chair, curious as to what was going to happen to me, or rather, waiting for what I subconsciously knew was going to happen, I jumped and yelped at the feeling of a cigarette end stabbing and burning itself into my skin. Fresh tears were brimming in my eyes from the excruciating pain that was jolting through my body. The cigarette retreating and ending its reign over my body, it relentlessly restarted the process just a few inches further from its previous destination. Repeated over and over and over again, I'm pretty positive my screams could be heard form any living thing in the entirety of London.

Waking up with a jolt, I was covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Looking to my left, I saw Sherlock still sleeping (one of the rare occasions he actually did). I thanked whatever deity exists that he didn't wake up from another one of my reoccurring episodes.

Gently folding the covers back, I tip-toed to the en suite  and looked in the mirror, a symptom of trying to wash my face. I came to realize that I had black rings under my eyes and my face was as pale as a sheet. Bending down and splashing water on my face a few times, when I rose up again to re-examine the damage, I was met with Sherlock's face staring back at me, startling me.

"Sorry darling, I didn't mean to scare you." He whispered, half being that it was late, and the other half being that he knew that it calmed me down oddly enough.

"It's okay. I'm sorry I woke you, Lock." I replied guiltily, eyebrows knitted in worry that I caused him any inconvenience during the one time he has actually fallen asleep.

Taking a step towards me, wrapping his lanky arms around my torso and resting his head atop of mine, "You think too much, it's not that big of a bother."

Analyzing my face through the mirror, it was his turn to knit his eyebrows in worry. "You haven't gotten any sleep lately, have you? And if it is any, it's only for a few hours. Judging by the dark under eyes and paleness I would say you are having nightmares... but what abou-- oh... darling, why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Curtly trying to curtail the subject from proceeding any further.

He looked at me with a quirked eyebrow and a look that said, "Stop playing dumb."

Sighing I just started to walk towards our bed. Reaching my desired location, I plopped down on my side and just sat there waiting for him to join me.  

"How long have they been going on?" He said getting in on his side and scooting over to me, pulling me into his side, while we both laid back against the headboard, my head on his shoulder.

"Every since you recued me, but I'll have at least a night or two a week where they don't occur."

"Do you want to talk about the content within your night terrors?"

"Well, they're mainly just about the torture... those are the memories that I have the most of so..."

Kissing my temple he whispered, "I'll make it all better, it'll be okay. We'll get them to stop, you're too strong for this to stop you in your tracks."

Sliding down under the massive blankets, we embraced. His arms around my torso and head on top of mine, while my arms were pulled to my chest and my head rested on his firm chest. Kissing the top of my head once again he said, "If you wake up from now on, wake me up as well okay? I don't want you to go through this trivial ordeal alone. Do we have a deal?" In reply, I just nodded into his chest, pressing a kiss where his collarbone meets his neck, and promptly fell asleep, hoping that for once my dreams would only be filled with Lock.