Sherlock One shots and Imagines

The guest - Part 3 - Greg x Sherlock x Reader

"(Y/n)............"

"(Y/n)...........?"

"(Y/n)............!" Greg finally exclaimed, as he came to stand next to her desk. The detective inspector shaking his head, as he looked at the woman that still seemed to be lost in her thoughts. His brows furrowing as she let out a dreamy sigh, and a pink tinge spread to her cheeks.

She had been a little off all week, nearly late every day, which was most certainly not like her; Greg knowing that his fellow detective, and friend, would rather be three hours too early, than one minute too late. But she seemed to be even more lost this morning than she had been any other day, and he of course could only put that down to the continued presence of Sherlock in her home.

He had been taken aback when (Y/n) had offered to put Sherlock up, until the flat at Baker Street was back to as it should be. Greg knew that the female detective much preferred to keep her work and home lives, separate; that she liked her space and her 'me time'. And he also knew that Sherlock did have a tendency of driving (Y/n) crazy; that his attitude pushed the majority of her buttons. Not that Sherlock didn't do that with everyone else too; but it was just with (Y/n) that he felt as though it had become the consulting detectives favourite pass time. So, when she had volunteered her sofa, as John had explained that Mary had made it quite clear that she wanted the younger Holmes out of their home, Greg hadn't been able to do anything but stare at (Y/n) like she had grown an extra head. The detective inspector only able to put it down to the fact that she must have felt sorry for Sherlock; that when no one else stepped up to help, she had perhaps felt a little pull on her heartstrings and had been come over with the desire to help. For despite how tough she could appear on the outside; despite how she could intimidate even some of the most hardened criminals when she opened her mouth, and all this smart stuff came out, Greg knew that she was the kind of woman that had a thing for looking after anything that in her mind was hurt or abandoned. And it seemed that at that moment, Sherlock Holmes had fallen into that category.

"Earth to (Y/n)............" Greg said again; this time snapping his fingers in front of her eyes.............

                                                       >>-----------------------------------<<

(Y/n) leant her chin in her palm, as she looked out of the window across from her desk; not seeing the shadow that had just loomed over her, nor the voice that called her name. Her mind too focused on the morning's interaction between her and her guest, to concentrate on the paperwork that she had to complete.

There was no denying that Sherlock was driving her nuts, and that he seemed to be enjoying every minute of taking over her little home. The younger Holmes still complaining that her sofa was lumpy, and that nothing was ever good enough. But there was also no denying, and this morning had just cemented her beliefs, that when Sherlock didn't open his mouth and ruin everything, he was quite the most handsome of men. The dark mop of hair that she felt a strange desire to brush her fingers through; those eyes that she could happily get lost in and never want to find her way back. And those chiseled feature that looked as though they could cut through a block of ice, just added to the aura that undoubtedly hung around the younger Holmes. Her heart beginning to beat a little quicker, and a heat fill her belly, as she recalled looking at him, as he had opened the door to the bathroom. Her eyes doing their best to remain on his face; but quickly losing the battle with the urge, with the desire to see what really lay beneath those neatly pressed shirts. A lump forming in her throat, as her eyes finally made their way down to the top of the towel; to the bulge that pushed the fluffy towel out just the right amount, to make some not so innocent thoughts come to her mind. Thoughts of pulling the towel from him; of pushing him back into the bathroom, locking the door behind her, and stripping off, before pulling him back into the shower, and helping him to make sure that he had washed every last part of himself. (Y/n) letting out a dreamy sigh, and feeling her face heat a little, as she thought about him helping her wash, too.

"Earth to (Y/n)..........." A voice suddenly came. (Y/n) shaking her head, and focusing her eyes to find someone snapping their fingers in front of her face.

"Greg..........?"

"Are you ok? I've been trying to get your attention..........."

"Oh god. I'm sorry, Greg. I way a million miles away............"

"Is this because of Sherlock...........?" Greg asked. (Y/n)'s eyes growing wide at the mention of the younger Holmes name. Fighting back the brighter blush that wanted to fill her cheeks; just hoping beyond hope that her boss hadn't just gained the ability to read minds. Especially given that the last thought that she had had was of Sherlock soaping her up.

"What........why would you say that...........?"

"You haven't been yourself all week, and the only thing that has changed is the fact that Sherlock is camping out on your sofa. Maybe its time that you asked him to leave. I know that you meant well, that you were trying to help, but............."

"Yeah, I know. But I don't think I will have to do that. We had a slight.........disagreement over his monopolising of the bathroom, this morning, and before I left, he told me that he was going to be going to Baker Street today to see if the place was fit for habitation again. So, with any luck he will be out of my hair, and I can get back to normal." (Y/n) explained. Giving Greg a soft smile. A smile that told him not to worry. A smile that she hoped would cover up the fact that she would, in truth, be a little disappointed if his flat was ready to live in again.