BBC Sherlock Imagines

Sherlock: Girl Stuff

Inspired by a true embarrassing story... about me.

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"Could you please?"

"No."

"Sherlock I never ask you to do anything!"

"Never say never my dear (y/n). If I remember correctly, last week you asked me to stop being an 'arsehole'."

"That was for your own benefit, that old lady was about to take a go at you with her purse." All you had asked of him was to reach into your bag behind him and take out your sunglasses; you were in desperate need of them as the sun began drifting through the trees, and you were too lazy to get up. The blanket you were laying on was nice and comfy. You were attending a picnic outside, a Scotland Yard get together. The only reason Sherlock was in attendance was because Greg asked him to be, and you forced him to go. Thankfully, John and Mary had tagged along, but were at the dessert table picking up food for all of you.

"Bloody hell, I'll get them myself," huffed Greg. He pushed himself out of his chair, but Sherlock beat him to it, rushing out of his chair and knocking your purse off the table in the process. One thing about dating Sherlock Holmes: he may piss you off to the point you want to rip the luscious curls out of his head, he may ignore you so much so that you can leave for 6 hours and he won't notice, and he may mock you into eternity, but he cares about you so much that any niceness from other men towards you will send him into a jealous rampage. But you weren't going to lie, you fancied that part of him. Hell, you fancy every part of him.

"It's not a competition," muttered Greg under his breath. You chuckled lightly and patted his arm.

"It's always a competition with him." Greg nodded knowingly. You turned around, finally noticing the contents of your purse lying all over the ground. "Sherlock," you groaned. He glanced up, and showed a toothy smile. He knew you were annoyed with him and was trying to make it up to you with his good looks. Bugger, it was working.

"Finally!" he yelled triumphantly, holding your sunglasses proudly in his hands. You grabbed at them, but he pulled them just out of your reach.

"Say you're not annoyed at me," he challenged.

"Can't you just deduce it out of me?"

"I can, but I'd much rather prefer to hear you say it." You tried to sneak attack and grab for them again, but his arm was much longer than yours could ever be.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"(Y/f/n) (y/l/n)."

"Just give me the glasses."

"Say you're not annoyed."

"I'm not annoyed." Smirking, he lowered the sunglasses and dangled them in front of your face. You ripped them out his hands and put them on. "By the way," you added, going to lay back down on the blanket, "I was annoyed." His smirk disappeared and he rolled his eyes.

"We're back, and we brought ice cream!" cheered Mary. You clapped your hands together happily and she handed you a small bowl of vanilla ice cream with sprinkles and chocolate sauce. You basked in the tastefulness of it all, the sun beating on you, your friends gathered around you, and the deliciousness of the dessert. But your dream was rudely interrupted.

"(Y/n)," spoke Sherlock, you looked up at him, "I think you dropped your..." Your eyes froze. So did every part of your body. The only thing moving inside was the blood rushing to your cheeks causing your face to burn a bright red. Sherlock inspected the... thing... with such... curiosity. "Well, I don't know what it is, but I think it dropped out of your purse when I accidentally knocked it off the table. Looks like an oversized ear swab - did you have to go to the doctor for that? Or, I think this is the right use for it, a new sort of tea bag. I see there's a string here. I'm guessing you insert your own flavor into it then dangle it in the cup?" His innocence of what he was holding in his hand proved too much for you too bare.

"Pu-put it," your voice kept giving out, "back in my purse. Please." You knew he was analyzing your weird behavior. He had to know you were embarrassed, it was pretty evident. Normally, you wouldn't care that one of your woman products fell out, but Greg and John were here, two men you had not gotten that close to yet. Speaking of them, their faces had also turned bright red, and we're now observing the sky and the trees and the ground, anything but Sherlock and the tampon he held in his outstretched hand.

"Okay, but when we get home you must show me what you use it for, looks like a fascinating tool." You cringed, and Mary stifled a laugh, rubbing your back comfortingly. If only he knew, if only.

A/N

I apologize for my absence. Been busy. But also, I'm out of ideas. I really need you folks to send in some requests, please! Any character! Anything! I'm running dry. I'll try to update tomorrow, I miss writing. It's barely been over a day, but I feel weird without it. I know only a select few of you interact with me, but I miss you all.

Thank you for reading. And I hope this awkward story makes all of you girls out there who have experienced this kind of thing feel better - at least the guy didn't think your tampon was an ear swab or a new kind of tea bag.

Enjoy