BBC Sherlock Imagines

Sherlock: That Time of the Month

Request for @sammy_dean_cas

VERY IMPORTANT PSA AT THE BOTTOM IN MY A/N, PLEASE READ

~

You awoke to the sound of fast footsteps down the hall and classical music blaring through the flat. You groaned and placed the pillow over your head, trying to find sleep, which you knew would be impossible. Suddenly the bedroom door opened, and without looking, you clocked, who you assumed was Sherlock, in the face with a pillow. Just your luck - it wasn't Sherlock.

"(Y/n)!" called Mrs. Hudson. You instantly perked up.

"Mrs. Hudson I'm so sorry, I thought you were Sherlock!" you cried, feeling bad for hurting the older woman.

"Never mind that dear, it's Sherlock! Come quick please," she begged. You jumped out of bed, threw on some sweatpants, and followed where she had left out the door. The music got louder as you entered the living room, as if 10,000 Beethovens were playing right next to your ear. Sherlock sat in his armchair, hands in prayer position under his chin. He looked completely calm, almost as if he was asleep... or on drugs. You turned around to eye Mrs. Hudson and her hands were clasped over her ears. The stereo lay to your right, blasting out the music. You reached for it and turned it off.

Silence. Your ears began to ring. Sherlock hadn't moved, and you reached out to him. Before you could though, he jumped up and away from you. His eyes were red and bloodshot, forehead slightly perspired, and his face looked pale compared to his blue robe. The bags under his eyes stood out against his face, and a sleepy look evaded from his eyes. Finally realizing the music was turned off, an angry look came over his features.

"Why did you turn off the music?"

"It was loud Sherlock, I couldn't even hear myself think.

"Speak for yourself," he remarked, and you rolled your eyes at his comment.

"I'm getting really sick of this Sherlock."

"Sick of what?" he asked, flailing his arms around dramatically.

"This thing that happens at the same time every month!" He looked confused momentarily, and a bubble of laughter escaped his lips.

"Sounds like a personal problem." You shook your head in frustration and let out an agitated sigh.

"Not what I meant. I'm sick of you scaring Mrs. Hudson when you escape from reality and into your world of whatever. I'm sick of seeing the bruises on your arms and the dead look in your eyes. I'm sick of fighting over this because we do it every time and nothing changes! You say you'll stop but you never do."

"Why do we have to fight over this then? You're the one who gets mad and starts it all while I'm just trying to enjoy myself and clear my thoughts." You looked at him, part of you hating him and the other part worrying this would go on forever.

"I just don't understand why you do it," you snapped coldly. "It could kill you."

"The reward is worth more than the risk," he responded, a smirk playing out on his lips. He thinks he's so clever. I'll show him.

"Well then, enjoy your reward because your risk is leaving."

~

You wandered around London for quite sometime, breathing in the fresh air and trying to think everything through. Obviously leaving Sherlock was not an option. Not only would he probably end up overdosing without your constant watch on him, but how would you survive without going on crazy adventures with him to remind you what it felt like to be alive? You decided he just needed an intervention, and what better person to help you than his own skin and blood.