Sherlock Imagines and Preferences

Acknowledging Love

Requested by mugglegranger 

When he realised he loved you...

Sherlock

We arrived at the crime scene. It was very bloody and I glanced at (Y/N) to see any uncomfortableness, but she seemed excited. I smiled slightly and grabbed her hand, causing her to look at me with a dazzling smile. My heart skipped a beat as I drowned in her beautiful (E/C) eyes. We had been together for a few months, yet she never failed to captivate me with her outstanding appearance. I considered myself very lucky to have her. She was perfect in my eyes and I planned on keeping her for a very long time.

''Sherlock!'' Lestrade greeted. I slowly averted my gaze to the DI and got rid of the smile on my face. ''Morning, Lestrade. Where's the body?'' I asked. He led the way to the small bedroom of the destroyed and bloody flat. A short man was laying on the bed with his hands and feet tied together. He had a bullet hole in his head and a lot of stab wounds which caused the amount of blood in the flat. I let go of (Y/N)'s hand and inspected the body closely, immediately launching into my deductions. ''Late forties, unhappily married, depressed. Obviously tried to run away from the killer after being stabbed. Killer attacked him from behind and managed to overpower him, tied him up and shot him after stabbing several times more.'' I concluded.

''It was probably the wife who killed him.'' The stupid voice of Anderson cut in. I rolled my eyes and ignored him. ''Wrong.'' (Y/N) said. My head shot up and I looked at her, a questioning look on my face. How did she know? ''It was obviously his therapist.'' She stated, smiling. I looked back at the body and deduced that she was right. ''Correct,'' I mumbled, loud enough for everyone to hear. ''You're an idiot, Anderson.'' She giggled. ''He's depressed, so he probably has a therapist. Judging from the bills on his nightstand, he hasn't paid in a while. The therapist got angry and couldn't get a grip on their emotions, which is ironic for a therapist. The therapist came to his flat and killed him and took all the money he had.'' She explained. A smile appeared on my face and it was impossible to get rid of it. I was so proud of her. ''You heard her. Arrest the therapist. We're leaving.'' I grabbed (Y/N)'s hand and guided her out of the flat. My heart was pounding in my chest as I realised it. I was in love with this woman.

Mycroft

We were in my home office. I was signing some documents and (Y/N) was quietly reading a book in one of the armchairs. I took a break from reading the boring documents and stared at her for a while. Her face showed slight wrinkles from concentrating on the pages. She was completely enveloped by the book in her mind. I smiled. She looked beautiful as usual, but something about her casual appearance and relaxed posture showed a whole new kind of beauty. I couldn't quite place it.

The door of my office flew open and my younger brother stormed in. ''Mycroft!'' He shouted. (Y/N) nearly fell out of the armchair in fright. I sat straight and looked at Sherlock. ''What do you want this time, Sherlock?'' I asked calmly. ''Files on a woman named Theresa Montanelli. Now.'' He demanded. I rolled my eyes and started searching on my computer. ''Hold on.'' (Y/N) interrupted. ''Mycroft is doing you a favour. You could at least ask nicely and knock before you come in. Mycroft is a busy man, sir, and I'm sure he has more important things to do than providing everything you need. You're a grown man! Do it yourself. Now, leave.'' She stated, hands on her hips. I looked at her with widened eyes. This was unusual behaviour for her. ''I don't care.'' Sherlock hissed. ''Darling, it's okay.'' I interrupted, not wanting an argument. ''No, it's not okay, Mycroft. You can't let this person storm into your office with a lot of noise and then do everything he wants. You're not a dog!'' She protested. ''Who even are you?'' She asked, turning to Sherlock once again. Sherlock seemed to be a little stunned at her outburst. She didn't look like a defending and aggressive person at all. ''That's Sherlock, dear. My younger brother.'' I explained. This seemed to frustrate her even more. ''That's not how you treat family, Sherlock!'' She yelled. ''OUT!'' She pointed her finger at the door and Sherlock was gone in seconds.