This time it will be different. You had planned this out for a good few hours before confronting Sherlock. Sherlock, the emotionless, jackass detective who never felt the need to show his girlfriend of two fucking years at least some emotion. This ‘fight’ had been going on for at least one year. Of course, it always ended up with Sherlock giving in for one night and then being stone cold for the next month at the least. Then it began again and you were sick of it, because no matter how much you tried, one night every few months of him saying, ‘I adore you,’ wasn’t going to work. The bastard never even said the words ‘I love you,’ during sex. Not wanting to feel like the bad guy, you wanted to let him go so he would have more time doing what he loves. Solving cases. That wasn’t so easy, though.
Sherlock had just finished a case, which involved a murdered banker at a hotel, some scribbled initials on the hotel paper, and a time restricted hunt for the murderer. He found him in time, like every other case he had. You couldn’t deny Sherlock is a genius. Anyways, Sherlock was now softly playing his violin to a Bach piece, one that you knew very well. In fact, it was your favorite. You stepped into his line of sight and plastered on a fake smile. The detective would figure out that it was a fake smile, but you tried your best. You held a bag behind you, slumping to the ground when you let it go. The playing didn’t slow, but he looked up from the instrument, “What’s wrong?”
The music ended after the question. You could already feel the nervousness building up in your stomach because of what you were about to do. The detective looked up, gently setting his violin on the chair beside him.
“I need to talk,” you began confidently. Sherlock could already see where this was going. Deciding there was no way in stopping this fight again, he let you continue. He knows how this ends, yet there’s still a bit of fear of losing you every time you bring this up. Tonight could be the night, or a night three years ago could be the night you end it. It scared him because he couldn’t read you that well. He didn’t know what was going to happen tonight.
“I’ve had it. You clearly love your job more than me. I’ve learned to deal with that, but I can’t stay here and be ignored. It’s unhealthy for me and you. I can’t wait for the day when you finally start to show something, because that may be never. So I’ve got a friend picking me up in five.”
Sherlock felt like he’d been slapped in the face. The fear grew ever larger until it almost consumed him. He didn’t want you to leave, but what could he do? He didn’t know what to do. Sherlock stood swiftly, his expression softening.
“No, Sherlock. You and I both know what happens every fucking time we have this argument. I just can’t deal with this anymore. If I go, you get to spend even more time doing your job.”
Sherlock was speechless. You didn’t expect him to say anything, but it did disappoint you when he said nothing. You looked away, wiping a tear of the corner of your eye. Without looking at Sherlock, you picked up your bag, filled with essentials. You made plans to stay with a friend, who just so happened to be one of John’s ex-girlfriends. With the bag slung over your shoulder, you leaned up on your toes and kissed Sherlock’s cheek.
“I’m obviously not going to be able to live here anymore,” you said, making a small, sad laugh. Sherlock simply watched as you stood back and smiled up at him. You were crying and your eyes were red. He couldn’t stand to see you like this.
“I’ll call John and make a time to pick up my stuff when I find somewhere else to live.”
The taller man outstretched his hand to cup your cheek gently. You held your hand over his, keeping it there for a few seconds longer. Sherlock wanted to do something, but for once he didn’t know what to say. He’s never felt like this before, and there was a good reason. Feeling like this sucks.
“(Y/n). Don’t go,” he pleaded. It was very unlike Sherlock to plead, but right now he needed to.
“If I stay, what happens? We have this one great night after every fight, and every day after that it seems like you regret that night.”
“I would never regret this.”
“Then why do you act like you do? I can’t even get a kiss from you on most days. If it makes you uncomfortable, I understand. You should have told me before, though.”
“I am not uncomfortable. Stay with me.”
“I can’t. Goodnight, Sherlock,” you said, leaving him in the middle of the room. After exiting the apartment, you took a deep breath and trudged down the stairs, a sense of regret passing over you. Before you could make it to the front door, you heard the fast pounding of footsteps going down the stairs. They were Sherlock’s, obviously.
“I love you,” he recited, out of breath. After placing his hands on either side of your face, he recited the three words again. “I love you,” he said, then kissed your cheek. “I love you,” he said, then kissed the corner of your mouth. He paused, waiting for a reaction from you. Since you didn’t push him away, he said, “I love you,” one last time before kissing your lips softly. You were astonished. Sherlock had never acted this way and to see him act like this made you smile slightly. You hated him for doing this to you, because this was not part of your plan. You gripped his shirt and tugged him towards you, “I love you, too, you idiot.”
Sherlock quirked an eyebrow, causing you to roll your eyes. You connected your lips to his soft ones, smiling as he put a hand on the small of your back. “Hang on,” he murmured after a while, suddenly picking you up and starting towards the stairs.
“Sherlock, you’re not actually going to carry me all the way up the stairs, are you?”
He smirked and began climbing the stairs with ease. You giggled as he made you open the door to the flat. Once you were in, you expected him to let you down, but he carried you into his room instead. Looking up, you noticed the small smile he wore and kissed each corner of his mouth before he set you down on his bed. He followed after, pinning you down to the bed and smirking.
“Sherlock, this isn’t going to be like all the other fights we have, is it?”
“This time it will be different.”