One Shot Wednesdays -Sherlock & my OCs (Patreon)

Hey all I've decided to share something I wrote two weeks ago for 'fun' and a challenge for a friend. As I have had no prompts sent in on any platform and suddenly no inspiration for a new one-shot, I'm sharing this. I've edited it a little for the purposes of it making more sense to you guys since it takes place within my existing ideas for my OCs and how they fit into the BBC Sherlock episodes so hopefully you're not too lost...

FOR CONTEXT this all takes place before the events of ‘The Lying Detective’ episode or at least before Mrs. Hudson shows up with Sherlock in the boot of her car begging John to take a look at him

I sat shaking and crying inconsolably on the floor near the staircase leading up to 221B. Alex, my fiance, was rubbing my back consolingly but I just needed to let my emotion out, and I think he knew it.

Just minutes before, we’d been up in the flat visiting Sherlock. What we had hoped to be a social visit had ended in complete disaster.

Right away I noticed the flat looked different, smelled different, felt different. “No...no not again,” I whispered nervously. I’d seen this before. Or a version of this before. Sherlock was using again. I just felt it without even seeing him.

“Wot’s wrong?” Alex asked but before I could answer, the man himself in the form of Sherlock revealed himself and confirmed what was wrong here.

He looked disheveled, unwashed, unshaven and thinner than usual. His blue dressing gown was on and he had one sleeve rolled up and with the opposing hand was holding the device he had stuck into his arm.

I audibly gasped, never having truly seen Sherlock physically using with a syringe before, and I watched him stumble towards us. I instinctively took a step back in surprise and fear, bumping into Alex who put his arms around me and backed the both of us up, manoeuvring me behind him in the process. “What the bloody hell—”

“How long’ve you both been standing in here?” Sherlock exclaimed as he came to a stop only a few feet from us, “Don’t people knock? Did you knock?” He sounded quite unsure, not accusatory.

“Sherlock what the hell?” I exhaled in emotion as he slid the needle out and I felt like I was simultaneously going to be sick and start crying at the same time. This was horrible. Absolutely horrible and I didn’t know what I was going to do; how I was going to process this.

“Sorry but I’m not in the mood for tea Daniel—I’ll see you next week,” Sherlock dismissed with a quick look at Alex before going to presumably put away his syringe somewhere in the kitchen or by the fireplace; I wasn’t sure because I had lost sight of him with Alex’s back now moving in front of me momentarily.

“I’m not Daniel I’m Alex,” my fiancé retorted.

“Who?”

“Sherlock you can’t be serious!” I exhaled shrilly.

“Oh Brittany’s Daniel. Alex, no Alex, sorry,” he muttered and I caught sight of him near the fireplace flicking his hand in our direction as his eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

“Sherlock what are you doing!?” I cried out, feeling tears coming to my eyes in the emotion. “You’re...you’re getting high!” There was no doubt of it; I couldn’t phrase it as a question. As I spoke I came to Alex’s side but I felt his hand brush me as though he meant to reach out to stop me getting any closer to this man in front of us.

“I apologize that I’m not taking visitors at the moment. Next time do call and— oh! I see why you’re here,” he exclaimed. “Congratulations.”

“Wh-what?” I responded.

“Congratulations to you both on the baby, though I didn’t think you believed in that sort of thing,” he declared waving his hand again a little on his wrist in our direction.

“Baby? What’re you talking about? And wot sort of thing?” Alex shot back both confused and concerned.

“You’re expecting,” Sherlock replied plainly, his eyes blinking a little and I wondered whether they were becoming unfocused due to the drugs or whether his eyes were tearing up as a side effect, “And I know she’s adamantly expressed several times that she doesn’t support sex before marriage but I see you changed her mind or she changed her mind or...whatever,” Sherlock responded impatiently almost.

I felt my heart beating faster. “Sherlock I’m not pregnant! Why would you say that?

“C’mon let’s get you sat down! Wh-when’s the last time you’ve had a glass of water?” I asked, going into defense mode to try and protect Sherlock from himself hoping to just settle things a bit before I would call someone more experienced to help us with this.

“Being motherly already I see,” Sherlock observed, “I was not aware that the instinct kicked in to those around you as well as your own child so quickly. I must note that.”

“Britt’s not pregnant,” Alex dismissed firmly though much to my sadness I saw his eyes flicker at me for just a brief second as though he was suddenly not entirely convinced of his conviction of that fact since he had rarely known Sherlock’s observations to be wrong. But I wasn’t pregnant. I wasn’t.

“Of course she is,” Sherlock argued, “Haven’t you noticed the bulge around her midriff, the dark circles under her eyes from lack of proper sleep, the way she was breathing heavily when she entered the room –honestly I almost missed that but now I know I didn’t just imagine the sound of breathing—” he declared in an aside, “pregnant women can experience fatigue and light-headedness. Also I observe you wrinkling your nose, Brittany, which indicates you being susceptible to changes in your tolerances of smell and taste thus some nausea associated with this. Furthermore I observe oily skin and hair and a breakout upon your face which you’ve attempted to remedy with pinching, no doubt.”

I was rendered speechless for a few moments.

“A-and of course Alex’s protective behaviour of getting his unborn child and wi—girl—fiancée safely behind him,” Sherlock added on suddenly as though it had occurred to him just now.

“I’m not pregnant,” I retorted.

“I’d advise you to take a test then,” he responded as he looked around him as though trying to find something unrelated to this conversation.

“I’m not pregnant!” I argued firmly, feeling a growing feeling of discomfort and frustration rising in me. “Everything you just said; that you observed... You’ve got it wrong!”

My hair was unwashed, yes, and my skin had broken out a couple days ago. I was out of breath on the stairs because it had been awhile since I’d taken these particular ones and besides that I was gasping in shock over what was going on and not because I was feeling lightheaded from expecting a baby! The wrinkling of my nose: the sharp smells that I was not used to in this apartment making me disgusted and surprised. My dark circles... yes I was unable to sleep but there was a hell of a lot more on my mind than having insomnia from hormones or something. I was stressed and in turn it made me tired, but worried at night so I couldn’t sleep. And the stress had also made me gain some weight over the last while... since Mary’s death. But Alex and I had been doing our best to help each other through our emotions and the changes around us.

But I was not expecting a baby!

“The glow to your skin as well,” Sherlock added on. I was hot from the strenuous climb and the anger and anxiety rising within me.

“I’m not pregnant!” I cried out loudly, making his unfocused attention go on me properly at last. “I’m not pregnant Sherlock I’m stressed and scared and...and... bloody upset!” I snapped as I blinked away tears. “Alex and I can’t be pregnant and you’re only seeing this so unclearly because you’re getting fucking high again!” I went off. “I can’t believe this!” A tear fell and I wiped it away hurriedly with the back of my sleeve, Alex standing a fraction closer to me now in concern and support.

Sherlock looked me over with those piercing eyes and scratched at the stubble coming in on his face as he no doubt reassessed me. “So you’re just fat then? You’ve put on a bit of weight.”

This felt like a stab to the heart; the final blow to the kettle to make the steam and water burst out overflowing in my emotional state. I burst out crying and Alex immediately pulled me to him.

“You really have no idea how to talk to people do you mate?” I heard Alex proclaiming with controlled anger; his voice straightforward and almost calm as I sobbed into his chest, “I don’t care if it’s an observation or deduction or whatever; you don’t talk to people like that especially not your friends!”

“I don’t have time to entertain my friends right now,” Sherlock murmured.

“Well that’s bloody obvious—”

“Well if you didn’t come to make an announcement then what was it for?” our friend posed. “And how’d you explain all of my observations? I wasn’t incorrect in what I’m seeing.”

“There are plenty of other reasons and explanations for things!” Alex railed, “Sherlock we came to see you; to spend some time like old times and...”

“There is no like old times; not anymore!” Sherlock shot back, “Mary is dead, Brittany has moved out long ago and so has John... Mrs. Hudson is...God knows,” he muttered, putting the heel of his hand into his eye for just a moment, “Like old times would imply that things have not changed and they have. Things are constantly changing, constantly moving... You’re a fool if you came up here for old times! Besides, those old times never included you,” he added on softly.

This broke the dam of my anger and I hurled out words from beneath my tears that I would regret only minutes from now, “HOW DARE YOU! HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!” I screamed, “SHERLOCK HOLMES HOW DARE YOU!” I moved out of Alex’s arms and hit my fists against Sherlock’s chest and he took it rather solidly even if he might’ve been higher than a kite; he was still a firmly planted tree for the moment. My outburst hadn’t startled him much it seemed.

I burst out with a fresh batch of tears and urged Alex to go. “Let’s just go—” I begged as I stumbled out of the flat and with his help got down the stairs until I collapsed in sadness and anger and a feeling of helplessness.

~*~