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Ever since you had met Sherlock at a Ball your parents had been hosting, you had been intrigued. He had no invitation, but had been able to fool all the guests into making them believe he was invited. Even your parents. You, however, had been suspicious and had trailed after him every step of the way.
He had tried to shake you off, but you were determined to prove his lies. And also because you wanted to avoid every single eligible male your Mother paraded before you, in hopes that you would pick someone to dance with.
You had finally cornered Sherlock under the guise of a dance. And he had been a little impressed that he hadn’t been able to pull the wool over your eyes with his lies. So, he had told you the truth.
He was here to stop a man from killing his wife and framing her lover for it. And then he asked for your help. The prospect of doing something that went against your proper upbringing, compelled you to agree.
A few moments later, you appeared to fall in a faint, prompting all the attention to be diverted towards you. Providing Sherlock with ample time to stop the villain of the night without causing any unwanted fuss.
From then on Sherlock would send you telegrams. And as soon as you received them, you would don your hat and gloves, and under the guise of some errand of some sort, would be out of the house.
Normally Sherlock would ask you to come when he required the assistance of a female in his case. Infiltrating a women society, or being in a place where no one would raise an eyebrow at her being there, you would gather whatever information you could pick up on and report back to Sherlock. There were even times when you would climb out of your window in the dead of night to meet with him and help him solve crimes.
His partner, Dr. Watson, had not been too keen on having a young woman accompany them to dangerous and uncivilized places, but you didn’t care. This was the first time something exciting was happening in your life.
So far the only excitement that you had experienced had been news of a potential suitor. But that had fizzled out rather fast. Besides solving a crime topped sitting around in the drawing room listening to old ladies gossip.
Unless of course you were on a mission to gather intelligence. It was amazing, Sherlock had once told you, how much women and housemaids could pick up just because no one ever noticed them. You had helped solve quite a number of cases and murders just by listening in on gossip.
Your parents found out about your escapades a little later then they initially should have. Probably because your mother was a social butterfly who was never really home, and your father stayed at his office or his other lodgings in the heart of London most nights.
You had once been nearly caught because Sherlock and Watson had been attempting to chase down a runner, in a gentleman’s pub. You had been waiting outside and as soon as the man had come racing out, you had simply stuck out foot, and watched as the man went careening into a fruit stall.
“Quick thinking Ms. Y/L/N.” Mr. Watson had praised at which you had smiled in amusement. “Who knew a simple schoolboy trick would take down a murderer.”
It was then that you had caught sight of your father standing at the threshold of the club, looking at you with rage in his eyes. Your face had paled, and Sherlock had noticed.
His mind was quick enough to deduce what was going on, and what would occur if he did not act quickly. Which is why he turned to you and gave a small polite bow.
“Thank you for helping us catch the criminal Miss. It was good fortune you were here at such an opportune moment.” His hand grasped your gloved one, where he placed a polite kiss at the back of it. Surreptitiously he slipped his pocket watch into your hand, which you quickly palmed and gave him a polite smile before moving to speak to your father.
That was the first time you lied to your father.
How you had only come to deliver his pocket watch to him, which was, of course, not his. Since you had an errand to run in this part of London, you had opted to drop it off.
And that was that.
Or so you thought.
Your most recent adventure with Sherlock, turned into a rather pivotal moment.
In hindsight, perhaps posing as a couple at a masquerade had not been the best of plans. But there had been no other way. Sherlock had to expose the sweet old widow who was actually running a brothel under the guise of a respectable hotel. She had been hosting a masquerade at her family home, intent to keep up appearances.
All Sherlock had to do was sneak into her study and steal a few letters of correspondence that would expose her. What you hadn’t expected was the old widow herself to be giving a tour of her home, and for an entire gaggle of women to barge into the study.
Where both you and Sherlock were.
Alone.
THE SCANDAL!
The gossip mill churned and soon the entire city of London knew that you had been caught alone with a gentleman with no chaperone.
The women who had caught you had failed to report that the both of you had been standing well away from one another, with you rummaging through the desk, while Sherlock went over every inch of the fireplace in case there was a hidden compartment.
But those were insignificant details.
Your father was furious!
He had raved on and on for hours how you had brought shame to the family name, and that no man would ever want to marry someone who had a reputation. Especially with someone like Sherlock? Who was considered an oddity and that most people in polite society shunned just because he was different.
You hadn’t spoken once while your father scolded you, but once he began to call Sherlock names you had had enough.
Sherlock was your one and only friend, and the only person you trusted. You were not going to let your father slander him in such a manner.
But your defensive stance against Sherlock only made him angrier, and he gave you an ultimatum.
He would be marrying you off the moment a proposal came.
Regardless of the man’s age or station.
You had been numb all over once he said that. Knowing him, he was vindictive enough to go through with his promise. And your father was a proud man who thought social standing was everything. You had just put a huge stain across your reputation, and it was up to him to fix it.
It never crossed his mind to marry you off to Sherlock, and you didn’t suggest it either. Because Sherlock would never marry you. You were a mere acquaintance to him. He had no idea of the extent of your feelings for him and how deep they ran.
And perhaps it was better your feelings remained a secret.
Your father did not believe you capable enough to sneak out a few days after your initial scolding. He thought you that meek, demure young lady you had grown up to be. Of course, he had no idea that since you had begun to solve cases with Sherlock and had tasted what true freedom and joy felt like, it had been easy for you to show your true colors.
You had shown up at 221B Baker Street late evening.
Sherlock had been extremely surprised to see you there. Truthfully, he admitted to thinking you would never return.
“And why would I not come back?”
“Because….being with me would destroy your reputation.”
“Its already in tatters Sherlock, I doubt continuing solving cases with you will change anything. Especially since it will be my last case.”
He had inquired after your last statement to which you had revealed your father’s plans to marry you off.
You had known Sherlock for the better part of a year now, and you had never seen him at a loss for words. But in that moment he had stared at you, and if you were to believe your hopeful heart, there was a troubled look in his blue eyes.
The moment passed, and he quickly told you about the case he had been working on solving and was about to go and confront the killer. As this would be the final case you both shared, you just hoped it was a good one.
And you certainly got what you wished for.
From the initial moment it was exciting. With the man trying to get away and you and Sherlock chasing after him. Once cornered, the man had taken out a pistol and fired. Sherlock had shielded you with his body, causing one of the bullets to graze his arm.
The Culprit ran out of bullets, and that was the opening Sherlock needed to engage him in a fist fight.
However, he underestimated the man’s strength, and while Sherlock was strong and quite adapt at fighting, his bloodied arm did hold him back.
Which led to Sherlock being held by his throat, with the man squeezing as hard as he could.
So far, you had never actively participated in a fight. But in that moment, seeing Sherlock’s panicked and terrified gaze flicker in your direction, something inside you snapped.
Letting out a roar, you picked up the first thing you could use as a weapon, which turned out to be an axe.
Makes sense since you were in a wood shop.
You hadn’t stopped to think, hadn’t even held back in the power of your swing and let the axe fall.
Hitting the man in the back of his head and killing him instantly.
You stood there. Every inch of you nearly covered in blood. You eyes were wide and lips pressed in a thin line in an effort to not scream out loud at what had just occurred. Your hands were still gripping the handle of the axe you had used to kill the man who now lay at your feet in a puddle of his own blood.
Kill.
By the Queen you had killed someone.
Granted he had been about to kill the man you loved, but still. You had killed someone. A man. A living being.
Your gaze couldn’t leave his bloody figure, as you began to take in ragged breaths, small sounds coming from the back of your throat as you tried to draw breath without actually choking on it.
“Y/n?”
Your instincts screamed at you and you raised the axe above your head in an effort to defend yourself. Sherlock held up his hands in a surrendering motion.
“It would be redundant if you were to kill me after stopping him from doing so.” He said. Anyone who knew Sherlock could see the worry in his eyes as he looked at you.
A sound finally escaped your lips, as your arms went limp and the axe dropped at your feet.
Sherlock.
The man had nearly killed Sherlock.
The man had nearly choked him to death.
The person you had killed had nearly taken away the man you loved.
Forgetting yourself and any form of decorum or propriety, you launched yourself at Sherlock and wrapped your arms around him, bloody dress and all.
Surprisingly, he reciprocated the embrace just as fiercely as you, if not more.
It was the dead of night, and you stood in front of your parents in a bloodied dress, standing besides Sherlock who was just as much of a mess as you were. Albeit his clothes were in disarray, his arm was still bleeding, and there were bruises all along his face and neck. Not to mention his bloody knuckles.
Your mother had fainted when she had seen you covered in blood, and your father was yet to say a word.
The silence would have stretched on if Sherlock had not broken it.
“I realize this is not the way one would expect to see their daughter so late at night, but I simply wished to clear some things.”
He seemed to be gathering courage with every word he spoke. All eyes were on him as he continued.
“Your daughter has helped me put monsters in cages. She has helped solve crimes with her quick mind and sharp tongue. Not to mention she saved my life tonight. And I realize that we may have been caught in a compromising position but rest assured when I say that nothing happened.”
He glanced back at you and you met his blue gaze. Something in his eyes shifted and an almost tender look came upon them as he continued. “Even though I wished that something would.”
Your eyes widened, as your lips parted. You heard your mother release a horrified gasp, but you could hardly hear it over the thundering of your heart. Sherlock turned back to look at your father.
“You told Y/n, that you would marry her off to the first man who proposed to her. And as a man of honor, I’m sure you shall hold true to your promise when I ask you to give your daughter’s hand in marriage to me.”
This………..
This was a dream.
It had to be.
Sherlock.
Sherlock was asking for your hand.
Did that mean………
Your father stood. He was a good few feet shorter then Sherlock, but he glared at the man with such hatred that you were sure your father would have him thrown out.
“You have one week. After which I never wish to see the both of you on my doorstep again.”
With that he was gone, with your mother following after him, wailing at how he was making a mistake by marrying his daughter off to a lunatic.
You were still staring at Sherlock who let out a nervous laugh. “I thought your father would kill me for certain.” He admitted, pushing his hair back from where the curly strands had fallen in his face.
“Y-you-” Seems he had rendered you mute with his proposal.
He shrugged. “Well it was the more logical thing to do. It would silence the gossip and keep your father from marrying you off to some unpleasant fellow.” He frowned. “Then again, I do not believe I am a good man myself but perhaps the lesser of two evils.”
Whatever your feelings were about the situation, in that moment your heart broke for him a little. Did he truly believe he was not a good man? Him? Who had helped saved countless lives and put so many criminals behind bars.
He was clueless when it came to himself.
So, perhaps it was a good thing you would be with him from now on to remind him of the good he did.
Walking towards him you slowly took his hand in yours. This was the first time you held his hand where neither of your wore gloves. With no barrier between your skin and his, you could feel the warmth of his palm against your own. Your eyes dropped to where his knuckles were bruised and slightly bleeding when he had thrown punches earlier.
“You truly don’t see yourself as a good man do you Sherlock?” You asked, fingers brushing over his knuckles. “What people say about you? Did it manage to get to you? Make you believe you were not good enough.” Whether a person was immune to the power of words or not, they still had an effect on them. He stayed silent, instead bringing his other hand up to place on top of yours, enveloping your hand between both of his.
“There was a time when I began to believe what they said. But then you came along. This nosy woman who refused to let me out of her sight because she knew I was lying.” You smiled a little at the memory of your first meeting. “And having her speak to me like a normal person, and treat me as such, made me believe that perhaps I am good enough.”
You smiled. “And the proposal?” You raised an eyebrow at the sheepish expression he wore. “Yes well, I had to do something to make sure we would continue solving crimes. If Watson can have a wife who was once an assassin, then I can have a wife who helps me solve cases, murder or otherwise.”
A small laugh fell from your lips. “Well I suppose it is better then attending parties and sitting down for afternoon tea.” He made a face at the very thought of both activities, prompting you to shake your head at him.
“It is a good thing you are past such frivolities and concern yourself with things that do matter.” Sherlock stated firmly to which you gave him an affectionate smile. The both of you continued to look at one another for a good long while. Time seemed irrelevant when the two of you were together.
“You are aware of my feelings for you Sherlock?” You finally asked, unable to hold yourself back from asking the question. His eyes never wavered from yours as he leaned his head forward to press a kiss to your forehead.
“And I hope you are aware of mine.”