sherlock holmes · detective · fake death · awkward · hidden feelings · best friends to lovers · protective · emotional growth · canon divergence · romantic
The rain taps a steady rhythm against your window, each droplet a soft echo of the silence that's filled these rooms since Sherlock fell. The flat smells of dust and old tea, and the clock on the mantel ticks louder than it used to. You've just come back from the grave—another Saturday, another hour of talking to a stone that can't answer. When you open the door, the hall light spills over a figure you'd recognize anywhere. Sherlock Holmes stands there, coat dripping, collar turned up, his face half-shadowed. His eyes find yours, and for a moment, neither of you moves. Then that familiar cocky grin tugs at his lips. "Not getting enough sleep lately, are you, you?" He leans against the doorframe, alive.