BBC Sherlock Imagines

Sherlock: Secrets

Request for @camcrusher123

P.S.
Take a peek at Sherlock in that white button up... Oh man.
~

"Come in come in," you chimed, welcoming the whole gang into your apartment. "Welcome to my humble abode." You looked around your newly furnished flat and smiled proudly. Your new place was definitely a step up from your old place. You had finally gotten a chance to let your inner interior decorator come out; new paint, new furniture, new feng shui. Some boxes were stuffed back into corners, but overall you were done with the decorating. Because of that, you had invited your friends, well and Anderson and Donovan, over for a housewarming party.

One by one they walked through the door, each giving an approving nod as their eyes swept the room. The last to come through was Sherlock. He winked at you and squeezed your shoulder as he walked by. Not wanting to let him get off that easy, you grabbed his hand and turned him back around to face you. You poked your cheek expectedly, awaiting a peck. He just stared down at you and crinkled his eyes.

"No," he barked. You gave him a look, mustering your biggest puppy dog eyes. He looked around, making sure that everyone's attention was on the room and not him. Then he swiftly leaned down, planting his lips on your cheek for a split second before he stood back up straight again. He cleared his throat and shook his hair with his hands in an attempt to mask his red cheeks.

"Now that wasn't so hard was it?" you teased. He stopped mid-ruffle and glared at you.

"(Y/n), the place looks great," complimented John.

"You'll have to come do mine soon dear," added in Mrs. Hudson.

"Thank you," you squealed. "And I'd love to Mrs. Hudson!"

"Eh, it's okay," commented Lestrade. You turned to glare at him, and he shot you a smile. "You know I'm only joking!"

"George don't joke," ordered Sherlock. He strutted past him towards an abstract painting you had on the wall. You shook your head and shared a disapproving look with Greg.

"I'll go get the drinks, make yourselves at home," you announced. You spent the next couple minutes getting out glasses, putting out all the snacks, and all the other boring stuff hosts do. From the living room you heard, "Anderson stop snooping!" from Sherlock. You chuckled lightly, wondering what Anderson was getting into to. Suddenly you dropped the bag of crisps you were holding. The living room had become very very silent, no more laughing or talking or anything. Complete silence. You face palmed. How could I be this stupid? you thought as you sheepishly shuffled into the living room. You just about ran out of the flat as you noticed them gathered around a box, whispering and gasping occasionally escaping from the circle. John was the first one to notice you standing there, and he immediately whacked Sherlock on the arm. Sherlock, the person whom everyone was mostly gathered around, dropped whatever he had been holding in his hand and snapped his head towards you, everyone following in turn. You tried to speak but you really didn't know what to say. Now that they had seen, they would never look at you the same again.

"I didn't know-," began Sherlock.

"Yeah," you stated briefly, cutting him off before he could say anymore. Another awkward silence filled the room and you bit your lip as you avoided eye contact at all costs. You palms grew sweaty, and you wiped them on the back of your jeans.

"You look great, like you had been working out!" enthused Mary, trying to defuse the awkwardness.

"Yeah, I, uh, worked out a lot. Back then. Because they made us." Lestrade cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head.

"Why'd you stop?" asked Anderson. Donovan smacked him upside the head and you blushed, looking down at the floor. "What, I'm just wondering," he defended.

"Why do you care?" asked Donovan, giving Anderson, her lover, a not-so-happy look.

"For once I'll have to agree with Donovan and also ask: why do you care?" Sherlock puffed out his chest and cocked his head, slowly moving towards Anderson. Before whatever bad thing could happen next, you stepped between them and grabbed the box from the ground. You rushed into your room to close it, wanting to hide away its contents forever. But before you could, you caught a glimpse of yourself half naked in a bunny suit, posing on the front cover of Playboy magazine.

A/N

Short update.

More is to come.

Finals are over.

Hallelujah.

I miss you children.

#SHERPRESSION is real.

I got a Greg Lestrade phone "case".

#SHERPRESSION is still real.

Why do I love fictional characters that will never love me back?

Cats rule.

Goodnight.

Enjoy life.