Milestones (Pt 2) (SherlockxReader)

2. The First Date
Dates were never really your thing. You were a detetctive. Not some hopless romantic lying around for hours on end reading novels and stuffing your face with chocolates. But, when Sherlock had asked you out for dinner the other day, you simply couldn't refuse. Especially because the date you two were going to have that night had been postoned for a little over a month now. You'd been asked out by him at a fancy dinner with your brother, John, and his then girlfriend Sarah, and you'd galdy accepted. But the next day, when you two were supposed to have tea, it ended up taking longer to move into 221B then you thought so you decided on a reincheck for the next week. But then Jim Moriarty had destroyed that lovely little evening by dragging you and Sherlock out of the house to play one of his little games before you even had a chance to shower. And rhen after that exciting little evening out, the three of you took on several cases and the date simply never happened.

And that was your hearts long ass explination as to why it'd be rude to cancel on Sherlock just because you were exhausted from work and needed to sleep for ten hours. It'd be fine if this date was at 221B, whilst you and Sherlock sat on the couch cuddling and watching movies. In your sweatpants. With a nice cup of tea in your hand. But no. You had to go home, shower, and spend five hours picking out what to wear and end up in some stupid uncomfortable dress. You liked Sherlock. But since you hated most people and didn't really give thougt to your friends plans, what was the big deal if you flaked on Sherlock?...

No. Stop. Sherlock is your only best friend and possible boyfriend. Well, yeah he was basically your boyfriend. He asked you to move in with him only six hours after meeting you. So yeah. But he hadn't officially asked you to be his girlfriend yet. But you were more than a friend. God, what do you even call that?

You threw the case file down on your desk and buried your face in your hands, letting out a long yawn. You and Sherlock were Scotland Yards leading detectives. Only difference was, that you held an actual job there and had an actual office. He was just the one and only 'consulting detective'.
"Hey, Y/N."
Your head snapped up to see your boss and friend, Greg Lestrade standing in the doorway with his hands in the pockets of his dark blue jeans.
"Oh, hey, Greg. What do you need?" You asked.
"I was just wanting to tell you that you can leave early, if you'd like. Donavan can go to the crimescene and lead the investigation. I overheard John talking to you this morning about some date with Sherlock tonight, so." Greg pursed his lips as he nodded at you.
Normally, you would gag at the thought of Donavan leading one of your investigations. But you were so tired. And as juch as you wanted to go see a dead body and solve a murder, the thought of Sherlock waiting for you at home was to much.
"Okay. Thanks, Greg." You said, getting up and slipping on one of Sherlocks black coats.
He had given it to you when you were cold one day, and you'd never bothered to give it back. Hey, he had tons of coats.
You threw your purse over your shoulder, walking towards the main exit.
"Have a good time with Sherlock tonight! He needs it." Greg called as you exited, giving him a small smile as you waved.

~Timeskip of falling asleep in boring cab ride~

You got out of the cab and walked up to the ever so familiar door of 221B. Putting your keyn and turning it, you walked inside the place that already felt like your home, after only a month of living there.
"Hello, dear! How was work?" Mrs. Hudson cheered, her usual bright smile on her face as she walked down the stairs.
"It was fine. How was your day?" You smiled, giving her a quick hug as she reached the bottom of the steps.
"It was good. You better get upstairs. Sherlocks been bored again!" Mrs. Hudson smiled, patting you on the back before entering her own room.
You smiled and walked up the creaky stairs, unlocking the front door and walking inside. The curtains were drawn and you couldn't see much of anything. Squinting, you moved to take off your coat but two long arms snaked around your waist from behind you and you let out a small chuckle.

"Hello, Sherlock." You giggled.
"Hello, Y/N. How was your day?" He asked, resting his chin on your shoulder as you smirked.
"It was fine, a little tiring." You said.
"Unfortunate. Still up for our date tonight, I hope?" Sherlock asked, his arms moving away from you as he removed your coat for you and hung it on the rack.

"Actually, Sherlock-"

"You'd prefer to stay in, have a dinner here, watch movies and drink a cup of tea?" Sherlock interrupted you abruptly, momentarily shocking you.

"I'm not even going to ask how you knew that... Sherlock, I'm sorry, Im just exhausted from work and everything else and feel like I need a night in." You admitted, frowning as you turned around to face him.
"There's no need to apologize, Y/N. Go and have a bath, I'll make us some dinner." Sherlock smiled.

"Thank you, Sherlock." You smiled at him once more before heading to the bathroom. Upon closing the door, you turned to see that hot, steaming water already filled the tub and a towel and set of sweatpants and a t-shirt were resting on the counter top of the sink.
You didn't know why Sherlock was being so kind, so selfless. But you appreciated it a great deal. He liked to pretend he didn't have feelings. The both of you did. But deep down, you two felt more deeply then regular people. That's why your emotions were always hidden, except on those rare occasions you'd let someone know how much you cared about them. Sherlock really cared about you. And that really touched you.

After getting out of the bath, you put on the sweatpants and t shirt, noticing it was one of Sherlocks plain tees. He didn't have many, but you though it was adorable he wanted you to wear one of his shirts. You walked out of the bathroom and blinked a few times to make sure you weren't seeing wrong. The kitchen table had been completely cleared of Sherlocks expiriments and his various, random papers lying about. It was now decorated with a clear glass vase that held white roses, freshly picked, your favorite. Two plates had been set on the table across from each other with neatly folded napkins and shiny silverware next to  them. And to top it all off, a bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket with two glasses next to it. But the crowning jewel of this image in front of you was Sherlock, his back to you as he leaned over a pot, stirring whatever was inside. He looked adorable.

"Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock?" You asked.
He suddenly turned around to face you, a geeky smile plastered on his face. He had spaghetti sauce on his cheek.
"I don't know what you mean." He hummed, pursing his lips together.
"Sherlock... This is... This is absolutely fantastic." You said, walking over to him to look inside the pot.
Spaghetti.
You smiled a smile so bright it would make the sun jealous.
This had such a special meaning. Italian food. He knew it was your favorite, and it's what you'd eaten the night he'd asked John and you to dinner.

"I couldn't have done it without your brother." Sherlock said plainly, as if he didn't appreciate it.
"Say, where is John?" You asked.
"He left just a few moments ago." Sherlock said, as if he didn't want to explain why he was just here.
In the flat. And why the flat was suddenly spotless.
"Sherlock, you phoned him didn't you? You wanted to impress me." You giggled.
"Yes, yes, now let's forget I did. Please, sit down." Sherlock said, being his arrogant self as usual and wanting to take all the credit for planning this amazing little date.
It was adorable. You'd never seen this side of Sherlock before. Heard about if from John, yes, but never personally witnessed it or experienced it.

You were quiet as you watched him, and he was silent as well. He just stood over his little pot and kept on stirring the contents. A few minutes later, he walked over and, with a fork, placed a serving of spaghetti on your plate, a very small smile on his face as if he were content with himself for successfully making a meal. He placed a serving on his own plate and then sat down across from you, his hands in a praying gesture and resting on below his chin as he stared at you with an intense gaze, making you bite down on your lip to keep from breaking into fits of laughter. It was that stare where he would just observe you, his eyes flickering slightly and almost a smile at his lips as he just sat there. And observed.
"Sherlock, why are you staring at me?" You asked, smiling.
"Because your beautiful." He said in that wonderfully deep British accent.
"Well, thank you. Sherlock, what's gotten in to you?" You asked, twirling spaghetti around your fork as you looked at him.
"What do you mean?" He questioned, dropping his gaze from you and becoming busy with his own food.

You thought for a moment before answering.
"Well it's just... Your a lot like me Sherlock, and I think that's why we get on so well. But tonight... You seem different. In a good way. I like this side of you. It's just that... I want you to know that you don't need to buy me fancy things or take me out to expensive dinners to impress me. I will literally be content to lie on the couch with a box of pizza and sit next to you and cuddle. This is nice and all. But you don't need to impress me, because you already have with just your friendship." You explained as his stone expression softened.

"How have I impressed you with my friendship?" He asked, setting down his fork for a moment.
"Sherlock. I've never had friends. I've always been the weirdo, the freak. Which, I know I just scare people because I'm smarter than them. I know things. They don't, and the unknown scares people, Sherlock. Scares them right to their very cores. Johns always been there. But..." You trailed off for a moment, blinking a few times whilst in thought.
"But he doesn't understand." Sherlock said.

How could this man read you like a book? Nobody could. And sure, you read him as well, but it was as if he shared your mind. And vice versa.
"Exactly. He just doesn't understand what it's like to... To have your mind constantly working out ideas, and things and just... He's not dumb. Johns very smart but people are rarely as smart as me and I know that sounds vain but it's hard, it really is hard. And you're the only person I've met who understands that and knows what it's like. And as I mentioned, I've really never had friends. Didn't see the point. But somehow you've changed my mind." You further explained, an unreadable look on Sherlocks face.
He was silent for a few moments as he thought. You continued eating, waiting for his response.
"Are you trying to say you appreciate me?" Sherlock asked after about five minutes.
"Um.. Yes." You said, clearing your throat awkwardly.
You didn't like emotions. Emotions were bad.

"Then... I.. Appreciate you to." Sherlock said, your eyebrows raising involuntarily as you looked at him.
You stared at him, and he stared back. It felt like something had just been accepted. Like a wall had just come down.
"You have no idea how much that means to me." You said quietly.
"Y/N, I'm afraid you don't either." Sherlock said.

"Dinner was great. Thanks." You said.
"We can do the dishes later. Shall we sit on the couch?" Sherlock asked.
You nodded as he got up, walking towards you, his tall frame towering over as you stared up at him. It was so silent. All you could hear was your breathing combined with his. You felt so terrified. All of these feelings you were experiencing were so... New. You'd never felt love before. Love towards John and a select few others, yes, but this was a different kind of love. This was a type of love that made you want to kiss someone in the rain, wake up entangled with them and stare at their beauty while they slept. Hug them and sit on their lap and kiss their forehead. You were in love with Sherlock Holmes. And now, as he gazed down at you with a soft expression on his beautiful features and that tiny little smirk he always had curled onto his lips, you knew that you wanted this. No matter how terryfying and new it seemed. You, one of the smartest people in London, were scared of the unknown.

Sherlock ran his slender fingers through his hair and without any further ado, grabbed your face gently and swooped in and kissed you. His cool fingers rested softly against your cheek as your right hand lifted up to cup his jaw and your left hand found its way into his curly brown hair. It was like you were speaking a thousand words with just one kiss. He pulled away from you ever so gently, resting his forehead on yours for a moment. His breathing was heavy and he looked nervous, but it was a beautiful thing to see Sherlock Holmes actually feeling something. For you. And it was an even greater privilege to feel that emotion. Just the touch of his soft lips on yours gave you a whole new insight to his thoughts and feelings. He'd kissed you with such passion, such gratitude. The way his blue eyes softened at the sight of you and how his gentle touch showed you that he treasured you so much.

"Sherlock, I love you." You shook your head as pulled his forehead away from you, his arms around your waist as he held you gently.
"I love you to." He said.

Sherlock Holmes, the emotionless "freak" had just poured his heart out to you.
"Do me the honor of being my one and only, love. It's the only thing I'll ever ask of you." Sherlock whispered, his thumb running softly across your cheekbone.
"You didn't even have to ask." You said, hugging him tightly.

The rest of the night was spent cuddling on the couch in each other's arms and watching half of an entire season of Criminal Minds with Sherlock. You'd finally found the final thing you needed in your life.

John came home around eleven, his footsteps ever so quiet as he shut the door behind him. He gave an almost half smile half frown upon finding his younger sister curled up next to Sherlock, a blanket over the two of them as they slept soundly, the telly still playing quietly in front of them. John turned the telly off and shook his head, happy the two geniuses had found each other.