Scent (Sherlock x Reader)
This is the result of spontaneous 3am writing, but I can say it's some of my more decent work. Hope you like it!
Summary: After a particular incident, you find yourself unable to stop yourself from stealing Sherlock's Clothes.
Warnings: just some cuss words.
A/n: You, Sherlock and John all live together in 221B. You and Sherlock aren't in an official relationship...yet.
Word count: 2,327
please, if you have any requests, suggestions or criticism do send me, I'd love to hear from you.
It all started on a Tuesday afternoon while you and Sherlock were on a case together.
Halfway through working on the case and analysing the scene, it started raining, and it started raining hard.
You hadn't been prepared, despite Sherlock bugging you to take your coat with you because it will rain, which lead you to tell him to sod off and that you'll follow the weather forecast, which said otherwise.
I mean, there's no way Sherlock could know more about the weather than literal meteorologists, could he?
Well, he did.
Immediately, as the rain started soaking you, Sherlock turned around, took his coat off, and wrapped you in it.
"There, you won't get cold now, it'll keep you warm," he told you as he made sure the coat was snug around you.
"What about you? won't you get sick?" you asked, concerned for him.
"Don't worry, I'm used to the rain, it doesn't get me sick." he replied reassuringly.
He did get sick.
You realized he only said those words so you would accept his coat without arguing.
The action made your heart swell with warmth, affected by his subtle display of care.
You took care of him for the week in which he was sick and brushed off his moaning and complaining, which you knew was caused by how foreign it was for him to be sick. He wasn't usually sick, or denying cases -- and he hated that break of routine.
But you didn't mind it, because his excessive napping on the couch allowed you to dabble into your new pleasure: stealing Sherlock's clothes.
When Sherlock gave you his coat you didn't really have it in you to complain, that's why you accepted his stupid reason for giving it to you, because you were so lost in his scent that was surrounding you -- him surrounding you -- just overpowering you from every direction.
Sherlock's scent was unique to you: a perfect combo of his expensive apple shampoo, his favourite shower gel and the subtle hint of vanilla bean and musk from his usual cologne. As well as the coconut and jelly bean scented body lotion that he lathers one almost daily, not that he'd admit to it.
It was perfect.
You couldn't help but sniff at his coat lapels every couple of seconds, unable to control yourself against his addictive scent. You prayed he doesn't notice, and thank God he didn't, as he was too busy rattling off deduction after deduction to the poor officers at Scotland yard.
When you got home, you were almost soaked to the bone.
The case ran longer than necessary, virtue of Anderson's idiocy at misplacing an important piece of evidence.
The coat did help keep you warm, for the most part, but after a while, it could only do so much.
The moment you walked through the doors Sherlock was quick to take his coat off you and instruct you to go wait for him in the bathroom. Moments later he was knocking on the door, handing you a pair of sweatpants of yours that he'd grabbed from the fresh laundry basket and a dark blue button-up of his.
You wasted no time putting them on, immediately peeling the wet clothes off you and slipping on the clothes Sherlock had given you.
As his shirt slipped over your head, coming to a rest on your shoulders, you inhaled deeply, taking in as much of his scent as you could.
The shirt was warm, which you guessed was because of Sherlock's habit of keeping his clothes nearby the heater in his room -- just close enough to be warmed without burning.
You never truly understood why, but you guessed it was because of Sherlock's lack of...contact.
People usually didn't hug Sherlock or treat him very warmly. So, you guessed his warm clothes was his attempt at feeling hugged, or held close, experiencing the warmth of physical affection.
Since that fateful day, you had been sneaking into Sherlock's room to steal his clothes.
Sometimes, it'd be a sweater, other times a casual sleep shirt, and occasionally a button-up of his.
In the beginning, you thought his simple blue button-up would be enough for you, your perfect fix, but admittedly, over time, the scent started fading from it, most likely due to how often you were smelling it...and the fact that you were sleeping in it.
Sherlock didn't ask for it back, which made you grateful, and you eventually slipped it into the dirty laundry basket after Sherlock's scent had entirely faded from it. You made sure to stuff it at the bottom of the basket, to make it seem like it had been there for a while in order not to raise suspicion.
After that, you went into the living room just to check if Sherlock was still napping, saying a couple of wrong facts just to see if he'd bolt up to correct you. When he didn't, you were reassured he was asleep, and sneaked into his room and pulled off a shirt of his rack.
From how strong his scent was in it, you guessed this was probably the shirt he'd slept in.
Just as quietly as you'd slipped in, you slipped out, tiptoeing to your room to hide the newly acquired drug... shirt in your closet.
You did this once more in the week Sherlock was sick.
After he was cured and all ready to hop on cases again you realized you had to change your break-in and robbery schedule.
Since you'd accompany Sherlock on almost all his cases you couldn't use that time to steal...err borrow his clothes since you'd be out with him.
So, you'd send him out on unnecessary missions:
"Sherlock! we're all out of milk and I need it urgently for the cake," you'd scream at him after dumping all the milk in the house down the drain.
"Go get it yourself, I'm working." he'd reply.
"I can't, I need to prepare for dinner."
"Ask John," he'd suggest.
“Out with Mary,” you’d counter back, “C’mon, please Sherlock.”
He had a soft spot for you, not that you were aware of it, so he left working on the case and ran to the shops to get you your milk.
Another time it was eggs, and another it was to pick up a stupid parcel you didn’t even care about but pretended otherwise to get him to leave.
You hoped that Sherlock wouldn't realize, but your hopes were misplaced.
Sherlock started noticing his clothes going missing at spontaneous times, and either not showing up anywhere or randomly appearing in the laundry basket one day.
Sherlock never suspected it was you.
He suspected John and even came to ask you about him. He asked if you've noticed John sneaking in or out of his room, he claimed that he thinks Johns steals his clothes so he'd look more dapper for Mary. You pretended to be surprised and even claimed that you might have noticed some weird behaviour from John.
You've never lied to Sherlock before, you never needed to.
You hated lying to him, but this was a dire emergency that required lying -- a necessary evil one would say.
Sherlock confronted John at dinner later that evening, which needless to say ended in shambles.
Sherlock deduced that John was telling the truth when he said he had no idea what the hell Sherlock was speaking of, which lead to Sherlock believing that the laundry machine is eating his clothes, which resulted in Sherlock trying to disassemble the poor machine.
You almost fessed up in that moment, but John called in Mrs Hudson, who threatened to kick Sherlock out if any harm befell her beloved laundry machine.
You breathed a sigh of relief after this shit show ended, then headed to bed, slipping in Sherlock's shirt that you stole a couple days ago, hoping that Sherlock would've forgotten all about it in the morning.
Sherlock didn't mention his missing clothes again. You thought that he'd forgotten all about it.
You were wrong.
Sherlock had begun to suspect you now, especially after smelling a whiff of his shampoo off you as he sat next to you for breakfast the next morning.
He tried to brush it off as him getting a whiff off his own hair, but the thought kept nagging him. So, he stopped using his shampoo, just for two days, and sure enough, the scent was still persistently radiating off you.
So, he tried to bait you, waiting till you'd try to sneak into his room so he'd apprehend you and confront you.
But the confrontation came in a different form.
It was an early Thursday morning, almost a month since the coat and rain incident.
Sherlock was working on another experiment of his, still in his sleeping gown, and in the midst of his focus on the liver cells in his microscope, he accidentally spilt his scalding hot tea when trying to reach for it, which resulted in a loud "OW SHIT!" to escape from his mouth and him knocking over a large book off the table as he retracted his hand, causing it to hit the floor with a loud thud.
The commotion scared you out of your sleep, making you leap out of bed and almost rip your bedroom door open as you made your way to where Sherlock was.
Seeing him hunched over, gripping his hand and in pain made you rush towards him in worry.
"Sherlock! what the hell happened?" you asked frantically.
"Nothing important, just a slight mishap on my p--" he cut himself off as he raised his head to look at you.
You looked at him, confused, wondering why he just stopped midsentence and was looking at you as if he'd just broken the Da Vinci Code.
Then you realized.
Shit, you were still wearing his purple button-up that you went to bed with.
"So, it was you," he stated with a smirk.
"Sherlock, I'm sorry. I know I should've told you and I'm sorry I t--" you tried to apologize before Sherlock cut you off.
"No... don't apologize. I just want to know why," he stated.
You sighed, then began to explain, "Do you remember when we worked on that case down south? When it rained?" you asked.
Sherlock hummed and nodded at you, indicating his remembrance.
"You gave me your coat that day, and when we came back you gave me your blue shirt, do you remember that?"
He nodded once more.
"They all smelled like you...and were really warm, it felt like I was being hugged by you all the time."
Sherlock's eyes widened slightly then trailed down your Sherlock's-shirt-clad body, then trailed upward again to lock eyes with you.
"Why did you keep taking more? After the blue shirt?" he questioned looking genuinely confused; you thought he looked adorable.
You smile sheepishly at him before replying,
"...It lost your scent,"
Sherlock's eyes softened, filling with warmth as they gazed at you in adoration.
"Why didn't you tell me? I would've given them to you if you'd asked, you know that right?" he questioned.
Actually, you didn't. So, you just smile at him shyly, not knowing what to say next.
Sherlock moved towards you, stopping when you were a centimetre apart.
"And ... you could hug me anytime too," he murmured softly, as if not wanting to scare you away.
You stared at him in shock. You didn't expect him to be so chill with things. You didn't know what to say now.
He must've mistaken your shocked silence for rejection because he shyly broke eye contact and stepped back as he started to murmur apologies.
You stretch your hand out to hold his, effectively stopping him from backing away, and slowly pull him towards as you manoeuvre your arms to wrap around his waist tightly, holding him close to you.
Slowly, perhaps tentatively, Sherlock moves his arms to wrap around you as well, one hand finding solace tangled in your hair and the other rubbing slow circles into your back.
Your eyes close in euphoria, at both facts that one: you were in Sherlock's arms, and two: the scent of his clothes didn't even compare to how heavenly he smelt up close.
Slowly, both of you started swaying, causing a relaxing but lethargic atmosphere to take place. You yawned which caused Sherlock to yawn, which caused you to yawn once more, which then caused Sherlock to chuckle softly, the sound making your heart melt.
Sherlock began to guide you towards the couch in the living room, laying on it first then pulling you close to him so that you were laid facing him, your head fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck.
His arms were wrapped around you tightly, preventing you from falling, as your arms were hugging him close to you as well, one around his neck and the other laid on his waist.
His hair tickled your nose as you adjusted against him, causing the scent of his apple shampoo to flood your senses.
You returned your head back to his neck, inhaling sharply to take in as much of his scent as you could.
You felt him press a soft kiss to the top of your head, before pulling you closer, which prompted you to press a kiss to his neck, resulting in him shivering slightly.
Sherlock wasn't used to this...to affection.
Having you so close was already messing up his senses, and the kiss you just gave him set his nerve ending alight.
Sherlock tried to calm himself down by focusing on your heartbeat, using it as guidance to a comfortable, relaxed sleep with you in his arms.
Slowly, you both fell asleep, melting into each other like butter.
After this day you never took Sherlock's clothes to sleep again, you never needed to.
You had the real thing now, and by God was it so much better.
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