I thought of you Sherlock, as I showered this morning. I thought of your smile, I thought of your eyes, I thought of your hair, I thought of your dimples and I thought of you. The real you that no one saw under all those public layers. I thought of how you'd shed those layers around me, I thought of how you had let me see you, and I thought of how much I still love you.
I thought of you until the water ran cold, and then I thought some more because thinking of you, Sherlock, thinking of you can never bore me. And even when I went to leave the shower, I still thought of you as I'd looked down at the hair products, the shower gels, the soaps and cleansers that littered my bathtubs edge and I couldn't help but smile as I thought… as I thought how nice it'd be if your things were back amongst mine.
I thought of myself showering again then, but this time I imagined myself running out of soap, my own soap and I thought of me then using yours. I thought of me wearing you to work, to the grocery store, everywhere.
I thought of afterwards, of coming home at night and laying down beside you, curling into you and smelling your neck… and finding where all my soap had gone.
I thought of you this morning, Sherlock.
First ever Sherlock fic. And my shortest story to date. This is Post-Reichenbach. Even though it's not mentioned.
Based off of a post I saw on tumblr.