I AM LOCKED - EnglandxReader

Given the circumstances, being woken up by the sounds of an electric guitar -maybe, you weren't terribly knowledgeable with these things- violins, and a piano, all playing together in a not unpleasant, but not exactly pleasant melody was a bit of a shock.

The circumstances, of course, being that the only logical explanation for this noise was your dear friend, Arthur Kirkland, had woken up. Not too surprising on its own, except for the fact that anything louder than a whisper should be murder to Arthur's head right now.

Arthur had once again overdone it with drinking, and you had taken it upon yourself to bring him home. It was foolish, really, and a bit creepy, but you'd talked yourself into it with shallow reasoning. Your house is much closer. He lives alone; what if something happens to him and no one's there to help? He'll appreciate the gesture. Maybe he'll...

You tried to not let your thoughts wander there.

The noise didn't last long, about long enough for him to have found the mute button on the remote. But the damage was done, and glancing at your clock, you noticed it was nearly 10:00 am, so you figured you might as well get up, too.

Going downstairs, you were welcomed by a sight much more like what you expected. Unfortunately.

Arthur was sprawled out on the couch, a pillow meant for a bed covering his face and ears, groaning. You sighed and shook your head.

"Ugh, could you not do that?" He grumbled.

"What, sigh?"

"Yes, please."

You held back another sigh. "All right," you started in a more pleasant tone. "I'll get you something for your hangover."

"I don't have a hangover!" he protested, though his head seemed to disagree and punished him with a big thud. "I-it's just from the telly. It was much too loud."

"Well, yeah, I'm sure that didn't help." You called out from the kitchen. "What were you thinking anyway, turning it up so loud?"

"Ohh, I was on Netflix. It tends to be louder, you know. I just kind of forgot. And then there's the show itself..."

You shook your head as you pulled out two slices of bread and put them into the toaster. Making your way to the cabinet for aspirins, you replied, "God, yeah. What were you watching anyway?"

"Sherlock."

"Oh. You mean with Robert Downey Jr.? I wouldn't have guessed you were a fan." you giggled, re-entering the room with an aspirin and a glass of water.

"No, not that Sherlock. BBC's Sherlock." Arthur corrected, taking the items from you and looking slightly annoyed when you signaled you'd be right back.

"Ohhh, that one." You realized, opening the fridge and pulling out some bacon.

"So you know about it?"

"Bits and pieces, yeah. People online are pretty crazy about it. Never seen it myself."

"Really? Why not?"

"Just not interested enough. Then I forgot." Turning on the stove, you placed a couple strips on the pan before making your way to the toaster. The pieces of bread were burnt, of course, more so than they needed to be. You smiled and placed them on a plate and went back to the bacon.

"...Erm... Well, it's a really good show. You should watch sometime."

A smile formed on your face. "Yeah, maybe."

"We could watch it together. Now, I mean."

No response.

"If you want, that is. I won't force you or anything."

You giggled. "I'm messing with you Arthur. That sounds nice."

You could feel Arthur peak up at that.

"Oh, okay! Just let me-"

You had, to Arthur's surprise, made your way back to the living room with a bacon sandwich.

Arthur sneered. "It's um... It's burnt." He complained, trying not to be rude but failing.

"Please, don't ever insult anyone else's cooking again. It's a privilege. Not a right. And you've lost that right. Anyway, everything in this sandwich is supposed to help hangovers. (... Well, except the lettuce)."

Arthur sighed,  and ate the sandwich grudgingly.

"Good boy," you beamed. "Now, let's start, shall we?"

1 episode in and you were hooked. You very nearly forgot this was a show you were watching. The acting was just... Wow. And the characters themselves.

Sweet, lovestruck, Molly. Poor dear.

Mrs. Hudson, just as sweet, but wouldn't take shit.

Lestrade, slightly pushy, mostly brotherly.

Mycroft, an actual brother, but not a better one... Perhaps.

John, the oddly docile solider who protested a little too loudly for your tastes on the subject of his sexuality.

And Sherlock... Oh God, Sherlock. You were smitten with this man, no doubt about it. His smarts, his looks, his voice. Sweet Jesus, that voice was aural sex. You weren't expecting that deep baritone sound to leave those lips and when it did... Unf.

"So... What did you think?" Arthur asked after the first episode ended.

"I think we need to go to the next episode."

And so you did. It was a great trip, really. Watching the characters dimensions unfold even more, watching Sherlock piece it together on the tiniest detail, the cleverness of the villains... None too smart though. Not smart enough. Or so you thought.

You came to episode 6, and Arthur stopped you.

"You may want to get some tissues or just emotionally prepare yourself for this one." He warned.

"What? Why?"

"It um... it gets kind of heavy in this episode."

"... Like, hot and heavy?"

"No! Like sad heavy."

"Oh. Pfft. I've never cried over a tv show. I'm tough."

"Are you sure?"

You nodded. Arthur sighed.

Oh how foolish you felt now. Heart aching, pounding, worried sick for Sherlock.

"Oh just kill yourself, it's much easier." Moriarty advised, as if he was helping someone pick out an outfit and his patience was running thin.

Sherlock looked around, searching, thinking. desperately trying to find a way out. He looked so lost...

Another string was snipped on your heart, and you knew the damn was dangerously close to flooding. You forced yourself to calm down though, swallowing your emotions in one big gulp.

"All right?" Arthur asked.

You nodded. Arthur sighed.

"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly; in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you..."  

A tear slid down Sherlock's cheek as he paused.

"That I invented Moriarty for my own purposes." Oh, God, his voice cracked when he said that.

"Okay, shut up, Sherlock. Shut up. The first time we met - the first time we met, you knew all about my sister, right?" John tried. John was desperate, maybe more than you were. He tried to be calm, but you could tell. It was clear as day.

"Nobody could be that clever." Sherlock dismissed.

"You could." John countered.

You made a quick dash to get tissues. Just in case.

When you came back, Sherlock jumped, and your heart stopped for just a second. Your experience was similar John's onscreen, and if you had a shred of sense left, you'd chide yourself for getting so worked up over a show.

But you still didn't cry. You actually wanted to at this point... You just couldn't. It was odd and comforting at the same time.

Then came the funeral scene.

"You... you told me once... that you weren't a hero. Umm... There were times I didn't even think you were human, but let me tell you this. You were the best man, the most human... human being that I've ever known and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie, so... there. I was so alone... and I owe you so much."

You were glad John's awkward words ended there, because otherwise.

"But please, there's just one more thing."

Fuck.

"One more miracle, Sherlock, for me, don't be... dead. Would you do that just for me? Just stop it. Stop this..."

John broke down, and finally, so did you.

Arthur wrapped an arm around you, handing you a tissue and whispering in your ear. As John walked away, he urged you to look again.

The camera moved, and moved, and moved, and moved... And your leapt with joy as Sherlock came into view, alive and well.

The credits followed, and by now you were crying happy tears.

"W-wow..." you muttered. "You were right. That was really good!"

"I'm glad you liked it, _______." he half smiled, still a little wary of your tears.

"I'm okay, now, really." You assured.

He smiled. "I thought you might like Sherlock, but I didn't think you'd care this much!"

All emotions were put on hold. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on. I saw the way you ogled him during the blanket scene!"

"Yeah well, you seemed pretty fond of Irene's battle dress."

"I... I was not!"

"You totally were."

"...Sod it, she's a pretty woman, okay? Doesn't mean I like her!"

"Yes, and Sherlock's a handsome man. Doesn't mean I like him."

Arthur smirked. "Oh but you do. Every time he was onscreen he had your full attention. Pupils dilated, happy sighs, shudders... you even leaned in more whenever he spoke. And let's not get started on both your emotional outbursts just now. You're about as obvious as a schoolgirl."

You blinked, and Arthur looked even more smug.

"...That was kind of hot." You admitted.

"W-what?"

"You're right. I do have a thing for Sherlock. And you had a bit of a Sherlock moment. Of course I'd find that attractive."

Arthur coughed. "Well uh. Thanks, I guess. Wasn't that hard though."

"It's funny; I'd've pegged you as more a Watson type."

"What?"

"Well yeah. You guys are pretty similar personality wise. Even look wise."

"No  we don't!"

"Enough that you could play a younger him or he an older you."

"Just because we're both blonde and British doesn't mean we're twins!"

"... What do you have against John?"

Arthur looked surprised. "I... Nothing."

"Then why do you have a problem with me making that comparison?"

"Well I'd... I feel like I'm more like Sherlock. I'd rather you see me that way."

"But you have more in common with-"

"Yes, I'm aware!"

You sat, puzzled for a second. "Er. Okay. So why exactly does it matter what I think?"

Arthur sighed. "You don't get it, do you?"

"No. Forgive my ignorance, Arthur, but I don't."

Arthur growled in frustration and suddenly you were pinned between him and the couch.

"I want to be what you want." He huffed, not making eye contact.

Your eyes went big, but you said nothing.

"I guess the thought process was, if you associated me with Sherlock, someone you like and find attractive... Maybe you might..."

"Like you, and find you attractive?"

Arthur growled. "It sounds stupid now that I hear it out loud."

You shrugged. "Not the best logic, no."

Arthur looked down.

"But... I already do."

"Sorry?"

"I already like you, Arthur. And I already find you attractive. I have for a while now; long before today. That's why I brought you here and took care of you."

Arthur blushed. "Oh... I... I see."

"And you know what? You have one advantage over Sherlock."

"What?"

You smiled and stroked his cheek. "You're here. You're real. I can talk to you, and laugh with you, and kiss you... I can't do that with a character on tv, or even the guy portraying him."

Arthur broke out into a smile of his own. "Yes, that's all very true."

You two shared a quick chuckle.

"So, ________, if you can kiss me, can I kiss you?" Arthur asked playfully.

You rolled your eyes, smiling. "Just shut up and do it."

And so he did.