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I NEED MORE!! PLEASE! I NEED MORE!

I was wondering if you might write a fic for the RDJ Sherlock Holmes with a gender neutral reader where in A Game of Shadows the reader gets injured and almost dies and Sherlock confronts the reader and ends up confessing his affections? Or really anything with the RDJ Sherlock Holmes? I'm absolutely starved for content. If you don't want to you can absolutely ignore it please don't feel pressured to do anything with this.

I've been on a block recently and decided to write this in order to get rid of it

requests are closed, though

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes x GN Reader

Request: "I was wondering if you might write a fic for the RDJ Sherlock Holmes with a gender neutral reader where in A Game of Shadows the reader gets injured and almost dies and Sherlock confronts the reader and ends up confessing his affections? Or really anything with the RDJ Sherlock Holmes? I'm absolutely starved for content. If you don't want to you can absolutely ignore it please don't feel pressured to do anything with this."

Summary: you get hurt, Sherlock rethinks his priorities

Warnings: mild violence (nothing graphic), bullet wounds

As the sun began to set, you and Sherlock found yourselves deep in the heart of Europe, tracking down the elusive Professor Moriarty. You had always been fascinated by the detective's deductive skills, and had joined him on many of his cases, but this time felt different. Moriarty was a formidable opponent, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong.

Your fears were soon confirmed when you and Sherlock found yourselves in the midst of a fierce gunfight with Moriarty's men. You tried to keep up with Sherlock's lightning-fast movements, but in the chaos of the battle, you were hit by a stray bullet.

The pain was intense, and you could feel yourself losing consciousness. The last thing you saw before everything went black was Sherlock's concerned face hovering over you.

When you woke up, you were lying in a hospital bed with Sherlock sitting next to you. You tried to sit up, but a wave of pain shot through your body, and you fell back onto the pillows.

"Don't move," Sherlock said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You were lucky to survive."

You looked at him, trying to ignore the pounding in your head. "What happened?"

"You were shot," Sherlock said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "But you're going to be okay."

You knew he was trying to reassure you, but you could see the worry etched on his face. You realized then that you had been foolish to think that you could keep up with him on this dangerous mission.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I shouldn't have come with you."

Sherlock shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous. You're one of the best partners I've ever had. I couldn't have done it without you."

You smiled weakly, feeling a sense of warmth spread through your body at his words. Despite the pain, you felt strangely content lying there next to him.

But as the days went by, you began to notice something different about Sherlock. He was more attentive, more protective, and more affectionate than ever before. You couldn't help but wonder if it was because of your injury.

One day, as he was helping you to sit up, you mustered up the courage to ask him. "Sherlock, why are you being so...nice to me?"

He paused, looking at you with a mix of surprise and hesitation. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're usually so aloof and distant. But ever since I got hurt, you've been different. You've been...caring."

Sherlock took a deep breath, his eyes flickering with emotion. "I suppose... I've realized how much you mean to me. I just couldn't bear the thought of losing you."

You looked at him, stunned. "What are you saying?"

He took your hand in his, his fingers warm and steady. "I'm saying that... I care about you. More than I ever thought possible."

You felt a lump form in your throat as he spoke, the weight of his words settling on you. You had always felt a strong connection to Sherlock, but you never thought he could feel the same way.

"I care about you too," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sherlock leaned in, his lips hovering over yours. "Good," he whispered.