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lilmoonbunny · 5 months

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Denial; Mycroft Holmes

Mycroft only seeked you out to deduce you (aka, how Mycroft realised he liked you).

John and Sherlock were, without a doubt, the loudest neighbours that Y/N had ever had.

Gunshots at God only knows what hour, constant stabbing, banging, and so on. Despite this, she still considered them dear friends and the best neighbours that she had ever had. Sure, they were weird and loud, but they were also kind and genuine, at least for the most part. Alongside this, they also appreciated her baking, especially after long cases.

A gentle knock sounded on the door the 221B catching the attention of three people.

“You can come in, Y/N,” Sherlock called from behind the door, greeting the woman with a nod before turning his attention back to Mycroft whilst John smiled at her.

“Hi, Sherly. Hi, John.” She smiled at the two friends before turning to the older Holmes brother. “Hi, Mr Holmes.” Y/N greeted him with a smile. Although she hadn’t met him before, it wasn’t difficult to deduce who he was; the expensive suit and the fact Sherlock was glaring at him gave it away.

“Sherly?” Mycroft spat, grimacing at the nickname given to his brother. “Who on Earth would you let call you that?” He asked.

“This is Y/N, our neighbour. What have you brought for us today? I’ve been looking forward to this all week.” The sweet smile Sherlock gave to the woman made Mycroft feel ill. He had no clue who this woman was and absolutely no idea why they seemed to be this close.

“Chocolate cake, sugar cookies, and love.” She joked, beginning to laugh at the way Mycroft audibly gagged. “I’m only kidding. No love.”

“I should certainly hope not,” came Mycroft’s response, one which simply made her laugh again.

“Are you jealous, Mycroft?”

“Because of the cake, he is.” Sherlock interrupted, waving Myrcoft off. “No, I won’t take the case. You can leave now.”

“This is an urgent matter, brother mine.”

“Don’t care.”

With a groan and a roll of his eyes, Mycroft lifted himself to his feet and prepared to leave.

“I’ll leave these with you, just in case you change your mind. Goodbye brother mine. John.” The hesitation was obvious on Mycroft’s face, despite how well he typically hid his emotions, as he faced Y/N.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr Holmes.” Y/N smiled sweetly, earning a simple nod from him before he left.

Sherlock, who had leaned to grab the tub of baked goods from the woman’s hands, rolled his eyes as Mycroft left and immediately began to eat.

It wasn’t long until Y/N’s entire life had been researched.

There wasn’t much there. No criminal record, a few jobs, occasional moves, but no sign of her posing any danger to Sherlock and, by association, John. However, the way Mycroft felt upon seeing her was unusual, so he decided to do his own investigation.

“Morning, Mr Holmes,” he was greeted before he reached the empty counter. “Welcome to my bakery! Would you like anything?”

“Just a coffee, please. Black.” Mycroft nodded, not returning the smile she had given, despite the odd feeling it gave him. She was evil and he would prove it to Sherlock.

“Coming right up! Take a seat wherever you’d like, and I’ll bring it over.”

As Mycroft occupied a seat, he took a moment to properly assess the woman making his drink.

She didn’t seem threatening: a content smile on her lips as she prepared his coffee, humming a quiet tune that he barely picked up on. In fact, she didn’t seem out of the ordinary at all, but the feeling when he first saw her – a feeling Mycroft couldn’t explain – had him needing to investigate her further.

“Here you go, Mr Holmes.” Y/N said, placing a hot coffee and chocolate cake on the table in front of him. “Sherlock mentioned that you like cake, so I grabbed you some. It’s all on the house.”

“Why?”

With a small laugh, she responded without hesitation. “You’re Sherlock’s brother.”

How odd, Mycroft thought to himself. She doesn’t even know me and she’s giving me things for free…

Despite his thoughts, Mycroft simply nodded, watching as she took a seat opposite him. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s quiet today so I figured I’d try and keep you company the best I can. I’m sure you have better company than me, though.”

“I don’t mind,” he replied before even thinking. It was safe to say that he didn’t enjoy the way his chest felt whilst he watched her smile.

Maybe she’s a witch? No, don’t be stupid, Mycroft. They don’t exist.

“So,” Y/N’s voice broke the man from his thoughts. “It’s a funny story how me, Sherlock, and John met. I was actually working and Sherlock bursts in demanding to talk to me. My baking stuff had been found at a crime scene and he thought it was me!”

“How interesting.” Came Mycroft’s blunt reply, even if he was intrigued.

“You listened to it, so you must care, even just a little bit. I think that’s a win for me!”

Mycroft couldn’t help the tiniest smile that crawled onto his lips, but he internally prayed that nobody noticed it, especially her. She, however, seemed oblivious to the movement, simply staring over his shoulder and out of the window.

“Anyway, what was he like growing up? Was he like he is now? Blunt and rude?” Y/N asked with a giggle.

“He wasn’t, actually. He was rather sweet. He liked playing pretend with his friend; he always wanted a dog too.” Came Mycroft’s reply. “His favourite thing was pirates.” He said with a fond look in his eyes. Sherlock wasn’t going to be happy when he found out that he had told her, but he couldn’t resist answering her question.

Mycroft watched closely as the woman in front of him grinned, the bright and happy smile a nice contrast to what he was used to whilst working with the government. He couldn’t help but smile back, noting how her smile widened further as he did so.

“That’s sweet. I couldn’t imagine that, to be honest,”

It was time to ask the question that was on his mind. “Are you attracted to Sherlock?”

“Sherlock?” Y/N said, bursting into laughter. “No, absolutely not. He’s more like an annoying older brother. Same with John. We’re just friends, and, well, neighbours too.”

Confusion spread over Mycroft as she felt the weight on his shoulders lift at her words; she was telling the truth.

“How is she?” Sherlock asked the moment he answered the phone.

“How is who?” Mycroft’s voice sounded through the device.

“Y/N,”

“Why do you assume that I know?”

“It’s obvious you were there earlier.”

“…”

“Well, that and Mrs Hudson told us.”

“Of course she did.” Mycroft said with an involuntary roll of his eyes.

“So, how was it?”

“It was fine.”

“You like her then?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, you went to see her. It’s quite obvious, Mycroft. Come on, I thought you were smarter than that.”

Mycroft simply put the phone down.

He did not like her.

The next time that Mycroft came across Y/N was when it was raining.

He hadn’t wanted to seem ‘creepy’ by seeking her out again for more investigations and deductions, so he simply waited. She was friends with his brother, it wasn’t like their paths wouldn’t cross at some point. Besides, he didn’t want Sherlock to think that he liked her.

“Raining real bad tonight, isn’t it?” The driver spoke to Mycroft. He was new, so Mycroft couldn’t exactly blame him for attempting some type of conversation with him; it was still annoying, though.

Anthea, looking up from her phone was what caught Mycroft’s attention. “I feel bad for her.” She said, nodding towards a soaked woman. It only took Mycroft a moment to realise who it was.

“Pull over,” he stated bluntly, grabbing his umbrella. He simply ignored the look he was receiving from his assistant.

It had been a long day filled with rude customers, and to make it worse, it was raining, and she had forgotten her coat. Today couldn’t be going any worse for Y/N.

Shivering wildly and soaked to the core, Y/N huffed, watching the way her breath instantly evaporated; it was clearly below freezing, but she held out hope that the rain would stop and she would be home soon.

Her hope seemed to pay off, though, since she could no longer feel the rain. As she looked up at the sky, she spotted a familiar face.

“Mycroft?”

“Y/N.”

“What are you-“

“Get in.” He said, pointing towards the car before wordlessly leading her towards it, still holding the umbrella above her, even if he was getting wet.

“You don’t have to, Mycroft.” She said as he ushered her in and shut the door behind them both. “I mean, I’m soaking your car!”

Mycroft, who could feel the heat on his cheeks from their proximity, simply shook his head. He was too focused on the way her leg was pressed against his as she sat between him and Anthea who stared at her phone with a small smirk.

The ride was void of conversation, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, the only noise was that of Y/N shivering.

After a moment of hesitation, Mycroft shrugged off his jacket and handed her it. “Here.”

There was no chance of refusal, Mycroft wouldn’t allow it, so with a quiet ‘thanks’, Y/N popped the jacket over her shoulders. He just found the chattering of her teeth annoying, was what he told himself.

As they arrived at the flats, Mycroft followed her out of the car.

“Thank you, Mr Holmes.” She said as they stood on the door of her flat.

“Mycroft is fine, Y/N.”

“Thank you… Mycroft.” She said with a small smile before bidding him a goodnight.

“I see you gave her your jacket,” Was all Sherlock said as Mycroft entered 221B.

It was hard. Very hard. Harder than anything Y/N had ever experienced. Having a crush was not easy as it was, but having feelings for Mycroft Holmes was the hardest thing in the world: he rarely showed emotion, he was blunt, he was rude, but most importantly to her, deep down, he was nice.

A small sigh left Y/N’s lips as she worked on her latest batch of cookies for the morning. He was on her mind… again. It was a common occurrence by now.

“We’re not open yet, sorry!” She called over her shoulder at the sound of the door opening. As she turned around to see who it was and apologise again, a blush rushed to her cheeks. “Mycroft! What are you doing here?”

Mycroft stood there, umbrella in hand, and gave a simple shrug. “I was on my way to work so thought I would ‘pop in’ as people say.” He explained, earning a laugh from the baker.

“Modern phrases don’t suit you, Mycroft.” She teased.

With an amused shake of his head, Mycroft took a seat at the table nearest her.

“Want some cookies? They’re fresh out of the oven!”

Mycroft nodded with a grateful smile, always glad to have sweet treats. He would never turn down anyone’s desserts, least of all Y/N’s; not because he liked her and didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but because she was a good baker.

The pair sat in a comfortable silence, Mycroft gladly eating his cookies with an appreciative look whilst Y/N worked on her next batch. There was nothing awkward between them, and there, surprisingly, never had been.

“Are you not at work today?” Y/N broke the silence with a question that was bugging her. She could have sworn Mycroft had always worked this time over the months that she had known him.

Mycroft hesitated for a moment. He was supposed to be there right now but had decided to visit you before. It wasn’t like anyone could fire him for it, he was basically the British government, after all.

“Not yet,” he lied, and he was glad that he was a good liar.

“Oh, okay! I’m happy you came then. I don’t want to bother you.”

“You could never be a bother,” the words fell from his lips before he even registered what his thoughts, and he noticed the blush race up her cheeks, as did she with his.

“Thank you, Mycroft.”

As he stared at her and her rosy cheeks, a million thoughts went through his mind, but they were all related to one thing: her. It was in that moment that he realised the truth, he did like Y/N, and he had been attracted to her since the beginning; that was what he was feeling.

Oh dear…

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strawberrywinter4 · 25 days

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Summary: Recently retired police officer, John Watson, stumbles upon an odd man named Sherlock Holmes when traveling by train on his way home. He concludes the detective is insane after having only one conversation with him, but can't help but be intrigued. Ignoring John's hesitance, Sherlock brings him along on an exciting case. Through this adventure, Sherlock doesn't bother to hide his palpable obsession with John while John tries to hide his growing feelings. What will happen when they both break, following their desires?

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Tags: Case Fic, Possessive Sherlock Holmes, Obsessive Behavior, Sherlock Holmes is a Bit Not Good, Takes place by the bay in Maine, American!John, Ocean, Small Towns, Alternative Universe-Small Town, Sherlock Holmes loves John Watson, John Watson is oblivious, BAMF John Watson, BAMF Sherlock Holmes, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Love Confessions, Kissing, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Read chapter 1 here.

Spotify Playlist here.

I just made a little something…can’t wait to see where it goes! <3

Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @ninasnakie @thegildedbee @whodwantmeasaflatmate @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @sherlocknjohn221b @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @7-percent @itsonlytext @chinike @peanitbear @mary-johnlocked @bakerstreetbe @curlyjohnlock @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ceceliajupe @ghostofnuggetspast @dw91165 @jolieblack @cortinita @gwendelaneyisjohnlocked

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french-vanilla-in-the-clouds · 5 months

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𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It is finally Y/N's turn to walk down the aisle. Sherlock can't keep his eyes off of her. She is certain that the man waiting at the alter is the one she will spend the rest of her life with. Is he?

wedding fluff and angst

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Sherlock stood at the alter, hands clasped behind his back. To the wedding guests, his sharp stance would suggest ease. In truth, each deep breath he chased was laboured and unsure.

She was a vision in white. Precious in deep sheets of ivory.

Sherlock had never seen such perfection.

Y/N took measured steps down the aisle in time to the music's pace. A few steps further and the bride would become somebody's wife.

Sherlock promised himself he would not cry today. Not one tear, he swore. He was better than that. Still, as Y/N drew closer, step by step, he wasn't certain he could keep a dry eye.

He considered turning away or focusing on the flower arrangements set behind her shoulder. Anything to keep the strain in his chest at bay.

It was in that moment of deliberation that Y/N chose to wink at him. A small gesture, hardly visible behind her veil but even so, he caught it.

Propping his shoulders back, he chose to keep looking. Better to face the music than miss a flutter of her lashes or the quiver of her lip when she smiled.

Though his throat felt constricted and his chest heaved for breath, Sherlock Holmes could not turn away from the bride.

He registered John shoot him a grin from the left. He wasn't sure that he returned it.

"She's beautiful," John said in a hushed tone.

"She's beautiful," Sherlock repeated.

Three years earlier, Sherlock had met Y/N for the first time. Since then, she had stumbled through the flat each day, always with a shy smile and a soft spoken, "hello".

He loved her from the start.

Their highs and lows, they would experience together. When she threw her head back in laugher, teeth gleaming at something her lover said, Sherlock would see it. He often revealed his experiments to her, if only to see the wonder shine in her eyes.

Even after every lover's spat, Sherlock would wrap his arms around her and swear that things would look brighter in time.

He was right. By God, he was right. He had to be, for now, she stood just steps away from him, at the alter, incandescently happy in her wedding gown.

A slow tear trailed down Sherlock's cheek.

Y/N finally reached him and there was silence in the cathedral when the music at last, had died.

"You're crying," she said.

Sherlock choked out a laugh that hurt his head. "I'm not," he replied. He tightened his lips together to ease the line of worry that had suddenly appeared on Y/N's brow.

"You're beautiful," he whispered. Closing his eyes, Sherlock shifted her veil aside. His hand trembled as he pushed it just far enough to kiss her cheek.

Though he gave her the softest of kisses, he felt a sharp stab in his heart, as arduous as the touch of his lips on her skin was brief.

He dropped her veil again and opened his eyes. "Every happiness," he said to her. His gaze steeled into her own. He hoped she wouldn't understand but she did.

Y/N nodded and her veil rustled. "Every happiness," she said back to him.

Sherlock clenched his jaw and feigned a smile for the wedding guests that stared from the pews. Then, he took Y/N's hand in his own and walked with her for three final steps.

John waited beside the priest.

Sherlock presented the groom with his bride and took his position as best man.

He was good at that, after all; standing on the outside, looking in. It's how he captured so many of his friends' most private moments in the small space of 221B.

Throughout the ceremony, the words, "every happiness" rang in Sherlock's mind.

When John and Y/N shared their first kiss as man and wife, Sherlock clapped along with the others but still, "every happiness" lingered at the tip of his tongue.

He simply couldn't manage to add the words, "I wish you..." at the start.

Things would be brighter in time, he told himself.

He knew it was a lie but for now, he clapped.

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I'm crying. I have reposted this thing like, 10 times. Last time, I swear. omg. please work. If you'd like to be tagged, let me know.

Thank you for your patience, literally everybody I'm tagging: @twisted-monster @starryeddie @the-chaotic-cow @turkisherlockian @aephereal @andthevillainshallrises @baby-bloos @cookiemumster1 @eternal-silvertongued-prince @bogginsreadings @lumosouls @spencerrxids @serenity-lattes @msseijii @classickook @starstruck-loner @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @lucywrites02 @danzalladaggers @mrs-holmes @pytharuw @antsn @kabubsmagga @newtsniffles @cemak @liv-olive-oliver @iamtrash-withrespect @asgards-princess-of-mischief

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arwamachine · 5 months

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FULL MOUNT

by ArwaMachine

A Fandom Trumps Hate fic for @mon221b!

Chapters: 10/10 Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Summary: After Sherlock unceremoniously returns from the dead, John finds himself inexplicably angry all the time. So he does what any emotionally-constipated British man does: he joins a Mixed Martial Arts gym. As John throws himself into the sport and joins in on underground no-holds-barred brawls, situations arise that just might force John to face what is really going on underneath all the rage.

#fanfiction #johnlock fanfiction #sherlock fanfiction #Full Mount #fandom trumps hate #fth 2023

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strangesthirdeye · 6 months

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A detective and a part time dad (SH x wife! Reader ft baby)

Summary: only a detective whose part time job is to look after his son. Warning: it's Sherlock. He's detective. Sweet, fluff, baby, love, warm, William can be 5 or 6 months years old. (The Sixth Thatcher references ahead) As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"you just need to make his milk and heat his milk if it's cold. And make sure his diapers are always clean" You told Sherlock as you put your wallet in your handbag.

"what if he cries? How to stop him crying?" Sherlock adjusted baby William's support in his arms. Sometimes he took out William's hand that was put in his mouth.

William babbling in protest after his wet hand was removed from his mouth. Sherlock then wiped William's hands and mouth with a napkin.

"Just sway him when you pick him up until he fell asleep or give him that soft cookie or when all that is useless maybe you should give him attention" You cooed at William with a sweet smile while stroking William's cheek with your finger.

"Didn't he always get attention?" Sherlock replied while stroking William's small foots.

"perhaps he needs your attention more." You said then walked to the door of the flat and put on your black jacket. "I won't be gone for long, I just want to settle some files in St's Bart. So you, young man. Be good to daddy, okay?" you muttered to William as you played with his little hand.

William let out a small babbling and then showed a wide toothless smile. Sherlock then sighed a little. Right, this is the first time he took care of baby William. So far only you know how to handle William with what he wants but now it's Sherlock's job.

You noticed Sherlock's concerned face and looked softly at him then you put your hand on Sherlock's cheek. "don't worry, I'm sure Will can cooperate with you. You boys go have fun while I do work, ok?" You stroke Sherlock's cheek and kiss Sherlock's lips passionately.

Sherlock returned the kiss and nodded slightly. You smiled gently and walked out of the flat. The flat door is slammed, signifying that you had left and there was only Sherlock and William left. Mrs Hudson went out to London to visit a friend far away so there are only two people living in the flat for now.

Sherlock then looked at his son who was also looking at Sherlock's face with his mouth and his shirt wet with saliva. Sherlock looked narrowly at his clone.

"Wonder what's going on in your head" Sherlock wiped William's lips.

William wailed happily and patted Sherlock's chest as his feet kicked in the air in Sherlock's arms.

"Ok Will, now.. what should we do?" Sherlock looked around for a moment trying to think of what activity they should be doing. William let out a small cooes trying to get Sherlock's attention. Sherlock then looked at his son's chubby face with calculating on his face.

"fancy a game of Cluedo?"

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"Already told John the victim could be a suspect but he didn't believe it and said that's not how this game works." Sherlock mumbled to himself as he flipped through the cards in his hand.

William who was sitting on the strap on John's chair (like Rosie's chair in The Six Thatcher) let out a loud wail as if agreeing with his father and waved his hands in the air.

"see, you agree with me"

William babbling while bubbling his lips with saliva creating a bubble. Sherlock wiped William's lips with a napkin.

"well, the rules are wrong"

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"no you can't put my magnifying glass in your mouth" Sherlock snatched his magnifying glass from William's grasp and put it on the dining table so William couldn't reach it.

William then screamed in protest trying to slap his father's hand with his chubby hand. His feet kicked in the air several times quickly.

"you cannot put that in your mouth, understand?" Sherlock kneeled in front of his son in front of the baby seat.

William then stopped screaming in protest and looked at his father's face with a red face. And immediately his face scrunched up in sadness and started crying loudly.

Sherlock panicked and didn't know what to do and then he got up and lifted William from his seat. His hands held William's small body tightly and swayed left and right trying to calm William down. But it doesn't work. William kept raging and sobbing as he pressed his face to Sherlock's chest. This is tiring. Sherlock was stumped. He doesn't know how to calm his own son let alone persuade him to stop crying.

Soft cookies were given but William still wanted to put something hard in his mouth. What did you say before? William started teething? Is that what you call? Perhaps his gums are already itchy and uncomfortable, that's why he always puts hard things in his mouth to relieve his itchy gums.

Sherlock sighed tiredly. William was still struggling in his arms but his face pushed into Sherlock's chest making Sherlock's shirt wet with his tears and saliva.

Sherlock then gave up and put William back in his seat and walked towards the corner of the living room where there was a toy box and reached one of William's toys. Sherlock then kneeled in front of William and held out a toy magnifying glass towards William with a soft face.

"You can put this in your mouth. At least it's a little soft and won't hurt your gums" Sherlock said softly and put the magnifying glass toy in William's hand.

William, whose face was red and had streaks of tears on his face, looked at the toy in his hand for a long time. Sherlock smiled genuinely at William. Not a few seconds later, William threw his toy magnifying glass at Sherlock's face precisely making Sherlock startled and dumbfounded.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After a few hours later, Sherlock and William slept together on the couch. William who was lying face down on Sherlock's chest snored slowly while Sherlock had his arms around William's small body protecting him from falling. The father and son were sleeping so soundly that they didn't even hear the flat door being opened by you who had just returned from work.

You expect this flat to be noisy with William crying or Sherlock mumbling to himself but no. This flat is quite quiet. Weird. You took off your jacket and hung it on the hook next to the door then slowly you went up the stairs to flat 221B. As soon as you arrived in front of the door of the flat, you slowly opened the door and were stunned to see your husband and son sleeping soundly on the couch. You refrained from making a sound. This scene is too sweet and it will give you a cavity but what the heck, it's too cute.

You slowly took out your phone and opened the camera and pointed your phone at your two boys and snapped the picture to make memories. This is so cute. You chuckled softly and walked without footsteps to your bedroom to change your clothes and bring a blanket to join the two of them.

#benedict cumberbatch x reader #bbc shows #benedict cumberbatch #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock imagine #sherlock reader insert #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #bbc sherlock x you #sherlock holmes x reader #Sherlock Holmes x wife! reader #sherlock fandom #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock holmes #baby boy #Spotify

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bakerstreethound · 8 months

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🍓Sherlock doing this to reader 😩❤️🦋

1. whispering ''kiss me'' to your lover

2. wrapping your arms around your lover's neck

3. kisses traveling from your lover's nose to their lips

Hello my dear @lady-harvey you sent this months ago but I hope you enjoy what I came up with. I don't even remember where this prompt list resides anymore haha. Anyways I hope you enjoy the soft boy and hi everyone, I live! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Berry Kisses

Summary: Sherlock's kisses are one thing you cannot live without anymore. He can't resist you anymore than when he's on the trail of a killer. You live for the quiet moments where you can be at peace with each other, if even for a short while.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT copy, repost, claim, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

You live for these moments when Sherlock allows himself to rest, a short reprieve from the demands of his day. He won’t admit it outside the doors of 221B, but when you crawl up on the bed to straddle him, he can’t look away. This is one of the best parts of his day, these quiet moments with you.

You offer a small smile in return, watching him, as his gaze meets yours his hands resting along your back, stroking and rubbing circles as you inhale deep, burying your face in his neck. It doesn’t take long before he groans while you not so subtly suck marks along his neck.

“You’re not going to get away with that so easily," he huffs, rolling on top of you, his lips a fraction from yours, teasing you so close but he feels miles away in the moment and all you want to do is run to him and drown in his kisses.

He pins you deeper into the mattress, piercing gaze roaming along your body, causing you to shiver. It always did in his presence, your body responsive in every way, each touch and caress of his awakening the sleeping siren within.

His lips still linger over yours, heat cascading along his body, setting fire to yours as if you are kindling ready to burst into flame.

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” you let out the barest whisper, tongue teasing along your lips.

“If that’s what you wish, yes”

“Really I thought it’d take more convincing than that, my love.”

“Kiss me then,” he quips, it’s almost a challenge but a deeper request, He wants more oh how he aches for more of you. You’re already driving him mad being here with him this way and he wants to devour you until dawn breaks, but he lets you take your time. How willing you are to take your time, breaking him down bit by bit, his fingers digging into your shoulders with every desperate kiss, sigh, and plea you draw from his lips.

It’s an addiction you’ll never recover from but will gladly drown in tenfold if you can see this vision each and every day, of him bathed in the light soon succumbing to the shadows.

Your arms immediately wrap around him once more, straddling his waist and peppering his face with more kisses. He savors it, letting you do as you wish despite the protests of his mind. He wants you, yearns for you terribly but he wants, oh how he wants more.

He finds himself fixated on your nose, and so he caresses your jaw, cupping his face in your hand to stop you from your conquest on his neck. He barely pecks your nose, grinning at the amused laugh that follows, but his lips remain along your body trailing from your cheek, fluttering along to the corner of your lips before finally kissing you properly. You groan at the contact, somehow pulling him impossibly closer, falling into his adoration and warmth.

“I need you,” you sigh softly, your heart aching. You’d feel so empty without him, but his lips are your salvation dragging you into the light, saving you from drowning in the depths of your mind.

He obliges, turning to press you into the mattress, pulling you under him not intent on letting go. “So good for me,” he murmurs, words muffled by the sounds falling from you, your mind comprehending nothing but him and the love he bestowed upon you.

“You taste,” he kisses your lips engulfing you before brushing against them again, “you taste like strawberries.”

“I see you’re catching on, how observant of you, my love.”

His lips press against your neck, savoring the smell of you and strawberries intermingled-, and a few moments pass, his lips find yours once more, fingers carding roughly through your hair, and you groan. You want, how you want more and you let him take as much as you give, his hands falling to your waist gripping tight, worshiping you in nothing but adoration.

You make a reality what you imagine in your dreams. You find yourself falling into him consumed by him, wanting and feeling nothing but his skin against yours, relishing the sounds falling from his lips, the weight of him on top of you filling your every need. When his hand strokes your sides a shiver follows in its wake, his hand caressing the apex of your thigh, his sapphire gaze staring into your eyes, shimmering.

“May I?” his gaze doesn’t part from yours not when you whisper a yes against his lips, a long, elegant finger stroking you and the fire consuming you from the inside out. It’s wonderful and all-consuming like him and when he adds another, working you slow, always eager and desperate to memorize this, memorize you for he knows your body, some of the darkest parts of your souls as well and you gladly fall bringing your lips to his in a searing kiss the feeling of him and his adoration pulling the last bits of pleasure from you. There you remain, basking in the bliss, his chest rising and falling curls brushing along his brow encompassed by you in your own universe.

******

#sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #strawberry!sherlock #strawberry sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock fanfiction #fluff #sherlock holmes imagine #bbc sherlock #sherlock tv #my writing #writing request #lady-harvey

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neurodiversitysci · 16 days

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Props!

Stopping by Tumblr to say I love the Sherlock fandom's explosion of creativity here and on AO3 right now (yep, I'm a lurker). @calaisreno, your prompts are really inspiring people.

#fandom #fanfiction #sherlock fandom #sherlock fanfiction #johnlock

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classickook · 2 years

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the game is on | sherlock holmes

pairing: sherlock holmes x fem!reader

summary: you have a little surprise for sherlock that turns out differently than you had originally planned.

warnings: smut (18+), kissing, lots of teasing and foreplay, oral (fem receiving), cocky!sherlock

word count: 2.2k

a/n: a few anons requested some sherlock smut so i hope this does the trick! <3

“sherlock? can you come here for a second?” you called from inside the bedroom.

an unintelligible noise rang out followed by the clanging of what you could only assume was some tools from his countless experiments, before his approaching footsteps sounded in the hallway and his head of curls popped into the crack you left open in the door.

“you’re wearing my shirt,” he said simply. his blue eyes drank you in from head to toe: at the bare legs leading up to his deep purple shirt—your favorite—that cut off at mid-thigh with nothing else beneath; hair a loose mess around your shoulders and lips slightly swollen from where you had been biting them during his perusal.

“excellent observation skills, detective,” you replied smoothly. “and what might you deduce from this situation?”

sherlock took a step further into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. you watched in anticipation as he slowly crossed the room to stand in front of you, peering down at the lashes fluttering across the apples of your cheeks and the teasing grin pulling at your pretty pink lips. “you are… doing laundry,” he said quietly, the deep baritone of his voice like crushed velvet sliding over your skin, causing goosebumps to prick at your arms and bare legs. “and ran out of shirts,” he continued, “so you resorted to wearing mine in the meantime?” there was a mischievous pull to his lips at the silly response, playing along with your little game.

you tapped a finger to your chin in mock contemplation. “hmm… not quite. take another guess.”

he reached for your arms then, his hands sliding down your shoulders, cupping your elbows, playing with your fingers until he finally draped them around the back of his neck, a silent request that you hold on to him, that you touch him in some way. “are you trying to seduce me, my dear?” he whispered into your ear, lips just barely brushing against your earlobe and you shivered at the contact.

“maybe i am… is it working?” your fingers teased beneath the collar of his button-down shirt—the one that he was wearing—and felt a demanding heat take up residence between your legs. it was almost painful, the ache inside you that was just begging to be touched, to be filled by him. you wished he would just touch you already, really touch you, to release the buttons of your (his) shirt and slide the material down your shoulders for his lips to quickly follow after. you wanted his mouth and teeth and tongue on every inch of skin. “touch me,” you whispered as you neared him, breath mingling with his where the distance between your mouths gradually lessened.

the cool skin of his hand was a stark contrast against the warmth of your neck as he touched you softly, slender fingers wrapping around the base of your throat and applying the slightest amount of pressure. his thumb was positioned just under your earlobe, soaking in the incessant thrumming of your pulse where it jumped up to greet him. “it seems that it might be working for the both of us,” he answered lowly. his free hand then moved to slide along your side, rubbing at the curves hidden beneath his shirt and aching to slip inside to feel the welcoming heat of you; he ached to cup your breast in his hand and feel the pebbling of your nipple against his palm, to slide his fingers under the hem of his shirt until he met the wet heat at the apex of your smooth thighs.

“do you have any idea what i want to do to you right now?” his tone was low, barely audible, and you felt it more than heard it.

“why don’t you show me, mr. holmes,” you whispered up at him, eyes blinking demurely as you placed a kiss to the base of his throat, which just so happened to be the only place your lips could reach from your current angle.

he moved forward—and you, backward—until the backs of your knees hit the bed frame and you sat down, your eyes dragging up his tall form to meet his piercing blue gaze. you slowly reached for the buckle of his belt, loosening it and then moving to unzip his trousers until a triangle of his black underwear was visible, before his hands jumped down to cease your movements.

you wet your bottom lip with the tip of your tongue and watched in satisfaction as his eyes followed the action. “are you going to kiss me, mr. holmes?”

“where would you like me to kiss you?”

“surprise me.”

the only warning you received was a quick curl of his lips before he leaned over you, bending at the waist to reach your height on the bed, and placed an open-mouthed kiss beneath your ear, his tongue flicking out to lick a stripe down your throat to the space between your collarbones.

sherlock slowly moved down to his knees to get a better angle and then nipped lightly at your chest, lips wet and warm and making you ache everywhere for him. his hands slid up your calves to your knees, then to the insides of your thighs until they were dangerously close to the place you wanted him the most. you rubbed your legs together in an effort to soothe the ache that was building the more he ghosted his fingers over you, but never really made contact.

“please, sherlock.” your request was embarrassingly desperate, but you didn’t care at this point.

you felt the curve of his lips against your skin where they trailed down your chest, rustling the collar of his shirt that you wore until more skin became available to him. “please what, darling?”

“please,” you begged. when did this planned attempt at seduction turn on you? you were supposed to be seducing him and you were failing miserably. “kiss me, touch me, anything.”

“i am kissing you and touching you.”

you peered down at him disapprovingly, then reached up to grab a handful of curls and forced his head back to look up at you. the glorious pale flesh of his throat was fully exposed to you now, practically glowing in the morning sunlight that peeked through the blinds, and begged to be devoured by you. “i want more,” you said lowly, “can you give me more, mr. holmes? should i show you how it’s supposed to be done?”

a shaky exhale passed his lips and mingled with your breath as you pressed a kiss to his chin, to the corner of his mouth, to his upper lip and then to the bottom, swiping your tongue there until he opened up to you and you slid inside, licking into his warm mouth and tasting cigarettes on his breath. you pulled back a fraction. “i thought you said you quit.”

his blue eyes were mostly black now, pupils blown wide as he tried to focus on you. “i did,” he said. you narrowed your eyes at him. “okay, fine. i did for a week, but you know how i get. i need a distraction, some sort of stimulus.”

“what about me?”

“what about you?”

your lips ghosted over his sharp jawline until you reached the shell of his ear. “why don’t you use me as a distraction instead, hmm?”

“i think you’re worth more than that.”

“maybe so,” you replied. “but i’d rather you use me than those things.”

sherlock gripped your chin between his thumb and index finger, his way of regaining control in your current position, and pulled you in close to slot his mouth against yours, before whispering, “then so be it.” he kissed you furiously then, and you were shocked into silence by the force with which he devoured your mouth, his palms cupping your cheeks to hold you steady with each swipe of his tongue against yours.

the ache between your legs was throbbing now and you felt wetness coating the inside of your thighs now, thanks to your lack of underwear. “sherlock,” you breathed helplessly. “sherlock, i—”

the good detective understood your silent request as his nimble fingers flicked the buttons loose until the fabric of his shirt was now pooling at your waist. your nipples pebbled in the cool air but sherlock took care of that too, his mouth quick to latch onto one nipple as his hand toyed with the other. he flicked and sucked and nibbled lightly at your breasts, and a moan bubbled its way up your throat and slipped passed your lips where sherlock moved up to capture the sound. the elegant speed with which he maneuvered between your lips and breasts, taking his time with each yet ensuring he didn’t miss your body’s not-so-silent call for more attention was impressive, fascinating, but not at all surprising. the great sherlock holmes knew how to work your body just as he knew the ins and outs of each of his cases.

his large hands moved down to your ribcage, clutching you there as his lips descended down your chest to nip lightly at your hipbones and then at the sensitive flesh just beneath your navel. you could practically feel the various hues of purple and pink blossom there as he bit and sucked and licked along your lower half.

he still hadn’t kissed you or touched you where you really wanted him, and it was driving you crazy, this game of his he was playing with your body. little did the public eye know that the famous consulting detective was cruel in his teasing, submitting you to foreplay that could go on for hours with barely any thought given to his own pleasure. you could feel the obvious bulge pressing against your inner thigh where he was positioned between your legs, and you experimentally kneed at it, feeling him jolt slightly before a firm “mm-mm” was pressed into your skin, the man nonverbally scolding you for attempting to return the favor, to play with him for a bit.

“sherlock,” you said again. it seemed that was all you had been able to say; the man had rendered you practically speechless, with only the pathetic two-syllabled name passing through your bitten lips.

you were panting now, feeling his lips moving even lower until they were just barely ghosting over your throbbing clit, but then he shifted focus again before he could make contact, instead, mouthing at the crease of your inner thigh. a helpless whimper escaped you and you honestly felt like you could cry in that moment, being teased and toyed with as sherlock offered you only a glimpse of what was to come. “this isn’t fair,” you whined.

“what isn’t fair,” sherlock said tightly, digging his fingers into the fleshy part of your outer thighs, “is that you had me come in here…” he tugged you to the very edge of the bed then and slowly lowered his mouth just above your aching core, “to find you…” a kiss to your clit, “wearing nothing…” his eyes flicked up to yours just as his tongue delved inside, “but my shirt.”

a scream jumped up your throat as he licked at your cunt, sucking and nipping and groaning as he went, taking his time with you but knowing that you were close to coming after all his teasing. “sherlock,” you sobbed, “you arsehole.”

he laughed against you, and the vibration of it shot straight through your core until you felt it everywhere and nearly blacked out by the sensation. he slid his tongue in and out, in and out, licking and tasting you until the familiar knot in your lower belly intensified—doubling, tripling, quadrupling in ways you had never experienced before—until it finally unraveled and your climax came crashing over you as sherlock captured your arousal on his tongue and swallowed every drop that slid from between your thighs.

your eyes were squeezed shut as your arousal washed over you from head to toe, feeling the warmth of it in every corner of your body. you vaguely felt sherlock’s lips press a tender kiss to your belly before footsteps echoed out of the bedroom door and returned a few moments later.

once he had finished cleaning you up, with both his tongue and a warm cloth from the bathroom, sherlock rested on top of you, comfortably nestling his clothed form along your naked one and pressing soft kisses between your breasts as you twirled your fingers in his thick curls. “well,” you said hoarsely, “that’s not how i had planned this to go.”

a velvety-smooth laugh rumbled against your chest as sherlock soaked in the aftereffects of your pleasure. “it was for me.”

you leaned back slightly, the angle uncomfortable given your current positions, and peered down at him with furrowed brows. “what?”

his lips curled up in self-satisfaction, his cheeks dimpling adorably yet infuriatingly due to his little scheme.

“are you meaning to tell me that you knew this was going to happen? did you plan this somehow?”

“you think you’re so clever, darling, but i think you forgot who you married.” he raised up on his hands and knees so he could lean over you, and whispered in your ear, “i always win, mrs. holmes.”

tags: @nicoletk

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cfiesler · 1 year

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Happy “Sherlock Holmes is finally in the public domain” day!

Because the character of Sherlock Holmes did not originate in a single work, but rather a series of short stories that were published over time (between 1887 and 1927), though the character has been in the public domain due to expired copyright for some time, only as he appeared in the early stories.

So though e.g. BBC paid licensing fees to the Conan Doyle estate to be on the safe side, there have also been lawsuits splitting hairs about whether a particular portrayal of the character contained elements that were still under copyright. A 2014 U.S. Court of Appeals case established that yes, Sherlock Holmes the character was in the public domain, copyright protection would still apply to elements that only appeared in later stories--for example, Holmes’ love of dogs and Watson’s marriages.

So what about this guy?

Conan Doyle’s estate actually sued Netflix over the film Enola Holmes because they claimed that Sherlock’s character was too “warm” and had “more respect for women” than he did in the earlier, public domain stories. The lawsuit went away - rightfully, because I cannot imagine any world in which Netflix lost that case - but as of today, we no longer have to worry about such silly lawsuits. Because as of today every one of Conan Doyle’s portrayals of Sherlock Holmes is officially in the public domain!

Of course, keep in mind that this applies to Conan Doyle’s work and not other portrayals of Sherlock Holmes that might have their own copyrighted elements. So if you’re writing Johnlock fanfic that is very clearly based on the BBC version, maybe keep it noncommercial. :)

Also here’s a video if you want to hear me talk about this for 3 minutes instead!

#sherlock holmes #public domain #enola holmes #sherlock #sherlock fanfiction #copyright #arthur conan doyle

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kahuunknown · 9 months

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The "Normal" one - BBC Sherlock sibling fanfic

!NOTE!: Non-specified reader/insert, inspiration from SHERLOCK TV Show

~~~

The normal one

(Y/n) Holmes.

That was your name. Of course you loved your family, you held them all dear and close to your heart, but that name came with a lot of baggage and responsibility. You’d often wonder what living life normally would be like, being born under a different name. These were just thoughts however, you knew in the end, you wouldn’t change a thing.

You were smart; there was no doubt in that fact, being born a Holmes provides such natural intelligence with ease. However, you would argue that you were anything but. You were a humble, gentle and modest soul, you were adamant in arguing that both your brother’s surpassed your measly intelligence without effort. Of course, the IQ tests would prove otherwise, but they were rid from the world quickly after there creation.

Living a normal life wasn’t something you detested, rather you grew rather fond of the mundane routines people lived day-to-day, it was funny watching them fuss over little mistakes, or creating the emotion of happiness with simple gifts and pleasures. You worked as a psychologist funnily enough. You could deduce much like the rest of your siblings, and decided to apply that skill toward something complimentary.

You were a young prodigy with a psychology major at only 26 years old; you lived a very financially stable life with your own private at-home psychology firm. You were comfortable with you life within London, you enjoyed being close to your family, and so it was never an option to live anywhere else. Often as a well respected personal to the community and the police, you were requested to provide psychoanalysis on victims, suspects or even the criminals themselves. You’d get paid of course, but your real motivation was helping you middle brother with his detective cases. Sometimes even the eldest would request your help, those were rare favours however.

Your brother’s wouldn’t admit it, but they absolutely adored you, you were the baby of the family and the most normal of them all. Your parents didn’t like to pick favourites but you were always the exception. Mycroft and Sherlock treated you like a child most often, they couldn’t wrap their heads around the thought of you growing up and maturing, when they looked at you, all they could see were those innocent orbs staring right back at them. This admittedly made them overprotective, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it was restricting.

You proved your intelligence and maturity every now-and-again, but you honestly didn’t mind their dotting. It showed the world that Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes were human too.

So when the two were on the way to your house, they were honestly surprised and both mortified when the Consulting Criminal Jim Moriarty of all people stepped outside of your house with a laugh and bid you farewell, hopping into a awaiting sleek black car and driving off smoothly. Sherlock and Mycroft had hidden themselves upon the sight, they weren’t stupid, but they were terrified for your safety. Did you even know the true identity of the criminal you’d invited inside?

Neither brother remembered if they’d disclosed that information to you or not, they tried they upmost hardest to give you the privacy you desired, as hard as that was. They weren’t very good at it, but they did try their best to shield you from their enemies. You were untrained in any sort of defensive arts like they were; you were utterly defenceless if someone attacked you.

Nodding to each other, once they were satisfied with the distance Moriarty’s car had driven away; they quickly made their way to your doorstep and hurriedly rang your doorbell. You needed to be warned straight away, you needed to cut your ties with the villain immediately. Your safety was compromised.

You greeted them with a kind smile as always, both brothers nearly forgot the urgency and softened upon your sweetness, but reality was quick to return to them. They ushered you to let them inside, which you calmly did so, asking if they wanted any snacks or tea. Mycroft paused and politely requested some sweets and both brothers of course agreed to some tea. You chuckled at them, reminding them to make themselves at home; they were family of course, no matter how dysfunctional. The two elder Holmes watched you like hawks as you waddled around the kitchen. It was cute that you inherited their mother’s much shorter height, leaving you struggling and whining about reaching items on the top shelf. Though your brothers were more than willing to help, they teased you often about this fact.

Returning to the living room, you gently placed down the tray with balanced drinks and sweets situated on top.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Theo chimed, cradling his own cup of tea close and bringing his legs to his chest, curling into his usual ball-like position on his single seated couch.

Sherlock was first to speak, “Well, originally we both decided to check-in on you, we hadn’t seen you in a while.”

You chuckle, “Yes, well I was having a fantastic time in New Zealand. You should visit if you have the chance, it’s beautiful country.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes, completely disinterested in the idea. But he admired your simplicity.

“Like Sherlock said, that was ‘originally’.” Mycroft pressed, narrowing his eyes at the detective.

“Who was that man that left your house moments before we arrived?” Sherlock questioned, though he already knew, he wanted to see if you were aware.

You rolled your eyes at the two overbearing brothers, “That was one of my clients, of course.”

“He’s dangerous, (Y/n-“

“Jim Moriarty.” You finished, “A charming man, to say the least. The infamous consulting criminal.”

Mycroft and Sherlock frowned, this couldn’t be good.

“You know who he is.” Sherlock stated.

“Of course, I do.” You retorted, “But that’s not my business, is it? I’m a psychiatrist and psychologist; my client’s background means nothing to me. That is my work.”

“Yes, but it’s also a hazard-“

You interrupted Mycroft, “Without Moriarty confessing to future crimes in the motion, I have no legal standing. Past crimes are useless.”

“A scientific priest.” Sherlock grumbles.

“In some ways.” You agreed absentmindedly. “I’m bound by my word.”

“Then I suppose there is no use asking you to share some details.” Mycroft sighs.

“None at all.” You chirped, “Now, if you two are free this afternoon, would you care for some fish ‘n chips? It’s been a long while since we’ve talked like this.”

Mycroft pursed his lips, it was his favourite food. A Holmes delicacy in some ways, as even Sherlock was fond of the food as well. Mycroft frowned, a defeated expression forming on his face, “I suppose, I have time.” He admitted.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at your happy face, you were sweet and innocent, but boy did you now how to use that to your advantage. Those damn puppy eyes.

“Fine.” Sherlock sighed.

Suddenly a knock sounded at the polished wood of your door, you furrowed your brows in confusion, not expecting any clients or guests over at this time. Standing, you gestured for your brothers to stay put while you answered the door.

Sherlock and Mycroft tensed as Moriarty waltzed into the house, smirking at the two of them confidently. He looked more than comfortable in your home, and both the protective brothers felt their instincts flare in that instant.

“Sorry to intrude, I believe I forgot my jacket.” Jim swooned, slinging his arm over your shoulder as you rolled your eyes and led him away from your siblings and into the office/ library room, where all your clients reveals their deepest secrets and feelings. Sure enough, Moriarty returned to the front door with his suit jacket under one arm.

He seemed to be talking normally to you, joking and laughing as if he were just a mundane human male, like all the rest. It was obvious to the brothers, that you and Moriarty knew each other quite well, they didn’t like that one bit.

Jumping to his feet, Sherlock decided he’d had enough of seeing that smug face and those evil beady little eyes looking at his youngest sibling.

“Leave.” Sherlock simply ordered, holding open the door for the mastermind to exit. Jim raised an accusing eyebrow at the new emotions Sherlock provided him with, but decided to play nice and do as he was told, for now at least. He left quietly, ignoring the slam of the wooden door after him; he was far too satisfied with this new discovery to care about rude behaviour.

He was originally just curious about you, intrigued and fascinated. He didn’t even know you existed; it wasn’t until Eurus cooed about you during his visit. She was smitten by you, couldn’t stop remembering all those memories as young children, when you’d follow her around, listen to her every tale with admiration and love. She talked about you as if perhaps you were a god, a higher being that she prayed to- or a rare exotic creature like most thought fantasy. You seemed too good to be true.

Yet here he was, obsessed with it all. Obsessed with you.

The expression of your brother’s were both the same, stern beyond belief. And you sighed, anticipating the emerging argument to take place.

“This is my job.” You stated, smile vanishing with the seriousness of your tone.

Mycroft and Sherlock almost didn’t recognise you, you looked different without the aura of sweetness drifting around you like a halo. They’d never seen this side of you.

Mycroft clears his throat, “He is dangerous, (Y/n). We would be fools to-“

“Then be fools.” You hissed, “This is my job. The career I’ve strived for, and Jim Moriarty is a normal client. You will not drag me around under the guise of your ‘safety’.”

Sherlock watched you carefully, scanning your expression and body language, trying to deduce you. Yet he came up with nothing. Normally you were so open to him and Mycroft, usually it was so easy to pull you apart, dissect every emotion and activity you’d been up to for the past week or so. But you’d shut down that gate, preventing any clue to find.

But then your shoulders slumped, and suddenly everything came flooding back, he could read you like an open book once more.

Sighing you looked them both in the eye, “I propose this.” Instantly you had your brothers intrigued, “I’ll install a camera within my office. You may have access to its feed at any time, and I’ll send you both my schedule, if you so desire as well. However, due to patient-confidentiality, the audio will be wiped, you will hear nothing.”

Sherlock scowls at the idea, obviously wanting to hear the conversations you and Moriarty had, he wanted to know everything. Mycroft on the other hand was more open to the idea; he eventually gave a slow nod.

“Deal.”

“Great.” You clapped your hands together, smiling once more and instantly relieving the tenseness in your brother’s posture, “Now, how about that fish ‘n chips, eh?

In the end, perhaps you were not as normal as everyone believed.

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annesthaeticc · 4 months

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lovers rock | sherlock x fem!reader

| Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader

| one shot , song fic

| 961 words

| 'because love can burn like a cigarette, and leave you alone with nothing...' What Sherlock and Y/N had was beautiful, but it crashed and burned.

A/N okay bear with me it's short, but hey it's something, right? testing the waters asi hopefully hopefully come back into writing. let me know what you think!

————————————————————————————————

“Such a small world,” you quietly said and watched as the air escaped your lungs, echoing your words. The party inside was loud, but not loud enough for the silence outside was piercing yet calming. And so, he heard you. Slowly, he turned to see who spoke and found your silhouette, your shape outlined amongst the trees and the pillars.

Slowly, he walked towards you. Yet another mistake he was about to make. For all the choices he made that involved you, it led to one.

One. Big. Mistake.

Sherlock heard his heart thudding. Crashing and breaking in every step he made towards you. You sat there frozen, your eyes unblinking, or at least trying not to blink for you feared that if you do so, he might disappear.

Just like he did back then.

Sherlock sometimes wished he never pursued you, but here he was, about to do the very same thing. He never learned.

“Indeed it is.” he replied, his very perfect presence now crowding over you. His shadow embraced you and your eyes finally blinked only to find he was still there, standing in front of you.

He was taller. His face is more defined. His curls, curled to perfection. His perfume was the same, or is it? His lips fuller, more inviting than ever.

Sherlock noticed this, and cannot help himself but do the very same. You were perfect in every shape and form, as the day he met you. He committed crimes before, but his favorite might be the one he is about to make; to kiss you.

Silence passed by the small distance between you and him and it was almost deafening. You were waiting for him to say something. Something along the lines of “I’m sorry I left you…” And he was doing just the same, waiting for the words like “I’m sorry I couldn't wait for you…”

“Best man leaving early?” you finally said, shyly asking. He nodded and looked away.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, cutting you off before you could even say anything.

“I was invited, well not just me really, Ian and I were…” your voice trailed off as your husband's name left your lips. Again, he nodded.

Ah yes, Ian. Sherlock knew more than you. He is decent enough, this Sherlock could guarantee. But not decent enough to leave you on your own for days, even weeks or months on end while he was traveling the world on some sort of opera tour. Sherlock didn't care enough to dig for more details.

All he knew was deep seated anger and sadness.

And this resonated through the walls of the second floor of 221B Baker Street for months. Your wedding invitation sent for him lay hopeless on his desk, waiting to be written on to confirm his invitation. He was about to decline after finally making a decision that went on for weeks, only to find out it was pointless to respond because your wedding was already done.

And so, he threw the invitation in the fire. He watched as the intricate paper got swallowed by the flames, melting into ashes, into nothing. He was mesmerized by it. How something could be nothing because of the burning flames.

He was shaken from his thoughts when he saw your hand, holding a packet of cigarettes. You were offering him one and Sherlock accepted. You sat down again on the bench and he followed, allowing a few inches between you.

Quietly, the two of you smoked. Avoiding glancing or talking. You were caught up in a trance and were shaken out of it when you felt movement. Sherlock stood up and stepped on the cigarette. His shoe dug into the grass as the last of the embers glowed.

“Going somewhere?” you asked.

“Home.” he replied, his voice deep.

“I could drive you.” you offered.

“No thank you. I’ll catch a cab.” he replied, slowly walking away.

“Sherlock, wait, please—” you caught up with him and offered to drive him once more. He declined and you almost gave up.

His figure faded into the darkness when you cried out, “Sherlock, I'm sorry.”

Tears flooded your eyes and you couldn't help. It fell from your eyes, flowing down your face. Everything was blurry and you felt your hands shaking from the nicotine and from the adrenaline of your apology.

“It's been 12 years, Y/N,” he replied. “Why are you saying sorry now?”

“Because…”

“You will not tempt me to play one of your games, Y/N. Not this time. Not ever again.”

“Sherlock, please,”

“I'm sorry? Is that all you could think? You left me, Y/N,” he cried. And now you see his face. Anger, despair, and longing painted his face,

“You left me first!” you accused him. He really did.

“And yet you couldn't wait for me, couldn't you? All the promises I made—”

“Were gone as soon as you disappeared, Sherlock.”

“Oh ye of little faith!” he said, his voice booming.

“Sherlock,” you breathlessly begged. “I'm sorry.”

Sherlock heard you, and saw your eyes. He hated you for marrying someone else, but what he hated most is seeing you cry. He pulled out his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed your face, wiping away the tears. He pulled you into his embrace, just like he did back then. When your cries died down, he pulled away then planted a kiss on your temple.

“We would never work out. You're happier with him.” Sherlock said.

“I realized that what he had, was all that it was. Nothing more, nothing less. We burned too fast until we became nothing, Y/N.” he continued.

“I loved you,” you whispered.

“And I did too. So much.” he said, his voice breaking.

————— • ————— • ————— • ————— • ————— • ——

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lilmoonbunny · 2 months

Text

Balls and Questions; Mycroft Holmes

Mycroft has a question.

There was nothing Y/N hated more than attending balls, but alas, it was mandatory in her workplace. Being in the cyber security sector of the government was nothing short of exciting, at least until you factored in that the digital safety – and perhaps physical also - of the country was essentially in her hands. Socialising had never been her forte, least of all dancing, so combining the two was a nightmare which is likely why she stuck by her close friend Mycroft Holmes.

“Do we have to be here?” Y/N whispered, being careful as to not be too loud that others around them would here.

Frankly, Mycroft did not care about being heard and replied in his typical voice. “Sadly, yes. I do not wish to be here anymore than you do.”

With a sigh, Y/N turned to face those dancing, watching her friend Anthea dance with a man she had been approached by moments prior.

“I don’t know how people dance so much; I couldn’t do it.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Mycroft asked, turning to face her with a raised eyebrow.

Y/N smiled. “A bit of both. I don’t think I’d be a good dancer.”

Mycroft hesitated for a moment, seeming as though he was about to say something before turning back to facing the crowd.

Everyone seemed to be having fun except the pair stood off in the corner of the room, both praying that nobody would approach them, although, Mycroft did have a question on his mind for the woman beside him that he was not yet willing to ask.

Truth be told, he had harboured feelings - a ‘silly crush’ as Sherlock called it - for her for the last year, having worked together for three, yet no matter how many times Sherlock told him that she reciprocated his feelings, he did not believe him nor wish to approach her romantically. He didn’t believe that he could be a good partner to her and did not wish to hurt her in any form.

“Maybe we can leave early? Say I feel sick or something.” Y/N chimed in with her idea.

“That does not get me out of this, I’m afraid.”

“Just say you’ll take me home or something,”

“That would start rumours.”

Y/N smiled sadly, taking a sip from the glass in her hand. “I guess you’re right.”

“I always am,” Mycroft replied, shaking his head when Y/N turned to him with a raised eyebrow and a smile, a giggle falling from her lips.

“I’ll take your word for it, Myc,”

There was that nickname again, the one that she had been calling him for the longest time when they were alone; the one that always had his cheeks flushing. It gave him confidence, well, downing his drink also helped.

“Would you like to dance with me?” He asked, avoiding looking towards the woman, despite wishing to see her reaction.

Y/N smiled to herself. “I would love nothing more than to dance with you. And not just a single, slow dance, I just want to have fun and dance with you for the rest of the night.”

Maybe balls weren’t so bad after all.

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strawberrywinter4 · 14 days

Text

May 9 | Prompt: Intimidation

Warning: Depictions of violence and drug use.

“You’re just too much sometimes, that’s all I’m saying,” his mother comments as she troubles herself with the dishes.

Mycroft rolls his eyes. He knew it would be a poor idea to come visit. He should have just settled for a call.

“You almost scared John away,” she says, scrubbing a class clean. “Your comments and glares at dinner are not helpful, you know. Sherlock almost had your head.”

“John is anything but frightened by me, Mummy. He made that perfectly clear when we first met.”

“Sherlock told me about that first meeting.” She sighs, turning toward him with a scolding expression. “Mycroft, why did you do that?”

Mycroft wills his cheeks not to flush crimson in embarrassment. “It was merely for precaution.”

“Sherlock is a grown man. He can take care of himself.”

Mycroft’s hands clench the kitchen counter. She doesn’t know. She hasn’t seen the extent of Sherlock’s pain like Mycroft has.

“All I’m saying is that I think you should be more considerate to the people who seem to actually want to be around him,” she says. “And John…well, he’s a very polite man. I think he’s good for Sherlock. Very good.”

Mycroft doesn’t answer her. Realizing she’s not going to get a response out of Mycroft, she leaves the kitchen with a tut under her breath.

Mycroft’s eyes are trained to the sink.

——

The front door opens and shuts loudly, Mycroft wondering if the force of it broke any vases. Ignoring his brother in the lounge, Sherlock runs up the steps, his little feet going as fast as they can. Mycroft hears his bedroom door shut.

Mycroft sighs, getting up and leaving his science project. Heading upstairs, he turns the corner and knocks on Sherlock’s door.

“Go away, Mycroft!”

Mycroft is silent for a moment, then tries for the door handle lightly. Locked, of course. He rests his head on the door.

“If you open the door, I’ll make Ginger Nuts.”

A few seconds pass and the lock clicks, the door creaking open. One of Sherlock’s blue eyes peak through the crack. “Do you promise?”

“Yes.”

Satisfied with the reply, the door fully opens. Mycroft holds his grimace successfully, but it isn’t a simple task.

Sherlock’s eye that wasn’t peaking through the door is a mixture of purple and black, a few bruises gracing his jaw. His lip is cracked and blood is oozing down his chin.

Mycroft attempts to keep his voice leveled. “Sit on the bed, I’ll grab the first aid kit.”

Returning with the kit, Mycroft is pleased to see Sherlock took his advice for once, sitting on the sheets, eyes focused on his legs as they swing back and forth over the edge.

Without comment, Mycroft sits beside him. “Up,” he instructs, tilting Sherlock’s face to the correct position. He applies alcohol to a cotton and begins dabbing the application to his brother’s lip.

They sit in silence, Sherlock hiding his winces and Mycroft cleaning the blood and bruises.

“When are they coming back?” asks Sherlock.

“I’m not sure. Probably not for another few days.” Mycroft is used to their parents being gone for business trips, but Sherlock is still wrapping his mind around it.

Silence falls again. Then Sherlock speaks up:

“Are you really making Ginger Nuts?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

It takes everything in Mycroft not to crack a smile. “Why is that?”

“You don’t like Ginger Nuts and you only do things that benefit yourself,” he says bluntly.

Mycroft hums. “You really think so little of me?”

“Yes.”

They both share a grin.

Mycroft’s face hardens as he wipes another trail of blood on Sherlock’s cheek. “Did you decide to make another quip?”

Something changes in Sherlock’s expression. Something akin to…embarrassment? Shame? Mycroft’s not sure, but he’s never seen his brother acquire such a look.

“I didn’t,” Sherlock replies.

“Then what happened?” Mycroft demands, though his voice is quiet.

Sherlock shrugs. “I don’t know.”

And it truly seems like he doesn’t know. “Then tell me what could have possible occurred.”

Sherlock looks down, his finger trailing the design of the solar system on his bed sheet. “I thought I made a friend.”

Mycroft blinks. “A friend?”

Sherlock nods. “He said he wanted to be my friend. At break, he offered me to join him at the back of the building to play, and I said yes because…well, I told you about the pond that’s back there.”

Sherlock enjoys observing the frogs that live around there.

“I thought I’d show him the pond,” Sherlock says, this time more quietly. “But then we got there and he pushed me in the mud. His apparent friends came around the corner and…”

“Did that,” Mycroft finishes, nodding to Sherlock’s face.

Sherlock nods in answer.

Mycroft will never understand it. Out of all things, he will never understand this. Yes, Sherlock is odd. He has required rudeness over the past year, but Mycroft fully believes that Sherlock has just been taking after him.

Then there are the admittedly good things about him. Sherlock enjoys rambling about scientific discoveries, he likes to play in ponds and rain, he likes to help Mummy bake, he likes to play Pirates (which is actually quite fun), and he is a swift and independent learner. Mycroft admires these qualities. And though he’s never been good at showing his affection (and possibly never will be), he and Sherlock know how to make their relationship work.

“I will take care of them,” Mycroft says as Sherlock wipes tears from his eyes.

“They’re big,” Sherlock says. “And scary.”

Mycroft snorts. “Bigger than you. Not me.”

Hesitantly, he puts a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. This seems to give a sign to Sherlock that he’s been waiting for, and he hugs Mycroft tightly. Stunned, Mycroft settles for patting his curls awkwardly, but this doesn’t will Sherlock away. Sherlock continues to hug him and cry, and Mycroft wants to make it all go away.

After a while, Sherlock releases him and sniffles stubbornly, wiping more tears. “Can I have Ginger Nuts now?”

Mycroft stands, nodding to signal Sherlock to come along. “You’re assisting me. I know you know how to make these in your sleep.”

——

In a random building, in a random place. That’s usually where he is.

Mycroft hears either miserable sounds or nothing at all. He sees stranger’s eyes rolling to the back of their head while taking sedatives or pills.

The curls are unmistakable. Sherlock is huddled up in a corner, a blue hoodie wrapped around him loosely. Mycroft nudges him. He then turns him and is not startled to see his pale skin, his unhealthily sharpened cheekbones or his dull eyes.

Mycroft sighs.

He helps Sherlock up and practically drags him to the vehicle parked thankfully close outside.

Carefully putting him in the passenger’s seat, Mycroft gets behind the steering wheel.

Mycroft glances at him, and is overcome with what his brother has turned into.

“Brother mine. Why do you hurt yourself so?”

He knows Sherlock doesn’t hear him, doesn’t understand his whispers.

Maybe that’s for the best.

——

“I worry about him…constantly.”

John stares at him. “That’s nice of you,” he murmurs.

“But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned. We have what you call a difficult relationship.” Mycroft keeps his voice impassive. His heart aches.

John’s phone pings. It’s obviously from Sherlock.

They continue with comments back and forth. Mycroft feigns an impression that he’s only wanting Sherlock’s whereabouts for personal gain. John seems to believe it wholeheartedly.

Mycroft can’t decide if John is worth Sherlock’s time.

Probably not.

Mycroft analyzes him to get a rise out of him.

“Are we done?” John asks, attempting to keep his frustration to a minimum.

Anger issues. Of course.

The rest of the meeting goes not so smoothly. John leaves obviously bothered and Mycroft doesn’t know, he doesn’t know if he can trust this man to even come close to deserving Sherlock’s friendship.

No one does. It’s the truth.

Mycroft has been called overprotective. He’s been called annoying. Unfair. Unethical.

Mostly by Sherlock.

But what are big brothers for?

——

You can read it here on ao3 as well.

I hope you all enjoyed! Love me some Sherlock and Mycroft lore.

Prompt by @calaisreno Thank you!

Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @ninasnakie @thegildedbee @whodwantmeasaflatmate @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @sherlocknjohn221b @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @7-percent @itsonlytext @chinike @peanitbear @bakerstreetbe @curlyjohnlock @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ceceliajupe @ghostofnuggetspast @dw91165 @jolieblack @gwendelaneyisjohnlocked @cortinita @kettykika78

(Please let me know if you do or don’t wish to be tagged)

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moriartsy · 4 months

Text

beyond gilded chains

pairing: jim moriarty x fem!reader

warnings: toxic parents, anxiety attack, sexual tension

summary: what is the lesser of two evils? your father and his world of elites he wants to trap you in? or the overt yet unspoken reality of moriarty's darkness?

w/c: 1.7K

a/n: okay, i know this is kind of cliché, but i have an idea for a jim moriarty story and i have to warm up before i get into it. so i wrote this. i plan on writing a second part and possibly making it a series of oneshots / drabbles. but we'll see how it goes...you can send in requests if you want (and if there are any moriarty enthusiasts still)! thank you for reading !! <3

The grand ballroom of the opulent Ravenscroft Hall shimmered with a golden hue as crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a soft, ambient glow. A symphony of murmurs filled the air, blending seamlessly with the soothing melodies of a string quartet playing in the background. Lavish floral arrangements adorned each table, their fragrances intermingling with the scent of expensive perfumes a polished mahogany.

You stood at the periphery of the extravagant scene, your eyes wandering over the sea of elegantly dressed attendees, each adorned in designer gowns and tailored suits. You fidgeted with the hem of your own exquisite dress, a creation of silk and lace that clung to your figure with the same precision as the couturier's careful stitching.

Despite the expensive fabric enveloping your body, your mood was in a poor state. Honestly, you’d rather be at home, rewatching The Office for the millionth time, but your parents will never let you not attend these events. It's like a chore.

Your parents were proponents of social grace and high society and they had meticulously trained you to navigate such events with poise, concealing any trace of your true feelings beneath a veneer of practiced smiles and genteel conversation.

You sighed.

Suddenly, you felt a new presence at your side. Following the sound of slow footsteps, you found one of your father's associates wearing a smirk that mirrored the self-assured glint in his eyes, sauntering towards you with his hand in the pocket of his dark pants as the other held the fragile flute, a fizzy liquid swirling inside.

"I can see attending these social shindigs brings you such a genuine pleasure. A sheer joy is just radiating from your every pore.“ he said, his words dripping with sarcasm.

You forced a tight smile. "That would be an understatement, Moriarty."

You took a sip of your Dom Pérignon, the liquid gold sliding down your throat as Jim chuckled, unfazed by your icy demeanor.

"Is there something you want, Moriarty, or are you just here to grace me with your charming company?"

Moriarty grinned, "I'm just marveling at the spectacle, my dear. Your enthusiasm is truly contagious."

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, "If that's all, then kindly go and marvel elsewhere. Go strangle someone just because they looked at you the wrong way."

Moriarty feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart as his lips formed an 'O' and his brown eyes widened.

"Oh, (Y/N), don't be like that. I thought we were bonding over our shared love for wealth and excess this boring bunch put on display oh so exquisitely," he said as his hand, still occupied by the glass, swept over the room before facing you again with a knowing smile. "But just so you know. I just did." He added with mischief.

You honestly didn't know if he was joking just to entertain you or maybe intimidate you. Moriarty was capable of bringing all of those people to their knees right in that instance. Including you.

"Do you really want my father to come after you that much? He won't stand for anyone bothering his precious daughter, you know," you sassed with an ironic smile, bluffing your way through.

"Ah, the protective father card, awfully clever.“ He murmured, his eyebrows knitted together before his expression became serious again as he leaned in. His scent invaded your nostrils as you fought to maintain your composure. "But you and I both know, (Y/N), your dear father is at my beck and call. He wouldn't dare lift a finger against me, no matter how many threats you throw around."

You held his gaze, but as much as you tried to hide the signs of the turmoil he stirred within you, you cou+ldn’t help but grind your teeth together. You knew there was no point in attempting to deceive him. He was remarkably good at reading people and you couldn’t be more of an open book to him.

His eyes fell to your lips just for a millisecond before they bored into yours once again.

Suddenly, a clink of the glasses between your bodies made you jump and he smirked at that.

"Cheers," he said with his psychotically soft voice, taking a sip of his drink. With that, Jim turned around a walked away, disappearing into the sea of the richest.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He seems to always find you at these events, making your blood boil every time.

Your solitude was short-lived, though, because soon enough, your father appeared at your side. He observed you with a scrutinizing gaze.

"(Y/N), my dear, what was that all about? What did that spider want?"

Always adept at concealing the complexities of your emotions, you responded with a nonchalant smile.

"Oh, nothing. Just a brief exchange of pleasantries."

He probed further. "Pleasantries? You seemed rather tense. Did he say anything about me? Any threats, perhaps?“

Your father was a man driven by self-interest and the desire to maintain his social standing. Moriarty was right, your father would be willing to sell you in pieces if it meant saving his own ass.

You shook your head, your expression composed. "No, Dad, nothing like that. Just some small talk."

Satisfied but still slightly suspicious, your father linked his arm with yours. "Well, let's not dwell on such matters. We're here to enjoy the evening, aren't we?"

He guided you through the lavish crowd, engaging you in conversations that held little interest for you. Stock portfolios, luxury vacations, and exclusive club memberships. You hear it all the time.

It didn't take long for your father to notice your disinterest, though, and it didn't make him happy.

"You should really take more interest in these matters. People talk, you know. It's essential for your future, especially in our circle.“ He hissed at you when he made sure nobody was paying attention, his words dripping with toxicity that echoed the unspoken expectations of your privileged world.

In that moment, you fought an overwhelming urge to snap back, to unleash the resentment that had long been bubbling beneath the surface. You just bit your lip, resisting the impulse.

"I'm sorry, I'm just tired is all," you said with a tight-lipped smile before putting on the aristocratic mask and this time truly engaging in the conversation.

But the air started to feel thick and your eyes started stinging. You couldn’t take a nice deep breath and your joints started to tingle. You quickly put the flute on the tray the passing hostess was holding to hide the slight tremor in your hands.

Fuck. Here we go again.

5 things I can see: chandeliers, flowers, couples dancing, gilded mirrors, candles.

4 things I can touch: my dress, the Champagne glass, smooth marble surfaces, my silver necklace.

3 things I can hear: string quartet melodies, hushed conversations, footsteps.

2 things I can smell: rich perfume, and leather shoes.

1 thing I can taste: bitter Champagne.

You'd fought this anxiety battle right in the middle of a circle of elites many times before and you'd always pushed through. And you always will.

As you finally managed to take a breath and your tears dissolved, you took a quick scan of the room, catching the sight of Moriarty as he watched you.

Great. I’ll never hear the end of this.

The circle of riches finally broke not long after your crisis, and you took that opportunity to excuse yourself from the suffocating atmosphere. The sound of your high heels echoed through your personal space as you headed toward the exit. Unbeknownst to you, on the other side of the room, Moriarty discreetly signaled to his bodyguard it was time to leave, making his exit too.

As he stepped into the darkness of the night, he unbuttoned his midnight blue suit jacket, his eyes scanning the grandiose driveway. He started descending down the grand staircase and as soon as he reached the bottom, he spotted you leaning against the newel post of the steps, your eyes closed and arms crossed over your rising chest.

Jim jerked his head at his bodyguard, who nodded and rushed away, leaving you and Jim alone.

"It's a shame for such a magnificent creature to be hiding out here." You opened your eyes, slightly turning your head to follow his nearing form. "I mean, can they even call themselves 'crème de la crème' when you're not around?" he asked with a furrowed brow as if it was a serious question.

"You're disgusting," you said and let your eyelids fall again, rolling your head back into its original position, the sturdy structure of the stone scratching the back of your head.

He was now right in front of you, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

„Your father certainly knows how to orchestrate an impressive show. How long are you planning to dance to his tune?“

You opened your eyes again, the cool darkness giving way to the silhouette of Jim Moriarty standing before you. As your gaze locked with his dark brown eyes, you felt a complex mix of emotions swirling within.

Everything about him was dark, a demon steeped in shadows, but as your eyes lingered on his, you couldn't shake the feeling that, in some inexplicable way, he appeared lighter than the suffocating life you led with your parents.

"Well, you know. It's a waltz I've mastered"

„Sure, sure. But I also know you can only twirl around the predictable steps for so long before the music changes.“

You studied each other in silence before your forms were illuminated by the headlights of a black SUV. He turned on his heels and headed towards the awaiting car, pulling a gum out of his pocket and popping it into his mouth. Once he reached the vehicle, he opened the back door and turned to you, tilting his head as he waited for you to make a decision.

There was no point in stalling, he knew what you were going to decide anyway. You pushed yourself off the hardness of the pillar and walked towards the car. Moriarty smirked as the two of you locked eyes, watching as you got in.

Before he followed your suit, he took a glance at the doors leading inside the manor, spotting your father as he watched the situation unfold with terror on his face. Jim’s smirk widened as his jaw worked the gum, savoring the flavor. Then he disappeared into the luxury of his SUV, and your father only watched as the car sped away, the tires screeching against the rubble of the driveway.

tbc.

oop👀

a/n2: thank you for making it this far! sorry for the pineapples.

#jim moriarty imagine #jim moriarty x reader #jim moriarty x you #moriarty x reader #moriarty x you #james moriarty x reader #james moriarty x you #james moriarty imagine #jim moriarty fanfiction #james moriarty fanfiction #jim moriarty #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock fanfiction #jim moriarty fluff

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french-vanilla-in-the-clouds · 2 years

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When Sherlock comes home high off the thrill of case solving, he proceeds to drive Y/N insane (in the best way, of course). Though he refuses to wind down and take a break, Y/N must use her wits to CALM. HIM. DOWN.

Sleepy Sherlock + fluff! ♡

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

The drone of Mrs Hudon's vacuum thrummed below the flat. It was a lazy day on Baker Street, and Y/N could feel it's droll effects.

She stood by the kitchen table, steeping a cup of tea. It's colour drained out in ribbons as she watched with unenthused interest. Sherlock hadn’t made it home that night, so the flat was painfully quiet.

Y/N prodded at her teabag. She squeezed the last of its flavouring out with a spoon and sighed. "So this is what he means when he's bored," she muttered.

She was about to dump the tea for the sake of steeping another batch, when a familiar voice boomed from the front door.

"I AM BRILLIANT! Oh darling, I know my mind is first-rate, but there are moments where even I'm impressed by its rampant luminosity!"

Y/N gave a jolt at the sudden intrusion. The door crashed against its frame and she nearly lost grip of her teacup. The drink sloshed and burned the back of her hand.

"SHERLOCK!" she cried out. "You startled me!"

Sherlock ignored the reprimand and followed the sound of his partner's voice. His steps were quick, nearly giddy.

Y/N frowned when he creeped into the kitchen. "Three cases solved within a twelve hour span!" he hissed, excited. "I am on FIRE!"

Sherlock's hair was mussed and his eyes gleamed wildly. He sounded breathless when he spoke, as though he had raced across the city.

Y/N bit back a smile and tried to remember her annoyance. "What are you going on about?" she demanded.

Sherlock grinned, nearly buzzing. "A magnificent performance on my part! A tri-movement concerto where I cracked the cases in an eloquent sequence of acuity and guile!"

"Good day, I take it?"

Sherlock dragged his hand along the edge of the countertop until he reached Y/N. His rushed strides were clumsy as he stumbled towards her. He squeezed her shoulders and planted a fervent kiss on her cheek. "Oh, you have no idea!"

"Sherlock, maybe you should take a breather now. You've been out since yesterday. Don't you think a bit of rest is in order?"

He looked down and noticed the steaming teacup still in her hands. "No time for that," he chided. "Come hear about the investigations!" Sherlock tossed the drink to the sink, making the porcelain clatter. Before Y/N could object, he gripped her hand tight and led her to the living room.

Sherlock drew open the curtains with great zeal, his open arms casting shaded silhouettes against the room. "Let's set the scene," he said with a dark smile. He turned back to his partner and stalked around her, building up his narrative.

"A robbery, six missing persons, and a murder. All distinct at first glance, wouldn't you say?"

Y/N perched on the edge of an armchair and crossed her arms. She was amused by his dramatization but worried about his lack of rest. In the moments where Sherlock Holmes was still high off the thrill of case solving, he was nonstop.

"Yes, I suppose so. But maybe you can finish your story in the morning? A good night's rest will---"

Sherlock bent down and kissed the tip of her nose. His eyes were bright. "That can wait, dove. As I was saying, Lestrade believed the three events to be mere coincidences as well. But I soon discovered that---"

"--- that everything was interconnected? Yes Sherlock, that's very impressive."

Sherlock glanced at Y/N and quirked a brow. "I'm sensing disinterest," he noted.

Y/N sighed. She stood up and took his hands in her own. "Not at all," she assured. "I'd love to hear of your triumphs, but I'm more concerned with your wellbeing at the moment."

"I don't understand. I'm perfectly fine!"

Y/N quirked a brow. She studied the dark shadows beneath his eyes and the slight tremble in his hands. His scarf was done up in a knot, and he seemed pale.

"Take a quick look in the mirror and tell me again that you're fine."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "A look at the mirror won't prove anything other than the fact that you worry too much."

"Then it won't hurt to look, now will it?"

Sherlock scoffed and glanced at the mirror hanging from the back wall. He studied his reflection in silence.

"Clever girl," he murmured, finally. "I've seen better days, haven't I?"

Y/N dipped forwards and kissed his jaw. "I would say so. You're not invincible, you know."

Sherlock sighed and pulled her against his chest. "True as that may be, there are certainly moments where I feel invincible."

Y/N felt his deft fingers trail through her hair. She leaned against him and listened to the steady beating of his heart. "Do you mean when you're out case solving?"

Sherlock pulled back until his eyes locked with hers. He tapped a finger to the tip of her nose and grinned. "Not quite. I mean to say that invincibility lies in the moments I stand by your side."

Y/N giggled. "You've gone soft from your sleepless nights," she hummed. "Let's get to bed." Before Sherlock could protest, she gripped the end of his scarf and pulled him away.

"But the sun is still shining! London won't sleep until nightfall, and I'm sure I can hold up another few hours!" His last words were muffled by a yawn that he tried and failed to suppress.

"Somehow, I'm not convinced!" Y/N laughed. "You're exhausted. Come on, I'll fetch you a pillow."

Sherlock smiled. There was no use countering her. Secretly, he didn't really mind. He felt a profound sense of comfort in Y/N's care.

He squeezed her shoulder from behind. "I'm in your hands," he whispered.

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

Give Fixation a shot!

I haven't written anything in a while, so I'm just glad to have finished this!!! 😭

tagging: @twisted-monster @starryeddie @high-functioning-lokipath @the-chaotic-cow @turkisherlockian @kabubsmagga @aephereal @andthevillainshallrises @baby-bloos @cookiemumster1 @eternal-silvertongued-prince @bogginsreadings @lumosouls @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @lucywrites02 @danzalladaggers @mrs-holmes @pytharuw @msseijii @serenity-lattes @spencerrxids

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strangesthirdeye · 6 months

Text

Listen Before I Go (SH x Fem! Reader)

Summary: A quick call won't hurt, right?

Warning: It's Sherlock everyone like him..heavy angst? Attempt Suicide, mental breakdown, mental health, You are loved by people, don't do that. You need a hug, pleading, high ceiling, hanging rope, almost suffocating. The Empty Hearse episode.

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

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One more loop and the knots are strong enough to support your weight. You sighed heavily. The creaking sound of the chair under your feet is heard when you make some motions on it. You look around your living room. Everything is scattered and unmanaged. Papers and books on the floor not to mentioned chairs are scattered around the living room, just like your wooden table.

you exhaled a heavy breath and looked up to see the noose hanging from the ceiling of your house. Well, here it is. After running around in your own mind and going through all the painful and stressful things in the real world, you are finally lost. Those things successfully kick your ass. Not to mention what happened to Sherlock two years ago. He committed suicide and claimed he was a liar, but that was not true. Why did he do that makes it a question mark for you, John, Mrs Hudson, Greg, Molly and Lestrade. Mycroft? hmm, he's just quiet. There was no news from him after that.

As if he has disappeared from existence.

Every dark plagued plays in your mind. All those rude people who curse Sherlock and proudly claim that Sherlock is a fraud. Not to mention those people have started bothering Sherlock's friends including you as his girlfriend. Those people don't know the meaning of grief.

You then look down. This is high enough. As long as your feet do not touch the floor is enough. Suffocate is not the first thing in your mind but because you don't want to commit suicide dirty with blood, you immediately decide to hang yourself. At least your life is taken slowly and in that time you can see all the happy memories at the end of your time.

You stand on your tiptoes and stick your head into the noose. The noose gently ends around your neck. Your hands started to tighten the noose around your neck so that it would be tight and not come loose when you hung it later. You sighed for the second time.

You are not afraid but nervous. Well, at least you know what your destiny is. You then close your eyes and your legs are ready to push the chair. All of the sudden, your phone rang in your pants pocket. You were shocked and almost pushed the chair under you but luckily the chair didn't slip.

You fish out your pocket and take your phone out of your pocket. You gulped your saliva slowly when you saw the contact on your phone.

John.

You immediately slide accept and open the speaker.

"Y/n"

"Hey, John"

"Where are you now? I need to tell you something.. Might be a surprise from me to you... I guess" John chuckled a little. Following with his hype tone means that John is in a good mood. Good. You're going to ruin his mood if you tell him what you're up to.

"what is it that you want to tell me? Is it Mary tho?" You pretend to hype your voice just to hide your crack tone.

"Well, I prefer to tell you at a cafe around your house only if you're not busy" John reasoned.

"well, i can't go out now.. can you just tell me on the phone instead? i kind of not really having a mood to go out anymore" You bit your lip slightly.

John was silent for a moment. You can imagine his confused face in your mind. Classic John. Gonna miss him.

"Are you alright?" John asked.

"mhmm.. I'm always alright" You replied.

"really? cuz' that's not how your 'alright' voice sounds like" John said suspiciously. "is it about Sherlock again?" John added.

Dammit. Why does he have to be the one who is always right? You are silent.

"It's been two years, Y/n. You have to let go that 'feeling'. It's not good for you" John said as if a father was advising his children to be useful human beings.

"you don't understand, aren't you? It's not easy. You have Mary.. while I don't have no one. No one to help me. Not even Mycroft. And I don't want to bring Mrs Hudson into this. She's already got a lot of plates in her hands." you paused you stand on your tiptoes.

"well, at least you don't have to deal with me anymore. I know what I'm doing now is a very useful thing. You don't have to worry about me." you added, the voice started to crack.

"What are you doing right now, Y/n. Don't you dare say that to me. I know exactly what you are trying to do. I'm coming" John's voice seemed to rush.

"tell me, John" you spoke up.

"what" John snapped trying to stop himself from yelling at you not to say negative things again.

"tell me what you want to say to me. That you expect me to be surprised" You closed your eyes. Tears streamed down your cheeks.

John let out a heavy breath. "I- oh god! this is not the situation I expected to tell you what it is. Taxi!" John yelled. John's voice then became muffled for a few moments before it became clear again. John then hurriedly told the cab driver your home address. Although the location is quite far from your house, John doesn't care about the fare. As long as he can save his other friend this time.

"just hold on. Don't end the call" John informed you firmly. John then sighed anxiously. "I-I plan to propose Mary tonight"

You smiled sadly. "is it going to be fancy? big?" you questioned him.

"fancy but simple.. oh gosh, why can't you just.. not doing all these things? You have many other things out there to go through! why now do you want to end it?" John is furiously rich.

"I think this is the end of my story. I've got nothing out there to go through. You have Mary. She's the one, John. Marry her. Make her half of your life. Have a family." You said lowly. your toes little by little push the chair under you.

"don't you dare say that. Think about it again. Sherlock doesn't want all this. He doesn't like any decision to end your life. He despises it. He wants you to move on and live a normal life. Normal life! Don't you want that? Find someone who can be with you for the rest of your life. Please.. I don't want to lose my best friend again" John begged.

Your line is quiet. Only the sound of the cab that John was riding in was heard. You look down. The hanging rope around the neck feels tight.

You know he's right but why don't you move away from the noose that is now resting on your neck? Sherlock doesn't like this. He despises it like John said earlier. Why then don't you open the rope and get off the chair? It's not going to work you know. Kill yourself. It's not.

Every thousand possibilities play in your mind as you hold the phone tightly in your hand. You bit your lips hard.

"I can't hold it anymore. The feeling of pain, grief and lost. It's not easy like what you say. It's just- Move on? no.. it's not working." you sobbed.

"No.." John paused. Probably is choosing and arranging the next sentence. "No, it's not easy. But, Sherlock wouldn't want that, right? So whatever you're doing now just drop it. Please. For the sake of Sherlock Holmes" John added in a tone of hope.

You paused and closed your eyes. Thumbs up on the screen. "I'm sorry, John" and you ended the call.

'just get on with it' whispered the demon in your ear. You choked on your own tears in your throat. You tossed your phone aside and stared for a moment then without hesitation you pushed the chair down so fast that it landed on the floor. But you don't fall, you float in the air with a hanging rope around your neck.

And there goes your oxygen is cut off quickly as you gasp for air while thrashing in the air. Both hands on the noose around your neck while your eyes darted around the living room. Mouth part away trying to get even a little oxygen. Your skin's colour is getting paler and your brain is in a state of shock when the oxygen is getting less and less to the brain.

You almost lost consciousness and then you see it. Life flashes before your eyes. Happy and sad memories. All in one. As the last piece of memories played in your eyes, you finally lost consciousness. Both your hands limp to the side while your head lolled forward. Your hair frames your pale face. But not before you hear the door of your house burst open by someone. Someone who you didn't get to see as your eyes are now tightly closed. Welcoming the feeling of a blanket of darkness.

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Eyes opened slowly as you gasped to take enough oxygen into your body system. Every thought plays in your mind. Why can't you just go in peace? Why do people have to bother you?

You look around the living room. Now you are lying on the floor. Eyes on the ceiling while your breath is still panting. Everything is hurt especially in your neck. You can still feel the texture of the hanging rope around your neck.

You curse whoever messed up your suicide attempt. It could be John but the taxi John took could not be able to get here quickly. So who? You glared at the person who was kneeling next to you but then as soon as your eyes landed on the silhouette, you widened your eyes.

there he is, a man who claims to be a sociopath and never believes in sentiment but then falls into the terms boyfriend and girlfriend. His brunette hair, his eyes, his cheek bones and his face are still the same but at the same time he looks a little mature. While his eyes hold emotions that are very heavy plus panic and concerned etched on his face.

Sherlock Holmes. The so called 'fraud' is now on your side.

"What were you thinking?!" Sherlock said loudly.

You are stunned. Sherlock then touched your shoulder and shook it a little trying to get you out of the trance.

Oh, God. What you think is a dream is actually not a dream but real. The feeling of him touching your shoulder and his deep raspy and smoky timbre makes you miss him so much. Your eyes start to glaze over with tears.

"Sherlock?" you whispered his name.

Sherlock looked at you with concern and tried to help you sit up. "what were you thinking? Suffocate yourself to death? why? just why?"

"because you died! For two years. I thought you were dead once your body hit the ground in front of the hospital. Two years, Sherlock. Two years. And you think I can live without you just like that?" you yelled while slapping him on the chest several times.

Sherlock deflected your blow by holding both of your wrists to his chest. He looked at you with sympathy. "I want to save you and the others. This is all I can do. Moriarty will do worse than what you don't expect that's why I have to do that. Two years I tried to take down his network and now I'm here. What you did earlier there was the most horrible thing for me. I don't want to come back home knowing that you are dead."

You thought for a moment. Your red eyes looked at Sherlock's face with realization on your face. And then you sniffed and leaned your head on his chest.

Sherlock then put his arms around you. His right hand was placed on the back of your head and stroked gently while his head was placed on top of your head.

"You saved me.. oh, how stupid I am to do that" you sobbed.

"no you're not stupid. Don't say that. You are the most brilliant and courageous woman I know. Your intelligent and kind attitude makes me adore and fond of you more.. listen, I don't always say this but you are the only reason I'm coming home. Please.. don't do that ever again" Sherlock said while kissing your hair.

"John will be here soon." you say. Your voice is muffled in his chest.

"let him. might as well make it a surprise for him." Sherlock joked trying to lighten up the mood.

You chuckled tearfully and then hugged Sherlock tightly. Sherlock smiled gently and tightened his arms and rocked you left and right with his eyes closed.

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