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#bbc mycroft x you
himegureisu · 2 months
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1 | the Woman
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Summary: Mrs. Mycroft Holmes. Yes. You. Most people didn't know you existed. In these years, that's about to change.
A/N: This is the new version. This can be read as a gender-neutral person. However, the pairing remains Mycroft Holmes/Female Reader throughout the story. Season 1 scenes are entirely domestic Mycroft Holmes x Reader. This scene begins at home after Season 1 Episode 1: A Study in Pink. I hope you enjoy!
Warnings: There are innuendos at the end of every chapter.
Gaining weight again?
Losing it, in fact.
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His stomach was pudgy. It has always been that way since he was a child. Any and every attempt at losing it was an arduous road he refused to take any longer other than the occasional jog on a treadmill at your insistence.
Could he lose it? Yes, however, the effort required to do so was significant in that he would rather accomplish several tasks of import than appease the opinion of others and his vanity.
“Mycroft?”
Your soft inquiring voice breaks through his thoughts. His attention redirected, from the mirror to the sight of you by the threshold from the hall.
“What are you doing in front of the mirror?” you ask, walking over, to stand by his side.
“Sherlock has mocked my weight again,” he sighed, patting the fat on his stomach. “I should be used to it by now, however…”
It was a sore spot from time immemorial. One his brother didn’t hesitate to pick on almost every time they saw each other.
“Are you not bothered by my weight?” he asks, you shake your head: a no, as he faces you, “Truly?”
“Mycroft Holmes, I didn’t care about your weight before we married. I certainly do not care for it much now,” you say as you cup your hands on his cheeks in all seriousness, “I’d rather you eat and overindulge in meals than skip them. It means you’re taking care of yourself. Your job is already stressful and Sherlock being reckless is the literal cherry on top. If partaking in an extra slice of cake can soothe your frayed nerves, then be my guest. However, do save a piece for me, and then we’ll find a way to lose the calories together.“
Your hands trail from his face to his body, noting every curve and contour to memory. He may not be society’s ideal man but you love every part of him. Even those parts that he hates.
“You are incomparable, my dear.” his voice wavered, as he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours. “Thank you,”
“I love you just the way you are, Mycroft,” you whispered, brushing a quick gentle kiss on his lips, “Don’t you ever doubt that,”
To Mycroft, your words were the only ones that truly mattered. Your acceptance and love are a balm to his insecurities and fears. He never thought that he’d ever experience such unconditional love from anyone except his parents. However, it seems that the world has granted him the privilege of being loved by you.
“Would you like to join me in our bedroom, my dear?” he suggested. His eyes twinkled mischievously in the evening light. “I thought of a way to lose those calories,”
“Oh, do tell then,”
“I’d rather show,”
NEXT >>
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Last Updated: 2023-12-08
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Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite BBC!Mycroft Holmes stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.
Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning
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❆ Christmas Party by bbcsherloves▪︎〔F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎
Summary: "You and Mycroft have been dating secretly for years, and for the first time since, Mycroft has invited you to a Christmas Party."
❆ Gentle Nudge│Prt. II by girl-next-door-writes▪︎〔F〕▪︎
Summary: "Sherlock is concerned that his brother is lonely, so decides to intervene. The only thing is, the Holmes boys really do not know how 'people' work."
❆ His Soft Spot by specialagentlokitty▪︎〔F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎𑁍▪︎
Summary: You, your husband; Mycroft, and your daughter, attend a Christmas party at Baker Street.
❆ Serendipity by girl-next-door-writes▪︎〔F〕▪︎
Summary: "When Mycroft [invited] you to his parent's home for Christmas, he didn't realise he was giving his little brother the perfect opportunity to torture him."
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❆ Interruptions by fandom-writes▪︎〔F〕▪︎
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❆ Christmas shopping w/ Mycroft… by geeks-universe▪︎〔F〕▪︎
❆ Visiting Mycofts Parents for Christmas… ⧫ by geeks-universe▪︎〔F〕▪︎♥︎▪︎𑁍▪︎
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See Also: Navigation | BBC!Mycroft Holmes Master Index
Authors: @bbcsherloves || @fandom-writers || @geeks-universe || @girl-next-door-writes || @specialagentlokitty ||
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multific · 23 days
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Destiny
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Mycroft Holmes x Reader
Summary: What happens when you fall in love with the IceMan himself? It can never end well, right?
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Destiny.
A simple word yet it held so much power.
What does it mean to be destined for something or even, someone?
When you first heard about this word, your grandmother told you how she and your grandfather met.
A true love story.
A story so beautiful it was always in the back of your head as you grew older and older.
You hoped you would have a similar experience in your love life. Finding, the person and falling in love, it all sounded amazing.
You knew you wouldn't be able to force such a thing, you were aware of that. And yet, you were impatient. 
So impatient that in fact, you fall into many traps.
In many ways, you thrived in your life.
Expect your love life.
Your desire for a love like no other made you fall in love with men who were undeserving. 
Until you met Mycroft Holmes.
To say that he was the entire British Government would be an understatement.
You applied for a simple job, to be his assistant.
You spent so much time with him, that you thought you were going insane.
You blamed Stockholm syndrome for your feelings.
The moment you realized your feelings were real was during a very difficult week.
Almost every criminal in London had an agenda to mess with him. This caused you to do so much overtime, that you didn't even leave the office.
It was during the fourth day when Mycroft showed up with a bouquet. 
"I thought you would be home," he said, clearly he wasn't prepared to have you right there, at your desk. "Usually you arrive at 6:46 because you stop by at the nearby bakery for breakfast and coffee." 
So, he did pay attention to you. After he spent all that time to make sure you are aware that he simply doesn't care for people like you.
"I stayed to finish the file on this. I-"
"Did you eat?"
"No, Sir." he made a face at that and took his phone out of his pocket.
"Delivery will be here in 10 minutes. Eat, drink your coffee and then come speak with me. I'll be in my office."
He ordered exactly just what you wanted with the most perfect coffee you ever had.
He paid attention to you.
And you realized your feelings for him were real.
You knew hiding it from him would be impossible. Mycroft was incredibly smart. He would notice.
But little did you know, he felt the same.
He thought you would notice his feelings and confront him about it. 
He wasn't ready for a rejection.
Yet, your rejection never came.
Not when he asked you out to dinner. Not when he brought you another bouquet.
Not when he kissed you.
Instead, he let you guide him.
Love wasn't new to him. He loved his siblings, and his parents but this kind of love is very different. 
He didn't have experience with this kind of love, and it scared him a little.
But he also didn't reject it.
He embraced it.
And soon, a beautiful diamond ring found its rightful place on your finger.
It might have not been the way you wanted your one and true love.
But it was your destiny.
And you were okay with it.
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Taglist: 
@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/
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you can’t knowingly fuck a criminal and then turn around and get mad at them for doing something unethical, dubiously moral or illegal that directly involves you. what about this man made you think he follows the laws, is ethical or even moral? you knew damn well that he killed people for a living. how are you going to date someone whose probably on the FBI’s most wanted list (top 10) and then turn around and be surprised that he invaded your privacy? make it make sense. you can be mad at him all you want but shawty the man has proven time and time again who he is as a person. if this mother fucker is out here willingly killing bitches and has probably broken the geneva convention on multiple occasions what makes you think you’ll be exempt 😭? don’t be shy share with the class?
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specialagentlokitty · 10 months
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Mycroft x reader - reminder
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Hi can I request a Mycroft x reader? Just some fluff please - @marvelfunkopop101💜
Mycroft Holmes was not a man of affectionate words, or affection at all really, he didn’t like to be hugged, or to hold hands, or say how he felt.
But he showed it in the little things he would do.
He always made sure you had your favourite drink, he would always make sure you got home safe or to work safe.
He would kiss your forehead when he saw you, or when he was leaving.
But sometimes.
Just sometimes.
He would come in, like he just had, and he would get changed, and make his was over to the bed to sit with you.
Except instead of sitting, he laid down, resting his head on your stomach as he sighed softly.
Reaching a hand out, you placed it on his head, and you smiled softly at him.
“Darling?” You asked.
“It’s been a long day…”
You nodded your head, and leant down, turning his face towards you, you kissed his forehead and smiled down at him.
Mycroft smiled a little at you, and he rolled over, laying on his back, but his head still in your stomach as you gently ran your thumb along his cheek.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“No, I don’t want to bore you with the events of my day, I’d just like to lay here if I can?”
“Of course you can.”
He smiled and placed his hand on your wrist, running his thumb along your skin, and you smiled, going back to watch the Tv.
He wouldn’t sat there for long, he never did, so when he began to sit up you let him go so he could.
He tapped your shoulder and you sat up as well, letting him wrap an arm around your shoulder, guiding you into his side.
And you curled into him, resting your head on his arms and he held you to his side.
There wasn’t many words needed, sometimes he just liked to sit in silence, and you didn’t mind it at all.
So, that’s what you did, you felt his fingers run through your hair, and his thumb on his other hand trail small circled into the skin of your arm.
You placed your hand on his hand and you took it from your head, holding it next to your face and Mycroft smiled softly down at you.
He was completely fascinated by you, in love with you.
“You’re wonderful…” he whispered.
You laughed softly, and you sat up.
Placed your hands on his face, you leant forward and softly kissed him before you pulled away.
“I love you.” He said.
“I love you too.”
He kissed you once more before letting you return to laying down on him.
Sometimes he liked to tell you he loved you, just as a little reminder in case you didn’t know
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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 8 months
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Whoa Baby
Sherlock and Mycroft x little sister!reader
Requested by @shinypandacherryblossom
Synopsis: you have startling news for your big brothers
Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, this is kinda short.
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Rain pelted your back as you pounded on the locked door of 221B Baker Street.
“Alright, alright, don’t have a-“ Mrs. Hudson froze at the sight of you shivering at her front door. “Oh dear, hurry in.” She stepped aside to let you through.
“Thank you,” you tried to wipe the tears away along with the rainwater, but of course you didn’t fool Mrs. Hudson.
“What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing,” you cursed the quaver in your voice. “Is Sherlock in?”
“Yes, Mycroft too, he just popped in for a case or something,” the disdain in Mrs. Hudson’s voice made clear her opinion of your oldest brother.
“Thanks,” was all you could manage as you made your way up the stairs. You thought you’d have more time before you had to deal with Mycroft, but you supposed only having to tell the news once might be better anyway.
You didn’t bother knocking, and by the awkward silence that engulfed the room you could tell you’d interrupted something.
“What are you doing here?” Sherlock inquired.
“It’s good to see you too,” you scoffed.
“What’s wrong?” Mycroft noticed your state half a second faster than his little brother, and was therefore the first to bring it up.
You were sure you looked like a mess, and it didn’t take a Holmes’ skill to notice it; you’d rushed here, in the rain, without an umbrella, and you were sure that your tears still left a visible trace on your face.
“I-I need to talk to you guys,” once again you hated the quaver in your voice as you took a seat on Sherlock’s couch.
“We’re in the middle of something,” Sherlock said indignantly.
“It’s important,” you insisted, your tone leaving no room for argument.
“Tell us then,” Mycroft urged.
“Would you sit down, please?”
Sherlock was already seated in his chair, and Mycroft hesitated for a moment before going to John’s chair and sitting.
“Now, what could possibly be so earth shattering?”
“W-well…” you struggled with where to begin. “You remember Y/BF/N?”
“Your boyfriend?” Mycroft nodded. “Of course, what about him?”
“You interrupted us to tell us about a breakup?” Sherlock’s annoyance was evident as he stood.
“How did you-“
“Your appearance is fairly self evident. Is that really all there is?” Mycroft asked, and you could tell his impatience was growing as well.
“No,” you insisted, and with a sigh Sherlock lowered himself back into his chair.
“What, did he cheat on you? I could do something about him, if you’d like,” your annoyance was triggered when Mycroft’s bored tone reached you.
“It’s not just about that jerk, ok? And no, I don’t want you to do anything to him,” you took a deep breath. “He did leave me…be-because I’m pregnant.”
The silence that followed was like a thick mist that hung over the room, all encompassing and ominous.
“He doesn’t want it,” you were crying again now, and Sherlock quickly got to his feet. “H-he…” you stiffened in surprise when Sherlock wrapped his arms around you. “Sherlock?”
Mycroft looked surprised as well, but still he rose to his feet and came to stand by the two of you.
“Forget him,” Sherlock insisted. “We’re going to help you, alright?”
“I want you to stay at my place during your pregnancy,” Mycroft broke in. “It’s the safest for you.”
You felt the corners of your lips twist into a smile. Your world felt upside down right now, but at least you had two brothers to hold onto.
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𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝
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𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Though he's known as a man of  reason and cold logic, Sherlock secretly covets a life of art and romance. When a bookworm moves next door, he finds himself bewitched, both body and soul. 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟
𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: @asherloki​
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Y/N sat cross-legged on the doorstep of 221B. She bit her thumbnail and smiled down at her copy of Pride and Prejudice.
Her eyes darted across the pages as she muttered along with the story's script. Her favourite character, the proud Mr Darcy, was about to enter the scene, and though she already knew what would happen next, the anticipation of his arrival had her buzzing.
Though she would never admit it, Y/N's fondness for the regency hero stemmed from her love for someone all too real; her next door neighbour, Sherlock Holmes.
Just last month, she had snagged a flat on Baker Street. As the new tenant of 221D, she found herself living across the hall from London's rising celebrity. It hadn't  taken her more than a first meeting to fall hard for him.
He reminded her of the heroes she read about in her books. Sherlock was very galant, what with his timeless grace and subtle kindness. Even his movements appeared calculated, each motion as deliberate as the printed words in her stories.
As an avid reader of classic literature, Y/N often let passion guide her life. Practicality wasn't her style so much as star-gazing was. Though Sherlock indulged in a hyper-rational philosophy, Y/N liked to think that a bit of discourse added great fun to any lovers' tale.
She flipped a page and leaned back against the door. It wasn't until a black sedan parked by the pavement that she finally looked up.
From her seat on the front steps, Y/N watched with interest as two men stepped out from the car. She recognized Sherlock, but the other was a stranger to her. From the sound of their bickering though, it seemed that both were agitated.
"Dinner was a mistake, Mycroft. The next time you need to consult me, just text."
"Believe me Sherlock, I'm all for skipping the brotherly bonding, but Mother insisted. She's been pestering me all week with late night calls!"
"Don't pick up."
"I can't just ignore her!"
"Why not? I do it all the time."
The men stepped up to the door, too engrossed in their quarrel to notice Y/N.
"Will you be staying long?" Sherlock asked. He reached out to pull the door handle, but it didn't budge.
"Only as long as I need to. I'll give you the case details, then I'll be off. You know how I feel about your... home."
Mycroft stood impatiently while Sherlock fetched a pair of keys from his coat pocket. He glanced at his watch. "At your leisure, brother mine."
"A bit of patience," Sherlock muttered. He tried twisting the keys through the lock, but they jammed midway.
"That's curious," Sherlock said. "It seems we've been barred out. John must have caught wind of your visit."
"You can't be serious."
"Quite."
At that moment, Mycroft looked down and noticed Y/N. "Good grief," he chuffed. "Are you meant to be the porter?"
Y/N felt her cheeks warm. She hadn't meant to stay quiet so long, but wasn't sure at which point to enter the conversation. She stood up quickly. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to linger."
"Don't mind him," Sherlock sighed. "He simply enjoys rattling off. This is my brother, by the way, Mycroft Holmes. And Mycroft, this is my neighbour, Y/N. She lives just across the hall." Sherlock smiled kindly at her, but quickly turned away.
Mycroft curled his lips reproachfully. "Charmed," he said.
Y/N clutched her book against her chest. "I'm not sure if you recall, Sherlock, but Mrs Hudon said that she was having the locks changed today.
"Annual maintenance?"
"Something like that."
He clicked his tongue. "An advanced warning would have been nice."
"She's been mentioning it all week," Y/N responded lightly.
Sherlock winked. "I can hardly be blamed  for blocking out her ramblings." He tucked his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the door. "Light reading?" he asked, nodding towards Y/N's book.
She glanced down at it and grinned. "It's Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Have you read it?"
"It's a waste of time," Mycroft interrupted. He picked at a loose thread on his jacket. "An atypical romance for its time transformed into an odious cliché. It's been written upon a value system where reason is exchanged for ill-spent devotion." He raised a brow at Y/N, his expression condescending. "My brother and I haven't the time to dawdle over banal narratives. I doubt we even spared the brain cells to remember most of the plot, so if you don't mind, this social call is over. Sherlock, could we please talk elsewhere? This case is of national importance!"
Mycroft turned on his heel and stalked away, expecting his brother to follow.
Y/N stood frozen, embarrassed by the  outburst. She avoided Sherlock's eyes and wondered if he also had a bad impression of her. Perhaps like his brother, he believed her to be a silly reader with too much time on her hands.
She put on a smile before addressing him. "I'm sure you're busy, Mr Holmes. It was very nice seeing you."
She waited for him to leave, but he stalled for a moment. He seemed conflicted, as though he had something to say, but didn't know how to go about doing it.
Finally, he spoke. "In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you..."
Y/N lifted her brows, taken aback by his words. Sherlock cleared his throat, flustered. "I didn't mean-" he coughed. "I believe that's Mr Darcy's line in the book, yes?"
Y/N nodded.
Sherlock adjusted his coat collar before proceeding. "I know that I have a reputation for being disassociated from the more mundane things like art and literature, and I suppose to some extent, it's true." He licked his lips. "But my good sense shouldn't discredit my appreciation for the humanities."
He leaned in close and smiled. "Or my appreciation of you, for that matter."
Y/N looked up at him. "Sherlock," she breathed. "Would you like to borrow my book?" She held it out between them, her only defense for being stunned, and not knowing what to say. She felt light headed in the best way, overwhelmed by the turn of their conversation.
Sherlock's lip twitched upwards. "That's very kind of you," he said. He reached forwards and grasped the book from her hold. His fingers grazed her hand, and sent sparks shooting through her arm.
He pulled back and examined the front cover. "I'll be off then," he said. He glanced at Y/N, a gleam in his eye. "I wouldn't want to keep your book for long. I'm sure I'll be done reading by Friday at any rate. Would you be able to pick it up then? Say, 8:00 at the café next-door? If that doesn't work for you, we could always try for a late dinner."
Y/N laughed, not able to keep the smile off her face. "That works just fine," she said. "A late dinner it is."
Sherlock pushed back on his heel, and tucked the book under his arm. He tried to appear casual, but was just as excited as Y/N at the prospect of their date. He glanced at the pavement where Mycroft waited, but not even his brother's sour expression could dampen his spirits.
"Have a wonderful day, Y/N," he called out, grinning.
Y/N watched as he walked off, looking over his shoulder every few steps. She could still feel his touch, however brief,  upon her skin.
She gazed at him until he finally met his brother and trailed off across the street. Sherlock spared one last look behind him, and flexed the hand that had touched Y/N's.
She smiled.
"A lady's imagination is very rapid," she whispered to herself. "It jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment..."
Y/N ran a hand through her hair, pleased. It seemed that she and Sherlock had the potential for a classic romance after all.
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Give Thursday Thrill a shot!
@asherloki I hope the wait wasn't too much of an issue! I'm sure you've had plenty else to read until now! ♡
tagging: @twisted-monster ​ @starryeddie ​ @high-functioning-lokipath ​ @the-chaotic-cow ​ @turkisherlockian ​  @kabubsmagga @aephereal​ ​ @andthevillainshallrises​ ​ @baby-bloos ​ ​ @cookiemumster1 ​ ​​ @eternal-silvertongued-prince​ ​ @bogginsreadings​ ​ @lumosouls ​ @spencerrxids​ @serenity-lattes​ @msseijii @classickook​ @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson​ ​ @lucywrites02​  @danzalladaggers @mrs-holmes​ @pytharuw @antsn​ @waiting-for-cas-to-save-me ​
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j-eryewrites · 1 year
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𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙾𝚌𝚌𝚞𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝟸𝟸𝟷𝙱 𝙱𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝
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PLAYLIST
AO3 Link
* I WILL BE GOING BACK AND EDITING EACH CHAPTER
Part One: It Was A Rainy Day
Part Two: A Study in Pink (I)
Part Three: A Study in Pink (II) 
Part Four: A Study in Pink (III)
Part Five: A Study in Pink (Final)
Part Six: The Abbey Grange Affair (I)
Part Seven: The Abbey Grange Affair (II)
Part Eight: The Abbey Grange Affair (III)
Part Nine: The Abbey Grange Affair (Final)
Part Ten: The Blind Banker (I)
Part Eleven: The Blind Banker (II) 
Part Twelve: The Blind Banker (III)
Part Thirteen: The Blind Banker (IV)
Part Fourteen: The Blind Banker (Final)
Part Fifteen: The Dancing Men (I)
Part Sixteen: The Dancing Men (II)
Part Seventeen: The Dancing Men (III)
Part Eighteen: The Dancing Men (Final)
Part Nineteen: The Great Game (I)
Part Twenty: Coming Soon
Part Twenty-One: Coming Soon
Part Twenty-Two: Coming Soon
______________________________
Tag list:  @bartokthealbinobat​ @biggerthancalli13​ @themartiansdaughter​ @sunsumonner @silversword7000​ @starlightaurorab​ @melody7​ @astudyinlaura​ @sherlockstrangewolf @neroarrow83​ @khaleesihavilliard
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serpoupouilleowo · 2 years
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Imagine :
that you're sitting on the couch watching the two Holmes brothers arguing when Sherlock shouts at his brother: "If you want anything, just take it and leave ! » Mycroft then gets up from his armchair without saying anything and goes to you and then calmly takes you as a princess and leaves the apartment under the shocked gaze of John and Sherlock.
Sorry for the language mistakes, I ´m french 😅
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shinybearnerd · 1 year
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“At Dead of Night”
Hi everyone!
This is a little ff for the BBC Sherlock fandom.
It's set a little bit before the events of the third season. So !SPOILER WARNING! if you had not seen it yet.
   Honestly, I don't know what it is. I'm tired and I wanted to exorcise my old obsession with this (wonderful) series by writing something.
It was supposed to be longer, with the reader that finds out that Sherlock is alive and that Mycroft lied to them. Let me know if you're interested in that. I'll do a part 2 if that's the case.
Anyway, I hope you like it. Let me know what you think down below!
(no use of y/n - the reader has they/them pronounce)
-Engish is not my first language. So I'm sorry if there are any mistakes-
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Pair: Mycroft x reader, a few remainders of Sherlock x reader
Words: 1,5k
Genre: Fluff , a little bit of Angst
Story: Reader and Mycroft finally have some precious time alone. During this, Reader remembers and thinks about the last three years and his relationship with the Holmes brothers. About that, lately, they have the feeling that the oldest might hide something...
Dining with Mycroft is... strange. Beautiful but strange.
No. Strange is not the right word.
Upsetting, perhaps?
Disarming?
Yes. Disarming is the right word.
You were so used to the half dinners that every so often you and Sherlock indulged between one case and another that remaining seated from ordering to withdrawing the last dish destabilized you in a good way. Even if you can't help but think that with Sherlock you would have had more fun. Not that Mycroft was boring. No, it was quite the opposite.
The charm and elegance of that man had always been something that had fascinated and impressed you. It's a characteristic that could also be seen in the younger of the Holmes brothers but stood out in the movements of the older one. Like right now: he had raised his arm slightly, getting the attention of a waiter who immediately ran towards your table. Then he asked if it might be possible to have another bottle of who knows what fine wine he was craving at that moment. And all you can do is smile at him and restrain the urge you had at that moment to jump on him and make love once again. It mattered little to you if everyone saw you.
Mycroft loved to spoil you.
You came to understand it quite soon. When you pointed out that there was no need and that all that attention could embarrass you, he replied that if you wanted the world, he would have brought it to you on a tray of gold.
That statement turned you on more than you care to admit.
Next month will be the third year since you saw him die. Sometimes that horrible, heartbreaking image would come back to visit you during your nightmares. Since you've been dating Mycroft tho, things started to change.
Having someone take care of you, and granting any kind of wish was incredibly pleasant.
Not that Sherlock didn't care about what you needed. He had his way of dealing with this kind of thing. And, even late at times, your needs were met.
He was a lovable and, more than his pride would admit, forgetful idiot. Your lovable and forgetful idiot.
He has been your rock in difficult times. He was your confidant. A person you could talk to. Over time he too has opened up to your presence and you have discovered a side of Mycroft that you would not even have imagined before.
Then things started to change. And perhaps for the best.
Between one evening together and another, a kiss escaped. Then a date. And after even more time, a night of love at the man's house. The first time after Sherlock's death.
You felt awful. Disgusting.
You hated yourself because you felt like you cheated on Sherlock by sleeping with his brother. With his enemy.
In all this, however, Mycroft was always understanding. He didn't push you into doing anything. He always listened and asked if you were comfortable doing anything.
He was able to make you feel alive and loved once again. Which you didn't think was possible. Spending time with him was magical and incredibly peaceful. Maybe more than you wanted, but you need calm and serenity in your life. So everything was perfect.
Except for one thing. You had the sensation that he was hiding something from you.
As the waiter walked away from your table, Mycroft noticed your gaze on him. He smiled too, taking your hands and leaving a kiss on your skin.
     <<Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?>>
     That nickname always managed to make you blush like a teenager.
    <<Very.>>
    His smile widened. <<I'm happy.>>
He had a strange look in his eyes. Like someone who has a cross to bear.
It's not the first time you've noticed such a look. In these three years, you have noticed it several times. Particularly when he thought you were not watching him.
    <<Hard day at work?>> You ask him.
    He looks down at your hands and strokes them with his thumb. <<No more than others.>>
    <<Something wrong? I see you a little tense, love.>>
    <<I'm fine. Don't worry.>>
    <<Is there anything I can do to help you?>> You ask with a hint of maliciousness in your voice.
You give up, even if momentarily.
Mycroft could be stubborn if he wanted to and you're sure if you insisted you wouldn't get anything out of it. Might as well wait for the moment when he wants to talk.
But you know that something was up.
Mycroft's smile went from adoring to mischievous in fractions of seconds. He was about to say something when he was interrupted by two waiters. One who served you dessert and another who opened the requested bottle and poured it.
    <<What are we toasting to?>> You ask, taking your glass.
    <<To the beautiful person in front of me.>>
    You blush hard while smiling. <<Stop it! You know it bothers me!>>
    He chuckles and clinks both glasses together. <<To you, my love.>>
    <<You know what? I don't want to do anything more for you. Keep your secrets.>>
He looked at you with a beaten puppy gaze as he lowered his wine glass and opened his jacket to reach for his cell phone in the inside pocket. You see him getting white as a ghost as soon as his eyes rest on the name that appears on the screen.
Mycroft opens his mouth to tell you that your beauty was meant to be celebrated every second, when he is interrupted by his cell phone ringing.
     You were annoyed that someone was interrupting you, but you know very well that Mycroft can't help it.
    <<I'm sorry, my dear.>>
He gets up, kisses you and walks towards the exit.
You can see him through one of the vertical windows on either side of the hall. He's tense. Very tense.
He walks slowly up and down the street. He is listening to someone, trying to assess the situation. Suddenly his head snaps up. You can't see his face because of the distance, but you know that it's no good and that Mycroft must leave as soon as possible.
You thank the waiter by leaving a generous tip and get up, walking towards the lobby.
You call the waiter with a wave of your hand, asking for the bill and if it were possible to pack the two desserts to take them away.
In a few minutes, he fixed everything.
    <<Are you going away, miss?>>
    <<I'm afraid so.>>
    <<Okay. Wait here while I get your coats, please.>>
As the woman walks away, you can get a better look at your boyfriend.
His back is straight and tense. The expression is always cold and detached but the movement of his lips makes you understand that he is furious.
You are very concerned about this situation. You’ve never seen him so upset.
The receptionist's voice wakes you from your thoughts.
She moves behind you and helps you put on your coat.
    <<Thank you.>>
    <<You’re welcome, miss. Here. This is your husband's.>> She smiles as she hands you Mycroft's coat.
    <<He’s- ...Thank you. Good evening.>>
Husband...
You’ve never thought about that
As the woman opens the door to let you out you find yourself looking at your left ring finger. Smiling at the idea.
How can't you? Mycroft was perfect.
As soon as you finish the sentence, Mycroft feels weird. He doesn't know what that depends on. He just can't help but smile.
    <<Yes, I'll be right there.>>
    Your boyfriend has just ended the call when he notices your presence.
    <<I figured that the circumstance was important.>> You tell him as you hand him both the jacket and the box containing the desserts. <<And these are both yours. From how tense I see you, I know you deserve them all.>>
    <<I love you so much...>>
You both are surprised and stare blanc at each other.
It's the first time either of them has said the l-word.
A taxi appeared, parking in front of you. You share another kiss before the eldest Holmes opens the door for you, and then closes it behind you.
    You smile at him. Hug him to you and kiss him. <<I love you too.>>
    He melts under your touch.
    <<I would have liked this evening to have ended in another way...>>
    <<I think we both hoped so.>> You reply mischievously.
    Mycroft chuckles. <<That's not what I meant ... Or at least in part.
<<I have to go...>>
    <<I know.>>
    <<I'll make it up to you.>>
    <<I know that too.>> You stated as you caress his face. <<Can we talk later?>>
    <<Of course. Call me when you arrive.>>
    <<The same goes for you too, Mister.>>
You think for a long time about that "I'll make it up to you". He had an odd tone. As if he was hiding something.
He smiles at you, kisses you one more time and gives directions to the taxi driver.
As soon as the taxi starts you realize that his car has arrived, but Mycroft doesn't get on it. He waits for you to leave, waving at you from a distance. You blow him a kiss and sit up composed.
You suppress a yawn in your throat and blame it all on tiredness and your overthinking. Mycroft has always told you everything. Sure he would not hide something from you... right?
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himegureisu · 2 months
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4 | the Woman
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Summary: There are times when cases need a woman's touch. This is where you finally introduce yourself to your brother-in-law. This is set at the end of S2 E1 A Scandal in Belgravia.
Pairing: Mycroft Holmes x Female Reader
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—————————— 🔎——————————
“There are people we can get into this,” Mycroft said,
“I tested that theory for you. I let Sherlock Holmes try for six months,” she bragged, “Sherlock, dear, tell him what you uncovered through that x-ray of my phone,”
Irene Adler, professionally known as the Woman, a dominatrix of significant influence was obvious. Her only advantage was the fact she was playing against men.
Half a year, the Holmes men stumped at what to do. What a sight, however, it’s best to end their misery.
The Woman hands over her list of requests. However, that’s not going to happen, not on your watch.
“Oh, that’s a shame. Can’t I join in the fun?” you said.
Their eyes shifted as you entered the study in your battledress. Her exchange pauses as you stand behind Mycroft. Your brother-in-law quietly observes and thinks by the fireplace. His head towards the three of you.
“I did hope Sherlock would get this one,” you sighed, as you stretched your hand out to Irene, “May I?”
“Be my guest,” she offered.
“You’re rather transparent,” you twirl the mobile in your hands, “You don’t need a genius to unlock this. Just a woman that understands her kind,”
“Oh, do go on,” she stands, to sit on the edge of the table.
“There are times when women are affected by their interests. Others would say this is a disadvantage. Yours are the Holmes men, specifically, Sherlock. There was no other way to get to Sherlock without committing a crime except in your profession, you could pursue a different avenue,” Your eyes rest on Mycroft as they start to figure it out, “Two birds in one stone. Agitate the older brother, you get the younger. Women play a different kind of dirty and you played a game against men that was your advantage. God, did you pull their strings well but that ends tonight. The psychology of women, gentlemen, is that the most obvious is sometimes the most overlooked,”
“Craving the distraction of the game I sympathize entirely but sentiment?” Sherlock stands, walks over, and reaches out to you for the phone which you finally hand over, “Sentiment is a chemical element found on the losing side,”
Oh, Sherlock how wrong you are on that. Love and sentiment can be an advantage.
“When we first met, you told me that disguise is always a self-portrait,” Sherlock mused, facing the Woman, “How true of you. The combination to your safe, your measurements, but this is far more intimate. This is your heart, and you should never let it rule your head.”
“You just couldn’t resist, could you?” you interjected.
“Everything I said, it wasn’t real,” she whispered, silently pleading to Sherlock, “I was just playing the game,”
“This is just losing,”
I AM SHER LOCKED
“Thank you for the additional information,” he addressed you, “It was enlightening,”
“There you are, brother,” he passes the device to Mycroft, “I hope the contents may make up for any inconvenience I may have caused you tonight,”
“I’m certain they will,” Mycroft assured. His brother started to stare out the window, “If you’re feeling kind, lock her up otherwise let her go,”
Willaim Sherlock Scott Holmes was nearly outsmarted by a woman. What a brilliant turn of events.
It wasn’t long until someone escorted the woman away leaving you to the Holmes men.
“I thought he wouldn’t get it,” you address Mycroft, sitting on the chair he previously occupied to observe Sherlock, “Then again if he knew where to look for the safe code, he would get it eventually,”
“Why are you here?” Mycroft said. You give a look and say, “You know why I’m here,”
“Who are you?” Sherlock asks.
“Do make a deduction, Mr. Holmes,” you challenged, standing up for a better view, “What can you say about me? Oh, I heard you’re quite good at this,”
His eyes quickly take a once over you. To the way you did your hair, makeup, and casual clothes. His brother, your husband, hovered on the other side of the table.
What will Sherlock say about you?
“On your dominant hand, your middle finger is calloused from how you hold your pen, suggesting office worker. In a high position, by the value of your shoes. Your makeup suggests you like to be presentable but not elaborate or gaudy. Your clothes are clean except for a few loose strands of hair. No pets. Your engagement and wedding rings, shiny and clean, happily married then. Your husband is successful in his career by the size of that diamond and…”
His ramble paused. His eyes meeting yours, you give a casual curious gaze. His senses were on overdrive, recognizing the particular scent of leather of a car that often escorted him to his brother.
“No, that’s not possible,” Sherlock withdrew, “Has my brother found himself a goldfish?”
“No, not a goldfish, brother mine,” Mycroft defends. His ring, matching yours, shines in the firelight, “No, she’s out of their league,”
“How long has that taken him?” you asked Mycroft, in front of you as Sherlock remained speechless, “A minute,”
“A good minute, yes,” he confirms, as he goes to stand by your side, “I do wonder why you decided to reveal yourself, my dear,”
“I was fed up. You two dancing in her tune for half the year,” you complained, “You ditched Christmas Morning traditions,”
“I promised to make it up to you, my dear,” Mycroft reminded, however, unable to act on his plans yet, “And I did return earlier than expected,”
“Six years, Myc! We never shirk on trad —”
Before you can finish your ramble, Mycroft leans in and presses his lips against yours in a tender kiss. It was a pleasant interruption.
One Sherlock didn’t appreciate.
Your eyes widen for a moment before you melt against him. Your arms wrap around his waist, returning the sentiment. Sherlock clears his throat, breaking the moment between you and Mycroft.
“Years?” he remarked, “I never knew the Iceman could melt,”
“No, just thaws from time to time,” you cheekily smile at Mycroft who rolled his eyes, “Are you two finished? I’d like to turn in before the sun comes out, ensures at least one of us gets sleep,”
“We are finished,” Mycroft affirmed, walking toward the door, “Do us a reprieve, brother mine, don’t take cases on the weekend. You don’t know what it does to our schedule,”
“It was nice meeting you, brother-in-law,” you teased, your smile caught him off guard, as you walked to Mycroft’s side. He didn’t remember the last time someone was pleased to meet him. They were often annoyed or irritated. “Have a good evening,”
His brother has been married for years, and he didn’t know. How could he not know?
“Shame I’d wanted to see the Woman in cuffs,” you comment, as you walk side by side through the halls, “It would have made for an interesting night,”
“Would you like that, my dear?” Mycroft asks.
“If you’re open to it,”
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Last Updated: 2023-02-04
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Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite BBC!Mycroft Holmes stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.
Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning
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➵ Unexpected Dinner Companion│Prt. II │Prt. III│Prt. IV│Prt. V by the-girl-next-door-writes • 〔F〕 •
Summary: "A case of mistaken identity gives Mycroft an unexpected dining companion on Valentine's Day."
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➵ Unexpected Saviour by anna-liz-fiction-blog • 〔F〕 •
Prompts(s): "I guess this makes you my Valentine…"
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➵ Le Pressoir d'Argent by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F〕 •
➵ Something Like This by bakerstreethound • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
➵ Valentine's Day by scribblesandimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
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See Also: Navigation | BBC!Mycroft Holmes Mater Index
Authors: @anna-liz-fiction-blog || @bakerstreethound || @girl-next-door-writes || @prettyxlittlexwriter || @scribblesandimaginings ||
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multific · 2 years
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Holmes Brothers Reaction to You getting hurt by Their Enemy - Preferences
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Mycroft Holmes
Mycroft didn't care for 'Goldfish'. Then why was he rushing to the hospital as soon as he got the call? Why did his heart skip a beat when your name and the word 'shot' was mentioned in the same sentence?
Mycroft didn't even stop by the reception desk, he knew where you were, of course he did.
And then, he saw you on the bed, talking to a nurse as she put a new IV bag up for you.
"Myc?"
"Darling." he said so naturally, it didn't even shock you. His eyes scanned you over and you knew he just checked your health better than any doctor could have.
"I'm perfectly fine. I was shot, my arm does hurt, but I'm fine." you said and Mycroft collected himself and smoothened his tie.
"I wasn’t worried." he said and you giggled. Of course, he would deny any emotion, but you knew better, you saw it in his eyes.
Mycroft stayed with you while they checked you out, he wanted to be 100% sure everything was absolutely okay with you. And once you could leave the hospital, he would make sure to drive you home and he would only drive away once the light in your apartment is turned on, that's when he'd know you are safe. Of course, he would have his revenge on the person who did this to you.
Even if he said he didn't care, he certainly did. It warmed your heart and certainly made you hope for the future.
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Sherlock Holmes
John got the call, you called him asking if he can drive you home since you were attacked and left with a broken ankle, Sherlock just happened to be there.
Sherlock made John break a couple laws while driving there "My brother IS the government, you won't get a ticket!" he said over and over.
But once they arrived at the hospital, he'd be stoic, he would also analyse your posture, getting to the conclusion that your injury was bad but not life-threatening, what was scarier is what you said to John.
"I was walking home when they hit me in the head. They said it was because of Sherlock and then after a couple hits and kicks, they left, they smelled strongly of alcohol."
Sherlock was immediately on the case, already half done by the time they arrived to your home.
Sherlock would proudly present to you the three men that attacked you by the time you got to your apartment and opened the door. And five minutes later, the men were in cuffs.
You knew it was his way of showing he cared.
"You should tell her." said John as the two sat back into the car.
"Tell her what?"
"You are clever, Sherlock, you know what I meant." John started driving as Sherlock smiled, he just might, in the future, so you can move in and he can keep you safe.
And John ended up with speeding and parking tickets.
Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​ @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow​ ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead​ feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster​ celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll​ snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow​ @crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith​ @soleil-dor​ @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @liveforkarljacobs​​​​​
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
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specialagentlokitty · 10 months
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Mycroft x reader - just to keep you happy
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Hello, I'm not sure if you still do request but um you do can you please do a BBC Sherlock Oneshot, where The reader had a rough day that they are so upset on their way home,Mycroft, Sherlock and John was all in the flat when the reader arrived and all saw that they were upset, they all thought that the reader was going to John for comfort but end up running toward Mycroft, bawling their eyes out and squeezing him tight, confusing the duo and Mycroft like have a revelation and decided that they would protect the reader at all cost That's all thank you, I love all your works💚 - @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek 💜
You didn’t know anybody was home when you arrived back at the flat, you were hoping it was going to be empty and you could be left alone.
But when you walked through the door and you found Mycroft, Sherlock and John all stood around the desk you just stared at them.
They stared back.
“Why have you been crying?” Sherlock asked.
You looked between the three of them, on the verge of tears again, and John stepped forward.
“Hey come here.” He said softly.
You shook your head and you walked forward, but you walked back him and to everybody shock, to Mycroft.
You wrapped your arms softly around him in a loose grip, and you began to cry again, and Mycroft just froze.
He looked down at you.
“I… I’m not sure what to do if I’m being honest..”
“Just hug her back.” Sherlock sighed.
Mycroft placed his hands on your back, and you hugged him even tighter, balling your hands into the fabric of his blazer.
Mycroft held you a little tighter, and when he looked up he saw John and Sherlock and left the flat all together.
Mycroft turned his attention back to you and he sighed a little bit, running a hand gently up and down your back.
“What ever has you so upset?” He asked.
You shook your head.
He didn’t press the matter, he’d be able to find out in no time after this, it would only take him a matter of minutes to figure it out.
“Alright, you’re okay.” He said gently.
He knew sometimes you got upset, but usually you would go straight to John, finding John was more suited to comforting people compared to Sherlock or himself.
This was the first time you had ever come to him.
But seeing you breaking down in tears and gripping him for dear life, in a way it hurt him.
He never understood how people could cry like this, but it hurt him to watch you cry in such a way knowing there was nothing he could do for you but just stand there hugging you.
“Oh my dear, I do hate to see you cry..” he whispered.
And he did.
Mycroft Holmes, for the first time in his life felt something he hadn’t felt before, he felt empathy.
And he felt it for you.
You were hurting, and that hurt him.
He didn’t want to see you cry again.
So, there and then, holding you tightly in his arms, Mycroft Holmes vowed he was going to keep a close eye on you and do whatever it takes to keep you happy and safe
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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 8 months
Text
Take Care
Sherlock and Mycroft x little sister!reader, John x teen!reader
Requested by Anonymous
Synopsis: you get a startling diagnosis that turns everyone around you overprotective
Warnings: cancer, mentions of death (no actual death)
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“She…she has what?”
John looked up from his newspaper at the sound of Sherlock’s distress. He had picked up a call from Mycroft and answered with the usual bored disdain, but after listening for a moment he had sat up rigid in his chair.
“I see,” Sherlock went on. “I’ll be right over, I…oh. Yes, alright.”
“What was that all about?” John asked as Sherlock put the phone down. After a moment, John thought he wasn’t going to answer, but finally he spoke, his voice dazed.
“What? Oh, Y/N, she’s…Mycroft is bringing her over for a bit.”
“Is she alright?” John asked hesitantly.
“I…no. I don’t know,”
“Sherlock this is ridiculous, what’s wrong? You’re worrying me.”
You had become quite the regular at Baker Street, sleeping over there almost as much as you stayed with Mycroft, your legal guardian.
“Y/N…she has cancer.”
“She what?” Surely he had heard wrong.
“Mycroft took her in for an appointment, routine check up, that’s all, but…” Sherlock swallowed, and didn’t finish.
“How…I mean…” John wasn’t sure how to ask about the severity.
“I’m not sure,” Sherlock said finally. “Mycroft didn’t say much.”
“Hey Sherlock!” To say Sherlock was surprised when you came bounding into 221B like nothing was wrong would be a severe understatement.
“Hello,” he greeted hollowly. You stepped past him to bring your bag to your room, and Sherlock turned to look at Mycroft.
“She knows?” He asked quietly, and Mycroft nodded.
“I believe she doesn’t want to talk about it.”
“How bad is it?”
“They said they aren’t sure about the outcome. They want to start treatments as soon as possible, and it all depends on how she responds to it. All we can do is make sure she gets enough rest and water between visits for now.”
“Alright,” Sherlock sighed. “Then we do all we can do.”
“Where do you think you’re going?”
You looked up at Sherlock with a frown.
“Just for a walk.”
“No you’re not,” he responded. “It’s time you took a nap.”
“Gee grandma, you first,” you scoffed.
“Y/N, don’t be like that,” John insisted.
“You guys really aren’t gonna let me take a walk?” You glared at the two men, who didn’t waver an inch. “Fine,” you groaned, brushing past them to your room and closing the door.
“Drink.”
“I’ve had like four glasses of water today Mycroft, I’m not thirsty.”
Mycroft gestured to the glass in front of you insistently. You rolled your eyes and took a sip.
“Finish that, and then you should take a nap.”
“I’m fine.”
“He’s right,” Sherlock chimed in from the sofa.
“Since when do you two agree on anything?” You scoffed.
“Since now.”
You glared at Mycroft.
“You can’t lay off for one afternoon?”
“No.”
“Ok, I’ll nap on one condition; you let me go to Christie’s later, she wanted to study together.”
“You’ll take a nap either way,” Mycroft responded.
“Wanna bet?” You challenged.
“No, because I don’t have to. You’ll do as you’re told.”
“John, a little help?”
“Don’t look at me,” John raised his hands. “I’m with them.”
“Could you guys stop treating me like this for two seconds?” Your tone rose with your anger.
“Like what?” Mycroft’s resolve hadn’t changed.
“Like I’m an invalid!” You shoved past your brothers and slammed the door to your room.
“She won’t answer.”
“I know that,” Sherlock griped at his older brother.
“Should we pick the lock?”
“She’d kill us.”
“Well, she’s worrying me, she’s been in there for a while,” Mycroft pulled out a lock pick and got to work.
When the lock clicked, he called out a warning.
“We’re coming in if you don’t open this door!”
Silence.
Mycroft pushed open the door, and sighed in relief when he saw you on your bed, a book in your lap and headphones in your ears. You looked up in disgust.
“Privacy much?” You growled as you pulled your headphones out of your ears.
“You’ve been in here for too long, and you wouldn’t answer when we knocked,” Mycroft insisted.
“Why won’t you leave me alone?”
“Because we need to talk,” Sherlock came to stand by your bed.
“About what?”
“About ‘how we treat you’,” Mycroft sighed.
“Alright, talk.”
“You know why we do it,” Sherlock insisted.
“Yeah, because you’re nosy control freaks.”
“Because we’re worried,” Mycroft corrected.
“You shouldn’t be.”
“That’s a load of crap,” everyone turned in surprise when John entered the room. “You know full well why they’re scared, and you are too. There’s not much we can do, alright? The only things we can do is make sure you get your rest in between treatments, and try our best to take care of you. So that’s what we’re doing.”
You were silent for a long moment.
“I-I just…” the tears in your eyes were perhaps the most surprising because it was the first time your family had seen you cry since the news came. “I don’t want to spend what could be my last few months just…resting. Wasting time, relaxing, and-and-“
“Hey,” the sternness in Mycroft’s tone shut you up immediately. “These aren’t your last few months. That’s what we’re trying to ensure by keeping you rested, and able to fight this.”
“We’re not letting you die, understand?” Sherlock lowered himself to meet your gaze.
“Ok,” you choked, and you were relieved when John stepped forwards and pulled you into his arms.
“You’re going to be ok,” he promised.
You smiled.
“Thank you.”
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𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬
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𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When Y/N is invited to a polo tournament on Deville manor, she never expects for the Holmes boys to fall for her during the weekend getaway. Though Sherlock is keen to make sparks fly, his love for Y/N seems more and more like a competition with his older brother.
Y/N soon learns that she has more on the line than simply getting her heart broken. She might also be at the centre of a dark conspiracy. 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭
────────⊳⋆⊲────────
"Do you see John, anywhere?" Mary peered through her binoculars, searching for her husband on the open field. “I promised him we’d pop by before the match.”
Y/N huffed in amusement. Earlier that week, Mycroft had invited John, Greg, Sherlock, and by extension, Mary and Y/N to join him for a weekend's polo tournament. The four men would play against a team of Mycroft's colleagues over the course of three days. It was a prestigious event and several higher up's in the British government would be in attendance. 
The renowned Deville manor served as lodging and camp, with the lord of the house acting as master of ceremonies. Lord Deville's property extended throughout the English countryside, its picturesque landscape making the ideal spot for a tournament.  
Y/N had been quick to accept Mycroft's invitation, only waiting for Sherlock's agreement before blurting out a sharp "yes," herself. She'd been doing that a lot lately - observing Sherlock's interactions from a distance. She ached for his approval but couldn't discern why. 
Y/N ambled past a team of rival polo players with Mary still linked to her arm. Socialites mingled in groups around her. They chatted softly, their fingers wrapped around champagne glasses. Y/N instinctively smoothed down the front of her blouse. She scanned the manor's busy plot and noticed a row of security personall in the backstands working to blend into the background. It didn't come as a surprise that Mycroft had invited them to such a shrouded event. The man dealt in secrets, even during his leisure time. 
"Have you spoken to Mycroft lately?" Y/N asked absently. 
Mary dropped her binoculars. "He's not exactly my confidant. Why do you ask?" 
Secretly, Y/N was intrigued by Mycroft's low profile, but she shrugged it off under Mary's stare. "I was just wondering. Isn't it strange that he invited us all for a weekend getaway? Social niceties aren't really his speed." 
Mary pursed her lips. "You know, I was wondering that myself. I’d say he has something hidden up his sleeve." 
“There’s certainly more to him than meets the eye,” Y/N murmured. She ignored Mary’s raised brow and changed the subject. "Anyway, I can't wait to see Sherlock in his riding gear. Do you think he's ever played polo before?" She bit back a smile trying to imagine Sherlock in sport's attire. 
"Somebody is awfully curious about the Holmes boys today." Mary's eyes gleamed with mischief. "In love with them, are you? Oh, the scandal!” 
Y/N clicked her tongue in annoyance, off put by the unwitting truth in Mary’s quip.  
"I'm only teasing, love." Mary leaned her head against Y/N's shoulder and tried to suppress a giggle. "Come on, I think I see our boys just up ahead!" 
The pair stumbled along a gravel path until they came to the main stables behind the playing field. Inside, John and Greg stood next to their ponies, both dressed in their polo whites and helmets. 
Greg was the first to see them. "Oi, ladies!" he called. "What do you think?" He gave them a twirl, showing off his garb. 
They clapped, both delighted by the outfits. "Your turn, John!" Mary called to her husband. "Give us a spin!" 
John rubbed his pony's mane. "Absolutely not." 
"Come on, mate," Greg urged. "Just a small one." John glanced at his friends and sighed. He spun in a circle begrudgingly and ended with a bow. "Are you satisfied?" 
"Don't play coy," Mary chided. She slid over to her husband's side and kissed his cheek. "You really do look quite sexy." 
"You think so?" John pressed his forehead against hers, pleased with the attention. 
Greg and Y/N shared a meaningful glance, neither a stranger to the Watsons' marital bliss. "Almost make you want a love of your own, don't they, these two?" Greg whispered dreamily. Y/N hummed in agreement. The Holmes brothers flashed in her mind. There and gone again in an instant. Though she smiled, the inspector's words brought an ache to the pit of her stomach. 
She ignored it. 
The sound of footsteps sounded from the other end of the stable. "Fashionably late, are we?" Sherlock stepped in with Mycroft in tow. His posture was relaxed and he radiated a confidence that could be perceived as hubris by those that didn’t know him. The polo whites clung to his lithe frame, perfectly creased and tailored. A red stripe ran up his rider's boots, a striking contrast against the bright ensemble. Though Sherlock had never worn athlete's wear before, if Y/N hadn't known him, she'd swear that he'd been riding since his youth. 
"Terribly sorry about the holdup," Mycroft called out. He glared at his brother with controlled irritation. He also wore the team colours, though his uniform was stitched with a gold crest on the breast pocket, marking him as Captain. He stepped forwards until he reached Y/N's side. He caught her eyes, his gaze inquisitive. "A gentleman never leaves a lady waiting,” he said. Mycroft's words were deliberate and relayed an intimacy that Y/N had never expected from him before. She studied him, surprised by the soft smile peaking from the corners of his lips. He seemed pleased to see her. 
The spell was broken when Sherlock squeezed himself between the pair. "Yes, quite right. Thank you for that rather mediaeval anecdote, Mycroft. Now, why don't you check on the ladies near the playing field instead? I'm sure they're keen to see you. Wives of your colleagues and all." Though his tone was light, a darker mood hid beneath Sherlock's words. He held his brother's gaze with steady defiance, daring him to stay. 
Mycroft spared a last nod at Y/N before stepping out from the stables. Y/N stared after him, puzzled albeit intrigued by his energy. In her bewilderment, she nearly missed the gentle touch of Sherlock's hand upon the small of her back. She looked at him, flustered by the doting gleam in his eye. 
He moved his hand lower until it wrapped around her waist. With the other, he fetched the reins of his mare, guiding it out from the stall. “John, Lestrade, I’ll meet you on the pitch. Five minutes, no more.” Sherlock dipped down until his lips were level to Y/N’s ear. "Walk with me," he breathed. 
Y/N felt a pleasant warmth at the contact. She followed him and though time didn't still, it slowed enough for her to question her affections. 
Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes. 
Two brothers with distinct sovereignty. Both intent on surpassing the other on every intellectual front. Beyond that, a rivalry existed between them, one that transcended their skills of deduction. Contention came naturally between the brothers. One need only imagine what might happen if passion were introduced to the equation. 
“Are you alright?” 
Y/N blinked. Her thoughts had raced off and now Sherlock was studying her carefully, concern creasing his brow. He had led her to a garden labyrinth, the scent of English yew unfurling around them. 
Y/N braved a smile. He was beautiful in the sunlight. She reached out and caressed the mare that had cantered alongside them. It nuzzled into her palm. “I’m fine,” she said. “I was just thinking about the match.” 
Sherlock nodded absently. He placed his hand over Y/N’s so that they both caressed the horse. She could feel his pulse, controlled but forceful against her skin. She met his eyes. She nearly shied away from his focus but he tipped her chin forwards with the shadow of a touch. 
“You’re lying,” he said. “You were thinking of me.” 
Y/N tensed and the mare whinnied. 
Sherlock took both her hands in his own and held them to his chest. “Do you think of me often, I wonder? Do you think of my touch? I know I dream of yours.” Y/N dropped her arms to her sides, numb with anticipation. Though anticipation of what, she couldn’t discern. 
Sherlock Holmes was her friend and nothing more. She couldn’t let her silly fantasies seep into their exchanges.
The overshadow from the noon sun cast darkened contours on Sherlock’s face but it didn’t harden the softness of his eyes. Y/N could no longer deny the implication of his words when she felt the push of his leg press her against the labyrinth’s hedged wall. The prick of branches pierced her back but she held her breath. 
“Is this alright?” Sherlock breathed. He had already drawn nearer, his body flush against hers. His breaths were laboured, the faint touch of his lips on her cheek electric.
Y/N nodded. 
Sherlock pulled back. “I need to hear you say it,” he said. “Otherwise…” he let the sentence linger, giving weight to his words. 
“Yes.”
He exhaled as though he were expecting a rebuff. “Thank you.”
Sherlock licked his lips before dipping forwards and catching Y/N’s kiss. He held the back of her neck, the softness of his touch suggesting a fear of fragility. Y/N tensed despite the thrill of their tryst. Her blouse dropped from a shoulder and she gasped at the sudden coolness punctuating her warmth.
Sherlock grinned as he pressed another kiss to her neck. He caught the exposed skin from the fallen sleeve and breathed in the fading scent of her perfume and the labyrinth’s flora. He pushed deeper into the crook of her neck, landing tender kisses along the delicate line towards her jaw. 
Y/N stood rigid at first, her chin resting against Sherlock’s shoulder. All she could do was grip at the back of his polo shirt, still disconcerted by his sudden show of passion. “I love you,” she heard him murmur into her neck. Her breath caught before she heard it again. “I love you.”  
Y/N let her head fall back on the hedged wall. She felt as though seeing through a veil, unsure of this new development. Just yesterday, Sherlock had treated her as a friend. Though she always wished for it to be true, she hadn’t expected to become his lover only hours later. Mycroft flashed through her mind, but she waved him away.
Why was she thinking of the elder Holmes brother when Sherlock stood there having just confessed to loving her? Mycroft had shown her a rare kindness today, but she couldn’t pretend that it meant anything. 
What had changed? 
“Sherlock, I —”
“Five minutes, nothing more, was it?” a voice called out suddenly. 
Y/N flinched and quickly straightened herself out from behind Sherlock. She peeked behind his shoulder and saw Mycroft standing across from them. He seemed bemused yet his eyes relayed vexation and hurt. 
Sherlock turned and faced his brother. “Has it been longer than that already?” he asked jokingly. “Time seems to have gotten away from me.” 
“Indeed. You’re already six minutes past the mark.” Mycroft geared forwards, his steps deliberate, his mood icy. “Hello Miss Y/N,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to be the keeper of my brother’s protraction.” 
Sherlock looked back at Y/N and grinned. “Our meeting was imperative,” he assured his brother, arrogance dripping into his tone. 
“Recreational,” Mycroft corrected. 
The tension was heavy between both brothers and Y/N shuddered at their subtle resentment. “Sherlock, lead the mare to the pitch,” Mycroft ordered. 
Sherlock stood firmly. “Can’t you?” he said innocently.
“I can’t always be the one to clean up after you. Take responsibility, brother mine. Or else you’ll lead her astray.” 
Mycroft’s words were cryptic and Y/N got the sense that the conversation had veered away from the mare. 
Sherlock tensed but did as his brother commanded. Just before he left though, he turned to smile at Y/N. “We’ll pick up on this, I swear to it,” he said, pressing one last kiss to her cheek. She smiled back but felt nervous at the unspoken truths writhing between both brothers’ obscured words.
They were hiding something and she was somehow involved. 
Mycroft watched his brother leave before approaching Y/N. “This is already a strenuous event for me,” he said to her. “Do not prolong my agony.” 
Y/N shuddered. “What do you mean?” 
He smiled, but there was a sadness to it. “You look lovely in that dress,” he said, ignoring her question. 
“Mycroft?”
“Tread lightly. There are secrets to this tournament that I fear will destroy you.” He sighed. “Take care of your heart, for it will prove your undoing.” Mycroft unclipped the stitched crest from his breast pocket and handed it to Y/N. “Maybe this will help in time.” 
Y/N watched as he stepped away after his brother. Her heart was beating fast and the labyrinth’s glamour was slowly losing its appeal.
What had just happened?
Y/N felt as though caught in a web. She couldn’t distinguish sibling rivalry from the threat of something more sinister happening on the Deville manor. She tucked the crest into her pocket, too off put to inspect the strange gift just yet. 
She thought of Sherlock. Did he truly love her? It had all seemed so perfect until those last few moments. 
Y/N tried to steady the frantic beating of her heart. She would search for answers soon enough. She would unveil the Holmes brothers’ secrets. She would decipher the ragings of her emotions. Until then, there was a polo match to attend. She hoped it would run smoothly but in the deepest parts of her, she knew:
Madness would ensue.
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*grabs you by the coat collar* wanna read Feels Like Christmas?
Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this!!! I'm thinking of making "Game of Kings" a three part series, but I'm really not sure. It's a maybe possibly at the moment. So, if you're wondering about the sudden click where Sherlock randomly professed his love to Y/N without any context to the nature of their relationship... I'm leading up to that (hopefully). Is it genuine??? Is he playing with her heart??? Protecting her, maybe??? I don't know. And the sitch with Mycroft will come into play too. I hope this fic wasn't too messy.
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​ @sleepilysworld ​ @bakerstreethound ​
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