#mycroft fanfic
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First Kisses; BBC Sherlock
Includes: Sherlock, John, Mycroft, Lestrade, and Moriarty.
Sherlock:
It wasn’t rare for Sherlock to come out with the strangest things, but there were times when his requests were so unexpected that one would choke.
“I need to test out a theory,” Sherlock broke the silence between himself and Y/N one day.
“…Okay?” Y/N replied simply, preparing to tell Sherlock that he can’t put a head in the microwave again.
“I require your help.”
That was odd, he rarely ever trusted someone else to help him with an experiment, not even John.
With a raised eyebrow, she responded. “How so?”
“You need to kiss me.” Whilst his words were as blunt as always, Y/N couldn’t help the way that she choked in surprise, all whilst he rolled his eyes. “It is not that serious, Y/N. I simply need to see if it solves these thoughts.”
“These thoughts?” Came her confused response, watching him as he walked towards her seat on the chair opposite him.
“That is what I said, yes. Do keep up.”
Rolling her own eyes, she stared up at the detective who had an impatient look on his face.
“I mean, okay? If that’s what you want.” He smirked slightly at her attempt to seem nonchalant at his request; he didn’t expect her to actually do it.
“I just need to see if t-“He began speaking, only to have his sentence cut short by her lips pressing against his own.
Sherlock’s eyes widened as her hand gently gripped his cheek as kissed him. He was frozen in place, heart racing, and chest heaving once she pulled away.
“Did that help?” She asked, looking up at the startled and silent man as she seated herself back where she was previously. She waited for a few more moments to see if he would respond before giving up. “Anyway, I need to get going. Tell John I said hello whenever he returns.” Y/N said as she reached the door, Sherlock still frozen in place, at least, until the door clicked, and he snapped out of his haze.
“Hey, Y/N, wait!”
John:
Despite his initial dislike for the youngest Holmes sibling, John couldn’t deny the feelings that he had grown for Y/N Holmes over the past few months. It was obvious to everyone besides the woman herself who was, unlike her brothers, oblivious to any and every sign of affection towards her.
It was just the two of them in 221B going through the latest case files whilst Sherlock attended a crime scene. He had originally asked John to accompany him, but the man refused after realising that Y/N was remaining at the flat, something at which Sherlock simply rolled his eyes, having already deduced his friends crush on his sister long before he even knew himself.
It was a trickier case than usual, hence why Sherlock had to return to the crime scene, leaving John and Y/N to search through mountains of files looking for one specific word.
“This would be so much easier if these files were all on a computer.” Y/N yawned, flipping the page over to the other side, John doing the same.
“Agreed.”
“Wait, this might be what we’re looking for!” The woman shot up onto her feet in excitement, turning the paper towards John and pointing at what she was looking at with a smile which was soon returned as he agreed.
In excitement, Y/N’s arms wrapped around John, and she pulled him in for a hug, only to pull away once she realised what she had done.
“I’m so sor-“ she began, only to be silenced by John wrapping his hand around the back of her neck and pulling her into him for a moment, lips pressed against each other.
“Finally,” a deep voice sounded from the doorway, making the pair pull back away from each other in both shock and embarrassment. “Now if you two lovebirds are quite finished, what have you found?”
Lestrade:
It was odd for Greg to enjoy working with Sherlock.
Whilst he didn’t mind John’s company, Sherlock was an absolute nightmare, but their friend on the other hand, Y/N, she was wonderful and Lestrade could not get enough of her.
She was everything that Sherlock wasn’t. Kind, sweet, funny, genuine, and it came as no shock to him, or anyone else for that matter, when he began developing feelings for her. However, despite how obviously reciprocated his feelings were, the man refused to believe that she could ever like him back, even after Sherlock himself told him that she likes him too.
The two had become fast friends, having clicked as soon as they met, and a friendship with Lestrade meant coffee. All the time. Coffee was his favourite time of the day, especially if there were doughnuts involved.
“Your coffee is in the kitchen.” Y/N called as Greg let himself into her apartment, a common occurrence amongst the two, and he shot her a thumbs-up as he passed her to grab his drink.
“Thank you very much.” He grinned, taking a seat beside her on the sofa and turning his attention to the football for a moment. He knew she had no interest in the game, so why she had agreed to watch it with him, he didn’t know.
“It’s no problem, Greggy.” She teased him with the new nickname, one that always earned a blush from the older man.
“Do you have to call me that?” He muttered, both his cheeks and ears tinted red in embarrassment.
“Yep!” She smiled, pinching his cheek as he continued to stare at her, or, more specifically, her lips as she licked them.
He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but he couldn’t resist. He leaned over, his hand resting on top of hers, and pressed his lips against hers, something which she gladly reciprocated.
In his panic, he abruptly pulled back before registering that she had returned his kiss and began rushing out apologies.
“I’m so so sorry, oh my God, I should definitely not have done that. I am so sorry!” He rambled, previous blush darkening as she pushed himself to the other side of the sofa, disgusted with himself.
“Greg.”
“If you don’t ever want to talk to me again, I get i-“
“Greg.” Y/N repeated his name to try and catch his attention.
“I’m just so-“
Sick of his unnecessary apologies, the woman reached out to grasp the fabric of Lestrade’s shirt, pulling his lips back onto hers, her other hand landing on his shoulder.
“There’s no need to apologise.” She whispered against his lips as she pulled back. “I wanted that.”
Greg, too confused and happy to even register what she was saying, just listened to his brain go oh!
Mycroft:
Mycroft Holmes had two soft spots, his brother and Y/N, the latter being one that he was unwilling to admit to himself, let alone anybody else.
“Morning, Mycroft,” Y/N greeted him as he entered the café, one which he was a regular at; only for her, of course, but she could never know that.
“Good morning, Y/N,” came his simple response as she brought him his usually coffee, having already anticipated his arrival; he was nothing if not punctual, after all.
Neither of you knew how your friendship had evolved into him driving you home once you finished work, but there was never a single complaint heard about it. The moment you ended up at his home, however, that was when something shifted.
It wasn’t uncomfortable, just… odd. Having never been this close to someone besides his younger brother, Mycroft wasn’t entirely sure how to act, especially when the tension in the room reached its peak and your lips ended up pressed up against the others.
It was awkward, as to be expected considering that the older Holmes had never kissed anybody before. However, the awkwardness had its own charm about it, especially when he pulled away with flushed cheeks and immediately changed the subject, ignoring what had just happened for his own peace of mind.
“Should we like, I don’t know, talk about it?” You asked him the next time he entered the café, watching him closely for any sort of reaction.
“Talk about what? Nothing weird has happened recently, nothing at all. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Mycroft rushed out, desperately praying that you were oblivious to the shade of pink that now covered his cheeks.
He had no idea how it even happened, it just… did. Myrcroft was never one for affection, or even friendships, so he didn’t know why he kissed you and even worse for him, he didn’t know why he wanted to do it again.
“If you say so,” you chuckled at his embarrassed demeanour. “Either way, I finish in an hour if you like, wanted to go for dinner or something.”
Maybe he would wait around an hour, not for any specific reason. After all, nothing weird had happened.
Moriarty:
For as long as they had worked together, Y/N and Jim had always flirted with each other.
It started off small, almost unrecognisable, but gradually grew into full-blown flirtations with invitations that were never accepted. Co-workers turned into friends, and a friendship turned into longing, it was just how the cookie crumbled.
The two stared across at one another, Y/N pushing a plate of food in front of the criminal. “Eat it, or I’ll shove it down your throat, do not test me.” She warned, although there no malice in her voice; she just wanted him to eat something for the first time in a few days.
“Do I have to?” He pouted like a young child, earning a giggle from Y/N.
“Yes!” She laughed, leaning in closer. “Or I’ll force feed you it.”
“With your mouth, I hope.”
A blush dusted the woman’s cheeks as an idea formed in her mind, one which would solve many problems, including his refusal to eat.
As she leaned in closer, Moriarty couldn’t resist the joke falling from his lips. “Ohh, are we about to kiss right now?” His words were teasing, he didn’t actually expect her to do so, but as she leaned in and pressed her lips against his, he couldn’t stop his eyes from widening.
Despite his initial shock, he was quick to respond to the kiss, his hands moving to cup her cheeks and pull her closer into him, deepening the kiss whilst one of Y/N’s hands moved to his shoulder and the other to his neck.
“I suppose we are,” were the only words spoken with a cheeky smile before she pulled him back in for a kiss to shut him up.
#sherlock#sherlock x reader#sherlock imagine#sherlock imagines#sherlock fanfic#sherlock fanfiction#mycroft#mycroft x reader#mycroft imagine#mycroft imagines#mycroft fanfic#mycroft fanfiction#bbc sherlock#bbc sherlock x reader#bbc sherlock imagine#bbc sherlock imagines#bbc sherlock fanfic#bbc sherlock fanfiction#lestrade#lestrade x reader#lestrade imagine#lestrade imagines#moriarty#moriarty x reader#moriarty imagine#moriarty imagines#john watson#john watson x reader#john watson imagine#john watson imagines
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Mycroft x reader - waiting for you
Prompt 79 with Mycroft x Reader - @mxacegrey 💜
79: “Why are you laid on the floor of my office?”
He had been so busy with work lately you had hardly seen him, and you knew Mycroft came in late at night, so you did the only thing you could think off.
You grabbed a pillow, blanket and laid down next to his desk, connecting your phone charger to an extension so it could reach across the room.
You had the perfect little set up, and the plan was to stay away until he came home, but that didn’t go as planned.
Mycroft sighed as he looked at the time while walking through the door, all the lights were off, so he knew you were asleep, and he decided to head to his office for a bit.
Heading upstairs, he saw light coming from under his office door and he frowned, slowly reaching out, he carefully pushed the door open and waited.
He waited for anything to happen.
And nothing did, so he peaked his head around the corner and scanned the room, and stepped around to stand in the doorway.
He could see you laid on the floor and he sighed a little, smiling softly as he walked over.
Mycroft took your phone from your hand and set it down, and he placed his hand on your side.
“Myc…?” You whispered.
“Hello love.”
You smiled and your eyes fluttered open, and you looked at him half asleep.
“Why are you laid on the floor of my office?” He asked softly.
“Waiting for you…”
Mycroft smiled softly and he laid down next to you, so you shuffled over and moved the pillow so he could rest his head on it, and covered him with the blanket.
“Surely the bed is more comfortable.”
“Wanted to stay up…”
He hummed a little, moving his hand from your cheek to the back of your head and he held it as he kissed your forehead.
“Let’s go to bed..” he whispered.
“I’m comfy..”
Mycroft laughed a little and stood up, bundling you in the blanket he picked you up and carried you through to the bedroom.
He set you in the bed, disappeared came back with the pillow and your phone and charger and put everything where it should be.
He changed and crawled into bed next to you, letting you rest your head on his chest and you smiled as you held him.
Mycroft smiled to himself and ran his hand up and down your arm, he was going to have to start coming home earlier
#bbc Sherlock#bbc sherlock x you#bbc sherlock x reader#bbc Sherlock imagine#bbc sherlock mycroft#Mycroft#mycroft x reader#mycroft x you#mycroft fanfic#Mycroft imagine#mycroft holmes#mycroft holmes imagine#mycroft holmes x reader#Mycroft Holmes x you
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The Same Page Part 8
Sherlock and Mycroft & little sister!reader
A/N: thanks for your patience while I went through a supernatural obsession (it’s still going btw). Chapter 8 is here! It’s a little short, but hopefully you won’t have to wait as long for the next chapter
A/N 2: by the way guys, I specified the reader’s name in chapter one as 17, but I think I’ll edit it out so that the age can be up to interpretation. I think a younger teen might fit the story better.
Mycroft was practically shaking with anger the whole way back to his house. You stayed silent, too scared and exhausted by the day to want to interrupt his anger.
“Where do you want to go?” Mycroft asked as he pulled into his driveway.
“The living room,” you said, as it was still too early for you to try to sleep.
Mycroft carried you to the couch. He didn’t even ask if you needed his help, he was just determined to give it.
…
“Myc?”
Mycroft turned to look at you after he’d set you down on the couch.
“What is it?”
“Are you and Sherlock…” you swallowed. “Are you gonna fight over custody?”
Mycroft stiffened. He hadn’t realized how much of his and Sherlock’s conversation you’d overheard.
“I don’t want you to worry about that,” he insisted. “I…I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he added honestly. “But I do know that there will be no repeats of today. No one is ever going to leave you alone like that, ok?”
You nodded, your hand subconsciously seeking out Mycroft’s. He took your frail hand in his and squeezed it.
“I’m so sorry,” he sighed. “I never wanted this to happen.”
You looked down at your lap.
“Me neither.”
…
“He didn’t listen to a word I said! Not that I should have expected him to.”
“Sherlock—“
“I mean it’s Mycroft, he hasn’t listened to anyone since—“
“Sherlock—“
“But we made an agreement, that we would do what’s best for our sister, and now he’s threatened to bring a custody battle into this and—“
“Sherlock!”
Sherlock stopped suddenly at John’s outburst.
“What?”
“Sherlock, you don’t get it. You think that just because you’re back, things will go back to exactly what they were.” John shook his head. “Well I was here, too, watching your sister for two years. I may not have been as involved as Mycroft, but I know enough. You treated her as though she was the same girl who left, but she’s not.”
“So you’re taking Mycroft’s side?”
“You left her alone, Sherlock. After telling Mycroft not to pick up his phone no matter what. She had a panic attack, she had to call Greg to get her. Mrs. Hudson was out of town. What do you think would have happened if Greg was on a case, and couldn’t pick up the phone?”
“So just as I said, you’re on his side.”
John groaned. “Sherlock, it isn’t about sides. I’m saying you two don’t have to fight over custody, you just have to agree about what’s best for Y/N.”
“But how can we? Mycroft—“
“We can start by actually talking it out.”
The men turned to see Mycroft himself standing in the doorway.
“What are you doing here?” Sherlock asked. “Don’t tell me you left Y/N alone.”
“Of course not,” Mycroft sighed. “She’s downstairs with Mrs. Hudson.”
“I think I’ll leave you two to talk,” John said, slipping past Mycroft and heading downstairs.
“So.” Sherlock sighed. “What now?”
“I don’t know,” Mycroft said honestly. “I don’t trust you with her, and you don’t trust her with me. But a custody battle would…”
“It would destroy her,” Sherlock finished. “It would destroy all of us.”
“We have to agree on this, Sherlock. It’s too important.”
“Says the one who threatened me with a custody battle.”
Mycroft had come to make peace, but his brother’s stubbornness was stirring his own.
“Because you want to drag her back to Baker Street only to neglect her!”
“Drag her?” Sherlock scoffed. “She wanted to live with me, don’t you remember? She chose me over you.”
“That was then,” Mycroft’s voice was quieter, but no less dangerous. “But perhaps things have changed.”
“And you want to take that risk?”
“Do you want to take the risk that a court would choose you?”
This brought Sherlock up short.
“You can’t just—“
“You both are fools.”
The arrival of Mrs. Hudson startled both Holmes’ brothers.
“Mrs. Hudson—“
“Honestly, Sherlock, I expect better from you. I expect better from both of you.”
“I thought you were downstairs with—“
“John is with your sister. I thought it more important to be up here.”
“Why?”
“So I can tell you both what absolute fools you’ve been. Here you are, fighting over what’s best for Y/N and where she should live, when you’ve forgotten the most important part.”
“And that would be?” Mycroft questioned.
“Asking her!”
…
You figured you had Mrs. Hudson to thank for your current predicament. Your brothers had brought you up to 221B, and now you were sitting on Sherlock’s couch, your brothers standing in front of you. Mycroft had finally asked you the question that you’d been dreading since Sherlock’s return.
“Where do you want to live?”
But that wasn’t it. It wasn’t just a question of Baker Street or Mycroft’s house. You had to pick a brother. Sherlock or Mycroft.
When you’d first had to make this decision, it had been so easy. You grew up with Sherlock, you knew him, he knew you, and the two of you coexisted quite well. But now…
You didn’t know Sherlock, not like before. It had been so long, and you had changed so much, that you weren’t sure if it could ever be like it was. And now, you’d gotten to know Mycroft better than ever, and the two of you had gotten used to having the other around. You didn’t want to stop that. But…
Baker Street felt like home. As much as you’d settled into Mycroft’s place, it didn’t feel the same. But you also didn’t think life would ever feel comfortable again without both of your brothers.
Sherlock or Mycroft. Sherlock or Mycroft. Sherlock or…
You found the familiar parasite of anxiety settle into your chest as you tried to imagine life without either one of them. It grew until your chest physically started to hurt, your eyes blurring as your lungs constricted and breathing became not only hard, but painful.
…
“Where do you want to live?”
As soon as Mycroft asked the question, he regretted it. Sherlock seemed to be impatiently awaiting your answer, but Mycroft immediately recognized the glazed look in your eyes, the slight irregularity of your breathing.
He didn’t do anything at first; this was just an early stage of your anxiety, sometimes you managed to snap yourself out of it, and sometimes you only panicked more if he tried to assist you in this stage.
But when your breathing became labored and your eyes filled with tears, Mycroft didn’t hesitate. He brushed past a concerned Sherlock and put his hands on your knees.
“Hey, look at me, I’m right here.”
Your glazed eyes seemed to focus on him, and you brought your hands down to grip his.
“That’s it, just breathe,” he soothed. “I’m right here, we’re not going anywhere.”
Sherlock noted that Mycroft included him by saying we. Then he saw the hand that you were reaching out for him. He took it, but didn’t say a word; he still didn’t know what to say or do in this situation.
He noticed that you leaned almost unconsciously towards Mycroft, and soon enough your panic subsided.
“I don’t know,” you whispered.
“Shh, that’s ok,” Mycroft said. “I don’t want you to worry about it.”
“Mycroft—“
Mycroft waved off Sherlock’s interruption.
“I think you should get some rest, alright? When you wake up, you can get some dinner.”
You nodded wearily, and Mycroft helped you lay down on Sherlock’s couch. Within minutes you were asleep.
“I’m taking her back to my house.” Mycroft decided.
“What?” Sherlock stiffened. “Mycroft, no decision has been made for—“
“Now now, calm down, brother mine. She’s had a long week, I just think it would be best if she rested in a place she was most comfortable. This isn’t indicative of a decision about where she’ll live.”
“What makes you think she won’t be most comfortable here?” Sherlock countered.
Mycroft sighed.
“Because that’s where she’s spent the last two years, it’s familiar. Honestly, Sherlock, we can’t start picking fights over the smallest of things. I just want to take her home for some rest and food, that’s it.”
“So you’re asking me to pick my battles?” Sherlock asked.
Mycroft ran a hand over his face.
“I’m asking you not to declare war.”
Taglist:
@navs-bhat , @isabellavere, @chaoticglitterkitten, @peachycupotea, @justforrose, @severussimp
#mycroft x sister#mycroft x you#mycroft imagine#mycroft x reader#mycroft fanfic#sherlock and mycroft#mycroft#mycroft bbc#sherlock reader insert#sherlockbbc#sherlock bbc#sherlock x reader#sherlock fanfic#sherlock fandom#sherlock holmes
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A Lonely Flower Amidst a Garden
Pairing : Mycroft x Reader / Word count : 1254 / Genre : Fluff and lighthearted / Summary : Mycroft has been injured and stumbles unpon you.
A/N : i recommend listening to "summer" by joe hisaishi while reading this!
Legwork.
There are a few things that Mycroft disliked about his work such as cocktails - interacting with people he deemed as goldfish was no fun - the worst of them all was legwork. Being on the field, having to play an active role in operations that he would usually plan from the comfort of his office were dreadful. Unfortunately, today was one of those days. Things went south unexpectedly as he had been shot in his left shoulder. The pain was one he never felt before, as he covered his wound with the hand from his uninjured arm.
He somehow managed to get away from the scene before things got too ugly and was now walking in an open field surrounded by hydrangeas. To make matters worse, a spring drizzle of rain enveloped the area, freezing his body. Panting, he kneeled on the muddy grass ; his phone had run out of battery and he was now stuck in a flower field with no choice but to wait for Anthea to find his location. Sensing a presence, he turned his head to the left and saw you, your back turned to him, hidden behind a lilac umbrella, befitting the colors of the nearby hydrangeas.
Mycroft winced from the pain, reverting his gaze to his arm. Before he found the courage to stand back again, thinking of asking to borrow your phone, you had already approached him while putting your umbrella over both of your heads.
“Are you alright?” You asked him before seeing the injury on his arm.
“Well as you can see-” Mycroft was cut short due to the fact that you had now crouched to be around the same level as him, resting the umbrella on your shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Taking out a handkerchief from your pocket, you quietly whispered “stay still.”
As Mycroft saw the fabric, he hesitantly moved his hand. You wrapped the cloth delicately on his wound.
“There, it’s nothing much, but I believe it’s better than covering it up with your hand.” You raised your eyes to look into his, giving him something that faintly looked like a smile.
“That was quite kind of you, thank you.” You stood up, still shielding both of you from the rain.
“There is a small hospital not far from here. I can take you there if you’re interested?” In turn, Mycroft also stood up agreeing to have you lead the way. So you did, you walked next to him holding the umbrella. For a while, nothing could be heard but the sound of the rain hitting the flower field. Not wanting to inquire Mycroft about his situation you tried making conversation on another subject
“The flowers are quite pretty at this time of the year. Shame it has to rain today.” Mycroft glanced down at you.
“Indeed, I also would have wished to have walked upon such a place in much better conditions.” You lowered your gaze to the ground, “so would I.”
Many questions floated in Mycroft’s mind. You being here, was it a coincidence or was there another reason for this? Were you really taking him to a hospital? Allie or foe? He had never seen you before, but as he was in a vulnerable position, and you didn’t seem harmful he had no choice but to blindly trust you. In any case, if you would dare to try anything, he was convinced he could manage to escape you like he did earlier today.
“In normal circumstances people would have called an ambulance, why didn’t you?” He inquired, trying to deduce any clues about your intentions.
“An ambulance is unable to come this deep in the garden. They would need to carry you back. In my opinion it’s inconvenient for you and for them. Plus you seem to be able to walk just fine so what’s the harm?” You blankly say. You did not bother looking back at him either, focused on the path before you.
“Fair enough.” Mycroft did not discern any ill intentions from you therefore decided to press no further.
“Plus, this is the least I can do. I can’t just leave an injured man all alone in a flower garden in such weather.” I do not need another reason to hate myself, you thought to yourself bitterly.
These last words made Mycroft take a slight bit of interest in you. He scrutinized you ; you seemed neither happy nor upset by the rain, while giving off an air of sorrow. Your eyes arbored no light, as if something was displeasing you. Yet, you were still strangers. It was not his place to ask about your personal life.
“What is your name?” Mycroft tried to prevent the silence from falling back between you.
“Let’s see… Mary Poppins.” This time, you looked up at him, a vague smile on the corner of your lips. Despite your flat response Mycroft couldn’t help but laugh.
“Very well, so you shall be.” He understood your wish to keep your identity a secret and didn't press further. Appreciating the fact that you also didn’t inquire about his identity and circumstances. Before long, the two of you reached the hospital, both getting in.
“Thank you for your help, you’re free to go wherever you wish now.” He felt his heart clutch at those words, catching himself wanting to spend more time with you. You weren’t annoying, over talkative or too energetic. Despite your gloominess, he liked your knack for humor, was grateful for your kindness to bring him here and most importantly was drawn by the mysterious identity that you made for yourself. Of course, he could easily find all there was to know about you thanks to his minor - yet most important - position in the british government, but somehow he wanted to discover it all by spending time with you. For once, he wanted to try doing what the common people did. Getting to know each other.
“My job is not completely over, I'm afraid. You are not medically treated yet. Until then, I shall remain and make sure you get the treatment you deserve.” You remained expressionless, but a hint of concern could still be heard in your voice.
“Alright, suit yourself.” Mycroft smiled at you, somewhat feeling relieved. Soon after, he was making a phone call, as you patiently waited for him in the waiting room, your umbrella soaking the floor in front of your shoes. He came to you, making sure to show you his bandaged arm.
“You seem much better, I’m glad.” You creeped an awkward smile on your face, but soon returned to your resting face.
“My ride should be here any minute now. I cannot thank you enough for all you did. May I call you a taxi? ” Mycroft looked at you, dreading the end of this encounter.
“It was nothing much. Anyone would have done the same. But I see, may you get home safe, free of danger. No need for a taxi.” Both of you stood near the entrance of the hospital, side by side looking at the grey scenery made by the rain. Far too soon to Mycroft’s liking, his usual black car came. You saw him off, feeling he was disheartened, before his chauffeur closed the door, you couldn’t help it.
“I hope we meet again. Perhaps on a rainy day. I would like that.” For a split second, Mycroft saw a glint of hope in your eyes, but you had already opened your umbrella and walked away before he could reply.
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A/N : will make a part 2 !
#mycroft imagine#mycroft x you#mycroft fanfic#mycroft x reader#mycroft bbc#mycroft holmes#imagine#sherlock bbc#reader insert#bbc mycroft x reader#mycroft holmes fanfiction#mycroft holmes imagine#sherlock fandom#fanfiction#fanfic#oneshot#fluff#hoshi fic
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#bbc sherlock x you#bbc sherlock#mycroft x reader#mycroft fanfic#mycroft holmes#jim moriarty#jim moriarty x reader#sherlock x you#sherlock x reader
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My last recital
Summery: Sherlocks funeral hit Mycroft a little harder then he expected.
Word count: 521
Warnings: Mention of Sherlocks faked death, nothing else <3
A/N: Hello Darlings! This idea popped into my head earlier and I just had to write it. Thank you all so much for your support! I hope to be publishing the second chapter of Regency soon, so keep an eye out.
Sherlock wasn't dead.
Mycroft knew that,
He had helped plan it all.
Had watched the plane take off.
But to see the funeral…
To look at the name on that grave…
His arrogant little brother.
His perplexing little brother.
His irritating,
Relentless,
impossible,
…Little brother.
You could feel it in the shakiness of his hand as you walked out of the church.
You could see it in his eyes when they lowered the empty coffin into the ground.
But now you could hear it.
It rang out as clear, clean notes on the piano.
Hidden, just out of his sight, in the door to the ballroom, you listened.
With elegant and gentle touches Mycroft played the piano for the first time in years.
You had often asked him to play for you, but he never did.
He had hated the years of lessons he had been forced to endure as a child.
Sherlock had loved them, but Mycroft never quite took to it.
Still, there he sat; eyes closed as he let his memory take over.
It was a beautiful song, with a lovely yet haunting melody.
Somehow it felt unfinished,
Like it was only part of something.
There was a sigh after the last echoes of the notes had faded.
You watched from behind as he took a sip of the scotch in his glass, setting it back down with a heavy hand.
“It's a duet.”
Mycroft's voice startled you out of your trance.
The rasping in his voice gave away his past tears while he stared at the piano.
As you walked closer you gently rested your hand on his shoulders.
He made no move to look at you, preferring the thin veil of privacy it provided him.
Sharing his emotions was not one of his specialties.
“We played it together at my last recital.”
There was a melancholy to his voice.
“Sherlock always hated that I quit playing, held it over me for years.”
Another slow sip of scotch,
“He would send me things at uni. His compositions, things he thought I might enjoy playing.”
You smiled sadly to yourself a bit.
Mycroft was truly sentimental once you really got to know him. He had many very obscured trinkets in his estate. Small things that other people disregarded in favor of the historic paintings, but all had an incredibly important meaning to him.
With a very deliberate hand he opened a leather-bound book that sat on the bench next to him.
Inside were several stapled packets of handwritten sheet music. They are initialed and dated at the top. He looked through, briefly, and pulled one out.
S.H. 1988, age 12
He places it on the piano and begins. With a delicate melody Mycroft plays the expertly composed song.
He began to lose himself in the peace.
Remembering his little brother who, though he wasn't dead, was in an incredibly dangerous situation.
Slowly you backed away, giving Mycroft the space, he needed to process his emotions.
A swell of music followed your ears as you walked into the kitchen to start making a tray of Mycroft's favorite cookies.
#sherlock BBC#Mycroft Holmes#mycroft bbc#mycroft fanfic#mycroft headcanon#mycroft x reader#mycroft x you#mycroft x gender neutral!reader#gender neutral reader#Mycoft Holmes#love#reader insert#x reader#fluff#mycroft fluff#LacelynpageAnswers
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@fluffbruary Day 4!
Summary:
"Mycroft, Pet, what on earth are you doing?"
Mycroft startled and looked up guiltily. "I–"
#bbc sherlock#fanfic#fluffbruary#mycroft holmesxgreg lestrade#mycroft fanfic#gregory lestrade#greg lestrade#sherlock fanfic#mystrade#mystrade fanfiction
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Yo descubriendo que el actor de mycroft es pelirrojo 😍
#sherlock#mycroft#holmes#brothers#sherlock fanart#sherlock holmes#bbc sherlock#mycroft holmes#mycroft fanfic#big brother mycroft
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If you really love someone, but have never told him, believing he would never spare you a thought… then you’re announced he’s dead… and suddenly you realize he too secretly loved you… what will you do with your future then? Wanna see my Greg’s choice?
(In short, I finished another fic!!! Yay me!!!)
#ao3 fanfic#ao3fic#mystrade#johnlock#mycroft fanfic#mycroft holmes#sherlock holmes#john watson#greg lestrade#bbc sherlock#major character death#sacrifice#unrequited love
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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…
#sherlock#sherlock x reader#sherlock imagine#sherlock imagines#sherlock fanfic#sherlock fanfiction#bbc sherlock#bbc sherlock x reader#bbc sherlock imagine#bbc sherlock imagines#bbc sherlock fanfiction#bbc sherlock fanfic#bbc sherlock mycroft#bbc sherlock mycroft x reader#bbc sherlock mycroft imagine#bbc sherlock mycroft imagines#mycroft holmes#mycroft holmes x reader#mycroft holmes imagine#mycroft holmes imagines#mycroft holmes fanfiction#mycroft holmes fanfic
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Mycroft x reader - truth
Mycroft x Moriarty's twin/sibling - Mycroft dates Reader, trying to get info on Jim but ends up falling for them - @mxacegrey 💜
You were excited for your date night with Mycroft, you were going to watch a film and order takeout since you knew work had been hard for him recently.
You didn’t know much about his work, but he told you it was important and you understood that, so you didn’t push him for any more information about it.
Wondering around your house, you hummed to yourself as you tried to find the takeout menu to your favourite place.
The door was thrown open and slammed closed and you snapped your head up to the hallway.
“(Y/N)?!”
“Jim?!” You called out.
He came running into the room and looked you up and down before sighing heavily.
“You’re okay. Good. You need to leave your boyfriend.”
“What why?”
You were confused, you and your brother didn’t talk much. But when you did it was usually about you, he tried keeping you out of whatever he was planning.
Never, in your entire life had he demanded you break up with someone.
“Because he doesn’t love you!” He snapped out.
“What? Of course he does! We’ve been together for a year!”
Moriarty scoffed and little and pulled something from his jacket, tossing it over to you.
You picked it up and frowned a little as you opened it. It was a government file, that had your name on it.
“Did you steal this?!” You hissed.
“Just read it you idiot.”
You carried on reading and your heart sank as you realised what this meant for you and Mycroft.
You looked up to your brother with tears in your eyes, heartbroken and with a sigh he wakes over and hugged you tightly.
“I’ll kill him if you want?” He whispered.
You shook your head.
“No.. I… I need to ask him about this…”
Moriarty shrugged a little and looked at his watch.
“Just say the word and he’s done for.”
You just nodded and he lingered for a moment unsure about what to do.
“Go… he’s coming here…”
“You sure? I can stay I don’t care.”
“Just get.”
He quickly left through the window and not even a minute later your door was opened again and your so called boyfriend walked through calling out for you.
Picking up the file, you held it in your hand and took a deep breath, walking into the hallway you tossed the file at his feet with nothing but hate in your eyes.
Mycroft looked at the file before quickly turning towards you.
“How’d you get this?” He asked.
“You should know since apparently you’re very familiar with my brother.” You spat.
“Dear please.. you have to understand.” He reasoned.
You scoffed shaking your head.
“Understand what?! I get Jim isn’t exactly a saint! I know that! But he has never once dragged me into anything he’s doing, never!”
“Well clearly he had now since you’re in possession of a highly classified government file. Which way did he go (Y/N)?”
You shook your head as you walked away from him into the kitchen where you sat at the table, looking at some pictures of you and him on the fridge.
Mycroft followed you, sitting in front of you.
“Please, they’ll arrest your for obstruction of justice. Just tell me where your brother went.”
“I don’t know okay? Even if I did I wouldn’t tell you.”
“You’d go to prison for him.”
“It would be better then being lied to.” You spat out.
Mycroft flinched a little at your harsh tone and he sighed heavily.
“Everything we did.. everything we built? A lie? Seriously?”
“I’m sorry, it was work. I never meant for anyone to get hurt.”
“To get.. to get hurt?! What the fuck did you expect to happen Mycroft Holmes?!”
“Calm down.” He spoke softly.
Getting up you grabbing the pictures from the fridge and threw them at him.
“You lied to me for a year! I thought you loved me for me! Not just using me to get at my god damn brother! I don’t know what he’s doing! I don’t know where he lives because he keeps me out of it all!”
Mycroft said nothing because he knew you were telling the truth. He realised that ages ago.
“My brother wants to keep me safe! Because he loves me, unlike you, you fucking selfish bastard!”
“I do love you.” He replied.
You froze, anger forgotten just for a second before you shook your head, tears burning your eyes as you pointed at him.
“Dont…”
“It’s the truth. It’s nothing but the truth. Yes, this started of as a case, to get information about your brother. But I realised after a few months you really had nothing to offer us. But I’d already fallen in love with you.”
Tears were spilling down your face as you tried frantically to wipe them away.
Mycroft sighed, getting up, he walked over and reached out, only to stop when you leant away and lowered his hand to his side.
“I stayed because I love you (Y/N). I understand after this if you never want to see me again, but just know I mean it.”
He sighed a little.
“If I could take us back I would… I would have told you everything from the start… I should never have built this relationship on lies and false pretence. I regret that so much, and for that I am truly, deeply sorry my dear.”
He leant down, kissing your forehead, he took one of the crumbled photos and placed it on the counter next to you before giving you a tiny smile.
“I’ll always love you.”
With that, Mycroft left and you fell to the floor, tears streaming down your face as you clutched at your shirt, letting out a pained cry.
Everything was so perfect, why did have to fall in love with him?
You had so much panned with the oldest Holmes, a future, a happy life where it was just you and him against the world.
That dream had come crashing down around you, because how could you ever trust him again knowing he had only gotten involved with you to use you?
This was all just a lie? Everything a lie. How could you trust him?
#bbc Sherlock#bbc Sherlock x reader#bbc Sherlock x you#bbc Sherlock imagine#mycroft holmes x reader#mycroft fanfic#mycroft holmes imagine#mycroft holmes#mycroft x reader
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It’s Sick!
Sherlock x teen sister reader, Mycroft x teen sister reader
Synopsis: reader gets sick and Sherlock and Mycroft don’t know what to do about it.
Warnings: sickness? Idk none really
“It’s sick.”
“What?”
“It’s sick and I don’t know what to do with it.”
Mycroft ran a hand over his face and sighed loudly into his cell phone. “Sherlock I’m a very busy man, I don’t have time for you to call me in the middle of the day with vague messages. What are you talking about?”
“Y/N, Mycroft! Y/N is sick and I don’t know what to do with it!”
“It? Brother mine, our dear sister is not an ‘it’.”
“She is when she’s sick and I have to deal with it!”
“Oh Sherlock, do calm down, this isn’t the end of the world. Have you phoned a doctor?”
“A doctor? No, Mycroft she doesn’t need a doctor.”
Mycroft frowned. “Then what exactly does she need?”
“How am I supposed to know?! But she insists she doesn’t need medical attention.”
“I see. Why exactly have you called me?”
“I can’t get her fever to break, John is absent on some sort of holiday with Mary, and Y/N keeps drifting in and out of sleep so she’s no help, but she keeps calling for you.”
Mycroft stiffened. “Calling for me?” He wasn’t one to baby his siblings, it was all he could do to just spend time with them sometimes. But if his baby sister was sick and calling out for him…what big brother could possibly ignore that?
Mycroft hung up the phone without waiting for another word from Sherlock, then pulled on his coat, snatched his umbrella from the stand, and headed outside to hail a cab.
…
Sherlock was not a worrier. Sherlock was not a nursemaid. Sherlock was not one to dwell too long on other’s problems, unless it made for an interesting case for him.
Today, however, all of those traits of his went out the window.
In the few moments that he had been able to speak with John on the phone, the doctor had assured him that Y/N did not need a hospital, at least not in his opinion. As long as you got plenty of rest and water, the fever would break on its own sooner or later.
That hadn’t made the past few hours any easier for Sherlock.
You looked so tired and pale, drifting in and out of sleep, only speaking enough to ensure Sherlock that you were alright, or occasionally ask for water. You had tried a few snacks, but nothing would stay down. Sherlock could tell you were in pain, though you tried to hide it.
You couldn’t hide it when you were asleep. The moment your eyes shut, the whimpering started. It got worse as time went on, and you would thrash around in her bed, soft sounds of pain escaping you. Eventually you started to call out, first for Sherlock, for you knew he was near, then for Mycroft. Sherlock couldn’t tell if you were asking Sherlock to find Mycroft, or if you were becoming delirious enough that you actually thought your oldest brother was nearby.
Either way it worried him, and he was getting ready to ignore John’s suggestion and call for an ambulance regardless.
He was just about to pick up his cell phone when the front door of 221B burst open, and there was Mycroft, looking uncharacteristically disheveled.
“Where-“
“Upstairs in her room.”
Mycroft brushed past Sherlock without another word, and headed up the stairs to your room with Sherlock on his heels.
…
“Mycroft?”
The gentle cry reached the eldest Holmes’ ears as he quietly opened to door to his sister’s room.
Upon seeing his Y/N, Mycroft’s heart sank. His little sister was white as a sheet, your body shivering, fingers clutching your comforter.
Mycroft wasted no time in coming to your side. “Hello, dearest,” he greeted with a forced smile. “It’s me, it’s Mycroft. I’m here.”
Your eyes opened wearily, and your lips curled upward as your eyes lit up with a spark of joy. “Mycroft.”
“How are you feeling?”
You winced. “My stomach hurts.”
Mycroft was hit with a sudden, violent flashback.
You were six years old, maybe even five. Mycroft had been visiting home the same time that a carnival happened to be in town, and your parents insisted that Mycroft take you. With much reluctance, he had.
You had had a blast, dragging Mycroft around on as many rides as you could, and making him buy you ice cream and funnel cakes and cotton candy.
Unfortunately, he had bought you one too many sweets, and that night you regretted it dearly.
“How are you feeling?” Mycroft had asked you after laying you down in his bed. You were up hours past bed time due to a stomach ache, and the occasional throwing up. Mycroft didn’t complain once, simply held your hair back when you needed it.
“My stomach hurts,” you whimpered.
Mycroft grimaced slightly, and began to stroke your hair. “It’s alright Princess, I know. You’re gonna be alright.”
End of flashback.
Mycroft hesitated. After all, you weren’t six anymore. But the look in your eyes, the complete faith in them that said you were certain that your big brother was here to fix everything, reassured Mycroft that things hadn’t changed so much.
So he reached out, and began to gently stroke your hair. “I know, Princess, I know. It’s going to be alright. I’m here.”
Sherlock appeared at the doorway, “What do you think?”
Mycroft sighed and stood to face Sherlock, “I think you’re incredibly over dramatic. She’s fine, probably just some 24 hour bug. Have you tried to feed her?”
Sherlock scowled, “Of course. Nothing stays down.”
Mycroft bit back a grimace and nodded. “Try and make some hot broth, she needs to get something to stay in her system.”
Sherlock hesitated. He didn’t like taking orders from Mycroft, and in any other situation he wouldn’t. But it was a good idea, and with you laying on your bed suffering, he didn’t see that he had much choice. Unless…
“We both know I’m not exactly adept in the kitchen, perhaps you should do it. I’ll stay with her.”
Mycroft glanced at you before sighing, “Very well, brother mine. Do try and keep her alive while I’m gone.” He turned to go, but froze when he felt your fingers wrap around his wrist.
“Mycroft?”
He turned to you, his features softening slightly. “It’s alright, I’ll be just downstairs. Sherlock is going to stay with you. I know it’s not ideal, but we can’t very well trust him not to poison you with his cooking, so you’ll have to make do.”
Sherlock stepped over to his sister’s side, glaring at Mycroft, “Yes, yes, very funny Mycroft. Go on now, I’ve got her.”
Mycroft was relieved to see a wide smile on his sister’s pale face as he turned to leave.
…
“Are you feeling any better?” Sherlock asked hesitantly.
“Not really.”
Sherlock sighed, wishing more than ever that a client would walk through the door and distract him from his ailing sister. Comfort was most certainly not his strong suite.
“Thank you.”
Sherlock looked up, “For what?”
You smiles slightly. “Being here. I know you want to be anywhere else.”
Sherlock didn’t bother contradicting you. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Just being here is enough.”
Sherlock wasn’t sure how his presence helped your pain, but then again he’d never been very good at understanding you. As long as you were happy, he’d sit at your bedside for as long as you needed.
Truth be told, he was glad to hear that you appreciated his presence. Hearing you call out for Mycroft, even if it was in sleep, had made him feel completely useless: not a feeling he was used to.
“Then I’ll be here as long as you need me.”
He wasn’t sure if you’d heard him, as your eyes were drooping shut and your breathing began to slow, but it didn’t matter. You already knew that he’d be there, no matter what.
…
Mycroft walked in with a steaming bowl of broth just in time to see you slowly sit up. You were rubbing your eyes, indicating that you’d just woken up.
“Would you like to try to eat?” Mycroft asked, holding out the bowl to you. You hesitantly took it, then accepted the spoon he offered you.
“Nothing else worked so far.”
“Well that’s because Sherlock made it.”
…
A bowl of soup and an hour or two later, a bit of the color had returned to your cheeks, and Mycroft carried you downstairs—Sherlock was so surprised that he instantly pulled out his phone and snapped several pictures—where he turned the tv on for you and turned on a Disney movie, which was probably the biggest surprise of the day. The Holmes’ brothers hated Disney movies—honestly they rarely watched movies in general—so when Mycroft put one on you actually began to worry.
“I’m not dying, am I?” You quipped as the opening credits to The Little Mermaid played. Both brothers turned to you.
“Why would you say that?” Sherlock asked.
“Mycroft carried me down the stairs, and we’re watching a Disney movie. All in all, the evidence isn’t adding up well for me.”
Mycroft shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Well, I can turn it off-“ he reached forwards to grab the remote, but you beat him to it, reaching forward and snatching it off the table. However, the sudden movement caused your unsettled stomach to lurch, and it was all you could do to hold onto your meager lunch. Your head began to spin, and you collapsed out of the sofa and onto the floor.
Sherlock was at your side in an instant, lifting you back onto the couch and pushing your head back so that you were lying down.
Mycroft hid his momentarily worried expression with an eye roll and a shake of his head at his sister. “Really dearest sister, you should be more careful.”
You smiled sheepishly, “Don’t threaten to turn off my movie and I will.”
“Ah yes, heaven forbid you be denied the joy of watching the little mermaid for the 27th time, how cruel of me.”
You laughed sleepily, your eyes yet again beginning to close due to exhaustion.
“Don’t you know? The 27th time is…is the…” you dozed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.
…
Mycroft chuckled as his little sister drifted off to sleep, “She’s going to be just fine soon enough.”
Sherlock nodded in agreement, his eyes fixed on your pale face, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like that.”
Mycroft thought back, “Me neither. I have seen you like that before.”
Sherlock looked up, “Me?”
“Ah yes, dear brother. You were insufferable. You had a fairly high fever, but the noises you made, one might’ve thought you were dying.” Mycroft laughed at Sherlock’s indignant expression, “And you made us all watch Pirates of the Caribbean about a thousand times.”
“Mycroft…” your voice drifted sleepily to the two men.
Sherlock frowned, “She’s been doing that a lot in her sleep.”
Mycroft stood from his chair and went immediately to his sister’s side, “Well at least she knows who the better one to call is.”
Just then you called out Sherlock’s name, causing the younger Holmes’ brother to smirk, “You were saying, Mycroft.”
And that’s how you awoke to find your head rested in Mycroft’s lap, and your feet in Sherlock’s.
It took them several minutes to assure you that you were not dying.
#sherlock#sherlock reader insert#i am sherlocked#sherlock x you#sherlock x y/n#sherlockbbc#sherlock imagine#sherlock x reader#sherlock x sister#sherlock x sister reader#sherlock x little sister#big brother mycroft#mycroft imagine#mycroft holmes#sherlock and mycroft#mycroft bbc#mycroft x you#mycroft fanfic#mycroft x reader
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A Lonely Flower Amidst a Garden
Chapter 3
Pairing : Mycroft x Reader / Word count : 1349 / Genre : Fluff and light angst
A/n : i recommend listening to "moonlight sonata 1st movement" by Beethoven !
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Following the arrival of all the guests. You excused yourself from the presence of your family to enter the ballroom from a back door, so as to not run into Mycroft. “There is no such thing as fate.” You muttered to yourself. You should have seen it coming ; Mycroft frequenting the high end tea room from last time should have been enough for you to realise you may have been from the same side of society. He had quite the imposing aura surrounding him and you could tell it would be wise not to get on his bad side, yet you went and made a promise to tell him your name on your third encounter. Not that it would be much of a surprise now that he was attending your family’s party.
You quickly walked over to a corner of the room, where a grand piano was installed in front of ceiling to floor windows, keeping your gaze on the ground so as to avoid any eye contact. Thankfully, Mycroft was too caught up in a goldfish conversation to see you swiftly pass in between people. It was only until you started playing the instrument that his gaze, along with a couple others turned to you. You played beautifully, almost too well even. Having cast away your recent emotions upon seeing Mycroft, you focused on your task. As people got used to the ambiance your tune added, they all returned to their chatter paying you no mind. That’s right, you were only there to play - entertain the guests - as your family would say, to avoid any unnecessary conversation with any of them. Only Mycroft had a hard time keeping his eyes off you. As he continued his topics of discussion, he always made sure you were in his field of vision, furtively approaching himself in yours.
You raised your head to analyze the ballroom. A mistake you wish you hadn’t made. You made eye contact with Mycroft instantly, causing you to return your gaze to the piano’s keys. Your head stayed lowered the entire time, as you dreaded the end of your performance. An interaction with Mycroft was inevitable - he was waiting for you to finish - which you didn’t look forward to, because of who you were. Someone who was adopted at 10 years of age by the orphanage this family funded so they could keep up appearances in the public’s eyes. You were nothing for that family but a means to an end. Just like today, playing the piano was naught but showing others that you were still a part of it whilst being of use. If the days in the orphanage were dreadful, those in this household were worse. For your adoptive parents cared only for their biological eldest son and youngest daughter leaving you as the middle child uncared for.
You finished your performance, lifted yourself, still looking at the keys. Biting your lips you walked in the direction opposite of Mycroft's. Talking to him was out of the question. Not with your family present, surveying your every move like hawks would. You walked fast, almost running. You turned around to see Mycroft following you causing your eyes to grow with surprise. You walked even faster until you exited the ballroom to arrive into a well lit hallway free of people.
“Is this why you’ve kept your identity hidden all this time?” You heard coming from behind you.
“What do you want? Surely you know my name by now.” You stopped in your tracks, still looking down.
“I simply wanted to say that I enjoyed your performance very much. I’ve never seen someone play Beethoven's pieces this skillfully and beautifully.” You turned around to face him. People in your family’s circle usually didn’t comment on your performances just like how they didn’t bother talking to you. It had been a while since someone did both.
“Thank you.” You gave him something that finally looked like a proper smile.
“But I would still like to hear your name coming from you.” He gave you his usual smile. You were starting to find them genuine the more you looked at it.
As promised, you said your full name to him. “I apologize for my behavior until now, it’s just that I am used to a certain behavior from rich people even if it doesn’t excuse my actions.” Regret was written all over you.
“Given your background, it is only understandable that you would be on guard. Apology accepted.” Mycroft felt as though it was true - third time’s the charm - you were starting to loosen up.
“Just so you know I do not believe in fate.” This has caused him to chuckle.
“Why do you always laugh? Are you laughing at me?” You furrowed your eyebrows, not understanding of his intentions.
“Laughing at you? Most certainly not. I simply find your comments amusing is all.” He took a sip of the champagne glass he was holding. This had made you feel a rush of warmth on your face. Why was this man so kind?
“My brother plays the violin quite well. I’m sure he could accompany your piano very efficiently.” Mycroft internally cursed himself for bringing up Sherlock, afraid that you would take interest in his brother more than you would in him.
“Is that so? It would be nice if I could meet him someday then.” You weren’t exactly eager to meet new people but thinking about it being Mycroft’s brother, surely he wouldn’t be so bad.
“Shall we go back to the ballroom?” Mycroft inquired, showing his free arm towards you in order to escort you.
“I’m afraid I can’t. Or rather I'm not allowed to.” You bitterly bite your lips, averting your gaze from his. “You won’t see me for the rest of the evening. But I would like to make it right to you. I’ve got a performance coming up next month, we can see each other then. If you’d like I can give you tickets-”
You were interrupted by the sudden opening of the door that stood behind both of you. A tall handsome figure with jet black curly hair along with a cold glare walked through, leaving the door to shut on its own almost silently. His appearance sent a shiver down your spine - your adoptive brother - he was not pleased to see you in the company of a man no less.
“What are you still doing here?” He spoke to you in a condescending way, completely ignoring Mycroft.
“The young lady was simply giving me indications to find the bathroom.” Mycroft spoke for you, feeling the tension between both of you. Thankfully your brother knew better than to mess with the man he was facing. “Is that so? You’d have more luck by asking me than this pipsqueak over there. She’s only good for playing the piano, I'm afraid.” He snarled, giving you a look of contempt while you glared back.
“Well since you know this house quite well, why don’t you show him the way? Meanwhile I'll do my best not to get lost while returning to my room.” For the first time, resentment could be felt coming from your usual monotone voice. You internally cursed the man playing as your brother for interrupting your conversation with Mycroft.
“Well aren’t you considerate, sister.” Having said that last word with a subtle look of disgust only you could discern. You clutched your fists and gave Mycroft a sympathetic look, abandoning your usual resting face. “Goodnight Mr. Holmes, I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Mycroft who had no control of the situation whatsoever found himself wishing you a good night while yearning for the next time you two would meet. He could try to sneak up in your room but then again, it seemed more likely to put you in trouble. He felt a twitch in his stomach at the thought but instantly regained his composure. It seemed to happen pretty often - the two of you leaving in opposite directions - this time under the watchful scowl of your adoptive brother.
#mycroft imagine#mycroft x you#mycroft fanfic#mycroft x reader#mycroft bbc#mycroft#mycroft holmes#imagine#sherlock bbc#sherlock#sherlock holmes#sherlock fandom#reader insert#x you#x you fluff#x reader#angst#fem reader#bbc sherloc#bbc mycroft#bbc mycroft x reader#mycroft holmes fanfic#fluff#hoshi fic#sherlock holmes imagine#sherlock series#bbc sherlock series#bbc sherlock x reader#bbc sherlock imagine
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Outmatched //Part 10 (Reader!Holmes x Anthony Bridgerton)
Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve,
@queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @october-leaves, @m-rae23,@kazbekkarluvbot, @freyathehuntress,
@kneelforloki, @mamaj-right, @queensgirl718, @abaker74, @thescooby-gang, @readers-posts, @randomstory56, @aureolinb, @fictional-hooman,
@nyenye, @loliakeoghan23, @heyheyheyggg, @aizawash0e, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @novas-dreamworld, @preciousbabypeter, @magical-spit, @heyheyheyggg, studioreader, @wonderlandfandomkingdom, @misscaller06, @dracoflaco, @nikithepuff, @child-of-of-the-sunshine
Summary: Schemes come to plan in order to force Anthony and you together. Can a heart to heart change matters? Certainly now your aunt has come into the picture, wanting to have her demands over you. [ Final chapter ]
Read part 1 & part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 8 & part 9
Sherlock was writing vigorously. The feather in his hand moving swiftly as he scribbled it around. Dipping as quick as he could in the ink seemingly not wanting to forget a word. It had been annoying you for the past couple of days. It made you sigh loud to get his attention. Nothing occurred as Sherlock was lost in his own mind. Having no ears for his surroundings. You sighed again sitting sloppy in the armchair.
Irritated by the scratching of the feather over paper, you got up. – “Whoever are you corresponding with so eagerly?” – You called out making your way over to him. You came to the front of the desk, lowering yourself on your knees, chin up on the level of the desk. Finally Sherlock noticed you with a brief glance. – “A lady perhaps?” – you responded shockingly.
“Someone you met at the ball? Are you in love Sherlock?” – you questioned with a gleam in your eyes. – “Don’t be absurd.” – Sherlock answered dipping the feather in the ink. – “A sister can dream.” – you told him slightly bummed. Sherlock looked up from his paper. – “So can a brother.” – he simply said. It made you roll your eyes at him.
“Should you not be preparing yourself?” – Sherlock spoke barely looking up as he finished the letter with his name. – “Prepare for what?” – you responded confused. Sherlock placed the feather down, giving you his full attention. – “The park.” – he informed you.
You got up half confused. Slightly narrowing your eyes at him. – “Where are you going with this?” – you wanted to know. Sherlock started folding letter. – “Nowhere.” – he let on, burning some candlewax to seal the note. You watched him closely. Trying to decipher a hint on his face.
Something that would give himself away. Nothing. Your brother was good in hiding his emotions. Frustrated you groaned and took a turn towards the hallway. You went up the stairs to your bedroom to prepare. Moments later you were meeting up with your brother Sherlock outside of the house.
You took his arm letting him escort you to the park. The weather was quite nice. A soft breeze bristling through the trees. The sun high as it left a warmth on your skin. – “Have you heard anything from Lord Hill?” – you asked when Sherlock nodded at a passing gentleman. – “No.” – he responded placing his hand on yours over his arm. He came to a brief pause. – “Why? Is it something you anticipate?” – he questioned with a raised eyebrow. – “No.” – you answered tugging at his arm to walk again. – “I was simply curious.” – you mumbled turning your head away from him.
To be fair you were a bit curious off his reaction. You did leave him standing alone at the ball. Rejecting him for the entire ton to see. You hoped he didn’t resent you for it. Or perhaps you hoped he might forgive you. Perhaps he was your only chance of getting out of your aunt’s clutches. The thought alone frightened you. Knowing that your aunt would start meddling herself into your life. Marrying you off to anyone suitable enough in her eyes. Take you away from your family for proper etiquettes. Wanting you to be as stiff and stuffy as all the other ladies throwing themselves at any man possible simply because they can’t get any better.
That was not what you wanted. Far from. You wanted to marry for love if it allow itself to you. At this point you didn’t think you were worthy of love anymore. Sherlock must have noticed the self-pity in your eyes as he gave you a nudge with his elbow. Making you look up to his warming smile. It made you smile faintly back, letting your head rest against his shoulder. Sherlock took a deep breath wishing love upon you so hard. If anyone deserved it, it was you.
You lifted your head back up upon arriving at the park. – “Now what are we here for?” – you questioned. Sherlock just smiled. – “A nice walk.” – he responded not pleasing you with his answer. Now it truly felt like he was hiding something from you. – “Sherlock Holmes now I know you are hiding things from me!” – you outed with a stern expression. Sherlock chuckled at your attempt of a motherly scowl. – “I wouldn’t dream of it sister.”
You puffed loud turning your head away. Sherlock led you down the pathway, greeting some people sitting on the benches with a nod. Up ahead you saw a carriage stand in the middle of the road. Sherlock breathed in as his chest rose. He picked up his pace, dragging you along. You tagged along confused as he walked to the side of the carriage. – “Are…are we getting in?” – you asked confused. Sherlock opened the carriage door pushing you inside. At the same time the door on the other side opened as well.
“You are!” – Sherlock spoke as you felt another body bump against yours. Turning your head your eyes widened at the sight of Lord Bridgerton. His eyes equally shocked. You and Anthony each grabbed for the door on your side. Sherlock shut the door firmly almost in your face. – “Sherlock!” – you called out frustrated. – “Mother!” – Anthony shouted at the same time. You turned your head seeing Miss Bridgerton at his side, keeping the door shut just like your brother did.
“Start the carriage!” – Violet called out with a smile. – “Stop the carriage!” – you screamed out wanting to get off. – “Whatever you do, do not stop this carriage till you reach your destination!” – Sherlock made clear to the driver, flipping him a few coins. The driver tipped his hat to Sherlock, signalling the horses to ride off. Anthony and you fell back against the seats as you rode off. With a lot of effort you pulled yourself forwards as the carriage was speeding. Not just a stroll around the park, but almost galloping.
You grabbed for the handle pushing it open as the door swung open. Your body nearly falling over when you stared down at the quick passing gravely road. A pair of hands on your waist. – “Are you insane!?” – Anthony shouted pulling you back inside the carriage. You automatically closed the door once more as your hand was still on the handle. Panting loud you needed a second. – “Did you truly plan on jumping out of a riding carriage just to get away from me?” – Anthony questioned rudely. – “The offer was tempting.” – you responded making him puff loud.
Anthony and you both turned away from each other looking outside of the carriage. It toggled and bumped around as you could barely sit still. – “I cannot believe Sherlock would trick me this much.” – you mumbled under your breath. – “Or mama.” – Anthony breathed out. His head turned slightly to you as you intended the same. Catching each other’s gaze. It locked in tight, unable to look away. In this moment your breathing became heavier. The yearning for him rising up in tide-waves. Each wave more intense than the one before.
Blinking softly it occurred to you what you were doing. How madly in love your eyes must have looked. Anthony reacted the same way pulling away at the same time as you. Both looking away. Taking a deep breath you let yourself slouch back against the seat. – “What is it?” – Anthony asked with care in his voice. No hint of mockery in his tone. You fidgeted with your fingers on your lap. – “The season will come closer to an end than we expect.” – you told him. – “It won’t be long anymore till I have to say goodbye to it all.”
Anthony was slightly confused with shock. He got up coming to sit in front of you. – “What are you referring to?” – he asked. – “Are… are you…” – he spoke barely able to say it out loud. Something inside of him hoping it wouldn’t be the case. – “No.” – you answered with a shake of your head. Anthony exhaled relieved barely seeable to you. – “I am not engaged my lord or will ever be…” – you went on with a saddened expression. Anthony’s expression full of pity as you reminded him of himself in this moment.
You let your eyes fall onto him. – “Perhaps I have taken all the chances at love that I deserve?” – you told him letting your gaze fall briefly onto his lips. Taking a deep breath, you tore your gaze away from them. – “It doesn’t matter truly for I won’t be able to escape my aunt’s restrictions.” – you continued as Anthony gaped at you. – “Soon you won’t have any trouble of me anymore, my lord.” – you finished.
“By the end of the season I’ll leave to join my aunt where she will groom me to find a match to her liking. It is what has been agreed between my father and her long ago.” – you explained. Anthony took a deep breath with concern. The carriage came to a stop. The glance in his eyes making you scrunch your eyebrows.
The footman opened the door startling you. The moment interrupted as you got out. There you saw your brother waiting for you. You glared at him, storming over to him. Anthony got out numbly. Almost missing his step and stumbling over his own feet. – “Anthony?” – Violet said seeing the sadness in his eyes. – “Sister?” – Sherlock spoke. – “Don’t!” – you made clear wiping your cheek aggressively. He turned to look confused at Violet. It sure must’ve worked right? They had planned it so thoroughly. Violet smiled faintly back at him, moving Anthony closer to her.
With her arm over his shoulder, Violet and Anthony parted ways from Sherlock and you. Sherlock turned round jogging up to you as you had walked off. He didn’t dare to ask how it went upon seeing your distressed reaction. Perhaps it was harder than he expected. To be fair he was very known with the stubbornness of the Holmes’s. The two of you arrived at the estate again. The doorman opening the door to you. – “Do not trick me again!” – was the only thing you said with a loud tone. Sherlock swallowed feeling a bit shameful.
You wanted to storm off to your room when Mycroft appeared from out of the Parlor, clearing his throat nervously. Sherlock stretched his hand out, tapping you gently against the elbow to draw your attention. Mycroft delicately closed the door behind him. – “We… we have a situation.” – he said before you heard the familiar voice of your aunt. Your eyes widened looking frightened at Sherlock. – “Have they arrived?” – you heard her shrill voice come from the Parlor.
The door opened as it bumped against Mycroft’s back making him stumble forwards. Your aunt smiled as wrinkles showed around her eyes and mouth. With open arms she made her way over to you. Sherlock stepping aside to leave room for your aunt to give you an uncomfortable hug. – “Look at you!” – she said unsure to you if it was an insult or not. She tilted your chin up, turning it to the side to have a good look of you. – “I should’ve come sooner.” – she mumbled.
“But!” – she clasped her hands together in delight. – “Tell me Y/n have you found a match yet? Has there been a proposal? Should I expect wedding bells?” – she asked vigorously. – “There has not been.” – you told her honestly. – “Why Y/n the end of the season is nearing. Have you been absent from any balls?” – She turned rudely to your brothers. – “Have there been no gentleman’s offerings? Visits? Interests?” – she wanted to know.
“There…” – Mycroft started. – “There is a gentleman interested… is it not Sherlock?” – Mycroft narrowed his eyes at Sherlock hoping his little scheme of today would be fruitful. Sherlock cleared his throat. – “In the process.” – he answered nervously. He could see Mycroft sigh disappointed and nervous. – “In the process? Sherlock we cannot wait for the process! Y/n must be married off this season to give this family some stability.” – she responded with diplomacy. – “We understand aunt but…” – Mycroft began as he got cut off by her. – “I don’t think you understand well enough!” – she responded bitsy.
“Y/n is running out of time! You shouldn’t have let it come this far. I will not have my niece turn into a hag.” – she finished off. – “Aunt!” – Sherlock called out with a hateful look in his eyes. – “Do not disrespect her!” – he made clear. She simply huffed. She spun back around to you holding her fingers sternly up to you. – “By the end of the season you will come with me and marry the man I offer you!” – she made clear. – “No!” – Mycroft said coming to stand in between. – “Stand aside boy!” – she answered with a hard stare. – “You had your task and failed miserably.” –
Sherlock came joining his brother’s side, blocking you out of her sight. – “You cannot force her to marry out of diplomacy.” – Sherlock outed. – “Oh but I can.” – she answered. You took a deep breath stepping from behind your brothers. They both shook their head knowing you were about to give in. You moved in front of them, curtsying at your aunt. Your aunt smiled proudly. She took you by the wrist. – “Let us have some tea.” – you got pulled back into the Parlor. The second the door shut grabbed your brother Mycroft for Sherlock’s shirt. – “You told me it would work!” – he called out, shaking him around.
“It should’ve!” – Sherlock answered loudly, pushing his hands off. – “I cannot hold her off any longer Sherlock! Our sister is going to be taken away from us in a matter I do not agree upon.” – Mycroft said. Oh how much his character had grown over the months. From a posh man wanting to have you out of his hands to a caring man fighting for his family. – “I will fix it!” – Sherlock replied. – “How? At this rate I don’t see anything happening in the upcoming five years.” – he sighed out letting himself fall exhaustedly against the wall. – “I will figure it out.” – Sherlock said.
The ball was not to your liking. It felt like a goodbye to everything. It felt like the last thing keeping you close to your roots here in London. No intrigued you to join. Standing at the side you watched how everyone socialised. Taking a deep breath you felt out of place. Having no desire or interest in mingling among the people. Perhaps you had already given up. Given up on the last few chances of finding a match. Of finding someone equally to you. Someone you could see yourself love.
Glancing to your right you saw your brothers near. They too had a saddened expression. The ball to no interest to them. It pained you to see them knowing of the trouble they went through. Knowing you had a hand to play in this. Perhaps you have been too stubborn. Too much against it and not willingly. Perhaps… perhaps…Looking back at the dancers you saw Colin Bridgerton amongst them. Colin… Bridgerton.
Your mind went instantly to Anthony. Feeling your chest warm up at the simple thought of him. Not so long ago you saw a future with him. Despite the bickering and competitive you still admired him underneath. Secretly loved how he would provoke you. Send you off into frustration and to your boiling point. Oh how much you loved to get so worked up over him.
Yet it wasn’t meant to be. Your stubbornness had won in flying colours. In need of fresh air you got in motion. Your brother Sherlock wanted to go after you, but Mycroft held him back. Shaking his head in speech of letting you have your space. You made your way through the crowd towards the gardens. Brushing past people to reach the other side. Walking out, you were greeted by a soft breeze. The night sky bright. You made your way over to some bush roses.
Looking up to the sky, you were in deep thought. Anthony had found a way outside. Having almost entirely searched the estate in search. Looking thoroughly and with a destined purpose. Every inch around he wanted to have seen. He neared to the rose bushes that were overgrown like a small forest around the estate.
He turned around, leaning back with furrowed brows. There between the rose bushes he saw his purpose. With determination and without a second thought he made his way over. Finally he had a clear view. A clear view of you. You glanced to the side, having spotted a sudden appearance in the corner of your vision.
Anthony neared looking breathlessly at you. – “Do you still plan on to leave with your aunt?” – he questioned with a mournful expression. – “It is what is intended… for me.” – you responded. – “I am apparently made to save my family from ruin.” – you told him. – “You love your family dearly.” – he spoke coming more over to you. You were looking down fumbling a bit with your dress. – “As much as you love yours.” – you told him without a glance. With a deep breath you finally dared yourself to look up.
Struck instantly by his overwhelming gaze. The brightness in his eyes that could light a fire. – “I was fearful of losing you.” – he confessed with a hard swallow. Admitting his feelings so openly to you felt vulnerable. – “That is why I became… after your accident… I couldn’t…” – he slightly shook his head vowing his words to you. You took a deep breath when Anthony neared more. – “I love you.” – he outed.
“I have loved you from the moment you insulted me.” – taking one more step closer to you. – “I have loved you at every dance, on every walk. Every time we have been together and every time we have been apart. You do not have to accept it or even embrace it but you must know it, in your heart.” – Anthony expressed deeply. He took your hand making you look down at the gesture.
“You must feel it, because I do.” – he pressed his hand onto his chest, staring deeply at you. – “I love you.” – he repeated with all his heart. You scrunched your eyebrow softly at him. – “I don’t not know what to say.” – you told him. – “You don’t have to say anything.” – he answered letting his thumb brush against your hand he was still holding. – “I do not think there is anything else to say… other than I love you too.” – you answered heartily. Anthony exhaled stunned. – “You…” – he breathed out. You lowered your head smiling foolishly at yourself. He looked down taking your other hand in his too.
“I know I am imperfect but I will humble myself before you, because I cannot imagine my life without you and that is why I wish to marry you.” – he spoke with a smile. You returned his smile with one of your own. – “You do know there will not be a day that you shall not vex me.” – you told him teasingly. Anthony let go of your hand allowing his hand to go around your waist to your lower back. – “Is that a promise Y/n Holmes?” – he responded smug. You moved your head closer to his, drawn to him. – “It is a promise.” – you breathed out wanting his lips on yours.
Anthony inhaled deep near your lips, anticipating the moment your lips would touch. – “You are not going anywhere Y/n.” – he whispered to you teasing your lips with the presence of his. You vigorously shook your head moving your hands around his neck. – “I shall not.” – you replied before you forced your lips onto his. An explosion of feelings bursting inside of you. Lips kissing each other with the upmost passion and longing.
Your body being pressed against his, wanting you as deeply as he could. No more you needed to feel saddened. No more you needed to leave. No more you were unloved having finally found your match.
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Me: I'll go to bed early tonight
Also me at 3am reading smutty fanfics:
#dean winchester#destiel#spn#supernatural#sam winchester#spn gabriel#sabriel#sam x gabriel#castiel supernatural#crowley spn#bobby singer#crobby#bbc sherlock#john watson#johnlock#fanfic#mystrade#mycroft holmes#greg lestrade#sambucky#sam wilson#bucky barnes#tfatws#marvel#sterek#mieczyslaw stiles stilinski#derek hale#teen wolf
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Sherlock fandom
Big Brother’s Observations
Since the day I held Sherlock in my arms for the first time, I loved him fiercely and I instantly wanted to keep him out of harm’s way, whatever the cost. I was only seven years at the time, but I tried my best to keep my promise.
At first, it was easy. Child’s play, so to speak. He followed me with his eyes, always smiling, filling my chest with warmth and joy. When he learnt to walk, he never let me out of his sight. Where I went, he was close behind.
I taught him everything I knew about nature; biology, geology, meteorology, when we were outdoors, mathematics, languages, history, geography and logic reasoning when the weather was bad, and we stayed in Father’s library or in my room. He was like a sponge, and it became quite clear that he was above average intelligence; just like me.
However, there was a big difference in our personalities. Where I avoided other people, Sherlock couldn’t get enough of studying and talking to others. For a while…
The other difference between us was sentiment. He was full of it, I was empty, apart from my undying love for my brother. I told him he would get hurt if he wasn’t on the alert. He was naïve and always thought every person was good and meant well. For a while…
***
My heart broke several times during the years, and in the centre of it was Sherlock. His tears and sobbing were unbearable to witness.
“Why do they hate me, Myc?” he cried so many times, I lost count.
“You must stop wearing your heart on your sleeve, Sherlock,” I told him. “Everyone will take the opportunity to hurt you if they know you’ll react like this. There doesn’t need to be a reason other than they want to see you cry. People are evil like that. Sentiment is never an advantage, brother mine.”
He wouldn’t believe me. Not at first. It was a hard lesson for him, and I hated every single person who dared to give my brother such a difficult time, but finally he managed to put up an armour of indifference. I knew how much effort it was for him to maintain it, because I caught him more than once crying himself to sleep after the more trying days.
When he started university, the contact between us was sparse at best, but I kept my eyes on him of course. Alas, I was unable to foresee and stop his drug addiction before it was too late. By then he hated the sight of me, which broke my heart in a totally different way. He turned his back on the one person who wished him well. It was a blind spot he dealt with for years, put there by me.
***
I couldn’t believe my luck when Sherlock met Gregory Lestrade of New Scotland Yard. The detective saw Sherlock’s potential and promised him work if he got clean, which he achieved in record time.
Despite the trust Lestrade put in Sherlock, my brother didn’t trust him fully. The police wanted results, which Sherlock was able to give, but it ended there. Lestrade was no friend in Sherlock’s eyes. He just used Sherlock for work, nothing more. My brother failed to see that the detective cared for him outside of crime scenes. He didn’t even bother learning Lestrade’s Christian name.
***
I saw a crack in my brother’s armour the day he realised that John had killed a man to save his life, mere hours after they’d met. When I mentioned it, Sherlock waved it off as John’s need for danger, excitement and his military background, but I observed a second of insecurity. It vanished soon enough.
My instincts when I met John Watson for the first time, told me he could be just what my brother needed, or quite the opposite. His loyalty baffled me, but spoke volumes, and it increased for every passing day. He protected Sherlock just like I had done decades ago. I wasn’t entirely sure what to think of that. Of course, I wanted my brother to be cared for and kept safe from the criminals he recklessly chased through London, but it should be me doing that. Letting go and placing my trust in an ex-army doctor with PTSD and a passion for danger, wasn’t exactly what I preferred, but it seemed I didn’t have much saying in the matter. John Watson was Sherlock’s confidant and friend now, and I should be glad, but my treacherous heart ached for the loss of my brother’s trust and love.
When it became clear to me how John felt about Sherlock, I prayed to the universe to let Sherlock’s blind spot disappear. It had finally happened; there was a way for Sherlock to gain happiness and love after all, and perhaps his hostility towards me would dissipate a little if he felt content and loved. My prayers weren’t heard, and John was too scared to jeopardise their precious friendship to pursue the matter.
***
I never dreamt of that an Irish criminal mastermind should be the answer. When Moriarty kidnapped John Watson and Sherlock realised he might lose John when he emerged with that bomb vest strapped to his chest at the pool, the blind spot instantly vanished. When the danger was over, John had proved that he would sacrifice himself so that Sherlock could live.
“My life isn’t worth living without you, John,” I heard Sherlock say in the surveillance video.
I had ushered my men out of the room and watched the scene alone. It was a private moment I didn’t want anyone else to witness, and I turned off the recording once I was sure both men were safe and had finally confessed their love.
My mission was far from over, but my faith in John’s capability to keep my brother as safe as possible, was absolute.
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