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lilmoonbunny · 4 months

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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.

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angelltheninth · 1 year

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William, Louis, Albert, Sherlock, Moran, James, Mycroft and their favorite spots to kiss you at?

Oh! I misunderstood the first time I read it lol, ok no problem Anon!

Pairing: William, Louis, Albert, Sherlock, Moran, James, Mycroft x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, making out, slight groping/fondling, teasing, neck kisses, shoulder kisses

A/N: They all make me swoon so hard!

William likes to kiss you in the living room while the two of you are relaxing after a long day. It's one of the spots he allows himself to be the most vulnerable at. He doesn't particularly care if someone were to walk in and see the two of you, he will give you a kiss regardless.

Louis will kiss you in passing in between chores that he does. He keeps busy a lot during the day so it's really the only time he can kiss you, other then mission and meetings and of course during your alone time at night before you go to sleep.

Albert kisses you only behind closed doors. Well he can kiss your hand during a social event but the real kisses are for you to witness only. He's the kind of man who can get pretty carried away when kissing you and he'd rather not contribute to the inevitable gossip.

Sherlock either kisses you in his office or his bedroom. Any other place and you're more then likely get interrupted by someone. He can't have that, not when he's too busy leaving hickyes and marks down your neck as you squirm against him.

Moran doesn't care where he's kissing you as long as he's kissing you. Everyone knows not to approach and try to pull anything when he's around. He'll kiss you anywhere his lips can reach and hold you against him while cupping your ass to let everyone know that you're his.

James will pull you into a kiss anywhere to surprise you and see you blush and be flustered. He likes being the gentleman of course but he can't deny that you look cute when you're walking hand in hand and he leans over to kiss you, much to the disgruntled gasps and murmurs of the people around you.

Mycroft will kiss you as soon as he comes home from work. No matter where he finds you he'll wrap his arms around you from behind and kiss your neck and shoulder until you're gasping and asking for more.

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forevers-world · 7 months

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A Mycroft Holmes appreciation post.

What a beautiful specimen of the human race. 👏👏👏

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lacelynpage · 10 months

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You fall asleep in an odd spot ~ Sherlock Preferences

A/N: HELLO DARLINGS!!!! I’m SO sorry its been so long. Life got really chaotic but I trying to find time to writ more. I have missed you all sooo much. I hope you enjoy what I cooked up for today. See you all again soon hopefully lol.

Sherlock:

Being with Sherlock involves a lot of late nights. When you're on a case the two of you can easily stay out till the sun starts to spill over the horizon. Exhaustion is your nearly constant companion. So it is not uncommon for you to fall asleep on the cab ride back to Bakers street. After your head is resting comfortably on his shoulder he will gently intertwine your fingers. Running his thumbs over your knuckles soothingly. It is one of the few truly tender things he does, and it means the world to you.

John:

Sleep isn't always your best friend. Most nights your body would, rather cruelly, keep you awake. Force you to think about your whole life till you spiraled into anxiety. John understood that struggle and would often stay up with you, making tea and sitting with you. It led to some of the deepest and more honest conversations. However, your bodies were still both achingly tired in the morning. So when John came to pick you up on your lunch break for a date one day after a particularly long night. He wasn't surprised to find you sound asleep on your desk. With a gentle touch he woke you up, telling your coworkers you weren't feeling well. The two of you spent the rest of the day together, cuddled up and fast asleep.

Mycroft:

Late hours were the norm in your house. Both of you commonly work odd schedules as contacts from around the world update you on various projects. On a bright Sunday morning Mycroft awoke to find you missing from the bed. Assuming you had simply gone to bed later and woken up early he walked down to the kitchen. The sight that greeted him was odd but not unfamiliar. You sat at the small breakfast table in the corner, head resting on the keyboard of your laptop. A few papers and a now very cold cup of coffee to your right. Gently, he woke you and ushered you into bed, calling Athena to cancel all morning meetings. The two of you needed some recovery time.

Greg:

It was cute really, well Greg thought it was cute at least, that you could never make it through a movie in the cinema. No matter how much you wanted to see the movie, every time you would drift off. Popcorn left to get cold in your lap as your head lulled back. While the end credits rolled he would nudge you awake with the most childish grin on his face, making you groan in frustration. He would always give you a summary on the car ride home, which you appreciated.

Moriarty:

You were not one to let your guard down easily, Jim knew that. No matter how tired you were, sleeping in public wasn't an option. However, there was one exception, the plane to Dublin. Something about flying home relaxed you, made the worries and enemies slip from your mind. Softly you rest your head on Jim's shoulder and let sleep overtake you. He would work quietly, kissing your head whenever you stirred slightly to adjust. These plane rides were often the quietest moments in your life together, you both treasured them.

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himegureisu · 1 month

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4 | the Woman

Summary: There are times when cases need a woman's touch. This is where you finally introduce yourself to your brother-in-law. This is set at the end of S2 E1 A Scandal in Belgravia.

Pairing: Mycroft Holmes x Female Reader

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“There are people we can get into this,” Mycroft said,

“I tested that theory for you. I let Sherlock Holmes try for six months,” she bragged, “Sherlock, dear, tell him what you uncovered through that x-ray of my phone,”

Irene Adler, professionally known as the Woman, a dominatrix of significant influence was obvious. Her only advantage was the fact she was playing against men.

Half a year, the Holmes men stumped at what to do. What a sight, however, it’s best to end their misery.

The Woman hands over her list of requests. However, that’s not going to happen, not on your watch.

“Oh, that’s a shame. Can’t I join in the fun?” you said.

Their eyes shifted as you entered the study in your battledress. Her exchange pauses as you stand behind Mycroft. Your brother-in-law quietly observes and thinks by the fireplace. His head towards the three of you.

“I did hope Sherlock would get this one,” you sighed, as you stretched your hand out to Irene, “May I?”

“Be my guest,” she offered.

“You’re rather transparent,” you twirl the mobile in your hands, “You don’t need a genius to unlock this. Just a woman that understands her kind,”

“Oh, do go on,” she stands, to sit on the edge of the table.

“There are times when women are affected by their interests. Others would say this is a disadvantage. Yours are the Holmes men, specifically, Sherlock. There was no other way to get to Sherlock without committing a crime except in your profession, you could pursue a different avenue,” Your eyes rest on Mycroft as they start to figure it out, “Two birds in one stone. Agitate the older brother, you get the younger. Women play a different kind of dirty and you played a game against men that was your advantage. God, did you pull their strings well but that ends tonight. The psychology of women, gentlemen, is that the most obvious is sometimes the most overlooked,”

“Craving the distraction of the game I sympathize entirely but sentiment?” Sherlock stands, walks over, and reaches out to you for the phone which you finally hand over, “Sentiment is a chemical element found on the losing side,”

Oh, Sherlock how wrong you are on that. Love and sentiment can be an advantage.

“When we first met, you told me that disguise is always a self-portrait,” Sherlock mused, facing the Woman, “How true of you. The combination to your safe, your measurements, but this is far more intimate. This is your heart, and you should never let it rule your head.”

“You just couldn’t resist, could you?” you interjected.

“Everything I said, it wasn’t real,” she whispered, silently pleading to Sherlock, “I was just playing the game,”

“This is just losing,”

I AM SHER LOCKED

“Thank you for the additional information,” he addressed you, “It was enlightening,”

“There you are, brother,” he passes the device to Mycroft, “I hope the contents may make up for any inconvenience I may have caused you tonight,”

“I’m certain they will,” Mycroft assured. His brother started to stare out the window, “If you’re feeling kind, lock her up otherwise let her go,”

Willaim Sherlock Scott Holmes was nearly outsmarted by a woman. What a brilliant turn of events.

It wasn’t long until someone escorted the woman away leaving you to the Holmes men.

“I thought he wouldn’t get it,” you address Mycroft, sitting on the chair he previously occupied to observe Sherlock, “Then again if he knew where to look for the safe code, he would get it eventually,”

“Why are you here?” Mycroft said. You give a look and say, “You know why I’m here,”

“Who are you?” Sherlock asks.

“Do make a deduction, Mr. Holmes,” you challenged, standing up for a better view, “What can you say about me? Oh, I heard you’re quite good at this,”

His eyes quickly take a once over you. To the way you did your hair, makeup, and casual clothes. His brother, your husband, hovered on the other side of the table.

What will Sherlock say about you?

“On your dominant hand, your middle finger is calloused from how you hold your pen, suggesting office worker. In a high position, by the value of your shoes. Your makeup suggests you like to be presentable but not elaborate or gaudy. Your clothes are clean except for a few loose strands of hair. No pets. Your engagement and wedding rings, shiny and clean, happily married then. Your husband is successful in his career by the size of that diamond and…”

His ramble paused. His eyes meeting yours, you give a casual curious gaze. His senses were on overdrive, recognizing the particular scent of leather of a car that often escorted him to his brother.

“No, that’s not possible,” Sherlock withdrew, “Has my brother found himself a goldfish?”

“No, not a goldfish, brother mine,” Mycroft defends. His ring, matching yours, shines in the firelight, “No, she’s out of their league,”

“How long has that taken him?” you asked Mycroft, in front of you as Sherlock remained speechless, “A minute,”

“A good minute, yes,” he confirms, as he goes to stand by your side, “I do wonder why you decided to reveal yourself, my dear,”

“I was fed up. You two dancing in her tune for half the year,” you complained, “You ditched Christmas Morning traditions,”

“I promised to make it up to you, my dear,” Mycroft reminded, however, unable to act on his plans yet, “And I did return earlier than expected,”

“Six years, Myc! We never shirk on trad —”

Before you can finish your ramble, Mycroft leans in and presses his lips against yours in a tender kiss. It was a pleasant interruption.

One Sherlock didn’t appreciate.

Your eyes widen for a moment before you melt against him. Your arms wrap around his waist, returning the sentiment. Sherlock clears his throat, breaking the moment between you and Mycroft.

“Years?” he remarked, “I never knew the Iceman could melt,”

“No, just thaws from time to time,” you cheekily smile at Mycroft who rolled his eyes, “Are you two finished? I’d like to turn in before the sun comes out, ensures at least one of us gets sleep,”

“We are finished,” Mycroft affirmed, walking toward the door, “Do us a reprieve, brother mine, don’t take cases on the weekend. You don’t know what it does to our schedule,”

“It was nice meeting you, brother-in-law,” you teased, your smile caught him off guard, as you walked to Mycroft’s side. He didn’t remember the last time someone was pleased to meet him. They were often annoyed or irritated. “Have a good evening,”

His brother has been married for years, and he didn’t know. How could he not know?

“Shame I’d wanted to see the Woman in cuffs,” you comment, as you walk side by side through the halls, “It would have made for an interesting night,”

“Would you like that, my dear?” Mycroft asks.

“If you’re open to it,”

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#mycroft holmes #mycroft #bbc mycroft #bbc mycroft holmes #mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft x reader #bbc sherlock #xreader #mycroft holmes x you

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smilingbluetiger · 5 months

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Baker Street Talks

(Mycroft x Y/N)

Politicians: *secretly gossiping about Holmes' partner*.

Someone: She is great. She wears practically no jewelry. She is cheap to keep in diamonds.

Everyone: *smiles*.

Mycroft coming out of nowhere: In diamonds, no. In books it's a different matter. Yes, she is indeed "great".

#sherlockbbc #mycroft imagine #mycroft x reader #mycroft bbc #baker street talks #mycroft holmes #bbc sherlock

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lazydoodlesandfanfic · 9 months

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Answer The Phone (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader) *PARENTAL

Characters: Mycroft X Daughter!Reader, Sherlock X Niece!Reader

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: mentions of being drugged via gas (fun story, this happened to me once lol), bomb, explosion, burns, unhealthy relationship with parent

Request: Hello could you do mycroft x daughter reader. Final problem the two have really broken father and daughter relationship and they haven't express themselves and because of it sherlock is kinda the father figure of the reader. So instead of Sherlock doing the phonecall its the mycroft who did the phonecall and reader almost said 'I love you ' to mycroft but its time up and mycrift witness the explosion in reader apartment and the Holmes are broken as they heard the shrill scream coming from the reader. Its up to you if you wanna turn out to let reader died. 😊

It had been a long time since you had actually gotten along with your dad. A long time since tensions weren’t running high when in his presence, well aware that things were one thoughtless comment away from a bicker or an argument. Whether it was wanting something from one another- more affection from him, or a more agreeable personality from you- or just not agreeing on things in general. He often commented on how you were more like your uncle Sherlock, even when you were young. Back then you took it as a compliment, seeing your uncle as a genius who adored you and was by far the funnest uncle in the world, but in your pre-teens you realised he meant it as an insult.

You could never forgive him for doing that, even if he didn’t mean it, or didn’t even realise what he was saying. Everytime he said it, it made you pull away from him even more. Spend more time with the man he compared you to, the only person who seemed to actually care about you. Of course, that was until you met Mrs Hudson and then John moved in with Sherlock. Mrs Hudson kept you company when your uncle was busy and you were avoiding your dad, and she’d softly poke into your home life and your relationship with your dad and try and give advice. John thought you were Sherlock’s assistant for a short while before Sherlock corrected him, acting insulted that he thought you were ‘just an assistant’. When he met Mycroft, he immediately began to understand why you weren’t close, and tried to be a responsible adult you could turn to. In the end, when you became a legal adult, you moved to an apartment much, much closer to Sherlock than your dad, and never in the 3 years you’d had it, had your dad stepped foot inside of it. He wasn’t allowed to.

You had a lot of feelings towards your dad from childhood to now. Anger, resentment, distrust. A disconnect you never thought and come to accept could ever be fixed. Whenever you needed support, you went to Sherlock. John. Mrs Hudson. Never him. But this time was different.

You were currently trapped in the said apartment. The one place you were supposed to feel safe no matter what, yet here you were, eyes focussed on the bomb that had been planted in the middle of your living room, the heart of your apartment, with several wires linking to it all across the apartment like spiderwebs. Linked to every possible escape route- the windows, the fire escape, and the only door in and out. You didn’t remember what had happened- you vaguely remember an odd smell as you wet to sleep last night, and when you awoke, you found yourself laying on the floor of your living room, and sitting up and seeing the device. Whoever had done this, had been nice enough to leave your phone right beside the bomb. You didn’t call anyone or even turn the phone on for several hours, scared that it had been tampered with as well and that was also a trigger, but you grew desperate. The first person you tried to call was your dad. You didn’t get through, so then you called Sherlock, and he picked up almost immediately, and you told him what was going on.

That was about two hours ago now. The police cars littered the streets outside, the complex and surrounding buildings completely evacuated. It was just you and this bomb within a 50 foot radius. Well, for a period of time, both Sherlock and John were on the other side of the door, asking you a billion and one questions about what you could see, and you described everything to the best of your abilities, and it was useful. One, Sherlock was able to piece together it was well made, and whoever made this was an expert and had experience with this- probably a military man, working in a bomb squad or something, and that this was purely explosive, no nails or anything to cause more damage, and due the size, the blast wouldn’t go far past the walls of your home. However, after demanding his honesty, he admitted he also had no clue how to diffuse it, or if that was even possible. It seemed too fragile, that even a light breeze could set it off. That solidified your decision to remain perfectly still within two of the wires attached to your windows, too scared to even touch the glass or move to quickly, remembering his comment on a breeze, and didn’t want to risk vibration.

You still hadn’t been able to reach your dad.

“John?” You had asked over the phone. The phone was often being in call between people, mostly Sherlock and John, though Mrs Hudson had called when neither were available to try and keep you calm. It was John’s turn as Sherlock was following leads.

“Yeah? Is something happening?” John asked.

“No it’s just… I can’t reach my dad. I keep trying to call him but he won’t pick up… I… I just want to hear his voice.” You admitted. It sounded ridiculous, childish, but you were tired, hungry, and the adrenaline had drained your energy a while ago now. “Does he know what’s happening?” You asked. He was silent on his side for a minute.

“I don’t know, but I tell you what, I’m going to personally find him, and drag him here, and make him answer his phone, okay?” He promised, and you could hear the anger oozing over the phone, which you couldn’t help but smile at. “In the meantime, I think Sherlock is going to call you later, I think he’s onto something. Hang on, alright?” He said, before handing up. You placed the phone on the floor, carefully standing up, and with distance between yourself and the window, you peered out of it, able to see John as he dashed off towards Lestrade, telling him something, before the pair got into a car and took off presumably to go and find your dad. Looking around more, you spotted Mrs Hudson peering up. She waved when she saw you, and you waved back. With nothing else to do, you sat back down in front of the bomb, trying to examine it to the best of your ability, seeing nothing of importance, before you laid down on the floor, closing your eyes, and waiting.

You flinched when your phone rang. You flinched every time it rang, even if someone had told you just a minute prior it was coming. You reached over, picking it up and placing it to your ear, remembering what John had said. “Sherlock?” You asked.

“How many pieces of furniture in your flat can you crawl under?” His question was far from reassuring, as you bolted up, on high alert.

“U-Um, I don’t know, why? Do I need to hide? Take cover? What’s going on?” You panicked.

“The wiring to the bomb is far too fragile for someone to be able to rig it from the outside after escaping. They must have either found or made another way inside, somewhere where you wouldn’t have noticed. If we can find it you can get out yourself, or we can get inside. Think. Lay on the floor and look around for anything, furniture that you can get under, or furniture light enough but large enough to cover an escape but be able to move from below. Be. Careful. Watch the wires. Call me back if you find anything, I’m on my way back.” He said before hanging up, leaving you alone with silence and overwhelming pressure. You looked at the wires around you, before trying to think of the best places for someone to hide a hatch- under the coffee table, the recliner that you knew was easy to move, your wardrobe in your room which had some crawl space underneath, and for you, the most creepy- under your bed. You quickly checked under your coffee table in front of you, of course finding nothing, because of course that would be too easy. Your recliner was across from you, so after a deep breath, you got down on the ground, and carefully crawled under the wires, spotting a wire that was too low to crawl under, and you stood and carefully stepped over it. You then carefully moved your recliner, checking underneath, and found nothing. That left your bedroom.

Your phone rang again, and your cursed yourself, realising you left it beside the table, and you hurriedly but carefully moved back, grabbing it and answering it. “Hello? Sherlock?”

“Y/N?” Your dad’s voice caught you off guard, and you gasped in surprised. “What’s going on? John told me to call you and said it was dire.” He asked. A relief came over you just from hearing his voice, your eyes burning as you sniffed.

“Dad… it’s bad.” You started, getting silence on the phone. “There’s… someone put some sort of sedative gas into my flat when I went to bed and broke in- they moved me into the living room and- there’s a bomb. There’s a bomb in the living room and it’s wired up to every escape and I can’t get out and I’m scared and I don’t want to die-” You rambled to him before you heard him finally repeating your name to try and interrupt you.

“Y/N, Y/N, breathe. Is Sherlock working on it?” He asked, that last sentence sound a little distance, and you faintly heard John confirm in the background, before he returned to the phone. “Alright. Sherlock’s working on it. What has he told you?”

“He um… He said that he thinks there’s a secret entrance somewhere- and that’s how the person who did this escaped after rigging everything. He told me to look for it- I’m going to check in my bedroom next.” You explained to him, looking over, being relieved when you saw no wire attached to the door.

“Is that door rigged?”

“No. Hold on, I have to crawl under the wires.” You explained, getting back down, crawling under the wires, before reaching it the door, and holding the phone to your ear. “Okay, I’m at the door.”

“Do you feel like a secret agent?” He asked, catching you off guard.

“What?” You asked, pausing in your plan.

“Crawling under and over the wires. It’s like the laser lights and those agents avoiding them. You used to love those movies when you were little. You thought that was what Sherlock did in his cases.” He reminisced. A faint smile met your lips. You’d totally forgotten about that.

“Yeah… I remember one time when I pulled out all the red thread from a jumper you had gotten me, pinning it all over the house so I could pretend to be a secret agent and then using it to make an information board… you were so mad when you came back home because the jumper was some expensive brand and I’d made the board on a wall and wrote on it and everything… sorry about that.” You told him, somehow finding the energy to chuckle pathetically.

“Don’t apologise.” Mycroft told you. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. You were 6, you were just being a child.” He pointed out. “I’m… I’m also sorry that I didn’t answer your calls. I should have known something was wrong when you kept trying to reach me.” He apologised. You hummed, before you realised something.

“This is the first time we’ve been able to actually talk without bickering or arguing in years.” You pointed out. You heard him sigh.

“When this whole mess is over, I promise you we’re going to have a proper family dinner, catch up, and actually talk. No bickering. No arguing. A genuine conversation. How does that sound?” He asked. You smiled to yourself. This was the best thing that had happened all day, not like that was hard.

“Yeah. Let’s hope the escape is in my room.” You said, remembering your task. You reached out, grabbing the handle of your bedroom door, and opening it, and pulling the door open. “Hey, you know, despite not really getting along my whole life, I want you to know that I do love-” You looked up to search your room, but the sound of a beep made your eyes focus on the bomb attached to your bedframe, this one a lot bigger, that was rigged to your bedroom door, that you had just set off.

Mycroft heard you gasp, the sound of you running, hearing you muttering repeatedly ‘no, no, no, no”, the sound of you trying to open a door before the call ended. “Y/N?” Mycroft asked. He heard nothing. He tried calling you back, and it didn’t even ring. He got an awful feeling in his stomach and he wanted to be sick, but he looked up at John who looked confused at what was happening, having not heard what he’d heard. “Get me to her flat right now.”

By the time the pair arrived on your street, it was already blocked off and there was more than one firetruck trying to subdue the fire that was blazing where your flat used to be. Mycroft didn’t speak as he approached, seeing the sight, realising what it was exactly that he heard. He heard his daughter realise she triggered an explosive. He heard his daughter run across the one place she was meant to be safe to the front door. He heard his daughter try and open the door, and realise it was locked and she was trapped inside.

He heard his daughter die, terrified and alone. And for what? Why? Why not him, or Sherlock? He wanted to be angry, demand answers, find who did this and get revenge even if it isn’t lawful, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry right now. Only guilty. He should have spent more time with you. He should have tried harder to be a better parent to you, he should have been kinder, more understanding. He should have been there.

“John! Mycroft!” Mycroft didn’t hear Mrs Hudson at first as she dashed over as quick as she could- she was sobbing and sniffling, clutching a handkerchief to her face as she approached.

“Mrs Hudson, what happened?!” John asked alarmed and out of breath.

“There was a second bomb in the bedroom, when she opened the door it set it off.” She explained. Mycroft finally looked away from the blaze to look at the woman. The call had ended only 20 minutes or so prior, and since the flat was still in fire, so there was no way to examine the scene.

“How do you know that?” He asked her. She didn’t say anything, simply grabbing his arm and pulling him down the street, pass the firetrucks, past the police who looked defeated, and towards an ambulance. The back doors were open, and inside he was able to see two paramedics tending to someone in the bed. He felt his heart leap into his throat as he sprinted to the edge and jumped inside, able to finally see your face, an oxygen mask over your face, burns littering your body, and you were unconscious as a paramedic was placing bandaging on one of your burns. “Is she okay? Is my daughter okay?” He demanded answers, one of the paramedics looking up at him.

“She’s suffered burns and blunt force trauma from the explosion. She was conscious when she was able to get out, but she fell unconscious, and we need to get her to the hospital now. Please sit down if you’re coming with her.” He instructed, and Mycroft followed and sat down. He turned, seeing John and Mrs Hudson stood, staring at you.

“Please make sure Sherlock finds out who did this. They need to pay for this.” Mycroft demanded. John nodded firmly, before the doors shut, the sirens turned on and the ambulance began to move. Mycroft put his whole focus on you, making sure your chest moved up and down, looking for any sign of you waking up, and more importantly, any sign you were in pain. He only saw you breathing, and he decided for now he should be thankful for that. He didn’t know what exactly he was going to do, but he knew that somehow, someway, he was going to fix this. He was going to make everything better. He had to.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @holy-tea-cup-blog @sassy-specter @keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey @courtneychicken @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines@huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 5 months

Text

Last Updated: 2023-11-07

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite BBC!Mycroft Holmes stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

✑ Earth Angel by lacelynpage • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "[You] spent the last year and a half planning [your] wedding and know every detail except one. Mycroft picked and then wouldn't tell you what song you would be dancing to for your first dance."

✑ Force Majeure by the-girl-next-door-writes • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Mycroft Holmes is so caught up in analyzing his own feelings that he doesn't see they could be reciprocated. Lucky for him, his little brother is an interfering shit."

✑ He Should Know What to Expect by galactic-academia • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Lady Smallwood wants to 'have a drink' with Mycroft; he's confused, but Reader knows exactly what to do..."

✑ Hold My Hand by grace-writes-sh*t • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Mycroft Holmes was not known as a very compassionate man. To some, his emotionless personality is… strength, himself included in this. To others, it is viewed as insensitivity and rudeness. [However,] to one such woman in his life, it is nothing [more than] a shield to protect the ones he loves."

✑ It's Beautiful by sherlockxreader • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Rain usually means less people milling around London streets. [Still,] you love the rain. Seems someone else appreciates it as well."

✑ Little Smiles by marvelmymarvel • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "When life got crazy as a spy and your life was endangered, the US sent you to England to be protected and to 'start over' as they would like to say. You were placed under the care of Mycroft Holmes and soon became the mystery woman to the people of England."

✑ Motivated by sherlockxreader • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Mycroft hasn't been enjoying exercising, so the reader decides to help motivate him creatively by working out with him."

✑ Pointless Jealousy by megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms • 〔A〕 •

Summary: You can't help but feel heartbroken after learning about Mycroft's *ahem* arrangement with Lady Smallwood. Mycroft makes the situation by dismissing your jealousy as a pointless emotion.

✑ Your Hand in Mind by the-girl-next-door-writes • 〔A〕 •

Summary: "Witnessing the death of Mary Watson causes Mycroft to focus on what he feels is truly important to him."

✑ A Matter of Take Out by bakerstreethound • 〔F〕 •

✑ Can't Lose You by specialagentlokitty • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Cuddles with Mummy by fandom-puff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Deeply and Unswerving

✑ Feelings by imagine-by-susu • 〔A〕 •

✑ First Date by multific • 〔F〕 •

✑ First Sight by collecting-stories • 〔F〕 •

✑ His Weakness by imagine-by-susu • 〔A〕 •

✑ I Need to Go by imagine-by-susu • 〔A〕 •

✑ Jealousy by coppercatwrites • 〔A〕 •

✑ Just a Tad Sweeter by sherlockxreader • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Late at Night by multific • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Masquerade by megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms • 〔F〕 •

✑ Midnight Mission by fandom-writers • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ My Boys by make-me-imagine • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Never Fell Out of Love by raggedy-dxctor • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Oh Darling by lacelynpage • 〔F〕 •

✑ Pleasant Distraction by fandom-puff • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Precious Cargo by bewarethecrazyperson • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Prim and Proper by fandom-writers • 〔F〕 •

✑ Pub by make-me-imagine • 〔F〕 •

✑ Sherlock No! by specialagentlokitty • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ So Brilliant by lacelynpage • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Surveillance

✑ Time the Ice Man Melts, the by deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Visiting by fandom-puff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Work Function by multific • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Wrong Person by anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Dating Mycroft would incude... by lacelynpage • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Dating Mycroft would include... by raggedy-dxctor • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || BBC!Mycroft Holmes Master Index

Authors: @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek | @bakerstreethound | @bewareofthecrazyperson | @collecting-stories | @coppercatwrites | @deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts || @fandom-puff | @fandom-writers | @galactic-academia | @girl-next-door-writes | @grace-writes-shit | @imagine-by-susu | @lacelynpage | @make-me-imagine | @marvelmymarvel | @megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms | @multific | @raggedy-dxctor | @rreader | @sherlockxreader | @specialagentlokitty |

#Mycroft Holmes x Reader #Mycroft Holmes x Female Reader #Mycroft Holmes x Y/N #Mycroft Holmes x You #Mycroft x Reader #Mycroft x Female Reader #Mycroft x Y/N #Mycroft x You #Mark Gatiss x Reader #Mark Gatiss x Female Reader #Mark Gatiss x Y/N #Mark Gatiss x You #BBC Sherlock Fanfiction #BBC Sherlock Fanfic #Mark Gatiss Fanfiction #Mark Gatiss Fanfic

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specialagentlokitty · 1 year

Text

Mycroft x reader - cakes

- Mycroft x Reader with "I recognise that you made a decision but given that it's a stupid ass decision, I've elected to ignore it" about Mycroft & cake - @mxacegrey 💜

You were away for work, and Mycroft had promised you he was going to stick to his diet, so when you came home early he stood like a deer in headlights.

You looked at him, then to the plate in his hands then back at him.

“Welcome home dear.” He said.

He moved the plate behind his back and tried to quietly set it down on the counter behind him and you rose a brow at him.

“Mycroft, darling, what’s that?” You mused.

He quickly shook his head and stepped forward.

“Nothing, nothing. How was your work trip?”

Mycroft tried deflecting the question you had asked him so you started to go along with it.

You walked into the kitchen and began to tell him about everything you had been doing while you made yourself a drink and sat down at the table.

“How’s your day been today Myc?”

“Oh yes, rather uneventful if I’m being honest. Sherlock has been quite well behaved recently.”

You hummed, nodding your head.

“And the diet? I hope it went well while I wasn’t here.”

“Yes of course darling?”

You smiled, reaching out for his hand and he walked over, placing his hand softly in yours.

You ran you thumb along his knuckles as you smiled sweetly up at him, and he gave you a small smile in return.

“My dear, darling, my love. You sir, are lying.”

Mycrofts smile instantly fell and a guilty looked washed over his face as he watched you stand up.

You walked over and picked up the plate with a slice of cake on and showed it to him before you walked over and put it back in the fridge where you found the rest of the cake.

“Mycroft I thought you wanted to do this diet?”

“I do! I do darling, truly.”

“And I told you if you want to do it no. more. cake.”

Mycroft sighed and walked over, running his hands down your arms, to your hands before he settled them on your hips.

"I recognise that you made a decision but given that it's a stupid ass decision, I've elected to ignore it"

“A stupid ass decision?” You asked.

“Sorry?”

You smiled a little and laughed softly, shaking your head as you leant up to softly kiss him.

“You can finish your cake Myc, but really if you want to stick to your diet No more.”

He smiled and kissed your forehead, pulling you in for a gentle hug.

“I promise.”

You smiled and nodded, deciding to trust him on this again.

Until two weeks later when you caught him with another cake and had to practically chase him in order to try and get the cake away from him before he could eat it

#bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x you #bbc sherlock mycroft #mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft holmes imagine #Mycroft Holmes x you #Mycroft #mycroft x reader #mycroft x you #Mycroft imagine

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 7 months

Text

Whoa Baby

Sherlock and Mycroft x little sister!reader

Requested by @shinypandacherryblossom

Synopsis: you have startling news for your big brothers

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, this is kinda short.

Rain pelted your back as you pounded on the locked door of 221B Baker Street.

“Alright, alright, don’t have a-“ Mrs. Hudson froze at the sight of you shivering at her front door. “Oh dear, hurry in.” She stepped aside to let you through.

“Thank you,” you tried to wipe the tears away along with the rainwater, but of course you didn’t fool Mrs. Hudson.

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing,” you cursed the quaver in your voice. “Is Sherlock in?”

“Yes, Mycroft too, he just popped in for a case or something,” the disdain in Mrs. Hudson’s voice made clear her opinion of your oldest brother.

“Thanks,” was all you could manage as you made your way up the stairs. You thought you’d have more time before you had to deal with Mycroft, but you supposed only having to tell the news once might be better anyway.

You didn’t bother knocking, and by the awkward silence that engulfed the room you could tell you’d interrupted something.

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock inquired.

“It’s good to see you too,” you scoffed.

“What’s wrong?” Mycroft noticed your state half a second faster than his little brother, and was therefore the first to bring it up.

You were sure you looked like a mess, and it didn’t take a Holmes’ skill to notice it; you’d rushed here, in the rain, without an umbrella, and you were sure that your tears still left a visible trace on your face.

“I-I need to talk to you guys,” once again you hated the quaver in your voice as you took a seat on Sherlock’s couch.

“We’re in the middle of something,” Sherlock said indignantly.

“It’s important,” you insisted, your tone leaving no room for argument.

“Tell us then,” Mycroft urged.

“Would you sit down, please?”

Sherlock was already seated in his chair, and Mycroft hesitated for a moment before going to John’s chair and sitting.

“Now, what could possibly be so earth shattering?”

“W-well…” you struggled with where to begin. “You remember Y/BF/N?”

“Your boyfriend?” Mycroft nodded. “Of course, what about him?”

“You interrupted us to tell us about a breakup?” Sherlock’s annoyance was evident as he stood.

“How did you-“

“Your appearance is fairly self evident. Is that really all there is?” Mycroft asked, and you could tell his impatience was growing as well.

“No,” you insisted, and with a sigh Sherlock lowered himself back into his chair.

“What, did he cheat on you? I could do something about him, if you’d like,” your annoyance was triggered when Mycroft’s bored tone reached you.

“It’s not just about that jerk, ok? And no, I don’t want you to do anything to him,” you took a deep breath. “He did leave me…be-because I’m pregnant.”

The silence that followed was like a thick mist that hung over the room, all encompassing and ominous.

“He doesn’t want it,” you were crying again now, and Sherlock quickly got to his feet. “H-he…” you stiffened in surprise when Sherlock wrapped his arms around you. “Sherlock?”

Mycroft looked surprised as well, but still he rose to his feet and came to stand by the two of you.

“Forget him,” Sherlock insisted. “We’re going to help you, alright?”

“I want you to stay at my place during your pregnancy,” Mycroft broke in. “It’s the safest for you.”

You felt the corners of your lips twist into a smile. Your world felt upside down right now, but at least you had two brothers to hold onto.

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megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms · 6 months

Text

Burst of Color

Based on this request: Oh! Could we get a Mycroft Soulmate AU (fem!reader) but like Enemies-to-Lovers style? Soulmate Trope of first touch, world burst into color kind of thing?

Here you are! I apologize for the wait! *Familiar characters are NEVER mine!*

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Enemies-to-Lovers, Trapped Together, Angsty, slight fluff?

Pairings/Characters: Mycroft Holmes x fem!reader, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson.

Mycroft Holmes was cynical about quite a bit in life, but none so much as the idea of soulmates. The fact that one solitary touch could bind you to someone forever was utterly ridiculous. The idea of being so…enamored with someone simply because fate decided to put two people together was merely another waste of time by Mycroft's thinking. And what if that one person happens to be someone you cannot stand? Such as Mycroft and you.

It wasn't that Mycroft hated you, exactly. He wouldn't waste time on such a thing. But the two of you often got on like oil and water. Two clashing personalities. You were merely another goldfish in a large school of them and Mycroft knew for a fact that you found him quite a "pompous arse". Those had been your exact words to him. If debating with you didn't thrill him so much, Mycroft would never interact with you at all. At least that's what he told himself until the day Sherlock requested his help with a case. And yours.

"Why did I agree to this again?" you asked when Sherlock escorted both you and Mycroft to the crime scene. Or what he told you was a crime scene. "You agreed due to your insatiable curiosity, Y/N," Sherlock replied to your grumbled question. You rolled your eyes as Mycroft let you enter the room after Sherlock. "And because you didn't tell me your brother would be here," you muttered to Sherlock when you caught up to him. Sherlock didn't reply, instead choosing to head into another small room.

Just outside the door, Sherlock stopped and gestured for you and Mycroft to enter first. "Sherlock, what is this?" Mycroft asked, testily. The older Holmes' answer came in the form of the door closing and locking behind you. You raced forward and tried the door. "Sherlock? Open the door!" you growled out. "I don't believe I will," came Sherlock's annoyingly smooth voice from the other side. You turned and gestured to Mycroft as if to say, "Will you do something about this?"

"I'm afraid there is no reasoning with Sherlock once he's set his mind to something." You groaned a bit and mumbled something under your breath. Mycroft took notice of your body language. Contrary to how you were speaking, you weren't angry. Mycroft could tell. In fact, you seemed almost…nervous.

"Any idea as to why your brother locked us in here?" you asked after a moment. Mycroft paused to think, only for another voice to float through the door. "We're tired of the two of you whingeing about one another! So you'll be locked until you can speak to each other without fighting or complaining."

"Quite a brilliant idea from Watson, truly," Sherlock added to Watson's order. You took a deep breath and looked ready to ram the door down if necessary. "No need to be dramatic, Y/N," Mycroft said smoothly as he adjusted this tie. You glared at him but opted to stay quiet this time. Instead, you took to pacing the room as your mind tried to work out a way to escape your current prison with the elder Holmes brother. Mycroft watched your grey form walk back and forth across the floor, your brows furrowed in concentration. It was actually quite adorable.

"Do believe your incessant pacing will free us?" he asked, earning another glare from you. You stopped in front of him with your hands on your hips. "I don't see you doing anything to help," you retorted. Mycroft merely scoffed. "Sherlock and Doctor Watson will eventually grow tired of their game and will open the door. All we need to do is bide our time."

For some reason, Mycroft's words seemed to anger you further. "Can you stop being so damn calm and calculated for once?! Show a little emotion, Mycroft. Your own brother is playing games with you. You can't tell me that doesn't annoy you at least a little." Mycroft let out a little laugh.

"My dear, I am always annoyed with Sherlock in one way or another. You simply grow used to his antics and learn that it is best to let some things lie." You shook your head and turned to begin pacing yet again. "I just don't understand you Holmes men. I mean, really how-" Your sentence was cut short by you tripping over your own two feet. As if on instinct, Mycroft's arm shot out so he could grab you before your face could hit the floor. The moment his hand made contact, however, he nearly let you fall anyway.

Where the world had been varying shades of grey before, it was now filled with colors so brilliant and vibrant, Mycroft almost needed to close his eyes against them. After a split second, he glanced down at you to find your eyes screwed shut like you were still anticipating your body landing on the floor.

"Open your eyes," Mycroft ordered softly. You did and gasped when, Mycroft assumed, you saw your world was now in color too. Mycroft helped you to you to stand up straight. You let your eyes wander the room for a moment before they landed on Mycroft yet again. The two of you stared at one another for what felt like hours, just taking everything in.

"This is…quite unexpected," Mycroft finally managed to say. You laughed softly. "That's a understatement. Of all the people, I never would have guessed you would be my soulmate. After all, I'm simply a goldfish, right?" Mycroft sighed, wishing he had cigarette right then and there. "My dear Y/N…" You shook your head and stepped further away from him. "No. You hate me. I hate you. That dynamic works for us. It always has. This-This," you cut off with a sigh as tears formed in your eyes. "It's wrong," you managed to say after a moment.

"And yet, it seems, it is true. You and I are soulmates," Mycroft finished your thought. You rolled your eyes. "You don't do attachment or sentiment, Mycroft. I crave it." You moved to try the door again. You needed to get out of there before you really did begin crying in front of Mycroft.

"Y/N, have you ever taken a moment to consider that, perhaps, I have hidden the depths of my own emotions to shield myself from those around me that may hurt me? Contrary to your beliefs, I do in fact feel very deeply and while we do not often get along, I do not hate you. Knowing what I now do, I imagine it might well be impossible for me to do so."

"But could you love me? Even platonically? I mean, really love me despite all my flaws?" you questioned intently. When Mycroft didn't answer, you nodded to yourself before approaching the door again. "Think about it, Mycroft. Take time and really think about what your heart is capable of when it comes to me. I'll do the same then we'll speak again."

Mycroft watched as you knocked on the door again. "Sherlock. Please," you pleaded just loudly enough for the younger Holmes to hear. "I can." You froze at Mycroft's soft words, "I can love you. I am not an easy man to get along with, let alone to love, but you make me feel things I did not think possible. I fooled myself into believing that I didn’t want or need a soulmate. But I confess my life would be rather dull and lifeless without you in it."

For a moment, you stayed silent. Then, a ghost of a smile appeared on your lips. "Thank you, Mycroft. I-I suppose there are worse people I could have as my soulmate. Sherlock comes to mind." Mycroft tried not to smile. Really he did, but he couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped his lips.

(a/n: I hope you like it! I'm a sucker for a Soulmate AU with as many tropes shoved in that makes sense as possible.)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @supernatural4life2022

Fandom Tags are OPEN!

Mycroft Holmes Tags: @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek

#bbc sherlock #soulmate au #mycroft holmes #mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft x reader #enemies to lovers

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fairy-writes · 11 months

Note

Hello, can I asked for some headcanon of Mycroft Holmes having a crush on Y/n as the little sister of Moriarty Family, please? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

CRUSHES ARE FOR ORDINARY PEOPLE

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): Mycroft Holmes x Female!Moriarty!Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): FLUFF, Crushes

Notes: I did change it to the Moriarty’s older sister instead of younger because Mycroft is in his 30s while they’re all in their 20s, lol

__________________________________________________________________________

Admittedly, the moment Mycroft realizes he has a crush—and on Albert James Moriarty’s older sister, no less—he panics.

Him? Have a silly little childish crush on you? Preposterous!

Crushes are for ordinary people. And he is definitely not ordinary.

So he does what any reasonable man would do and buries his feelings.

You were also his secretary, so it would be a conflict of interest anyway.

Therefore, burying his feelings and hoping they would go away would be the logical option.

At least… until Sherlock finds out.

The teasing was relentless.

Somehow, that information got to Watson.

And in turn, somehow, that information gets to Albert.

Albert confronts him about said information one day when no one else is in Mycroft’s office.

“What do you intend to do about it?” He asks his superior, who looks up from his paperwork.

It would take an idiot to realize what he’s talking about.

“Absolutely nothing. It’s a conflict of interest and completely inappropriate for the workplace.” Mycroft replies, and Albert nods once, a stern look in his eyes.

“Good.” He says, clicks his heels together, and leaves with a salute.

His feelings get harder to ignore the more you show up to his office to work.

He admires your cleanliness and the dresses you wore (you were always dressed immaculately, which he definitely liked).

He admires your hard-working attitude and how you smile at him whenever you see him.

It makes his heart flutter and his feelings that much more difficult to ignore.

Surprisingly, you approach him one day with a request that blows his expectations out of the water.

“Would you like to go to dinner with me?” You ask, and he drops his pen in shock.

The object of his affection asking him to such an intimate affair?

He’s only human after all. It’s only fair that he would be in shock even if he wasn’t an ordinary person.

Initially, he declines.

It was a conflict of interest, and while you knew that, it didn’t stop you from asking again.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass that it’s improper. I like you and would like to take you out for dinner if you’ll have me.” You say determinedly, and he gapes at your vulgar words.

He forgot that you always spoke your mind and said exactly what you felt. Even if it was against societal expectations of women.

This, admittedly, makes you embarrassed.

“Sorry. That was rude of me… I’ll go and—”

“Wait!” He stands behind his desk and rounds it to stand before you.

He’s a good deal taller. You have to look up to meet his dark eyes.

But he doesn’t mind.

In fact, he finds it endearing.

And shockingly (maybe not), he finds himself accepting your invitation.

His heart stutters at the blinding smile that you direct at him.

It’s beautiful.

And the rest is history.

#mtp x reader #mtp mycroft x reader #mycroft holmes x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #moriarty the patriot mycroft x reader #mycroft x reader #mtp mycroft #mtp mycroft holmes #fairy writes

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forevers-world · 7 months

Text

Being married to Mycroft Holmes would include:

Your wedding was definitely an extravagant affair. He's the British government so he had the money to burn

His parents l o v e you. They never thought their son would get married and they were thrilled when they found out about the engagement

Sherlock and Eurus still find you kinda sus but that's okay

Your friends are Mycroft's friends, even though he thinks they're all "goldfish"

You're excited to brighten up your new home so the enormous house isn't as gloomy as it was when Mycroft was single

He's not to keen on the idea at first

Eventually he gives in tho

He's still getting used to being open and affectionate, but tries

He loves giving you flowers when you least expect

Jewelry too

He's surprisingly a really good kisser

He loves coming home to you

He knows he doesn't have to prove himself to you because you love him the way he is

He loves you too

And he loves telling you

"I love you"

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girl-next-door-writes · 11 months

Text

You Don't Have To Convince Me

Characters: Mycroft Holmes x reader

Summary: Mycroft’s second year of university is quite eventful, and there is nobody else he would rather have spent it with.

Word Count: 2912 words

Prompt: Fluff. Best friends. Roommates. Blurted out confession. Falling asleep on them.

A/N: @royalydamned and @savvy-devine666 both had similar requests, so I merged them to create this bit of fluff, and it made my heart very happy. This on kinda got away from me if I’m being totally honest and ended up being three times longer than anticipated, so please reblog if you like it.

Placing the last of his boxes onto his bed, Mycroft straightened up and surveyed his new room for the year. This would do nicely. Definitely better than the cramped first year building which was situated outside the college walls. This room was much more what he had thought of when he had first applied to Oxford. The beautiful ornate stonework of the leaden windows which looked out onto the courtyard would provide the perfect light for studying. The simply exquisite fireplace with its original blue tiles could hold a multitude of books on its mantle. He smiled to himself as he spotted the door to his very own ensuite, no more shared bathroom!

The soft knock on his doorframe had him turning his head, his smile only growing when he saw who it was had interrupted him.

“I wasn’t even the highest up on the ballot this year, can you imagine what sort of rooms those guys got?” You asked with a bright smile as you folded your arms across your chest and leaned against the doorframe.

“Well, they most likely are not finding they have to share a vestibule with their neighbour.”

“Oh, yes, because sharing this small space right here, with me, that would make your stunning view almost unbearable.”

“It does take the shine off it somewhat, but I will soldier on.”

“I bet you will. Just letting you know, I’m putting my umbrella stand out here. Feel free to use it.”

“I will, thank you.”

“Right, well, I’m going to unpack a little before dinner. I can’t believe they made the first dinner back a formal one! I’m not even sure which box I’ve shoved my robes in.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched you go, a warmth in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain. He had missed you over the summer, and to find you were now practically roommates gave him high hopes for this year, such a contrast to his last.

The unlikely friendship between the two of you had come about because you had decided it would. His first term at Oxford had been truly miserable; the accommodation was basic, the food even more so, having to share his space with strangers, many of whom had no concept of cleanliness or hygiene, his courses were elementary, although many of his peers appeared to struggle to keep up. Mycroft had found himself as lonely and bored as he had at school, leading him to spend his time alone, something which you had noticed around late October.

He had been sitting in the cloisters, sheltered from the wind as he read, reluctant to return to the halls of residence and the chaos that would bring. You had sat down beside him, not even asked, just sat there. Curiosity eventually got the better of him, and he had looked up only to find you smiling sweetly. You had introduced yourself to him and immediately began talking about the architecture that surrounded you both. The information was rudimentary, obviously what you had picked up from your campus tour, but he found himself hanging on your every word. From that moment on, you seemed to appear by his side, and after a few weeks, Mycroft had found himself seeking you out too. A strange sort of friendship, but it worked. You were his best friend. His best friend who, he had realised over the summer, he was hopelessly in love with.

Spending time with you was so easy. Although you would often offer him an excuse to be in his presence, he had never really needed one. You didn’t have to sell him on spending his time with you. In fact, that was probably one of the only things he never needed convincing of. Just sitting quietly with you as you both read, or as he read and you talked about anything that came to your mind, that was more than enough for Mycroft. He cherished it, and so he knew he would never risk losing you by expressing his growing desire to be more than your best friend.

“MYCROFT! THERE’S A SPIDER!” Your shriek had him shaking his head fondly as he made his way to your room, prepared to save you from the errant arachnid.

Bundled up against the chilly April wind, the two of you wandered through the grounds. The idea had been to get some fresh air. This was an idea that both of you were now regretting as the sky above grew grey, filling with foreboding clouds. So much for the joys of Spring. The thought that it was more likely to snow at this time of year than December entered his mind, but he decided to keep that to himself. Despite the poor weather, he had you all to himself out here and he wanted to hold onto that a little longer.

As you made your way along Addison’s Walk, Mycroft felt the silence between you was rather loaded. That had been happening more often, what had once been a pleasant, peaceful quiet had now become thick with all the things he tried not to let escape him. In an attempt to diffuse the situation, he endeavored to make small talk.

“C.S. Lewis wrote Chanson d’Aventure about this walk.” He said stiffly as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets in a bid to negate the urge to reach for your hand.

“That knowledge would indeed be more impressive if I didn’t also know about the plaque by the Holywell Ford gate that tells you that. Although you probably have known that fact since you were three.” You teased with a soft smile, glancing up at him as his cheeks flushed slightly.

“Okay, well…” He stopped and looked out over the meadow, eyes searching. “…ah, there. You see those purple flowers over there?”

“The ones that look like drooped tulips?” You asked, moving to his side and following his gaze. For a moment, Mycroft could neither deny nor confirm your question as you had now successfully invaded his personal space, and his brain seemed to lose half its IQ points.

“Erm, yeah. Yeah.” He nodded, no longer looking out at the flowers.

“What about them?” You asked, always interested in whatever fact your friend wanted to impart.

“Oh, erm, they are called Fritillaria meleagris, or snakes head. They are incredibly rare, and they have been growing here in this meadow for over 200 years. If you get up close then you can see they have this beautiful pattern, like the scales of a snake.”

“Hence the name.”

“Yes, rather.” He smiled. You never told him to stop showing off, or that he was boring. You rather seemed to enjoy his breadth of knowledge, even if most would deem it useless.

“Probably best not to pick a whole bunch then.”

“I suspect that might get you into trouble.”

“Well, if I am going to get into trouble, I would want it to be for something much more fun than picking flowers. I mean, they are pretty, but they aren’t my favourites.”

“I am aware.” Mycroft hummed, having committed any and all facts about you to memory.

“I have no idea how you fit it all into that brilliant mind of yours. I swear, when we are old and grey and in a nursing home, you will still be able to tell me what I was wearing the first day we met.” You chuckled, looping your arm through his as you began to walk back towards Buckingham Court.

“Would you not think that strange? Creepy, even? If out of the blue, I told you something like that?” Curiosity and nerves tinged the edge of his voice as the two of you fell into step. He was used to people being repulsed by his manner, his mind, him in general. Yet, here you were, not trying to change him or fix him in any way, just happy with who he was. Still, he couldn’t quiet the noises in his head, the voices of the past telling him he was weird, peculiar, not right.

“I think it’s rather impressive. I mean, to be honest, you could tell me I was wearing almost anything, and I’d probably agree because I have no clue what I was wearing on the day we met. I think you could tell me a different thing each time.” Your laughter hung in the air like a beautiful melody that he longed to cling to.

“Blue denim jeans which were too baggy for you, rolled up at the cuffs, an oversized grey knitted jumper with pink lines across the bottom that hung off your shoulder and showed the white t-shirt you had on underneath, and white trainers with scuffmarks on the toes from where you kick them off. Your hair was in your face, and you had a blue bic biro in your mouth.” The memory was engrained in his mind, the way you had smiled around that pen before removing it from your lips and launching into talking as if you had simply been paused mid conversation.

“See. That sounds like something I would wear but I can’t say for sure you’re right. I’ve just got to trust you, Mycroft Holmes.” You shrugged, totally non-plussed by his revelation, an action that made his heart race. You saw who he really was and didn’t run away screaming, how could he ever find the words to tell you how much you meant to him?

“I still can’t believe you got tickets for this! They are like gold dust.” You grinned at him as you took your seat on the blanket.

“Well, we do get first dibs, I believe that is the term.” Mycroft smiled as he sat beside you, leaving a respectable distance between the two of you, a distance you wasted no time in irradicating.

“I know, but the Magdalen film night is one of the social events of the year! I wanted to come last year but tickets were all gone so fast.”

“And that’s why I ensured we got some this year.” He didn’t feel the need to tell you that he had practically bribed everyone who had any influence to make certain you could join the other students on the lawn and watch a film on a large makeshift screen.

The film wasn’t one Mycroft had any deep desire to watch, but sitting with you, on a blanket on the lawn, as the last warm rays of the summer sun set and gave way to a stelliferous sky, that was something he could tolerate a below par film for. Anything to make you happy. Mycroft had realised that he was much better at compromise, but only when it came to you.

He had to admit, the organization of the event was excellent, and he was glad that he had brought enough cushions to ensure you were comfortable. At some point, he had lost the thread of the film, too distracted by the weight of your body pressed against his as you leaned on him. Your head rested against his shoulder so perfectly it was as if it was molded to be right there and he slowly gave in to the desire to rest his cheek on the top of your head, his eyes fluttering closed as he held his breath.

The evening began to cool, and he found you snuggling into him a little more, seeking out his heat to fight the goosebumps erupting on your bare skin. Shifting slightly, he picked up his discarded jacket and draped it over your shoulders, his fingers lingering on your upper arm before returning to the blanket as a joist to prop you both up. Despite being surrounded by people, this felt incredibly intimate, even more so when you let out a soft, sleepy sigh and laid your head more against his chest.

The film eventually came to an end, but the mixture of fresh air and long days studying had resulted in you dozing off at some point, your arm resting around his waist and nose pressed to his chest. Mycroft was at an absolute loss for what to do, uncertain of the etiquette in such circumstances. He was aware of people noticing his predicament, met with knowing smirks as he fought the urge to tell them that this wasn’t what they thought, desperate to protect your reputation.

Deciding that the only course of action was to wake you, he gently brushed the hair back from your face and leaned down to speak softly.

“Darling, the film has finished.” He tried, but there was no response from you at all. “You really would be much better sleeping in a bed, my dear. I cannot imagine that I am that comfortable.”

“hmmmm.” You sighed softly, nuzzling into him as you stretched a little.

“I would have offered to carry you, but sadly I am unable to carry both you and all the cushions and blanket. A failing, I know, but sadly I am sorely lacking in these situations.”

“You need a hand, mate?” One of the rowing club had wandered over and Mycroft immediately felt even more inadequate. “Your other half seems to be deep in a REM cycle. How about you carry them, and I’ll grab the blanket and stuff?”

“Thank you.” Mycroft managed a tight smile, he did not wish to correct the boys mistake for two reasons, the first was that it sent a heat through him hearing someone else refer to the two of you as a couple, and the second was the concern that if he admitted you were not his, then perhaps this attractive young man would take you from his arms.

As he walked towards your halls, he felt you nuzzle into him, your warm breath fanning across his skin, and just for a second he could have sworn your lips brushed across his neck, an act that almost caused him to drop you. Surely it had been a sleepy accident, not intended. There was no way you could see him as more than a friend. Right?

“I don’t see why we have to move rooms every year. It seems like unnecessary upheaval if you ask me.” You huffed as you sat down heavily on his bed, surveying the many boxes that were stacked around his room.

“Perhaps your new room will be even better than your current one.” Mycroft reasoned, leaning against his desk.

“Not possible. My room this year is perfect. I don’t want to move to Mallory Court. Why can’t we stay right here?” You pouted, your brow furrowing in a way Mycroft couldn’t help but think was adorable. “I mean, I’ve got to lug all my stuff into storage and then all the way to Mallory! At least you get to stay here in Buckingham.”

“I still have to move my things into storage and then back out. One might argue that my moving things is more pointless than you moving things.” He tried to make the situation light even though the thought of residing so far from you twisted his stomach. You had been so close all year and now…

“You’ll come visit me, right?”

“You do realise you are not moving to another city, just another courtyard. It is a five-minute walk at most.” He chuckled.

“Yeah! A whole five minutes!” You said dramatically. “What if I need you?”

“Well, if you need me, then I will be right there. You’ll just have to give me five minutes.”

“Are you sure you need your own room? Can I not convince you to come live in my wardrobe?”

“Darling, as much as the idea of living in a wardrobe is intriguing, we both know just how much you cram into your wardrobe. I fear there is simply not room for me in there as well.”

“You will miss me though, right?” You looked up at him and his knees felt weak as he gripped the edge of the desk. “You won’t go spending all your time with your new neighbours?”

“I will not miss you, because we will still see each other all the time. I promise.” He said softly as you got up and made your way over to him. Your arms wrapped around his middle, and you placed your head on his chest, hugging him in a way that felt familiar and new all at once, despite the increased frequency of such interactions between you.

“God, I love you.” He murmured into your hair. It wasn’t until he felt you stiffen that he realised his inner monologue had escaped his lips. His eyes widened and he looked down to find you looking at him curiously.

“I- Just to clarify, for my own clarification really, were you saying that to God? Because I didn’t think you were a deeply religious person. OR was that about me? And IF it was about me, was it like ‘I love you, like a sister’ or… or was it more like ‘I love you so much that the thought of being parted makes it hard to breathe’?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times, his vast vocabulary failing him at such a crucial juncture. You must have seen something in his eyes though, because you took a deep, determined breath.

“Because, if I am being honest, at the risk of completely fucking this up and you leaving for the summer and never wanting to see me again, I am really hoping it’s the latter, because I think that I have actually been very much in love with you since first year.”

“Really?” he spluttered, not quite believing this was real.

“Shit. I’ve really fucked this up haven’t I? Sorry. Pretend I didn’t just say all that and we can go pack up our rooms and have-“ Your rant was interrupted by Mycroft’s lips pressing against yours.

As far as first kisses go, it wasn’t perfect. Although he was technically aware of how these things were done, his inexperience was very evident, but that didn’t matter in that moment as he felt you melt into him. When you did finally pull back to catch your breath, you both had goofy smiles on your lips.

“It was most certainly the ‘I love you so much I cannot imagine my life without you in it,’ kind of I love you. The ‘I am not sure how much studying I am going to be able to get done next year because all I want to do is kiss you,’ kind of I love you. Just for clarification.” He smirked, earning a light smack to his chest as you chuckled.

“This moment, this one right now, it’s one you will absolutely tell me about in that nursing home. You’d better be adding it to the list.”

“Oh, trust me, my dear, it is forever committed to my memory.” He hummed as you nuzzled his nose before leaning in for another of many kisses.

#Mycroft Holmes #Mycroft Holmes x reader #Mycroft x reader #gndw fic

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himegureisu · 1 month

Text

3 | The Woman

Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Must be a root canal. - Sherlock

Did you have a domestic? -Mrs. Hudson

Caring is not an advantage. -Mycroft

A/N: Those lines above are what inspired this chapter. This is set in S1 E3 The Great Game. Enjoy!

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst (?), Sick Reader

WC: 1600~

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—————————— 🔎——————————

From the horizon, dawn begins to break upon the land.

Through the curtains, a soft golden hue is cast across the study. On the furniture, light and shadow dance, shelves of old leather tomes, and the occasional trinkets are briefly emphasized by the sun’s radiance. From the fireplace, a hint of cinnamon and fresh parchment wafts through the room.

A piece of quiet in the chaos that is life.

“Myc, I called Anthea to clear your schedule for tomorrow and the following Friday,”

Against the light, on his chair, Mycroft works. His gaze, previously on the thin dossier, turns to you as you enter.

“Why is that, my dear?” he asks. Truly clueless on this.

“Dentist appointments for you,”

Oh, that.

His tooth has been bothering him for a week and he hasn’t done anything about it. You checked. His schedule for the month didn’t include a single dentist appointment.

This man.

“You didn’t need to, my dear,” Mycroft dismissed, “It will go away,”

“You don’t know that,” In front of his desk, you stand, hands on your hips, as he winced from the pain, “You’re not a dentist, Myc,”

“I am one of the most intelligent people in the world,” he attests. His patience was thin from a long night. His ire slowly rose. Was this the only reason you disturbed him? When there was much to do than this? “I do know what this is,”

“Is it so bad that I care that you’re in pain?”

“Caring is not an advantage,” he simply answered.

What? Did he honestly just say that? Where did that even come from?

His solid gaze and silence afterward were the answer. Your heart ached at its implications. Was everything a lie? Your mind conjures every memory and moment shared between you two. His smile, laughter, and the way he longed for your touch. Your chest is heavier, the thoughts slowly consuming you.

Did he not care?

“If caring is not an advantage, then I guess this whole marriage is a sham,” your voice breaking, you turned away, “Don’t expect me for breakfast, or dinner, or even in bed tonight,”

His eyes widened in shock, at last, he recognized the implication of his words, however, too late. His study door slammed shut, as you walked out, and echoed throughout the house. Regret and shame weighed heavily on his shoulders.

What has he done?

—————————— 🔎——————————

True to your word, you weren’t at breakfast. You couldn’t face him. Your cheeks are stained. Your eyes puffed from crying in the guest room. Your rings seem to mock you on sight. It was tempting to throw them off the Thames but decided against it.

It was too early for that.

Your chauffeur dropped you off at work as usual. Your eyes are hidden behind a pair of shades that others did well not to comment on. Your head aches from the tears and turmoil, but you know that life goes on.

Your phone is slowly bombarded by his messages that you rightfully ignored.

Throughout the morning, your headache worsened. Your focus is off, the letters on your computer screen blur, and the room spins a bit around you.

Every joint in your body hurts, not because of Mycroft, but because the warmth radiating from your breath is the only sign you need.

A fever. You couldn’t work, not like this.

Your manager was informed of your condition and tasked not to tell your husband that you were sick. Your chauffeur immediately returned to pick you up when he started to text him.

“Don’t you dare report back to him,” you snap at the man withdrawing his hold on the phone, “If he cares, then he’ll text me directly not you,”

“Yes, ma’am,” they comply.

At home, you bundle yourself in the guest bedroom. Medicine on one nightstand, soup on the other as you hide beneath the sheets, tears falling once again hoping that everything would turn out okay.

—————————— 🔎——————————

Your genuine interest in who he was beneath the stoic persona was what first attracted him to you. Other people didn’t do that. Other people never did that.

But evidently, you weren’t other people.

That’s why when you didn’t come for breakfast, for the first time, in a long time, he was scared. Scared of losing you because of who and how he is.

When his messages were ignored when he asked for an update and your driver simply answered I can’t say, sir, her orders. The pit that formed in his stomach only went deeper. His anxiety escalates with each passing minute.

He couldn’t work, not like this. He was wrong. He needed to make it right.

“Anthea,” he called over the intercom, the young assistant quickly appeared phone on hand, “Do clear my schedule for the rest of the day I’m going home,”

“Sir?” Anthea inquired, as he started to walk out, “What about —”

“No, this is important,” The most important.

“Of course, sir, I’ll have your car waiting outside,”

His driver takes the fastest route back upon his insistence. His thoughts were a whirlwind of the worst scenarios. What if you were gone? What if you truly left, rings on the countertop and a letter in the kitchen to explain?

By five in the afternoon, he was home. The earliest he’s been in years.

God, he could do better than this. He should. You shouldn’t need to wait for hours for him to come home. He should be a better husband than that.

“Darling, I’m home!” he announced, as soon as he crossed the threshold, though no one answered, and looked around, “My dear, please we need to talk,”

Nothing.

Panic. Complete and utter panic takes over the great Mycroft Holmes.

His heavy steps echoed through the halls as he rushed to the master’s bedroom to find no one. Yet, your effects remained where they were. He goes through every single room in the house until he opens the door to one of the guest bedrooms.

On the bed, beneath a thick lump of blankets, you curled up miserably and ignored his arrival.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out, walking over to the side of the bed, “My dear, please look at me,”

“No,” you quietly answered, “Go away, Mycroft,”

His heart sank at your firm position away from him. He did hurt you, so bad that you couldn’t face him.

Though, you weren’t exactly presentable.

There were tissues crumpled on the other side of the bed. Your cheeks were wet, nose stuffed and red, and eyes swollen from crying as he started to speak.

“I am sorry. I can’t say that enough to make this better,” he paused, his gaze on the mound that separates you, “I didn’t mean to imply that I didn’t care about you. I do care and love you. To love and to cherish, till death do us part that’s a vow I intend to keep, my love,”

Your attention is caught by his term of endearment. He rarely ever calls you that.

“It is that I simply choose what I care about and the rest is insignificant,” he explained, “Caring for trivial little things like a dentist appointment doesn’t matter to me,”

“It does matter to me. You take care of others far too well but you neglect yourself.” you softly said, from beneath the blankets, “Your parents, brother, and I are under constant protection of guards but who protects you Mycroft? Who protects you from yourself? Who cares for the carer? I don’t want you to die early Mycroft. There’s so much life has in store for us,”

Your headaches after that little speech. A sharp pain briefly passes through causing you to wince and close your eyes.

“I understand. I will endeavor to do and take care of myself better,” he says and turns to see the back of your head poking out from the sheets.

“My love, please look at me,”

You shake your head no. Big mistake.

Your pained groan comes to his ears loud and clear as he leans down to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Darling?” His fingers touch the side of your head, very warm. No rather alarmingly warm, “You’re sick,”

He deduced and finally, you push the blanket down a bit to face him. Your body is a raging furnace. Your skin is too pale in the light. Your breaths are shallow and insufficient. His hand is cool on your skin as he places it on your forehead with a frown.

“How long has this been?” he asks, noticing the medicine and cold soup on the nightstands, “How are you feeling? When did you last take medicine?”

To think, he thinks he doesn't care when he fusses like a mother hen.

“Just this afternoon, I’m tired, hot yet cold, one nostril is clogged annoying and my head hurts so much,” you confessed, “I drank paracetamol when I came home so it’s been five hours,”

“You can take another one then,” he stands up, “After I ask for food from the kitchens,”

“Okay,” you concede, as he kissed your cheek, “Myc, don’t. You’ll get sick,”

“I never get sick, love,” he walked over to the door to leave, but paused in step, “Are we okay?”

His eyes glisten in hope and fear of your answer. Your lips slowly turn upward as he quietly continues to assess you and your condition.

“We’re getting there,”

You say a sense of relief washes over you both. He nods, a small smile playing on his lips before he heads out to fetch food for you. As he leaves, he can’t help but feel grateful that in all of the people in the world, you loved him despite everything.

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#mycroft holmes #mycroft #bbc mycroft #bbc mycroft holmes #mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft x reader #bbc sherlock #xreader #mycroft holmes x you

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