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#sherlock x reader
billion-foot · 21 hours
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holylulusworld · 4 months
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Mrs. Sherlock Holmes masterlist
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Summary: Your marriage starts rocky.
Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader
Warnings: angst, implied innocent reader, smut in future chapters, innocent reader, shy/insecure reader
A/N: A collection of drabbles on how you became Mrs. Sherlock Holmes.
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Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (1)
Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (2)
Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (3)
Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (4)
Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (5)
Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (6)
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sherlocksoft · 10 months
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The Experiment
Sherlock Holmes x reader
Masterlist
Summary: When you married Sherlock, you discovered a side to him that you would never have expected. A side that was only for you.
Author's notes: See if you can spot the line I included from a Sherlock Holmes story as a nod to Victorian Sherlock… I used a few Victorian terms in this to make it authentic, so on the off chance that you're an historian specialising in Victorian dirty talk, please be kind 😉. This is written with any Victorian Sherlock in mind, but leaning toward Henry.
Warnings/content: nsfw, shameless smut, 18+, f!reader, reader has a vagina, dirty talk (but make it Victorian), first time, marriage, breeding kink, fingering, cream pie, cunnilingus, overstimulation, discussion of safe word, mentions of blow jobs, dom Sherlock if you squint, mentioned aftercare
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Marrying a gentleman like Sherlock, there was no surprise that when it came to matters of the marital bed, he was technically as inexperienced as you.
You had been delighted to learn that he had a tendency to live slobbishly from time to time despite scrubbing up exceptionally well; neglecting his hair, sleeping in, wearing his dressing gown all day, not bothering with trifles like what time you ate dinner or who was calling in when his organised chaos took over your home (especially if it was his brother Mycroft).
You were also pleased that he wasn’t a prude — in his line of work you supposed it would be difficult to be completely prudish — because you felt you could comfortably be yourself around him, which seemed such a rare treat for a woman living in these days.
But the one thing you were utterly surprised by, was the way he spoke to you about sex. And even more surprising; how completely crazed he seemed for you. It went against everything you expected of him while courting, and definitely against everything that the general public would ever imagine of him.
Always treating you entirely properly, you’d expected an awkward and perhaps uncomfortable encounter upon consummating your marriage, sure that he would not have time or care for physical affection, especially since he usually displayed such an obvious aversion to the touch of others.
On the contrary, he seemed to have a great deal of confidence as well as an intricate insight into the topic, even upon your first time together. His approach set every nerve in your body aflame before sating you completely and providing a generous offering of his pearly seed to establish itself in your belly.
When you found yourself atop your newly shared bed, at first you worried your ankles may be revealed as your dress lifted above your boots, but he didn’t seem at all phased. You supposed people did see one another in the nude once they were married, and although the thought had been eating away at your nerves, but Sherlock didn’t seem nearly as on edge, which went a long way to soothing your worries.
You’d seen this look of his before. His sparkling eyes devoured you as though you were a new and exciting mystery to be solved, and knowing him as you did, he would no doubt be filled with drive fit for a thorough investigation.
‘Do not worry, darling, I shan’t strip you of your beautiful dress just yet,’ he soothed, caressing your cheek before shedding himself of his jacket and loosening his ascot. ‘Let us start slow, we do have all night after all.’
He moved down to sit beside where you laid upon the bed, and his fingers worked to remove your boots, sending shivers tingling up your legs as his flesh eventually brushed against yours.
You watched him carefully as he rolled his sleeves up, wondering what on earth he was preparing for. You began to feel entirely like one of his experiments, and you supposed that in a way, since this was his first time too, you were. The thought made your lips curl in amusement and your heart race.
‘Have you researched sex, Sherlock?’ you asked bashfully as he lifted your skirts further and ran his fingertips, featherlight and only slightly shaky, up along the contours of your inner thighs.
Gently, he pushed your legs apart, fingers hooking under the soft fabric of your bloomers as that gorgeous curl loosened to fall over his forehead.
‘Of course I have,’ he said simply, still entirely focussed on contributing to your growing arousal. ‘One cannot possibly get something of such delicate balance down to an exact science without sufficient data… just like one cannot perform an exact art without practise. And practice, we shall…’
Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson at the imagery of him studying indecent books with your pleasure in mind. You were overcome with an unusual desire to squeeze your thighs together, but ignored it in favour of feeling entirely safe in his apparently capable hands. Hands that were slipping your bloomers down past your knees and dropping them unceremoniously to the floor.
His fingers began to explore your slick folds, not at all helping to cool the red hot blush that powdered your cheeks.
‘Oh, how I’ve dreamed of bedding you, my darling,’ he breathed, settling properly beside you on the bed. ‘I’m going to satisfy you in ways you cannot fathom. Don’t be shy, you’re doing so well for me.’
Your unexpected cry of pleasure tore through the otherwise silent room, his finger now slowly pumping in and out of your heat. You gripped his arm as if holding on for dear life, fearful that you might otherwise float away in this unexpected haze of bliss.
‘You feel like silk,’ he praised, voice weakening slightly. ‘That’s it, hold on to me, you’re safe. You’re going to come on my fingers first, my needy little minx. Focus on how they fill you, how they caress your inner walls. Does it excite you as it excites me?’
You nodded. Your mind was fuzzy with pleasure like you’d never known, so much so that answering verbally seemed a certain impossibility.
‘I have fantasised about taking you on my fingers,’ he whispered, low and deep into your ear, ‘how divine you would sound as you give in to your pleasure, my name slipping hungrily from between those pretty lips.’
He removed his finger then, and a whine of protest erupted from somewhere within you. You just felt so empty without his elegant digit sliding in and out of your swollen entrance, dragging against something inside that made you absolutely ravenous for more — but a new sensation soon took over and you felt disappointed no longer.
His slick coated fingers dragged up through your folds and you shuddered, all the nerve endings in your body, it seemed, set alight at once. But when he reached the throbbing nub at the apex of your sex, there was suddenly ten times the bliss you’d felt before and your body jolted upward as your scream pierced the room.
‘Ah, it seems it’s not so hard to find after all,’ he said casually, ‘I summised that most men were simply to lazy to bother with this little trick, and perhaps I was onto something. But look at you darling, how you tremble for me while I massage your pretty, soaked flower. What man wouldn’t want to witness their love so utterly wanton for their touch? To feel her blatant arousal at his very fingertips?’
Your mind had turned all but blank, the sensations shooting through your body overwhelming you as his fingers danced with perfect pressure against your clitoris.
‘Sh-Sherlock- I- oh!’
‘I know, darling, I know, you need to come for me, don’t you?’
Swiftly, he pressed his thumb to your clit and slipped a finger easily back inside, fucking you harder and faster than before, watching with delight as you unravelled beneath him.
As the lewd slapping of his fingers fucking into your sopping sex filled the room he, quite pragmatically albeit with a much darker voice than that which he uses during his usual experiments, talked you through your release.
‘This pleasure will soon overwhelm you, culminating in your orgasm. If all goes to plan, your quim will rapidly clench around my finger and there’ll be something like sparks at your clitoris, then you’ll feel a few moments of indescribable ecstasy...’
Your own fingers snapped around his wrist, feeling his steady yet vigorous movements, and you wondered how on earth anything could feel better than this, right now.
And then it hit.
‘Ah, yes, there it is. That’s it! Yes, come for me! Come for me!’
His name did indeed tear from your parted lips, shaky and breathy and desperate, and then his fingers began to slow, easing you down from your high until he gently withdrew them.
Your eyes closed as you relaxed back against the pillows, your legs shaking. You heard a humming sound that pulled you back to the present, though, and glanced across at your husband to see him gleefully sucking your slick from his fingers.
‘It is frankly a disservice to the entire human race to consider that act depraved. Mmh. And you taste like the sweetest nectar, darling... tell me, did it feel good?’
You nodded, biting your lips together.
‘There’s no shame in it, my love. Especially if it feels good.’
‘It felt exquisite,’ you breathed, punctuated with a blissful sigh, and Sherlock smiled broadly. A rare sight. ‘But what about you?’
‘I do not wish to rush you. I will be truthful, however — after watching that beautiful display, my root is as solid as a rock. Whilst I've no intention of pressuring you, I will not turn you down if you’re sure you feel sufficiently ready for me.’
‘I… I think I do,’ you whispered, and you loosened your grip from the layers of your skirt to rest a hand delicately on the broad expanse of his chest.
He gasped at the simple affection, and the reaction caused your lower lips, still throbbing with the after effects of your climax, to quiver.
‘May I?’ you asked carefully, and he nodded. Your hand trailed down gradually, until it reached his lower stomach.
Sherlock’s breath quickened, and you pushed lower still, cupping his erection.
‘Ah- ohhh-’
His eyebrows raised and his eyes fell closed as you stroked his length softly and slowly, but before you could find a proper rhythm, he quickly snapped his hips away, grabbing your hand firmly in his as he leant in to kiss you with fierce passion.
As he pulled away from your lips, he muttered, ‘I hoped to inject you with my seed, but I fear that if you continue touching me for a moment longer, the only thing filled with it will be my undergarments.’
‘Then please, Sherlock, take me-’
And take you, he did. Within a second you were pushed onto your back, and he was settling between your legs, hurriedly unfastening his trousers to release his steadily leaking arousal.
As he carefully pushed himself into you, your warmth enveloping his length, an expression of sheer bliss relaxed his handsome features.
‘Am I too big, darling?’ he panted. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘No- please, don’t stop, Sherlock, I want to be filled with your cock- filled to the brim with your blow-’
He smirked at your words. You mustn't be quite so innocent if you were using words like that.
Sherlock began to steadily roll his hips. Your core burned with an unusual pain, a pain that made you crave more.
His forehead pressed to yours, your hot breath mingling with his each time he thrust gently into you and let out a sweet little whimper.
‘I told you I’d- fantasised about- pleasuring you- ha- ahhh- I can’t deny- I’ve thought of many acts, some of which you might consider- mmh- indecent- but each flood of bliss I give to you is- ha- simply the perfect result of an experiment I’ve been dying to carry out since I met you, and- ohhh-’
His voice was so breathy and shaky now, you knew that he wouldn’t last much longer, but you wanted to give him a taste of how he’d made you feel. You wrapped your legs around his waist and dug your heels into his back, pulling him closer and signalling for him to go harder.
‘Do you- ohh- do you w-want my children, darling? Do you want me to- ah!- unleash my potent seed within these t-tender walls and- give you a child?’
‘I want nothing less,’ you breathed, thrilled at his words, and at that he snapped his hips unrelentingly, snaking a hand between your writhing bodies to massage your sensitive clit once again, and Sherlock relished in the moan his touch elicited.
‘Clever little- ohh- trick, isn’t it?’ he just about managed, and less than a second later, came with force inside you.
Your walls tightened, contracting around his thick cock to milk him of every last drop, your tightening walls taking him to a plane of existence he’d never before explored.
This orgasm felt different for you, you noted, and if either of you had been coherent enough to discuss the matter you were sure he would ask you to write it down and keep a record detailing those differences.
Nevertheless, your second peak was just as strong, and you fell weak once again as Sherlock’s seed dribbled onto your thighs and he rolled off you, panting.
‘Darling- that was- oh, it was-’ he muttered, half delirious. ‘You feel- good god, you feel-’
‘I came again,’ you admitted, proud this time, knowing it would please him.
‘I know. I felt it,’ he smirked, and then, almost as if he read your mind, ‘did it feel different?’
‘Yes,’ you chuckled.
‘Oh how wonderful! I should write a monograph on the matter. Only for your eyes of course — although it could benefit at least half of the population if there were more literature on women’s pleasure.’
‘So, a filthy love letter just for me, with a touch of the scientific?’
‘You understand me so well,’ he cooed, stroking your cheek. ‘This is precisely why I adore you.’ And suddenly, there was a sparkle in his eyes that you’d seen when he reached a breakthrough. ‘Tell me, have you ever heard of cunnilingus?’
You shook your head. ‘Not… really. I may have gleaned a… basic understanding-’
‘It’s precisely the act I mentioned may be considered indecent, but I would very much like the opportunity to try it with you.’
‘Tell me about it?’ you breathed excitedly.
‘Perhaps it would be easier to show you. Do you trust me?’
‘Yes. Do it,’ you said eagerly, hungry for as much as he was willing to give you.
‘Consider this another experiment… if you dislike it, you must tell me and I shall end it, however my understanding is that if it works, you will not be entirely in your right mind so we must set a code in place.’
‘How about a word that we don’t associate with sexual activities?’ you suggested.
‘Precisely. “Mycroft” it is.’
You burst into a simultaneous fit of laughter, until he silenced you with another, fervent kiss.
‘You might need to loosen your corset for this one. Providing three orgasms in restrictive clothing is no way to treat one’s wife. And what if there are four, or five? I would never forgive myself.’
Taking his advice, you began to strip, soon revealing your breasts to him.
‘Oh, darling, what a perfect start...’ He wrapped his lips around a nipple and sucked lightly, his fingers toying with the other. He was pleased to feel you squirm beneath him and jolts of pleasure shot from your chest to your core and back again.
‘Oh- I never knew they could- mmh- feel like that…’ you groaned, but once again he left you cold to move onto something new, shimmying lower to settle his face at the apex of your thighs.
His tongue lashed warm and wet against your sex, circling your nub, exploring your folds and lapping at your entrance to collect your combined juices.
The way you shuddered had him fighting off a second erection. Not now — he needed to concentrate, and was hoping that with this new method he could give you multiple orgasms in one sitting. His own pleasure could wait.
He hummed into your quim as though he were enjoying a long awaited meal, and you quickly fell apart once again as his hums of delight vibrated through your core.
‘Sherlock,’ you whined, ‘Oh, Sherlock…’
‘One more?’ Came his muffled response, his deep growl reverberating through your weakened body. It didn’t take long for another peak to take over, your mind completely clouded in a haze of overstimulation.
‘I think it’s time for a break now, my love,’ he muttered softly, coming up to hold you, his pretty lips coated in your juices. ‘I rather think that this has been an experiment I would take pleasure in repeating regularly, if you’ll allow me.’
‘I’d be delighted,’ you sighed dreamily, already feeling the pull of sleep.
‘I will also mention that, as soon as you’re comfortable enough, I would rather like to experiment with my own orgasms. See how they feel inside your hand… or your mouth…’
‘Yes, yes I would… I would like…’
‘Shh… for now, it’s time to sleep. Rest, my darling wife you’ve done so well for me.’
You nodded, and that was the last you remembered of the evening.
A thin blade of warm sunlight woke you in the morning. You found yourself comfortably wrapped inside his shirt. He’d cleaned you up after you drifted off to sleep, and you rose feeling refreshed and relaxed.
Creaking open the bedroom door, you heard his handsome voice floating through. He had a client, and when you peeked through the gap you could see that your husband looked impeccably well put together. Unlike you; if anyone saw you like this… you dreaded to think. You smiled to yourself, though, wondering what his stoic looking client would think if he knew what Sherlock had spent all night doing before meeting with him. You bet Sherlock could teach him a thing or two.
You could only hope this case would be too boring for him so he would return to your bed, for you entirely planned to take Sherlock into your mouth the moment you were able. To taste him. To give him as many releases as he had given you. To see him entirely, blissfully weakened by pleasure…
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love-strawberry · 1 year
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we'll be alright
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summary : in which they fight but there's no doubt that they'll end up alright.
pairing : sherlock holmes x reader
warnings : slight spoiler for enola holmes 2, ooc!sherlock, slight angst
author's note : so, hi!! i love you, thank you for sticking around, i love you!! <3
tagged : @0oolookitsme
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“sherlock?” 
“enola. what are you doing here?” sherlock questioned, swaying as he tried to focus on his sister. “it’s not safe. there are scary people about”
“yes, let me know when you meet one,” enola sighed, walking towards him and standing close in case he fell over. “brother, are you quite yourself?”
“i’m fine, it was just a disagreement over a glass of wine and whose wine it was,” sherlock waved her off, looking around. “there was another disagreement that i had, not here, no. at home. it quite upset me. very much, in fact.”
“you fought with y/n?” enola asked, her eyebrows raising. she absolutely adored y/n and to hear that her brother and her sister-in-law were fighting was a shock considering they were totally smitten with each other.
“i find after wine, it’s very difficult to make your arms and legs move,” sherlock completely ignored her question, swaying dangerously. enola rushed to support, a wince escaping her as sherlock leaned on her for support. “i don’t usually imbibe but i’m not a case, you see. it’s proven rather tricky”
“cab,” enola called for a carriage, walking while supporting her brother’s weight, losing her footing every once in a while during their very short walk to the side of the road.
“hello,” both the holmes’ siblings greeted the driver, moving to sit inside.
“where are we going?” sherlock asked, looking at enola for answers.
“221 baker street,” enola replied, helping him get in the cab.
the ride to 221 baker street was filled with silence, with enola occasionally trying to ask about y/n and sherlock mindless chatter about his latest case.
the pair of siblings exited the cab, paying the driver and walked to the front door. after opening it, enola stood with sherlock in front of 221a and stopped, looking at her brother for any sort of indication that he was going to open it.
“that’s a and i’m b,” sherlock mumbled, his eyes unfocused as he first pointed at the door in front of them and then at the stairs going to the upper level.
enola sighed, rolling her eyes slightly as she moved over to the staircase. she looked at the number of stairs they’d have to climb before looking at her drunk brother.
“i didn’t know you had steps,” enola mentioned, wanting nothing more than to just sleep and wake up in a week or so.
“one should always have steps to avoid people stepping on you,” sherlock said, his words slurring together as he stood there. “that’s a tip, you should probably write that down.”
“alright,” enola started as she let go of him slightly and helped him lean against the wall, “how about i go upstairs and get y/n and she can help me get you upstairs?”
“y/n?” sherlock’s attention shifted to enola, his head leaning on the wall. “i don’t know if she’ll be here.”
“why not?” enola asked, worry growing in the pit of her stomach. had the fight really been that bad?
“she was quite upset with me,” sherlock spoke, his words stringing together to a somewhat coherent sentence. “i wouldn’t be surprised if she chose to go and stay with her sister for the time being.”
“we’re not at all done with this conversation as i’m very eager to know just how you’ve messed it up with the most loving and caring woman but we do need to get you upstairs,” enola said, her tone of voice sharp as she supported sherlock and guided him towards the first step. “all right, lift your left leg.”
“enola?” a voice questioned from the top of the stairs, making both the siblings look up. “and sherlock? what happened?”
“y/n!” enola exclaimed with relief in her voice, excited to see her sister-in-law and to get some help. “could you please help me in getting your drunk husband in the apartment?”
“y/n, love,” sherlock called out but his voice was ignored by both the ladies, leaving him with a frown on his face.
“oh my, i’m so sorry,” y/n rushed down the stairs, her dress flailing behind her as she went to sherlock’s other side and supported him. “did you get him here all by yourself?”
“had to,” enola informed, climbing up one step at a time. “he was drunk and got thrown out of an establishment.”
“god,” y/n mumbled, ignoring sherlock’s attempts to talk to her. it was obvious that she was angry with him. “i’m sorry you had to see him like this, enola.”
“it’s alright,” enola replied in her cheerful voice, the one that made y/n smile at the girl. the company of three finally reached the top of the stairs and y/n opened the door. “i can hold this incident over his head for years to come. at least, until he does something else.”
“i got him from here,” y/n assured the girl, her hands going over her husband’s shoulders as she supported him. “you go, get freshened up."
“alright,” with that enola went off in the direction of the bathroom, leaving sherlock and y/n alone.
“you should sit down, sherlock,” y/n said to her husband, leading him to the couch in the corner of the room. 
“you’re right,” sherlock mumbled, tripping as he moved across the carpet. “of course you are, darling.”
sherlock sat on the couch with a grunt falling from his lips, y/n’s hand automatically going to his shoulder while the other cupped his cheek, making him look at her. when she realised what she was doing, she quickly withdrew her hands and folded them in front of her, trying to ignore the confused look on her husband's face.
“are you okay?” she questioned, keeping in mind to keep her voice low.
“yes, i’ll be up and running in no time,” sherlock assured, reaching for her hands but stopped when she made no move to take his.
“i was worried when you stormed out and didn’t come back before nightfall,” y/n admitted, her fidgeting with the numerous rings she wore, a nervous habit she had; something sherlock always picked on.
“i apologise,” sherlock whispered, burying his head in his hands, the light from the lamps making his head hurt. “for worrying you. and for other things.”
“that’s alright,” y/n replied, chuckling lightly, though it was weak and she sounded tired. “i think i'll always be worrying when it comes to you. i’ve made my peace with it.”
"you're not mad?" sherlock asked, his voice muffled.
"we'll talk later, sherlock," y/n spoke, her voice sharp as she took a deep breath. "you make it hard to be mad at you, when you're in this stage."
“i suppose i don't make it any easier," sherlock asked, a small smile on his lips though y/n couldn't see it. "being me."
"you don't," y/n looked away, choosing to look at the portraits on the wall. "but that's okay."
sherlock was about to say something else when enola's voice sounded from their bathroom.
"i better go and see what she wants," y/n spoke though she made no move to leave. a moment passed between the couple before y/n moved towards him and pushed him to lay on the couch by his shoulders. "you, rest. please."
"if i must," sherlock said, leaning into her touch and craved it when it was gone. he settled and closed his eyes. "is she to stay the night?"
"yes," y/n spoke sternly, leaving no room for argument making sherlock grumble but he didn't object; knowing it would be fruitless.
y/n moved through the living room, making her way to the bathroom and knocked twice before waiting for enola to open the door.
"a moment," enola called from the inside and half a minute later, the door was thrown open and y/n was pulled inside.
"is everything alright?" y/n questioned, looking at the teenager whose hair were down, strands falling in her face.
"could you do my hair, please?" enola questioned, a pink tint on her face. "i usually just throw them in a bun and that does the trick but i love how you do your hair and since i'm here and you're here, maybe you could do my hair?"
"of course i will!" y/n exclaimed as she pushed enola's hair out of her face. "you shouldn't ask, enola. you're like my sister. i basically raised you."
"still, i felt the need to ask," enola shrugged, handing her the brush that was on the counter and turning around.
"you shouldn't," y/n reassured her, brushing her hair softly. "i'd never refuse."
"i'm glad to hear that," enola smiled at her, looking through the mirror in front of her. "is sherlock okay?"
"he's resting," y/n mentioned, starting to braid small braids. "at least, i hope so."
"did you two have a fight?" enola questioned, no longer being able to control her curiosity.
"he told you about it?" y/n asked, mild surprise on her face but still, she smiled at the girl.
"he wasn't sure if you'd be home when we reached here," enola spoke, wincing slightly as her hair got caught in one of the many rings y/n wore, the latter apologising profusely as she untangled them. "said you might've chosen to go to your sister's house. and he also mentioned something about a disagreement at home when i first saw him outside the bar."
"oh, um, we did have a fight," y/n admitted, a small frown on her face as she recalled the harsh words that were thrown around. "but i'd never just leave."
"did he apologise?" enola questioned, admiring the braid y/n had finished. "please tell me he did."
"he did," y/n assured the younger girl. "i wouldn't be here any longer if he didn't."
"that's good," enola smiled, her fingers twirling around the braid. "you're both good then?"
"i don't think it works like that, darling," y/n spoke slowly, her eyes trained on her hair, a sad smile on her face as she refused to look at her in the mirror. "it's not just a simple 'sorry' and then everything is fine."
enola stayed silent as she thought about what y/n and finally after a couple moments, spoke. "what do you mean?"
"i mean, you can't just hurt someone and then realise that what you did was wrong. you can't apologise and expect everything to be okay, that's not how it is," y/n spoke, her voice calm and controlled but her mind was filled with the words that sherlock and her had spoken—yelled at eachother. "the person you hurt, they're not just going to forget and forgive you."
"then, what are we supposed to do?" enola spoke, her voice a whisper as she watched y/n finish off the last braid and tuck it neatly with the others. "if we apologise but they don't accept it, then what? we're supposed to keep on telling them?"
"we need to show them," y/n corrected her, turning her around to she could pin up the strands that kept getting in her eyes. "with actions, not just words. with what we do, with gestures. they need to know that we cherish them, that we're thankful that they're here, with us, they need to know that we love them and that we're sorry."
"sherlock does that?" enola asked, her eyes on her sister in law.
"he does," y/n whispered, looking down as she felt the familiar burning in her eyes and the floor became a mosaic. "he really does."
"then why are you both not okay?" enola asked, comforting y/n as she rubbed her arms.
"because i'm so worried," y/n started, her breathing heavier and her voice choked up. "i'm so worried, enola. it's starting to affect me physically. he's taking on dangerous cases everyday, the next one more dangerous than the last and he goes out without any sort of protection and i'm so scared that he's not going to come back home to me."
"he's always going to come back to you," enola spoke, her hearting hurting when she heard y/n sniffle. "he's sherlock and you're y/n. you'll always find eachother."
"last night, he didn't come home until midnight and i had stay up waiting for him because i hate it when he comes back and there's no one greeting him and he had a cut on his upper arm and i freaked out," y/n rambled, her hands clutching enola's, the latter not letting go even for a second, "and we had a small argument about him coming this late and coming home hurt when i've told him many times to take someone from scotland yard with him but it ended in a big fight and we both went to bed angry, it was the worst. in the morning, i brought it up again and he just—yelled at me and i yelled at him and he just stormed out."
"i—i don't know what to say," enola breathed out, her hands still onto y/n's. "except, let me go out there and smack some sense into him."
y/n let out a shaky laugh, letting go of enola's hand to wipe her eyes.
"letting all of that out felt good," y/n admitted, sniffling slightly, twirling enola as she looked over her hair. "i needed this, thank you, enola."
"of course, y/n," enola smiled, her eyes sparkling under the lamp in the corner of the bathroom. "thank you, for doing my hair."
"don't mention it, love," y/n waved her off, her heart feeling lighter. "the guest room is neat and clean, you should get some sleep."
"ah, yes," enola spoke, looking at herself in the mirror before smiling at y/n. "i'll see you in the morning."
"of course," y/n smiled back tiredly, her head hurting.
"good night," enola called as she walked away from the bathroom and towards the guest room, her voice drifting as the door closed.
"good night," y/n whispered, knowing that there was no way she heard her. she looked at herself in the mirror, taking note of the year stained cheeks and how anyone could tell that she had been crying. her hair was a mess, flicks restricting her view.
she sighed, before opening the faucet and washing her face, cursing at herself for not doing it earlier as it already made her head feel less heavy.
after drying her face with a cloth, she made her way to the living and spotted sherlock in the same position in which she had left him. he seemed to have fallen asleep, with how even and deep his breathing was and how he was still and peaceful. there was no furrow of his eyebrows, y/n noted as she admired him.
"sherlock?" y/n called as he leaned over him, her voice barely audible as she didn't want to startle him. "we should head to bed."
sherlock groaned as his hands covered his face, moving slightly but he made no indication of sitting up.
"sherlock, please," y/n spoke, her hand on his shoulder. "let us go to bed."
"hm?" sherlock hummed, opening his eyes a fraction before closing them.
"sit up," y/n ordered, her voice still light. sherlock pushed himself up, looking up at her with tired eyes and y/n had to resist the urge to kiss his forehead.
“come on, let’s get you in bed,” y/n spoke softly, holding onto sherlock's shoulder as he stood up. she lead him to their bedroom, his body swaying slightly at the movement, making y/n grip onto him a bit tighter.
“that sounds nice,” sherlock mumbled, his hands holding her waist as he walked into their bedroom with her support.
“it does, doesn’t it?” y/n sat him on the bed, removing his coat, tie and vest. “have some water before you fall asleep. here.”
“i’m not going to fall asleep,” sherlock huffed before drinking the water y/n from the glass on the bedside table with a small ‘thank you’, “i’m not tired.”
“sure you aren’t, love,” y/n muttered, helping him get under the covers and adjusting the pillow under his head. “do you need anything else?"
"huh?" sherlock asked, his head falling against the pillow. "no, i suppose."
"alright," y/n moved towards the dressing room to change into her night gown. "i'll be back in a minute."
y/n only got a hum from him in reply as she made her way into the small attached dressing room and changing as fast as she could into her night gown. folding the dress as neatly as she could, she opened the door to find sherlock sitting up with his back to the headboard.
"sherlock?" y/n asked, confusing evident in her voice as she made way towards him. she sat on the edge of the bed, her worries increasing as sherlock stayed silent for the better part of a minute.
"i'm sorry," sherlock spoke, his voice small as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "for yelling, for storming out, for worrying you, everything. all of it."
"it's okay, love," y/n didn't even notice the term of endearment fall from her lips. "we can talk in the morning. you need to rest."
"no, it can't wait," sherlock argued, opening his eyes and looking at her with utmost seriousness. his hands clasped hers, holding them with a firm grip. "i have only just realised how much worry i cause you."
"sher—"
"if you were out there, i don't know what i would do," sherlock continued speaking, the words falling from his lips effortlessly. "and i realise that i have been selfish, worrying my wife about my well being, coming home late and sometimes even injured."
"darling—"
"i'll work on that," sherlock nodded, not noticing y/n trying and failing to speak. "i'll talk to lestrade about getting a constable with me on dangerous cases."
"love—"
"we already went to bed angry at eachother yesterday," sherlock spoke tiredly, his eyes dropping and his grip on her hands going lax. "i didn't want you to be mad at me tonight. i love you and i'm sorry, y/n."
"i love you and i'm not mad, not anymore," y/n shook her head, smiling as she leaned over and kissed his forehead, stroking his face with her thumb. "i just worry about you, a lot."
"and from now on, i won't give you a reason to," sherlock promised, leaning into her touch.
"good," y/n dropped another kiss to his forehead, smiling when he looked up at her and leaned in to kiss her on the lips. she smiled as she met him halfway.
the kiss was messy, with y/n leaning over him and sherlock's hand supporting her. y/n's hand found the front of his shirt, pulling him even more closer while sherlock's hand circled her waist, tracing small circles on her hips as he kissed her back with fervour.
they broke apart, their breathing heavy as they smiled at eachother, hearts beating fast.
"you need to sleep, mr. holmes," y/n reminded him, pulling away from him and moving towards her side of the bed. "you're tired."
"no," sherlock denied, watching her as she got in under the cover. "maybe, yes. god, am i tired."
"told you," y/n smiled at him with satisfaction. "sleep."
sherlock watched as she leaned over her bedside table and turned off the lamp settled comfortably, shifting slightly. he waited until she was fully settled in before moving close to her.
he laid his head in the crook of her neck, his nose touching her collarbone as his breath hit the exposed part of her neck, making her shiver. her hands automatically went to his hair, running her fingers through it.
minutes passed as y/n laid in bed, staring at the ceiling and running her fingers through her husband's hair.
"sherlock?" y/n asked, her voice barely a whisper.
after hearing no answers from him, she shifted lightly to get a good look on his face and smiled as she noticed that he was fast asleep. his mouth was parted slightly and each exhale of breath made y/n shiver and get goosebumps. his grip on her was relaxed and the look on his face was so peaceful that it made y/n feel at peace.
kissing the top of head, y/n inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and sending a prayer to whatever force that made him hers.
sure, they had their disagreements, both big and small. their difference of opinion cause a rift every now and then but still, there was no doubt.
we'll be alright, she thought before falling asleep with the love of her life.
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5K notes · View notes
shellyshellshell · 5 months
Text
What Denial Brings
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Attn: Werewolf Sherlock coming in hot!!! @mrsevans90 and I collaborated on this one. She had so many good ideas and I did my best to write it so I hope you’re proud of me friend lol. I hope you all enjoy it as well 😊
Word Count: 3,490
Pairing: Alpha!Sherlock Holmes x Omega!Female Detective Reader
Summary: You join Sherlock to work on a case, your investigation having overlapped with his.
Warnings: 18+, mentions of murder/murder investigation related things, A/B/O dynamics, scenting, bit of manhandling, rough/primal sex (p in v), knoting, marking, mating, a little angst (guilt, fear of being rejected), nursing
You sat on the train anxiously awaiting to arrive at your destination. You’d heard of the exceptional Mr. Sherlock Holmes as pretty much everyone had, but to be able to work with him had you a bit nervous. The case you were working overlapped with his so it only made sense. When he’d caught wind of your investigation, he sent after you.
You were approaching and quickly searched your bag for your suppressants. You took two, swallowing them down with a glass of water to assure your omega scent was toned down and your heat kept at bay. The last thing you wanted when working with an alpha was to unexpectedly go into heat or to send him into a rut. The suppressants had always worked wonders though thankfully.
Once stopped, you collected your bags and exited the train to look for him. You knew where to go before even truly looking, the strong scent of alpha overtaking your senses. You had to get hold of yourself, it being so strong, smelling so good, it made your head spin.
“Mr. Holmes,” you said as you approached. “Can I help you?,” he questioned. “Yes it’s… it’s me,” you said as you introduced yourself. His eyes widened in surprise as he took your waiting hand in his much larger one. “You didn’t expect me to be a lady,” you said softly. “Well your boss… Henderson, he’d only referred to you by last name,” he said. “You’re disappointed,” you said. “No! No, not at all. Just surprised. Let me get those bags for you,” he said as he took them from your hands. You smiled softly at him as he led you to the awaiting carriage. Ever the gentleman, he loaded your bags and helped you up onto the seat.
What you didn’t know is he was in fact, slowly losing his mind with you sitting there beside him. He could tell you used suppressants but you smelled absolutely perfect, like honeysuckles on a spring day. He wanted to pull you close and bury his head in your neck, breathe you in, taste you to… to… No. he was being ridiculous. He was a logical man and this was completely illogical. You couldn’t be… but still.
He couldn’t help but smile softly as he took in your side profile. So beautiful and sweet. He turned forward and reminding himself you two had a job to do. He was too smart to get wrapped up in his instincts. He’d been doing fine all these years and wasn’t going to let his biology get in the way of what needed to be done.
“I hope this room is to your liking as it’s yours as long as you’re here,” he told you as he carried your bags in and sat them down. “It’s just fine, Mr. Holmes, thank you,” you told him. “No need for such formalities, darling, seeing we’ll be working together. You can call me Sherlock, if you like,” he told you. “Sherlock,” you replied with a smile. He found himself smiling softly again. “Would you like some tea? Then we can compare notes on this case. Hopefully get this madman off the streets,” he said. “Sounds lovely,” you replied as you grabbed your briefcase and followed him to his study.
He poured your tea and offered you some biscuits as well. You sat sipping it carefully while nibbling at the biscuits. “So this is what I’ve found,” he said as he sat at his desk. You came to his side, standing over the notes he’d taken quickly reading them over. “Yes, I have very similar findings,” you told him before going after your notes. “See this is the exact same. It has to be him, yes?,” you asked. “I would say so,” he agreed.
You moved to sit at the chair in front of his desk then reached for another set of notes to compare. As you did, you and Sherlock’s fingers brushed against one another’s. At his touch you felt your heart race. “Sorry,” you said quietly. “No harm done”, he breathed, though his heart hammered in his chest at a simple touch. A simple touch that made him wish for so much more. “Stupid,” he mumbled to himself. “I’m sorry?,” you asked. “Nothing, darling,” he replied.
The next day there was another body so the two of you went to investigate. When you arrived, people already expected Sherlock. He was met with very little resistance, but they were confused as to why you were there. “She’s working the case with me,” he’d told an officer. “Really? A woman?,” he laughed. Sherlock gave him a stern look and he flinched. “Come darling. Pay no mind to this ignorance,” he said. You followed behind, feeling giddy at the officer’s reaction and Sherlock’s words.
The body had already been taken so the two of you would go to the coroner’s office afterwards but you wanted to search for clues here in the mean time. Sherlock was on one side of the room and you the other. You scoured every inch but found nothing. When you turned you were met with Sherlock’s big blue eyes. “Find something?,” you asked. “No, nothing,” he replied. “Let’s exchange sides just to be certain neither of us have missed anything,” you suggested. “Alright,” he agreed.
When you went to his side, not two feet from where he had been standing was a bloody handprint. “Um… Sherlock?,” you said hesitantly. “Yes?,” he replied. “Did you not notice this here?,” you questioned. He came to your side and looked as you pointed. “I- I suppose I didn’t,” he replied. A light blush crept up his cheeks, which you found quite cute. You giggled lightly. “No worries Sherlock. Did they find a murder weapon?,” you asked. “They did not,” he replied. “Y- you don’t think this person killed our victim with their bare hands? I know the others had extensive injuries and a weapon wasn’t found either,” you shuddered. “That would be… something,” he pondered.
When you went to the morgue Sherlock asked if you’d like to stay outside. “What do you think?,” you asked him. You had never actually seen a dead body before, just read the reports, which were quite graphic in theirselves. “It would make me feel better if you waited darling. They have been really bad. If it was something milder I think it would be fine, but I feel this would disturb you deeply. It’s completely your choice, though,” he said. “I’ll wait for you,” you replied. He nodded before heading in.
The next month the two of you worked, things going about the same. You two were spending a lot of time together and you grew to know more about one another as time went on, but you couldn’t help to feel the longer you stayed the more distracted Sherlock seemed. He was constantly missing clues, and you’d catch him staring at you more often times than not when the two of you were supposed to be taking notes to compare later, when he was supposed to be looking for clues, or even when you had downtime in his home.
“Sherlock is me being here actually helpful?,” you asked him one evening. “Of course. Whatever do you mean darling?,” he asked confusedly. “I don’t know. We don’t seem to be making much progress,” you said, not wanting to bring up the feeling you were distracting him. “These things just take time. It’s difficult when there’s not much to go by. You have been great though darling, truly,” he assured you with a light touch of his hand over yours. There your heart went again. He let it linger for a moment before moving his away. “Alright. What next’s on the agenda then?,” you asked. “I thought tomorrow we’d go to speak with some of the victim’s known associates. One place isn’t far from here so I figured if you were up to it we could walk over,” he said. “Sure,” you replied.
The next morning you awoke, took your morning dose of suppressants, dressed and made your way to the kitchen. Sherlock wasn’t there yet so you made the two of you some breakfast. When you were setting the table Sherlock arrived. “Good morning darling. You’ve made breakfast?,” he questioned. “I have. You hungry?,” you asked. “Yes, thank you,” he said politely as he pulled your chair out for you. You hovered above it lightly as he pushed it in for you. “You sleep well darling?,” he asked as you two ate. “I suppose, and you?,” you asked. “Not really. This case…,” he trailed off. “I know what you mean,” you told him. “Hopefully we’ll get some answers today,” he replied.
After breakfast you began your walk. Sherlock’s “not far,” wasn’t particularly your definition of not far, but you did your best to keep up. “You coming darling?,” he asked. “Yes. My legs are shorter than yours, you know?,” you said, making him laugh. “Sorry,” he said as he slowed down. The cool breeze flowed, tousling the loose hairs that framed your face. Sherlock watched in rapture of your beauty, sighing deeply at the sight and smell of you. With each passing day it was becoming more and more difficult to focus on the work. You were just so perfect in every way and so beautiful. Maybe when the case was over perhaps he could court you properly….
The thought left him as soon as you arrived to your destination. You were brought in and asked a few questions which ended up with useful information. All the victims were associated with one particular alpha which was just the lead you needed. The two of you headed back towards 221b Baker Street to get the carriage and ride into town. The both of you elated for finally catching a break. You walked happily until you were nearly halfway there and the bottom fell out of the sky. “Oh,” you shouted as it poured. “Come on,” Sherlock said as he grabbed your hand.
The two of you ran through the rain, trying to get back as quickly as you could but really it was no use, you both were drenched. When you entered Sherlock lead you into the study. When you looked at each other at first you burst into laughter, but then something in the air shifted. You could smell his strong scent radiating off of him, along with something unfamiliar, something potent and earthy you hadn’t smelled on him before. At the same time it seemed as if your wet skin magnified your scent tenfold. Sherlock’s nostrils flared as it overtook his senses.
You realized it was getting near time for your evening doze of suppressants but it was too late. Your flesh set aflame, cramps twisting your stomach as slick began pooling between your legs. That’s when you realized the unfamiliar smell had indicated that Sherlock gone into rut. You’d been near other alphas before, and nearing your time for medication, but none of them had brought on your heat, even at or near their rut. “Mmm,” you whined as you clutched your abdomen. You moved to leave when Sherlock grabbed you by your arms. “Mine,” he growled.
As soon as he said it, you knew it was true. Every bit of you wanted to submit to him, have him touch you, have him take you. “Yours,” you whispered. He crashed his lips into yours in a bruising kiss, devouring you, before quickly ripping your dress to shreds. Every semblance of the gentle, refined man you’d come to know was gone, giving way to the beast inside of him. He swiped across his desk, sending papers flying everywhere before he threw you up onto it. His close were gone within mere seconds and when he stood bare before you, you trembled. You knew later you’d be incredibly sore but still you wanted him.
He slammed into you in one swift movement making you cry out, but that didn’t deter him. He commenced to thrust into you wildly, teeth bared as he grunted above you. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you my little omega, hmm? I haven’t been able to think straight from the moment we met,” he admitted. All you could do was moan feebly under his brutal thrusts. Deep down you knew this explained everything but you couldn’t think about that now, not with the way he was taking you.
His fingertips dug into your hips hard enough to bruise as he pounded into you. The sound of his grunts, your increasingly loud moans, and the sound of your wet pussy squelching against him filled the room. The sinful symphony was building your arousal steadfastly. “Sherlock,” you keened as you came. “Yes, yes. Good girl. Another,” he told you. You released more slick at his words, your body wanting to give him exactly what he wanted. “You feel so good darling. Tight little pussy of yours. You’re taking your alpha so well,” he groaned. He rubbed your clit with his thumb furiously, sending you into another orgasm.
He snatched you up off the desk and put you on all fours onto the floor. He didn’t even have to ask before you began to present to him. He groaned at the sight before kneeling behind you and slamming back into you. Before it was over he had you laid flat on the floor as he straddled your ass, arms wrapped tightly around your chest, with his laid flat to your back. You felt so overpowered, so overcome by him, and you were loving ever second of it. His pace never faltered, quick snaps of his hips crashing into your backside as he made you come again and again.
He started licking and nipping at your neck. You shuddered at the feeling. “Do you want it Omega? Want everyone to know you’re mine? Want me to give you my knot? Fill you with my pups?,” he asked. “Yes, Alpha,” you whimpered. Somehow he managed to pick up his already relentless pace as he ran one hand down to your aching clit. He rubbed tight little circles into it right before he bit down into your neck just at the juncture of it and your shoulder.
“Sherlock,” you screamed. Pain and pleasure coursed through you as he stayed latched onto you. Your body tried to curl into itself as you came, but you stayed planted firmly beneath him. You could feel him swelling, and then his knot trying to work its way into you. He turned his teeth loose from you and lapped at the bite, cleaning you. “Come on Little Omega, open up for me. Take your alpha’s knot like a good little girl” he encouraged. He was already so big, your body was having a hard time taking anymore, but finally with one last thrust it pushed into you with a popping sensation, locking the two of you together.
“Ooh,” he gasped. His knot was pushing right against your gspot, soon making you see stars once again. With your orgasm, Sherlock was sent into his own, swelling to the point you thought you would burst before emptying his heavy load within you. When he finally came down he rolled to the side, holding you tightly against him. He caressed your body, as he kissed your shoulder. The cool air in the room made your now exposed front ripple with a chill. Sherlock grabbed his coat that laid nearby on the floor and draped it over your body.
You laid like that quietly until his knot went down, and he slipped out of you, making you hiss. “Little Omega,” he whispered. You turned to face him. “Yes, Alpha,” you asked while brushing his wild curls back from his face. “I- I was too rough,” he said full of shame. He could deny it but now you were mated you could feel it flowing off of him in waves “No. You weren’t. I promise,” you told him. “This is not how I would’ve like to do things. I’m not- I just wanted you so badly darling. I thought from the moment we met maybe you were my mate, but I’m not one to give in to impulse. I thought I was stronger, smarter even than what I am, but I was wrong. Denying myself of you only made me want you more, and it resulted in this,” he said somberly.
“Did you not enjoy yourself? Or… do you not want me? Do you regret bonding with me?,” you asked worriedly. He couldn’t reject you. He just couldn’t. You knew it would absolutely kill you. “What? Of course I enjoyed myself, and I do want you Little Omega. I swear to it. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I’m grateful you agreed to letting me claim you. Please don’t think I have any regrets about that in the least. I just don’t like losing control,” he told you. “Well… I liked it,” you said sheepishly. “Naughty girl”, he teased, with a smile.
You kissed him sweetly before laying beside him to look into his eyes. They were so soft and filled with love for you, it took your breath. Suddenly you could feel yourself cramping again. “Ow,” you groaned. Sherlock quickly caught sent of you releasing more slick and hardened again. His eyes darkened and within seconds he was on you again with the same savagery as the first time. When he finished he held you close, rubbing your back soothingly. “I should’ve never denied myself of you,” he said before kissing you lovingly.
After making it through your first rut and heat together the two of you promptly went to the police with your findings before heading you your hometown to gather all your things and bring them back to 221b Baker Street. “Welcome home darling,” he said as he helped you down from the carriage and swept you off your feet, making you giggle. He carried you inside before bringing your things in, not letting you carrying in a single box. “I could’ve helped,” you told him. “My little omega is the queen of this home and will be treated as such. You shall not lift a single thing darling. That’s what your alpha is for,” he said before pecking your lips. You shook your head as you began unpacking.
Two years passed and they’d been the best of your entire life. In that time, Sherlock had decidedly worked less and spent more time with you. He was still a great detective but you were more important than anything else. He still absolutely went wild for you during his rut, which you wouldn’t wish for it to be any other way. You loved how he could be sweet and mild most of the time but take you roughly when you both needed it so badly. Just the thought of it sent a thrill though your body at times.
During those two years he also made you his wife and a mother to two beautiful little twin girls, Delilah and Rosemary. He was the sweetest, most attentive father and husband anyone could ask for. They were still babies and quite young. One evening you were sat in the study, exhausted as both girls nursed from your breasts. You were trying your best to stay awake as Sherlock poured over a recent urgent case. When he looked up he noticed your state.
“Little Omega,” he said making his way over to you. “Hmm?,” you asked. “I’m astounded by you every single day, I want you to know that,” he said as he knelt before you. “What?,” you asked surprisedly. “Look at you right now,” he said. “I’m just feeding our children, Sherlock,” you chuckled. “I know darling, but you’re so tired yet you persevere,” he said. “I- I have to,” you said, maternal instinct coming through strong from within you. “I know. You’re an amazing mother and wife. I’m so proud to be your husband,” he said as he kissed you softly. “Thank you,” you said as a tear ran down your face. “I love you,” he then said. “I love you too,” you replied.
When the girls were finished nursing Sherlock took one of them in his big arms and the two of you put them to bed before retiring for the night yourselves. “Come here Little Omega,” he said as he reached out for you. You nuzzled into his chest as his scent and warmth soothed you. He held you tightly, contentment filling his very bones as the love of his life laid there in his arms. “Hmm,” you hummed softly. “Happy darling?,” he questioned. “Yes, very tired, but very happy and filled with love,” you replied. He smiled to himself before cupping your face and kissing you goodnight, elated that you’d be his for the rest of your lives.
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469 notes · View notes
fandom-oneshots-etc · 6 months
Note
✨ Dropping by to request literally anything sherlock x reader - would love something with awkward idiots in love ✨
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🍄 Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader
🍄 Genre: Fluff
🍄 Summary: When Sherlock goes off on a frantic tangent, John knows exactly who to call, the idiot in love with him...
🍄 Word Count: 2084
🍄 Abbreviations: N/A
🍄 Warnings: N/A
🍄 Note: I hope this is what you were looking for Anon! :)
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“What’s he doing this time?” you answered the phone as John’s name appeared. You had become so accustomed to the calls at all odd hours of the day, usually all pertaining to your high-functioning sociopath of a friend, Sherlock. Odd hours like the one now.
You had just sat down in your cloud chair, kindle in hand ready to read the next chapter of your gripping (b/g) when the phone had pinged, angrily vibrating against the coffee table-top. A puff of air had moved the stray hairs touching your face as you instantly recognized the personalized ring tone you had installed. You knew that John wouldn’t call you unless it was at least a code blue, blue-in-the-face blue. A colour code the two of you had created to describe the different moods of Sherlock Holmes.
“I’m so sorry-” You rolled your eyes with a little smile. “He’s just off on one. He solved the case, you know the one with the woman and the suitcases? He’s been off the walls since then. Can’t get him to settle, he’s talking about renovating the flat, knocking walls down for more ‘thinking space’. I think Mrs Hudson’s threatened to evict him already,” You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped your lips at the thought of the sweet old woman threatening your tall friend, knowing very well that she’d mean every word. You could already picture the offended horror on Sherlock’s face at her threats.
“I’m on my way,” you reassured before hanging up the phone and pushing yourself out of the comfortable chair. Slipping your kindle into your bag, you grabbed your keys from the hook and turned off the lights. You didn’t bother changing out of your night clothes,, instead your threw a long coat over your pajamas and slipped on your trainers before heading out of the flat. You weren’t exactly keen on the idea of getting a cab this late at night, but you preferred that over walking the streets alone in the dark.
Thankfully, Baker Street was only a few roads away and the journey was nice and short with the lack of traffic at this time of night. Looking up at 221B you could see tat it was one of the only lights on in the street. You slipped the spare key out of your bag and unlocked the door to 221B.
Mrs Hudson reached the bottom of the stairs in an angry flurry huffing as she passed, a few rushed ‘oh dear’s escaping her lips as she passed you, only briefly making eye contact as she scurried back into her flat, red-faced. Taking that as your cue, you started up the stairs to the flat, fully expecting to see the flat in complete disarray, and you weren’t disappointed.
The papers from the now-closed case were still strewn across the flat, stuck to the walls, laid out on the desk, tucked under the tea cups on the small side table. The tea cups, several sat on the desk untouched and probably growing a few types of fungus that Sherlock could happily describe for you. The pillows from the sofa were thrown about the flat as Sherlock stood on the sofa, feet buried in the sofa cushions and tape measure I hand as he stretched it across the wall in front of him, a HB pencil clenched between his teeth.
“Thank God you’re here!” John poked his head out of the kitchen as if weary of the man in the living room. He gestured for you to step into the kitchen, with a final glance at the tall consulting detective, you slipped into the kitchen.
“How long has he been like this?” you asked, setting your bag down on the cluttered kitchen table. Piles and piles of old experiments were stacked tall, filling up almost the entire surface of the table and from the darkening black patch by one of the chairs you had no doubt that Sherlock had blown something up today, yet another thing to add to the list of problems for you and John.
“A couple of hours now, I stupidly thought that solving the case would change his mood, but it only seemed to make him more antsy for another one-” He sighed. “Sorry it’s so late, I know you usually sit down and read about now. I didn’t want to bother you but with Mrs Hudson threatening eviction I thought it best not to wait.” You smiled at your friend and shook your head.
“Don’t worry about it, it’s been a while since he’s been like this so it was expected sooner or later. Better sort him out before Mrs Hudson really does chuck him out.” The two of you chuckle at the thought of a homeless Sherlock, it’s not really a sight either of you can imagine fully. But you had no doubt that his homeless network would really find him the best spots in London to squat.
“You don’t mind if I take a quick walk do you? I’ve been cooped up in here for a few hours trying to sort him out, just need bit of fresh air.” You shook your head and hurried John out of the kitchen door and down the stairwell. You knew it would be easier to deal with Sherlock without John around anyway. Not that John was a problem, but with Sherlock like this and his habit of making unsavory comments without fully thinking of the consequences, it would be easier than having a row start between the two flat mates.
You paused for a moment and brushed your finger against the black mark on the table top and inspected the pad of your finger. That’ll come off with some polish, you decided. Stepping back out of the kitchen and into the living room, your eyes zeroed in on the consulting detective who had now abandoned the tape measure and was gently knocking against the wall looking for a hollow sounding area.
“No.” You spoke clearly, catching the attention of the detective who had yet to notice you. Spinning on his heels, his eyes flashed at you wide and adorable. It kind of reminded you of a child who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. His mouth started to open but you shut him down quickly. “No,” You gave him a stern look. “That wall has all of the major electricity lines and one of the main water pipes. No.”
“There’s no way you could possibly know that just from looking at the wall-” Sherlock argued.
“No I couldn’t. I know because I had to get the schematics for the flat after you started shooting the walls because you were banned from in-person cases and blew the power out in this side of London,” You reminded. “An event that Mycroft still calls ‘The Great COVID Blackout’.” Sherlock’s nose scrunched at the mention of his brother. “Now, are you going to sit down or am I going to have to use that self-defense training program you insisted I go on to incapacitate you?” You could almost see the cogs turning in his head as his eyes narrowed at you, trying to deduce if you were serious or not. Your unwavering stance must have given him his answer as he slowly stepped down from the sofa and settled his feet back on the floor calmly.
“Why are you here?” You were very rarely offended by Sherlock’s blunt words, it just wasn’t worth the energy when you also knew that he rarely meant it to come across in that way. “No, don’t answer that. You’re here in your night clothes, your kindle is tucked in your bag and your hair is done up which means it’s late- John called you. Why?”
“Probably because his roommate was threatened with eviction after planning to renovate their rented flat and set the landlady off.” “Mrs Hudson wouldn’t evict me. She still owes me for getting her husband executed.”
“Favours do expire Sherlock. They have their limits.” His eyebrows furrowed.
“Really?” You nod. “Oh. Well John wouldn’t let her evict me.” “Have you been experimenting today?” You think back to the two mugs settled on the kitchen counter, one sporting a brownish green sludge at the bottom.
“Yes, why- Oh.”
“Right come on,” You clapped your hands, moving towards him and grabbing one of his hands to pull him over to his chair. You ignored the sounds of protest from Sherlock as you settled on the chair and tugged on his arm. “Sit down,” you instructed. Sherlock sighed and complied, dropping onto the floor and crossing his legs underneath him. You grabbed the TV remote and switched it on. “What should we watch? Bones or Criminal Minds?” you pondered.
“Why do we have to watch a crime show? They’re always so inaccurate-” You flick the TV onto an episode of Criminal Minds. “Look, the killer’s using tape- what about finger prints? They don’t need to study his behaviour, just find the prints-” You smiled softly, fiddling with a few strands of Sherlock’s curly hair in your lap as he rattled on about the mistakes of the Unsub and the BAU team.
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It was around an hour later that John returned to the flat. Pushing open the front door of 221, he was relieved to hear nothing. The light under Mrs Hudson’s door was now off, meaning she had slipped into bed, no longer tormented by her tenant’s renovation plans. The light on the landing let off a soft glow as John started up to the flat. A heavy wave of relief swept through him as he noticed the lack of banging, drilling, sawing or any construction noises at all. You had managed to talk him out of it for now. He reached the top of the stairs and could hear the muffled sounds of the TV in the flat. Stepping into the kitchen he could see that the place was still a pig sty but at least there wasn’t any knocked down walls or partially constructed extensions. The mess could be dealt with in the morning.
As he turned the corner and peeked - still a little cautiously into the living room - a soft smile graced his face. Your back was pressed against one of the arms of Sherlock’s chair, your legs swung over the opposite side. Sherlock’s was still perched on the floor with his legs crossed, his head dropped back against your stomach, with your right hand resting on top. Your fingers rhythmically threading through his curly brown locks, soothingly. John flicked his eyes up to the TV screen to see an episode of Criminal Minds playing, Sherlock’s face scrunched in distaste as he watched the team profile the murderer. Your other hand held your kindle tightly, your fingers set comfortably around the flower pop socket on the back as you occasionally flicked the pages with your thumb.
John couldn’t help but watch in awe for a moment. No one he knew had ever been able to soothe Sherlock in the way that you could. Not him, not Mrs Hudson and certainly not his brother, not even his parents had this calming effect that you had. He wondered if Sherlock would ever confess to the effect you had on him, or explain why you had such an effect on him. John knew the reason, Mrs Hudson knew the reason… did Sherlock? Did you?
You were always just as oblivious as Sherlock. John had mentioned to you once or twice about how you effected the consulting detective, but you couldn’t see it. You wouldn’t admit to the effect you so clearly had on him nor would you confess to the butterflies that whirled in your stomach whenever you were this close to him.
You caught John’s eye and must’ve made an educated guess of what he was thinking as you rolled your eyes and shook your heads. Deciding that now was probably not the time to bring up the obvious pink elephant that shared the living room with the three of you, John mouthed a ‘thank you’ to you and you nodded, letting out a quiet yawn. He bidded a quick farewell to the pair of you before shuffling out of the kitchen and upstairs to his room. On his way up the stairs, he couldn’t help but wonder how long the two of you would remain oblivious.
As he reached the top of the staircase he paused and chuckled. Lovesick idiots.
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princessaxoxo · 6 months
Text
Strangers to Lovers Part 1
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Originally thought of as a one-shot but decided to make it a two-part series.
A/N: This is no longer a two-part, there will be multiple parts.
Sherlock x reader
Summary: Being Enola’s sitter was an adventure, but not as much as falling for her brother, Sherlock.
Warnings: NSFW, 18 Only, sex (p in v), cussing, masturbation (f receiving)
If I’m missing any please let me know.
Word Count: 2k+
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When Enola was younger, her mother sought you out to take care of her. You accepted gleefully. Meeting Enola for the first time was unlike any other; at the ripe age of eight, she was a daredevil, a venturesome young lady.
After spending most of your time with her, you soon met her brothers, Sherlock and Mycroft. Sherlock was charming but reserved. Mycroft was shrewd and practical.
You are able to read people without fault. It was easy to tell Mycroft wasn’t fond of you. Sherlock wasn’t so easy; he kept a blank expression around you. The difference was that he put in the time and effort to talk and get to you.
Little did you know, he was very fond of you; you were constantly on his mind.
He couldn’t help but analyze every part of you—the way you licked your lips, how you scrunched your eyebrows together when you got confused, the lines on your face from how much you smiled.
When you weren't paying attention, he let his eyes roam downward, noticing how your breasts looked when you breathed in, your delicate fingers, and the beauty of your legs that he wanted to kiss.
It wasn't ethical, but he couldn't care less.
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You often found yourself thinking about him as well; you would let your eyes linger on him longer than allowed, especially for a lady.
Especially late at night like now, you were wondering what would happen if the two of you found yourselves in a room alone.
You closed your eyes, imagining him, his curly brown hair, his blue eyes, and that smirk he would occasionally show. Slowly brush your fingers between your thighs, thinking they are his.
As you started to picture his eyes that were looking up at you as he placed kisses between your thighs, you pulled down your panties.
You soon found your clit, making small circles. "Mhm,” a small moan left your lips. Moving your fingers down, you entered two of your fingers, moving them in and out.
You started to pick up your pace. “Oh, Sherlock," you let slip out, still imagining him.
Your pussy squeezed around your fingers, arching your back and moaning his name embarrassingly. You opened your eyes, your brain still in a haze from your orgasm, but he still hadn’t left your mind.
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Trying to keep up with Enola was tricky; she kept you on your toes. Her excitement always made your day. At the moment, she was hiding; that was the game of the day. Hide and seek: her version was far more difficult.
She would leave small clues, making you think you’re on the right track, but it’s quite the opposite.
Walking around the house, you were checking each room thoroughly. A door at the end of the hall was already open; you checked inside, noticing it appeared empty.
“Enola, Enola, sweetie, where are you?” You walked into the room, searching as if you were a detective. You saw a desk, which she could easily hide under. Walking around it, you bent down to check.
But, of course, no luck.
“What are you looking for?” You accidentally hit your head, and his voice made you jump.
"Ow!” you winced, rubbing your head to ease the throbbing pain. Sherlock walked over to you, offering his hand.
“Enola is hiding; I’m looking for her. I saw the door was open, so I decided to check.”
He nodded his head. “Would you like some help? I have an idea of where she could be."
“Yes, she doesn't make it easy,” you chuckled awkwardly, looking down, your heart pounding out of your chest.
He put his thumb underneath your chin, making you look at him. “Let’s go” 
You followed him, finding Enola hiding in a closed-off room.
She had a laughing fit, making fun of you for taking so long and having to involve her older brother to help. Enola left the room, leaving only you and Sherlock. You started to follow her, but Sherlock stopped you.
“Let me make sure you’re okay; you hit your head hard.”
He took you back to his office, guiding you down on his leather loveseat. He started checking you for a concussion and then brought you a cold pack for the small bump that was forming on your scalp.
He sat next to you, making you stiff. “Thank you for helping me,” you said, looking over at him. “It’s my pleasure, y/f/n."
It was getting dark out; you had to leave, but you wanted to stay here with him. “I should go home; it’s almost night out."
Sherlock didn’t want that to happen; his question could go wrong. But he wanted you to himself, if only for tonight.
“Would you want to stay for the night? I would be delighted to keep you company.”
You were taken aback by his question. Your answer was yes, but nothing came out. His facial expression turned worrisome. “Don’t worry about it”, "Yes,” you said eagerly, hoping he didn’t take notice. “Yes, I would be happy to stay.”
You showed a calm facade, but that’s not how you were feeling.
He began to show you his work and what interested him. “Do you wish for a drink?”, He was pouring himself one. "No, thank you; I don’t drink,” you said with a small smile.
Your eyes were scanning his wall, which had a map covering it with small dots placed in certain places.
He stood next to you, drink in hand, watching you concentrate on his work.
You turned to look at him, and you smiled. “Yes?” You were unsure of why he was looking at you in such a way. But then he lowered his head and kissed you.
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After he kissed you, your eyes widened in surprise. But that surprise soon turned into enjoyment.
You cupped his face while he placed his hand on your lower back. He tried to set down his drink with his eyes closed, but it fell and shattered on the floor. Neither of you faltered from the enchanting kiss.
He pushed you backward, lifting and placing you on top of his desk. Your thoughts were running wild; was this really going to happen? Your questions were answered when he roamed his large hands under your dress. treading lightly, his hands hovering once they reached closer to your core.
He wanted this; he had imagined it countless times in his head. But he couldn’t go rough with you like he wanted; this wasn't normal, and this shouldn’t be happening since the two of you weren't married. And a woman like you? He thought, wasn’t someone you just fucked and then left in the morning? That was not you.
You hated that he was going slow; he was starting to pull away, but an instinct in you grabbed him by his hips and pulled him forward harder.
“I want this, Sherlock; don’t be gentle with me. I want you."
Hearing you say those words broke Sherlock's facade. He snapped, locking your legs tightly around his waist as he walked the both of you over to his leather couch. He laid you down, hovering above you, teasing you with his mouth.
He stood up, removing his bowtie, followed by his vest and white shirt. His chest, his chest—you couldn’t wait to roam your hands up and down his hairy chest. You let a moan out just by the look of him; he got on top of you, recklessly ripping your own clothes off.
He took a long look at you, salivating. He needed to get inside of you.
His kisses were sloppy with need, as were yours. You were getting wetter by the second, and yet he hadn’t really touched you. “Touch me, please."
He snacked his hands down to your clit, rubbing circles while kissing and sucking on your neck. You held his head, moaning his name. He left my neck and came face-to-face with me. “You want me inside of you? Do you want my cock to fill your pussy?”
“Please, yes, I need you."
Removing his pants eagerly, he lined his cock up, smoothly coaxing his cock in my wetness, before deeply entering slowly at first, then removing before entering again faster each time.
Your nails are scratching at his back, making him grunt in your ear. “Your pussy is so tight around me; it feels so fucking good.”
You wanted him deeper in you; you wanted to feel every inch of him. "I want to feel all of you.
He thrust his hips rougher this time, your back arched, and that gave him a chance to put his arm underneath you to change positions. Now, sitting up right, you are on his lap, riding him. He helped you with his hands on your hips, guiding you to bounce up and down.
“God, you are memorizing.”
His eyes were rolling to the back of his head as he closed them. “Just like that, baby,” he grabbed a hold of your breasts, squeezing them gently and rubbing your nipples, making them erect and pleasurable going through you.
His curly hair covered his face, brushing back just as he grabbed the back of your neck, forcing you forward. His tongue danced with yours, so far down your throat that you sucked on it.
His lips were soft; they had you memorized in a daze, moaning into his mouth. You felt yourself coming.
“Sherlock, fill me up with your seed."
“You want my seed? Want to feel it dripping down your thighs?"
"Yes, please, yes. I’m cumming on your cock."
You pulsated around him, your thighs shaking, and you saw stars in your vision as you came on his cock.
He stopped his movements, his nails digging into your skin as he groaned aloud, his head falling forward onto your chest. Both of you were heaving, trying to regain your breathing.
The smell of sex radiating in the room and the glistening sweat off of your and Sherlock’s bodies made this moment intimate. One you hadn't shared with another.
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After the night you and Sherlock shared in his office, the both of you fell deeply in love. Sharing every passing moment with one another. And when the both of you weren't together, you were thinking about each other.
He told you countless stories about his endeavors, what he’s done, and the kinds of cases he’s received and solved.
Enola was so happy; she thought of you as a sister already, but now she couldn’t contain her excitement about how the both of you would end up being family.
You pretended not to notice at times the way Sherlock would stare at you; he would admire you from afar, from your side profile, any time he got the chance.
You were certain that nothing would break the two of you apart or that he would break your heart.
So you thought...
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One day, out of the blue, Sherlock didn't meet you at the time planned; you were at his house, waiting for him to come home.
You were taken by surprise when you heard a person knock at his door, and you went to open it. A postman handed you a letter and left abruptly. You shut the door and sat down. It was signed with your name.
Opening the letter, you started to read what it said.
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You read the letter over and over again until you couldn’t anymore.
This couldn’t be true, you thought; he couldn’t have left you.
He loved you. No, no, he loves you. So this couldn’t be the end.
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You waited all night to hear the front door open. To hear his voice call out for you, but by the time you saw the sun rising, you knew he had left. He was gone. You fell to the ground with an uncontrollable sob. The tears never ended. You began to hyperventilate; it felt as if your oxygen was cut off.
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You were at home as your tears started to stop; now you felt your blood boil.
He is a coward.
He couldn't even face you; had he that little respect for you?
A person who loves you does not treat you in such a way.
Your face was red, and your eyes weren’t brimming with sadness anymore but with anger.
You weren't going to let him hurt you in this way again. He wouldn't get the chance.
But everyone does have a weakness... He happens to be yours, and you his.
Part 2
748 notes · View notes
starks-hero · 1 year
Text
brother dearest
Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader
Summary: Mycroft had never considered himself to be overprotective. However, he isn't overly pleased with how smitten his little brother is with you...
Word Count: 1.8k
Warnings: John is the only one with any emotional intelligence and Mycroft is faced with the horrifying ordeal of realising his younger sibling is dating, so they're all idiots really
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Mycroft Holmes could practically feel his blood pressure rising. Confidential documents had been stolen from the very hands of the British government, putting the democratic well-being of an entire nation in jeopardy. And his little brother wouldn't answer the phone.
The moment word of the breach had gotten to Mycroft his first plan of action was to call Sherlock. Of course, he could have hypothetically dealt with the issue himself had it not required leg work. But to his dismay, contacting the youngest Holmes seemed to be as unlikely as winning the lottery.
Tossing dignity to the wind in the name of restoring balance to the western world, Mycroft stooped to the, in his opinion, ever embarrassing low of visiting Baker Street himself. He ascended the stairs, his displeasure evident in the weight of his steps, and refused to practice the common courtesy of knocking before entering the flat. Sherlock had lost that privilege when he refused to pick up the bloody phone.
Mycroft tutted with annoyance when he found both the living room and kitchen empty. Sherlock's coat, with whom he refused to go anywhere without, still hung idle on the clothes rack. He was in the flat and Mycroft was going to find him if he had to tear away every brick.
With all the begrudgement of a man who'd had his morning routine seriously uprooted, Mycroft marched towards Sherlock's bedroom and swung open the door.
He almost immediately wished he hadn't.
Sherlock lay sprawled out on the bed, white sheets twisting over alabaster skin. His eyes were shut, his hair a tangled mess of curls and you lay by his side.
Mycroft's jaw fell so quickly he expected it to unhinge and clatter against the floor with all the comedic effect of a nineties cartoon.
Sherlock's head rested against your shoulder whilst the lower half of your face was largely hidden by his curls. Your lips brushed his forehead in a prolonged kiss and Sherlock's arm was thrown over you almost possessively. Your own hand curled softly around the nape of his neck.
Disbelief, embarrassment and anger chased each other across Mycroft's expression before he settled with complete mortification. He couldn't explain it, not really, but seeing his little brother in bed with someone made him feel ridiculously nauseous.
Sherlock shifted, stretching out his limbs like a content cat before nuzzling closer to you.
Having no idea what else to do, the eldest Holmes shut the door. After a quick and failed attempt to purge the last few moments from his memory, he made his way back towards the living room.
He was met by John.
The doctor quickly did away with his fresh bag of groceries in order to make small talk, much to Mycroft's disdain. When John got around to the reason for his visit, and therefore Sherlock's current whereabouts, Mycroft shifted awkwardly.
“He seems to be occupied.”
A look of confusion clouded John's expression. He glanced down the hallway, jutting his thumb in the direction of Sherlock's room.
“I'm fairly certain he's just–” John's words were dissolved by the bitter look that was thrown his way by the eldest Holmes. “–oh, he didn't tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Mycroft asked with a painfully fake smile.
John swallowed thickly, suddenly very unhappy with the fact that he was the one that had to break the news to possibly the most powerful man in Britain that his little brother was seeing someone.
“He uh– he didn't tell you about himself and Y/N?”
Mycroft blinked. “It would appear he left out that minor detail.”
The silence that followed was awkward at best and utterly painful at worst. John, who wanted nothing more for the interaction to end but had no idea how to make that happen, nodded. Mycroft cleared his throat and readjusted his hold on his umbrella.
He glanced back towards his brother's room and John didn't miss the subtle glare he was trying to hide. Ah, so that's what this was about. John may not have shared Sherlock's observational skills but he did have a sister. He knew what overprotectiveness looked like.
“Mycroft, you do realise that Sherlock is an adult.”
“If that's what you would like to call him.”
“Right,” John dismissed quickly. “But he and Y/N are together. They have feelings–”
What was very much beginning to sound like a new rendition of ‘the birds and the bees’ was shortened by a scoff on Mycroft's behalf.
"My brother is barely capable of understanding his own feelings, you think he can handle someone else's?"
“You'd be surprised.”
Surprised was certainly one word for it. Mycroft simply couldn't imagine his brother being emotionally involved with anyone, regardless of how much imagination he tried to employ. He failed to imagine Sherlock in any situation that involved intimacy or vulnerability, let alone with you.
As if the very thought of you had doubled as a summoning spell, you entered the kitchen, steps lazy and eyes tired. If you were surprised to see the eldest Holmes you hid it well.
“Mycroft,” you greeted with a tight-lipped smile.
“Y/N.”
Your eyes moved between him and John, trying to piece together what exactly you'd walked into. John cleared his throat. You fought the urge to just go back to bed.
“Can I get you anything?” You motioned to the kitchen.
“My brother, if it's no trouble.”
“Showering,” you yawned. You decided not to add the bit where Sherlock had mentioned needing to ‘cool off before facing the devil so early in the morning’ upon realising his brother was in the living room. “He won't be long.”
“I see. I hate to show up unannounced. But I tried to call this morning and it seemed he was unavailable.”
You smirked despite yourself. Mycroft's grasp on his umbrella tightened.
After a few agonising moments that consisted of you cluelessly making yourself a morning cup of tea, Mycroft glaring holes into your back and John all but hiding behind his newspaper, Sherlock joined you.
His hair was damp, curls frizzed up due to the warm water. Mycroft hadn't seen it in such a state since Sherlock was a child. The unruly nature of his hair, as well as its tendency to make him look far less intimidating and far more endearing, often led to embarrassment. Which is why Mycroft was so surprised to see him so at ease.
Sherlock didn't so much as acknowledge his brother's existence as he made a beeline towards you, accepting the tea you offered and leaving a lazy kiss against the side of your head. He was smiling fondly all the while.
Said smile immediately fell when he spotted Mycroft. Sherlock muttered something about god under his breath and took a long, almost purposefully so, sip from his mug before speaking.
“Terrorist attack or security breach?”
Mycroft raised an unamused brow.
“It's ten o'clock on a Sunday morning, from my understanding you should be having tea with the prime minister or something–” Sherlock waved his free hand around dismissively. “You wouldn't be here if it wasn't of national importance. So which is it? Suspected terrorist attack or a security breach?”
“That, brother mine, is something you would have already been clued in on if you'd learned how to answer my calls.” Mycroft intended for his words to be somewhat scolding but judging by how Sherlock reclined in his chair and crossed his legs he figured his attempt at exerting some sort of authority over his younger brother had failed. “Now, it's not as threatening as initially believed but still relevant enough to warrant some sort of investigation. Which is why I need you to–”
His words fizzled out at the sight of you moving to stand behind Sherlock's chair. Your stance was relaxed, comfortable, as if you felt you belonged where you stood, as some sort of watchful protector. Mycroft glowered.
You seemed unfazed and Mycroft couldn't tell which he hated more, your hand now on Sherlock's shoulder or the fact that his brother was smirking because of it.
By some miracle, he managed to make it through the rest of the briefing without giving away just how much he wanted the floorboards to open up and swallow him.
He didn't know why the sight of you both together irritated him so much but by god was it getting under his skin. The glances you shared that Mycroft knew had hidden meanings behind them. How his brother, who needed a week's recovery in his room after any social interaction, preened under your touch. The youthful look in his eyes, the boyish smile. It was somehow painful to look at.
Mycroft could still recall when he was the only one that could placate his brother. When they were children, spending hours in their garden estate, finding insects and frogs and recalling their Latin names. Anything to keep their brilliant young minds entertained. He remembered how Sherlock would light up with each new nugget of information Mycroft gave him. Even into their teenage years, he was the one Sherlock trusted, the one he looked to for help and guidance. It had always been him.
But now, now there was you.
He had you to confide in. To talk to. To irritate with a tirade of useless facts that anyone else would think irrelevant. He had you to look out for him and comfort him and Mycroft couldn't understand why this was angering him so–
Oh.
The notion that his little brother had, in fact, grown up and didn't need him anymore came as a very unwelcome realisation. Mycroft had the sudden desire to leave the flat as promptly as he could.
“Well,” he cleared his throat. “I should be getting on. I trust you'll fill me in on your findings?”
Sherlock groaned, in agreement or dismissal it was hard to tell.
Mycroft, who now wanted nothing more than to leave, turned to make his way to the door. “Good day, doctor Watson.”
John nodded, not failing to notice the change in Mycroft's stance.
‘He's copped on then.’
Partially because of your closeness to the door and partially in an attempt to rectify whatever you'd done to wrong Mycroft, you moved to show him out.
He passed you silently but as you stepped back to close the door, he stopped you.
He seemed uneasy, an emotion that looked unnatural and foreign on him. His nerves were infectious and you quickly found yourself growing anxious, expecting him to gift you with some horrific piece of information to pass on to Sherlock to save him from dealing with the mess of telling his brother himself.
His actual request was something much softer.
“Take care of him, will you?”
It took a few moments for you to blink away your surprise. As confused as you were, you nodded all the same.
“Of course.”
Mycroft responded with a nod of his own, offered a surprisingly genuine smile and then turned to leave. He'd descended the stairs entirely by the time you finally closed the flat door.
“What was that about?” Sherlock asked nonchalantly.
You shook your head. “Absolutely no idea.”
John took a sudden interest in his newspaper in an attempt to ignore just how hard he was biting his tongue.
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thank you for reading!
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3K notes · View notes
bitternessismyname · 7 months
Text
Annoying Neighbor (Sherlock X Reader)
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Summary: after a tree branch smashes through your bedroom window during a storm your forced to spend the night at your height or Sherlock’s flat.
Warnings: none
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It was the middle of the night, and a storm had woken you up about half an hour ago. It was brutal outside, and you lived on the first floor so you could see the wind pushing the trash cans and other things around the streets. The city had decided to plant some trees on the devil strip to make the area look more welcoming. You thought it was a stupid idea, mostly because you didn't look at the devil strip when deciding your opinion on the area.
You were making yourself some tea when you heard a loud crash coming from your bedroom. Jumping up, you ran into the bedroom and saw a tree branch busted the window above your bed, and rain had already soaked the sheets. You ran to grab some trash bags, scissors, and duck tape. You cut the trash bags so they would cover more area then taped them over the window as best you could, but since the tree branch was still in your room, it was difficult to maneuver around it. You sighed. As much as you didn't want to, it seemed you would have to go to your upstairs neighbors for help. Mrs Hudson was out for the weekend, and the only other people in the building were John and Sherlock. Given how late it was, you knew that John was more than likely asleep. You just prayed that maybe due to the storm he'd be awake.
Taking a deep breath, you went upstairs and knocked on Sherlock and John's door. After waiting a few opened the door.
"Tree branch fell through your window and now you need a place to stay until Mrs Hudson can get it fixed." He wasn't asking, he knew.
"Yes." You rolled your eyes. "I know I'm going to regret asking but how did you know?"
"I heard the crash, you're also soaking and since I didn't see you go outside that means you either decided to shower in your clothes or a tree branch crashed through your window. You don't seem like a complete fool so I'm guessing it was the second option." He replied smugly.
"Yes, it was the second one. Look I don't like this anymore than you do but can I just sleep on your couch for the next two days until Mrs Hudson gets back into town? It's not supposed to rain as bad tomorrow but my bed won't be dried by then either way. I used trash bags to cover the hole as best I could but there's still a branch taking up half my bedroom." You sighed. You were so tired and all you wanted was to get some sleep. You didn't have to work the next day but you were up early due to work today and just wanted to pass out. Whether it be on your own bed or Sherlocks couch you didn't really care at the moment.
"Come on in." He moved out of the doorway to let you in then closed the door behind you. "You're soaked, I'll get you some clothes and you can go take a hot shower. I'd rather you not get sick."
"Worried about my health?" You teased.
"No, you getting sick means you spread your germs around this entire flat." You rolled your eyes at him as he led you into his bedroom where he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a shirt that was way too long for you.
"The bathrooms right down the hall. I'll make you some tea while you're showering." He pointed to the bathroom.
"Thank you." You smiled gently at him.
"You're welcome." He went into the kitchen to start making your tea when he started thinking back to a conversation he and John had about a week ago.
****************
"Just admit that you like her." John badgered his friend.
"I think you are confusing me with yourself. You are the one always talking to her in the hall everytime I walk past the two of you. Honestly, should I start planning the wedding now or would you rather wait a few months?"
"Sherlock I know that you only ignore her because you fancy her. It's rather obvious if you ask me. You act like a complete show off everytime you see her. Normally if you don't like someone you just act like a git but with her you show off as if you want to impress her. I also see the way you look at her when she's not looking. You have feelings for her, you just don't know how to show it. All you need to do is something nice for her to show that you're not a complete asshole."
"Like what. It's not as if I can just ask her to dinner when she thinks I hate her. I heard the two of you talking and yes I do listen when I pass by. She thinks I hate her so if I just up and ask her on a date she's going to say no."
"Try talking to her next time you see her instead of ignoring her like you've been doing. It doesn't help you when you like someone, Sherlock. Especially when you barely know them."
Unfortunately after that John and Sherlock got stuck on a particularly hard case that took them over a week which meant Sherlock didn't get to have those conversations in the hallway like he had been hoping.
****************************
Now you were in his flat asking for his help and he was giving it. He was going to be the most helpful neighbor he could for you to show that he actually did care. Making your tea he decided that he was going to let you take his bed for the weekend until Mrs Hudson got back.
You were in the shower enjoying the hot water beating on your chest. You didn't realize how cold you were until the hot water hit your skin making it feel like pins and needles from the cold. After letting the hot water warm you up for a while you decided to stop using all of Sherlock's hot water. You turned off the water, got out, dried off and changed into Sherlock's clothes.
You hated to admit how good he smelled. You wanted to hate Sherlock for how he's acted but you just couldn't. Something about him kept you from it. Maybe it was his sharp cheekbones, or his beautiful curly hair. Or maybe those baby blue eyes that make you weak at the knees everytime you look at them. He was mesmerizing. He was probably the most attractive man you've ever seen. But despite all of that the thing you really loved about him was how sweet he seemed to be to everyone except you. He was always so kind to John and Mrs Hudson, yes sometimes he could be a snarky handful but when he was nice he was the sweetest.
Wearing his clothes made you feel like you were being hugged by him. You never thought you craved his affection so much but now you ached for it. You wish you knew why he didn't like you.
****************************
"How are you feeling?" Sherlock asked once you entered the kitchen where he set a cup of hot tea on the table for you. He sat across from you with his own cup.
"Better. I didn't realize just how cold I was."
"You were shivering when you were at the door, though you didn't seem to notice it."
"Well you've been very nice, thank you for all you've done."
"You're welcome. Now finish your tea then we can get you set up in the bedroom." You raised an eyebrow at him.
"Sherlock, I'm not going to kick you out of your bed. I'll take the couch, it's not a big deal. I'd be sleeping on the couch in my own flat if I had one." You were supposed to be getting a new couch a week ago but the shipping got lost and it was going to take at least another week for a new one to be delivered. You wished you had known that before throwing out your old one. Not that you could have used it anyway being as one of the legs snapped off while you were moving and it was unstable to even sit on.
"I won't hear it. You will take the bed." Sherlock didn't really know how to be kind and compassionate. This was all very new to him. All he knew is that he wanted to do something nice for you and he was going to make sure you took him up on his offer.
"Sherlock, you're being kind enough to let me use your shower, your clothes and stay in your flat. I can't kick you out of your bed."
"Nonsense. Take the bed Y/N I want you too." He insisted.
"Sherlock I don't feel right kicking you out of your own bed."
"Then we'll share the bed. That's the only way either of us are going to agree."
"I supposed that's fine."
"Perfect. I'll throw on a spare blanket just in case." Sherlock took both of your empty tea cups and put them in the sink then got the bed ready. After a few minutes you both crawled into bed.
"Goodnight Sherlock." You yawned into the pillow.
"Goodnight Y/N."
You both of course stayed awake for a while making sure the other didn't get up and go to the couch. You both knew how stubborn the other was. And of course being so close to one another wasn't easy either. All you wanted was to wrap your arms around him and snuggle into his side but you knew you couldn't so you shut your eyes and finally got some sleep.
*****************************
The next morning John went into Sherlock's bedroom when he realized he wasn't coming out anytime soon. Normally Sherlock was the first one up but today he was still in his room with no signs of him being awake.
Of course when John opened the door he wasn't ready for what he saw. You, in bed with Sherlock. Not only wearing Sherlock's clothes but also cuddling up against his chest. John quietly closed the door and notified Lestrade that they would be late. He wasn't going to ruin this moment for the two of you.
Eventually you woke up and felt something rising and falling under you. Opening your eyes you saw that you were laying on Sherlocks chest and his arms were wrapped around you. He smelled so good and he was so warm. He looked so peaceful as opposed to his normal stressed self. You didn't want to wake him, you didn't want this moment to end. You just wanted to stay like this, in his arms forever. You closed your eyes and let yourself fall back to sleep.
Sherlock woke up not long after you fell back to sleep. You were in his arms. He can't remember how this happened but it felt nice to hold you like this. You looked so...Cute. He found himself wanting to be closer to you. Looking at the clock he noticed it was well past the time he was supposed to wake up but since John didn't come wake him he was guessing that Lestrade must have called and told him that they weren't needed. He couldn't bring himself to move and wake you so he closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
**********************
Eventually Sherlock did get out of bed, slowly and carefully not to wake you. He made his way to the kitchen where John was sitting with a smug look on his face and a cup of coffee.
"Someone had an eventful night." John commented.
"As a matter of fact I did. Y/N had a tree fall through her bedroom window so she came here to stay until Mrs Hudson gets back tomorrow morning." Sherlock said matter of factly.
"You want me to believe that I saw her in your bed cuddled up against your chest and nothing happened."
"You don't have to believe anything, that's what happened. She refused to take the bed and I refused to take the bed so we both took the bed."
"What? That makes no sense."
"I wanted to sleep on the couch so she could have the bed but she refused to take my bed from me and I refused to let her sleep on the couch so we both just slept in the bed." He explained. "What about the case?"
"I told Lestrade we would be late because I couldn't bring myself to wake you up when you looked so comfortable having Y/N wrapped in your arms." He replied.
"Okay let's get going then." He went to the closet and put on his coat.
"Aren't you going to change?"
"No, Y/N is still sleeping. I don't want to wake her. It's cold out anyway so I won't have to take off my coat. Now let's go." He insisted. John annoyingly did as he was told and left with Sherlock.
*********************
About an hour later you woke up and looked around for Sherlock. You were sad he was no longer in bed holding you. You felt oddly cold now that you didn't have him there to keep you warm. You fell for Sherlock Holmes, you hated to admit it but it's true. You had feelings for the detective.
Getting out of bed you checked your phone and saw Sherlock had sent you a message about half an hour ago.
"Y/N, John and I got called away for work I'm afraid. Feel free to go up to your flat and get anything you might need and bring them down to my flat for the night. There's food in the fridge, help yourself. I should be back in the evening, John is going to one of his girlfriends places so it'll be just me I'll see you then-SH"
Smiling, you went to your flat and got yourself some clothes and other things you would need. Your phone charger, laptop etc. Before heading back to Sherlocks flat you took a proper shower. Going back to his flat you lounged on the couch for a while, made yourself some tea and just waited.
By late evening when he still wasn't back you were getting worried. You knew they were typically safe on cases but sometimes things could happen. Not even fifteen minutes later Sherlock came walking through the door and headed straight to the kitchen where you heard shuffling. You got up quickly and followed him.
"Oh my God Sherlock!" His face was covered in cuts and bruised. Blood was smeared all around his face where he had tried to wipe the blood away. You set the first aid kit that he pulled out and set it on the kitchen counter then got a damp cloth and started washing his face.
"I can take care of it." He insisted.
"I don't care now, head up." You commanded, washing under his chin where he had a decent cut. "What happened?" The worry in your voice didn't go unnoticed by the detective.
"A fight. It's a very long story. Thankfully John wasn't there when it happened. I told him to go see his girlfriend and I'd just head home."
"You're telling me John Watson allowed you to take a cab home like this? He's a doctor shouldn't he have done something?"
"Well, I told him I had a beautiful nurse waiting for me at home." He smirked.
"Sherlock Holmes, are you flirting with me?"
"Would you like me to stop?"
"Not at all. Let's get you cleaned up." You finished washing the blood off his face and you could see a bruise forming on his cheek. You gently ran your fingertips over it. "Your poor cheekbones."
"You could kiss it and make it better." You smiled.
"You have a cut on your lip. Would you like me to kiss that one too?"
"How could I say no." You put your hand on his good cheek and let your lips meet his. It was a brief kiss, you were too scared that you would hurt him since his lip actually was split. But He put his hand on the back of your head and deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth when you tried to inhale for breath.
"Sherlock." You gasped when he picked you up by the thighs and put you on the kitchen counter. Grabbing his hair in both your hands you pulled away. "What's happening?" You asked more to yourself.
"I have feelings for you Y/N. I didn't do a great job showing it but it's true." He confessed.
"I like you too. Obviously." You both laughed. You ran your hands through his hair playing with it and massaging his scalp.
"I would like to take you to dinner tomorrow."
"I would like that." He still had you caged in with his arms on either side of you while you sat on the counter. Slowly he leaned forward giving you every chance to reject him and when you didn't he kissed you. You linked your arms around his shoulders and enjoyed it as he slipped his tongue past your lips again so it intertwined with yours making you both moan.
"Perhaps we should get you all bandaged up before this goes too far." You suggested, panting for breath that he took.
"I think that's a good idea. I'll order us some takeaway and we can have a quiet night in."
"That sounds perfect. Now hold still while I get your poor face all fixed up."
"Yes darling." He smiled.
************************
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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year
Text
If Only You Would Know
HenryCavill!Sherlock x Female!Reader
summary: You and Sherlock are in love, Enola is sure of it. But she is forced to watch you tiptoe around the topic for an eternity. So when the opportunity arises, and Sherlock is forced to confront his feelings towards you, she does not hesitate.
a/n: we're diggin' out old old drafts for this one, but I needed a little Sherlock again :)
word count: 4k
warnings: a little arguing, pining, someone gets injured, idiots in love™️ (it's a new genre of mine)
・゚✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 。✭・゚
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You sighed as Sherlock moved about his office with hasty determination. He was a strange man. Oblivious, too, time and time again. But that did not matter for you loved him. You loved him and every strange habit he harbored. Whether it was the way in which he arranged his coats on the brass hanger by the door or that godawful pipe he seemed to always have hanging from his lips. He did not even like it - he had told you one time. “’tis just a habit, dear,” it would muffle past the brown bit in his mouth before he would clip it back between his teeth. 
But you did not care. And that must have been the very fact telling you just how deeply your heart had already fallen for the famous detective. Not a care in the world, especially not for what other people thought to say the least. Because all you ever thought about upon seeing him was love, warmth, and endearment. Nothing less. Not even a wretched criminal could ever shoot these feelings out of your heart. 
Oh well, it did not matter, anyhow. For there was one issue keeping this fairytale from becoming reality. And this issue was that Sherlock Holmes, the brightest man you knew, was blatantly oblivious to the feelings you had harbored in your chest. To be fair, you had never mentioned it to him before. For you were simply terrified of the consequences such a confession would hold. It was one thing to pine over a man who you were lucky enough to be in the same room with, but it would be undeniably humiliating to be rejected by said man as well. So you had chosen not to act on the fiery desire burning within your veins whenever your eyes hushed a glance at him. 
As much as that decision was made to protect your heart, it had turned out the circumstances provided the opposite of the desired effect. You were hurting more and more with every day you had to live with the realization that Sherlock Holmes did not love you back. In fact, he loved other women - many of them. And every single one more beautiful than the other. Sometimes you found yourself wondering if they were human at all. Never before had you seen such luscious hair as that of Sibyl or such a beautiful smile as that of Amelia. It was difficult to settle with these gorgeous women having a place in his bed and possibly his heart, but soon, you realized the importance of seeing him happy trumped your own desires. If he was happy, so were you. And if you weren’t the one making him happy, so be it. 
You had just come here to see Enola from her home to the city. Stopping by her brother’s apartment had not been on the agenda, at least not yours. But Enola was adamant to have you come when she raced up the stairs to his door. You had gasped when Sherlock had opened, his hair slightly disheveled and the shirt loosely tugged in his trousers. Your heart was pounding - it always happened when you saw him, and you swiftly averted your eyes to hide the flustered look on your face from him. 
Now you were standing in his messy home as you listened to Enola convince him to let her help him on a particular case of his - one she had a personal attachment to. Mixed emotions crawled up your spine at the sight of this professional yet intimate space. Not only one room over, Sherlock's bed was mockingly standing beyond the door, messy sheets indicating his prior endeavors, but there was no Sibyl or Amelia in sight. Still, your hands clamped around the silky material of your skirt, wrinkling the fabric harsher with every minute you spend in the deep-colored room. It smelled of musk and tobacco. Two things you had grown to miss whenever they were not surrounding you, but now, it was a shiver too much. 
Sherlock stood before you and Enola with his hands on his hips, a look of annoyance and disapproval etched on his features, but nonetheless, a sense of amusement in the edges of his frown. You knew him too well not to notice the slight pride swelling from his chest at his little sister’s determination. 
“I believe it is too dangerous for a girl like you to wander the streets, chasing criminals through London, Enola.”
“And I believe that you are an idiot, brother.”
“Perhaps,” your finger lifted in suggestion, stopping Sherlock’s head from tilting in disapproval at his sister’s array just in time. “She can be accompanied in her wandering?”
“And who would this accompany be?”
You knew it was not your place to negotiate, but you cared for Enola too much not to. And even though Sherlock’s stern eyes bore into your frame, you began to talk again: “I could-“
“Oh, dear lord. That is out of question.”
“Why brother? Do you not think Ms. Y/N and I can defend ourselves?”
A short silence lay upon the siblings as you watched the man’s shoulders draw up with a tense jaw. “I said no.”
“You are being irrational.” Enola cried. She was not one to accept defiance easily, you were well aware of it.
“No, you are being irrational. I will not vouch for having two women hurt on a mission to gather intel for my cases.”
“You cannot stop me.”
There was something itching in the glimmer of his eyes when the words left his lips, though you weren’t quite sure what to make of it.
“Enola!” Almost fearfully, Sherlock turned to you, his eyes wandering and desperation conveyed in his stare when you heard the young girl open the door.
“I am sure we can negotiate a way to have both parties satisfied.” Enola halted as you spoke. “I am certain your bother has other tasks that need fulfilling and are less prone to danger. Isn’t that right, Mr. Holmes?”
Sherlock was not entirely satisfied with this turn of events, but his sagging shoulders told you that he accepted the compromise. A sigh eluded from his lungs and Enola turned to the dark-haired man with excited eyes. “I presume, there would be things you could do.”
“Thank you–“
“But,” his eyes turned stern again, “In the office only. No more wandering, is that clear?”
Enola beamed. “Yes.”
❁ ❁ ❁
It was not long after the discussion when you and Enola went about home from the city. Still, however, despite the seemingly fair compromise negotiated just minutes prior, the younger woman sloppily trudged next to you.
“He is an idiot, that is what he is.” Enola stomped past you with a pouty face. It was not ladylike, but luckily, she knew that you were not one to care about that. 
You understood Enola’s frustrations, but simultaneously, your heart were to break if anything ever happened to her. So you understood the settled worry in her brother’s words as well. He was a good man. “He is just worried. It means he cares.”
“Well, he could care a little less and let me do my job.” You hid a smirk. Only Enola would be as adamant about saving a boy she had only met days ago. She was just as goodhearted and justice-seeking as Sherlock, and your heart warmed at the similarities the siblings shared.
“It is not your job, Enola.” Sometimes you genuinely admired her fixation, though it mostly converted into trouble, still. Enola had a lot more freedom than you did when you were her age, and you too would have sprung at any chance to go and wander about, seeking adventures and perhaps a little more than that. Which was in turn, why your heart felt torn between the fulfillment of having her seek childhood dreams, and the subtle but strong tug Sherlock Holmes held you with. 
“Did you forget what we just found out yesterday? It seems no one cares about him. And if nobody else will do it, I consider it my duty to help.”
“Enola, dear.” You held her shoulders gently. “I understand your worries, but I understand your brother’s as well. I would be just as worried about you if something were to happen, and I do not want to see you hurt, either.”
“But we have to do something!” This was true. It would not be right to leave the boy framed with false accusations when you had the power to change his fate. There was something you could gather - information that may help him be acquitted.
“How about I go?” You silently cursed your good intentions as Enola’s eyes lit up. It was a blessing and a curse. But other than Enola, there would be nobody worrying for you, and in turn a lot less hearts broken if something were to happen - which it surely would not. “You can stay in the study and I will see to it that we may gather more information.”
“Alright, but be careful. And make sure to come back by five. Otherwise, someone will get suspicious.” The girl smiled, but her shoulders shook with excitement.
“What? Do you think I’m stupid?” You teased, awaiting a sassy ‘of course not’ which you returned with a wink.
❁ ❁ ❁
Enola watched the clock next to the window. Seconds, ticking by too fast for her liking. She needed more time - you needed more time. Her brother had given her files to sort and he would be coming back soon. Upon your agreement yesterday, you had gone out to gather information on the woman who accused the boy. But you would be back soon, she told herself.
“Is Ms. Y/N not here with you?” Sherlock’s voice called through the room and his steps approached her steadily. 
Enola was stiff. “She is out,” she told him while her fingers counted the pile of files on the desk.
“Out? With who?” He stepped around the polished mahogany, settling in front of her with his hands behind his back. “I didn’t realize she was being courted.” 
Oh. Enola’s eyes sparkled with amusement when she obtained a glimmer of jealousy in her brother’s. She had always had her suspicions. And she knew of your being madly in love with her brother, but Sherlock had always been secretive regarding the topic of love.
“She went to shop,” she smiled, averting her eyes. Waiting - no, anticipating a response from him.
“So she is not with anyone.” Sherlock leaned forward with squinted eyes. For a man as good at solving puzzles as he was, he did need an awful lot of confirmation.
Enola finally looked up. “Ugh, you really are an idiot.” 
“Would you quit calling me an idiot?” Disapproval swept his features and made a frown settle instead. 
“I would, but you won’t quit being an idiot.”
“Whatever do you mean?” It was quite amusing to see him clueless for once. And even though you tried to hide your feelings or the way you responded whenever he was as much as in the same room as you, it did not go past Enola how long your eyes lingered on his frame or the way the sadness overtook your features at the mention of another woman.
“Ms. Y/N is head over heels in love with you. And I do not understand why you refuse to see it, she is not hiding it very well, you see?”
Sherlock stumbled back, his hands seemingly finding their pace over his heart when he repeated her words. “Ms. Y/N? In love with me?”
“And you really call yourself the greatest detective of our time.” Enola shook her head. Still, the thought of the two of you together was one she liked to entertain. And she asked herself just how much you could talk Sherlock into once you were together. He was already caving when you suggested things - the possibilities of Enola getting her way when the both of you finally gave into the pining were endless!
“Oh, hush. I just never thought she would...” Sherlock trailed off, and if Enola was not mistaken, she caught a whisper of pink settle over his cheeks. Could it really be? The great Sherlock Holmes in love? Even better with a woman Enola adored as well?
“This is exactly the problem, brother. You don’t think when it comes to women.” Her mind wandered back to the women you had seen leave his chambers by the break of dawn. And just like then, Enola noticed a familiar sense of sadness wash over her brother’s eyes - the same one you hid from her in these moments.
“Enola...” But his words died on his tongue and Enola thought it wiser to resume her task. Sherlock was aware of his idiocy. For Enola knew just how insignificant all the other women were to him. And she hoped he had realized this fact.
A moment or two passed in which Sherlock paced the room mindlessly. His hands disappeared behind curtains and in bookshelves, until they reached for the pocket watch in his coat and a subtle grumbling eluded his lungs. “She should be back soon, anyhow. Should she not?”
“I suppose, yes.” 
“Well, it is quarter past five already. The shop is closed well over an hour now.” Sherlock did not hide the impatience in his tone, now. And Enola felt a wave of success wash over her.
It was difficult to hide her nervousness, though, for she now worried about you as well. But you were fine - she consoled herself. You were tough and intelligent, simply a little late - that was surely it. “She will come soon.”
An unusual tension fell over the room and Enola was certain, her brother had already dismissed her little story. But she would not falter. Her fingers kept cramming through the papers, counting pages she had analyzed and sorted two times by now. Her movements, however, became more frantic, and soon, her heart was pounding in her wrists.
“Enola, what in heavens did you do?” Sherlock urged impatiently, a look cold as a stone set on his face. 
“Nothing.” She did not look at him, then he would know instantly - the little lie she told.
“You sent her out to spy didn’t you?”
Why did he keep asking if he already knew the answer? Enola did not speak. She was fairly ashamed, though. She wanted to show her brother just how capable she and you both were. But having you not come back made for a serious difficulty to her plan.
She looked up at him now, just in time to see his shoulders sag and his head tilted up in frustration. “After I told you not to?”
“You only ever forbid me from going!” She cried, suddenly feeling attacked by his irrational outburst.
“I did not want Ms. Y/N out in the streets alone, either.” Sherlock was pacing again, his shoes clicked on the polished wooden floor until the reached the coat hanger by the door, only to gruffly rip the dark cloak from its place.
An accusing finger reached in his direction and a small smirk appeared on his sister’s lips. “So you are in love with her.”
The man frowned and his chestnut locks shook with annoyance. “That is not important right now. We need to find her.”
He did not deny it and Enola Holmes viewed it as a success.
❁ ❁ ❁
Sherlock swept through the streets as fast as his feet could carry him. Never had he thought that he would need to worry about your well-being. Enola’s? Yes, constantly. She did dangerous things all the time. But you were the one with the rational mind, the trait he adored most above all, for it eased his own every so often. It was enough to look out for Enola as much. He loved her and that was what love did: It made for weaknesses. Though Sherlock never wished to not adore you as much as he did, at this moment, it would have spared him trouble. 
He passed another alley filled with dubious fellows and willed his thoughts not to stray to dark paces. Normally, he could stay focused. Normally, he was able to separate his feelings from his tasks very well. Normally, he needn’t worry about you, however. 
Enola was many steps behind, he could hear her heels clicking in haste in her catching up, but Sherlock would not budge. He would keep on searching, keep on going straight until his sister gave him another direction to follow. She knew where you were after all, and he could not even begin to indulge in the worry-consumed anger this fact fueled him with. 
It did not take long for the detective to reach the house of the last suspect he had abandoned in his search for answers. You must have gone there. Enola had been especially furious about his dropping the woman upon questioning, urging her brother to stay on the lead. But Sherlock had already gotten enough information to place her in the entire scheme. Enola did not know this of course - he had never told her. So it was only plausible to send you to spy on said woman. What you had not known, however, was the dangerous affiliates this woman had, and the little to no hesitance of hers to pursue them.
The house lay empty on the street once the siblings reached its steps, no light shining through the glass windows, not the smell of dinner lingering in the air. It was odd, though nothing to be upset over. You had been here, Sherlock knew it. He was disappointed to find out, however, that you were not anymore. Of course, you had realized the danger of the situation and left, but where to? 
His head jerked to the left once Enola caught up to him, following the rattling of bins coming from the alley close by, where a faint trail of blood droplets mixed with the rain. 
“Bloody hell,” the detective mumbled with every inch it lead him further to your location. And sure enough, beyond the shielding confines of a wooden palette, he spotted your coat pressed into the wall. 
A small hiss, and then: nothing when he called your name.
“Ms. Y/N, heavens!” He rushed over once his eyes caught your distraught face behind the wood, your entire hand covered in blood, pressed to your head, where more seemed to have already dried on your scalp. 
“Mr. Holmes?” Your voice was weak, your eyes hazy - growing in the confusion the head injury most likely brought to you. 
Sherlock's arms reached out to engulf you, a handkerchief quick to be pressed on your head as he knelt beside you and let your body rest against his torso. “Enola, go and get help, immediately!” He commanded with urgency, having the young girl run off with a shocked nod.
His attention traced back to your body, where his eyes focused on your heavy lids and his heart clenched at the sight. You were hurt - seriously hurt - and Sherlock could not shake the feeling of it being his fault. Had he only consulted you in his case, had he talked to Enola, had he been less cowardly and finally admitted to his feelings. This all might have never happened.
“You should not have gone out alone!” He cried as he rocked you back and forth, his arms held you a little tighter, and he was certain that his heart beat through the several layers of clothing separating you.
“You have no right to rule over me.” Your hands pressed against his chest, forcing him to let you pull away from his embrace, and Sherlock instantly missed the warmth holding you had given him. He needed it back - confirming you were fine.
“But I told you not to go!” Big eyes stared up at him, but there was disappointment simmering beneath the sheer gleam of anger.
“Why are you upset? I can do whatever I desire!” It was meant to come out strong, but not even a woman as tough as you were able to hide the weakness taking over your body.
“But you got hurt!” Sherlock was juggling with empty arguments, he knew this much. But there was no right way to express what he wished to pursue with his words. It was all too much and not enough, all the same.
“Mr. Holmes, I can take good care of myself. I have done it my whole life.”
“And you shouldn’t have.” This seemed to have caught you by surprise. For you stopped in your shuffling away and held his gaze equal in confusion and intrigue. 
“Whatever do you mean?” You shrieked softly, your breath staggering when he came closer to you.
Sherlock found it incredibly difficult to talk, suddenly. His hands were clammy and that stupid tie around his neck seemed just a tad too tight. Christ, he could not even look at you. He was left staring towards the wet grounds with his hands wringing beneath him.“I- it has come to my attention that I lack perception in some categories.” He hushed a look at you and was not surprised to see utter confusion seeping through your stare. 
Sherlock sighed and his shoulders jumped heavily once he mustered up the courage to explain: “I do not wish to see you hurt.”
“Why?” Your eyes were big and wondrous, much like a curious child prying up in awe over what it was to become privy of.
Sherlock tried, he really did, to be steady and informative, but there was no use, for his heart had decided otherwise. “Because... because, I- my heart hurts when I imagine something happening to you.”
“But what about Sybil or Amelia… or Babette?” Every name stung another hole in his heart as your eyes saddened naming the woman he had spent previous nights with in order to get over you. He never loved them, never adored them the way he did you. They were simply a distraction. A petty compromise for the actual being he was sure would never return his affection. Now that he found out the opposite, Sherlock was uncertain about how to act. 
“These women... they were just compensation for the one I couldn’t have.” He confessed slowly, his hand reaching for you and finally getting ahold of your chin. “I did not think you would be interested in me.”
“Oh but I am, Sherlock.” Your fingers came to cover his. “I am.” And an unbelievable force of warmth and calmness washed over him. Despite the blood, despite the worry. Despite everything being wrong at this very moment, he was calm. You had this effect on him.
“I know that now. My sister told me.” Sherlock sent a silent prayer to the stars. Had his sister not been as persistent he would have never gotten the opportunity to hold you close - feel you the way he desired. 
“She is quite a smart lady isn’t she?” A low chuckle echoed through the darkening alley, though a shy blush crept upon the detective’s cheeks. 
“As much as I hate to admit it, she is a good detective.” His thumbs stroked gentle swipes over your skin, a sliver of warmth tasting your body with every movement, and it felt good to have you indulge in his touch. He would have never dreamt of having you this close, having you feel the same feelings he did. And to be perfectly honest, experiencing it, in reality, was a hundred times better than anything he had ever imagined. “God, Y/N. If only I had known earlier.”
“Let us not grieve what is already done. Embrace the possibilities of the future with me.” Your eyes locked with his once again and your aura seemed to pull him even deeper into a trance. Sherlock could not look away. He was captured by every loving emotion radiating off of you. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. But he would keep it guarded in his chest for eternity, even if nobody were to ever ask him about it. It was precious - this moment was worth hundred terrible ones. 
“You are right,” he agreed, and then, beyond his control almost, Sherlock pulled you into a warm kiss. 
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withalittlehoney · 10 months
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help this prompt has been on my mind for a whole now and just haven't had the guts to ask it but how ab a prompt where sherlock is really needing a fix (either nicotine or drugs) because he's so stressed or smth and the reader catches him smoking more often so the they tell him he can use their body instead as a distraction😭😭 and he does and he does it too much and the reader cant keep up w him so they tell him he should take up smoking again😭😭
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Insatiable Beast
18+ below this point
you’d thought it was a good idea at the start. anything was better than standing by and watching your lover smoke himself to death. but you hadn’t realized how often he’d need to take advantage of your offer.
it was the third time today and it was only 10am. the supply closet just down the hall from greg’s office, people bustling by too often… far too often, preventing you from letting out the moans of mixed pain and pleasure being bestowed upon you.
your legs were wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his pert arse. you had one hand fisted in those dark curls you adored, the other reached behind you to help support your weight against the shelf. his thrusts were brutal, his cock leaving your hole to enter again just as quickly. your hole itself wasn’t in too poor a state at the moment, though it might be sore tomorrow morning. it was currently your clit that felt the brunt of his kind abuse. nevermind your nipples that his lips were constantly attached to. part of leaving smoking behind was the oral fixation, after all. every little nibble and bite were heaven and hell at once, every flick of his tongue across the raw buds making you arch your back and tug at his hair.
“oh my… sherl, darling.” you whimper pathetically, “s’too much. too much baby.”
he just knit his brows together, turning his big blue eyes up to look at your face as he continued his suckling and thrusting. “too much” wasn’t something he understood and toying with your nipples had become his favorite past time since giving up nicotine. he pulled back only a moment to pour up at you before kissing across to the other breast and taking your hard nipple between his lips, a little hun of satisfaction leaving his lips.
fuck, he looked too damn pretty to deny. but you had to move this along. you had already been away from your cubicle for seven minutes, someone was going to get suspicious eventually.
“sh-sherlock, baby.” you stutter out, “i need you to cum for me. need you to cum.” you move both your hands to his face, causing him to reluctantly detach his lips from your tit, “cum for me. i didn’t get to see those beautiful eyes roll back in your head the two times in the dark this morning. been thinking about it since i got into the office.” he gives a soft moan as you kiss his lips and tickle the roof of his mouth with your tongue. “fuck, you taste so good now. better than ever without that smoke in the way.” you run your hands through his hair and mumble, “i just taste you.”
“can i… inside you?” he grunts out, both hands now cupping your ass, “will you leave the mess for me to see when you get home later today?”
“only if you’re good. first time i smell smoke on your breath, you’re over, sherlock holmes.” you tease in his ear. you give a little pant as he hits a particularly deep stroke, prodding your cervix, “Christ…. b-but then it might be worth it. i should just call it a loss and let you go back to smoking. insatiable beast.”
your hands wrap around his neck as he braces himself on the shelves, arms on either side of your head. sherlock was never loud during sex, all the sounds he made were quiet and brief, but what always got you were the little whimpers he’d let slip. they were in your ear now as he rolled his hips, one arm coming back to hold your waist, aware you couldn’t support yourself alone with the intensity of his thrusts.
“c’mon, baby. give it to me.” you all but growl
with a few more hard and fast thrusts you feel him explode inside you. too much for someone who’d had you no less than ten times in the last three days alone. he drops his head to your chest, his breaths short and quick the same as yours. you swallow thickly and give a little groan as he slips outside of you. you feel his spend leak out of you and roll down your inner thighs, heat blooming on your cheeks. sherlock adjusts himself quickly before doing the same for you, no detail going remiss— save for the present he left between your legs— which he liked to leave anyways.
he takes your lips in his own and kisses you deeply before pulling away to murmur, “you’re ten times worse for me than the smoke ever was, darling.”
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𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞!
𝑻𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔! 𝑮𝒆𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒇𝒍𝒚!
𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐎𝐍𝐄: Head over to your camera roll. The last celebrity or fictional character saved to your gallery is your Valentine's date --- oh! what a cutie! 💗
𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐓𝐖𝐎: Sneak a peek at my Valentine's Date scenario chart! Here's how it works: Choose the first letter of your first name, your birthday month, and your star sign to reveal the ins-and-outs of your romantic getaway! 🥀
𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: Share the deets and share the love! Tag any lovely moots or followers that you think might get a kick out of this! Cheers! 🥂
𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄! 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓!
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I'll go first...
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Okay... the Governor and I are headed to Vienna to catch a show at the theatre and I'll be gifted a love letter! I love this man to bits but I'm expecting a double cross... ❤️🥀
moots, assemble! *no pressure, of course!*: @starstruck-loner @goldencherriess @astudyinlaura @lumosouls @misaverawrites @selcouthangel @asherloki @baby-bloos @thespiritoflife @lydiablack-m @starryeddie @andthevillainshallrises @bakerstreethound @silverdaydreamer @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @classickook @lucywrites02 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @blogthebooklover @imeternallylove @fictional-hooman @waiting-for-cas-to-save-me @amplifyme @frostandflamesfanfic @mindibindi @foxmulderlovebot @space-helen @inlovewithfictionalcharacters666 @paperheartsarts @aephereal @christinasyellowflowers @natti-ice
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taissabelle · 2 years
Text
Doctor: How many sexual partners have you had?
Me, who reads smut fun fictions about different characters on daily basis…
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imagines--galore · 10 months
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||Masterlist||
Please read rules before sending requests.
REQUESTS ARE OPEN.
(Always Uploading new Fics)
Avatar The Last Airbender
Pairing: Zuko x Orora
The Thread of Fate - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen
Pairing: Zuko x Reader
It Was Nothing
Theatrics
I’m Here Beside You
Big Hero 6
Pairing: Tadashi Hamada x Sakura Kamiya
Light 'em Up -  Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, 
Criminal Minds
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Evelyn Richardson
Mind Over Matter - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen,
(Companion piece to Mind Over Matter)
A Slight Frustration
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Hold Me Closer
First Kiss
Don’t Go!
Crossover - Frozen x Rise of the Guardians
Pairing: Jack Frost x Elsa (Jelsa)
One Step Closer - Part One, Part Two (InProgress)
Digimon
Pairing: Taichi Yagami x Hidemi Senshi
The Next Adventure
Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood
Pairing: Alphonse Elric x Willow Hawkeye(OC)
The Ties That Bind - Prologue, Part One,
Pairing: Edward Elric x Reader
Homecoming
The Language of Flowers
Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry Potter x Caelia Gale
Reassurance - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Epilogue - (Coming Soon)
Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader
Reluctant Friendship
Justice League DC Universe
Pairing: Superman x Lucky Penny aka Clark Kent x Penelope Pennyworth
Lucky Break
Pairing: Superman aka Clark Kent x Reader
Part One - Convince Me, Part Two - I’m Convinced
Pairing: (Platonic) Superman aka Clark Kent x 12-year-old reader
A New Life
Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Rachel
Kiss It Away
Stolen Kisses, Stolen Moments - Part One, Part Two
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Confessions
Last Night
Empowering
Distraction
Pairing: Dr. Stephen Strange x Clea
Love, A Kind of Magic - Part One, Part Two
Pairing: Dr. Stephen Strange x Reader
Bleeding Love
Perfection
A Surprising Twist
Sleep Deprived
What the Wife Says Goes
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Nothing But a Burden
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
A Pact Renewed
Because You’re Mine
Not a Waste of Space
Just Hold Me
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Never Leave Me
Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: Will Turner x Reader
My Heart Calls Your Name
Tavern Brawls
Rise of the Guardians
Pairing: Jack Frost x Evening Star aka The Blue Fairy
Two Spirits Meet
Sherlock (BBC)
Pairing: Sherlock x Reader
Serendipity
The Consulting Detective and the Serial Killer
His Love for Her
Your Hand in Mine
Drunken Comfort
Its All Been Arranged
An Unconventional Love Story (Victorian Era AU)
Star Trek(2009)
Pairing: Spock x Kealoha
The Roommate Experiment - Prologue, Part One
Pairing: Spock x Reader
The Little Green Monster
Chasing Away The Darkness
Here For You (InProgress)
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
Pairing: Leonardo x Amal
Heaven’s Light
A Comforting Embrace
The Amazing Spiderman
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
A Nonverbal Confession
Falling For Him
Heal Together
Drunk on Pheromones
Take All The Time You Need
Falling for the Enemy
The Chronicles of Narnia
Pairing: Peter Pevensie x Reader
An Unexpected Turn
We Face It Together
The Hobbit
Creepy Crawlies (No Pairing)
Pairing: Kili x Reader
You Are Safe
The Lord of the Rings
Pairing: Legolas x Annúneth
Love Happens(Coming Soon)
Pairing: Legolas x Reader
A Confession Years In The Making
My Prayer, My Light, My Fëa
A Little Introduction to Rock Music
We Meet Again
A Promise
Written In The Stars
The Witcher
Pairing: Geralt x Reader
Never Enough(Coming Soon)
Treasure Planet
Pairing: Jim Hawkins x Reader
A Little Competition Goes a Long Way
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marvelousmando · 1 year
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"The Game is Afoot, Indeed"
Sherlock x Reader
A/N: So here's my first attempt at a one shot - the idea for this popped into my head not too long after watching Enola Holmes 2. Hope you all enjoy!
Warnings: None! Pure fluff with a sprinkle of mutual pining. Reader is wearing a dress.
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"Here we are," Sherlock said after you exited the carriage, walking up to the side of the building to peer through the nearest window.
Looking around with awe at the large home decorated with beautiful flowers and twinkling lights, you wished for a moment that you were here to enjoy the lively music and celebrate like the other guests. You could see them through the window, dressed in all their finery, dancing the night away.
Taking a breath to clear your mind and focus on the task at hand, you looked around the corner to the front of the building. More guests were lined up outside along a winding path, and - yes, as you looked closer - were holding slips of paper in their hands.
"Alright! This is simple. All I need is one of those invitations," you exclaimed with a mischievous grin, turning towards him. "So, what's the mystery item you're after?"
His dark brows immediately furrowed.
"You're not taking it."
You crossed your arms and stared back in disbelief.
"Are you serious?"
"This item that I am taking is of high value to my case. It is not something I can entrust in anyone's hands but my own," Sherlock stated matter of factly. "I will slip in, break into the viscount's office, grab it, and slip back out."
You let out a soft snort.
"Sherlock, we are at a ball. Do you really expect me to believe that you won't be attention grabbing?" you said while studying the crowd through the window again. "There are a great deal of ladies in there with what looks to be barely any gentlemen. All the ladies will be constantly surveying the dance floor for their next match, waiting to sink their claws into the most eligible bachelor, and you are so very …"
Your words trailed off. You pressed your lips together, with a blushing glance back at Sherlock.
He returned your gaze, waiting, his features painted with slight curiosity.
"... tall," you finished lamely.
Silence.
A heated tension gathered between you both.
After a few moments, Sherlock released a small smirk.
Clearing your throat and breaking eye contact, you continued on, "The point being, I would attract far less attention, and as you know, I have plenty of experience breaking and entering, among other things."
Sherlock stepped towards you.
"Two things. First of all, that was a one-time occurrence that will never happen again. You caught me on a very rare, off day." Still moving closer, he finally stopped, with barely any space remaining. A quiet gasp escaped your lips, drawing his eyes to the source of the sound.
"Second of all," his voice lowering into a gentle tone, "how could you ever think that you would not be the most eye-catching woman in that ballroom?"
Lifting his hand to turn your face up towards his, you could feel your stomach doing somersaults. Resting your hands on the sides of his coat, you began to lose yourself in his deep blue eyes, framed with the most -
-"Even if you're not … tall, was it?" he teased, interrupting your runaway thoughts.
You huffed, glaring at him while taking a step back, causing Sherlock to drop his hand.
He immediately offered his arm. Upon taking it, you two strolled over to the front to join the moving guest line.
"So what exactly is my purpose in accompanying you this evening, if not for helping you with your case?" you questioned with a raised brow while waiting for your turn along the path.
"You are simply my date,'' he answered. You immediately opened your mouth in retort. Before you could pose another objection against him, he smoothly continued, "I don't deny your skills, but I believe your beauty will attract too much attention for you to break into the office successfully."
A smile broke out on your face at his attempt at flattery with a double compliment. He watched you closely as it slowly turned into a more sly expression.
"Well, I guess that just means I'll need a big distraction." By this time, you and Sherlock were a bit closer to the head of the line, with a few more guests waiting behind you.
In a loud voice, you suddenly gasped and stared at him in pretend shock, "Oh my goodness! I can't believe it! You're Sherlock Holmes!"
Not a second had passed and the guests ahead and behind craned their heads to get a look at the famous "Sherlock Holmes" who was attending the party.
Stunned into silence, Sherlock stared at you as you pulled out two invitations you had hidden within your dress. His mind flashed back to the heated moment you shared at the side of the building, when your hands had rested right by his coat pockets. At least he wasn't wrong about your skills, he thought.
Murmurs began to break out amongst the guests remaining in line, staring more openly at him.
"What's the item?" you asked again. "If you tell me, I'll give you back your invitation," you offered with a twinkle of mischief in your eyes.
He sighed in defeat.
"It's a silver compass with a chain. Engraved on it are the letters, H E G." He held out his hand impatiently for his invitation, as people were beginning to break away from their spots in line to talk to Sherlock.
"I didn't say when I'd give it back," you laughed, moving farther away as more and more people approached him and started to surround him. "You're Sherlock Holmes, you'll get in!"
He wasn't worried, he knew everything would be fine with your level of talent and capable hands. Lately, Enola had been telling him that he needed to be better about giving up control when it came to working with others. He guessed this was as good a start as any.
Sherlock couldn't help but admire your cunning and quick thinking as he watched you hand the invitation over to the footman, shooting a quick glance and flirtatious grin back at him as you entered the ballroom scene.
Hardly listening to the people now crowding around him and attempting to introduce themselves, he returned the smile as a thought entered his mind.
He would just have to get to the compass first.
"The game is afoot, indeed."
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