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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year

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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

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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sherlocks-blanket · 8 months

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Drunk Confessions

A/N: Finally, after having not posted for such a long time... I can post a fic I had as a WIP since last year... I hope I get to write more again, but I can't promise anything. Anyway, I hope you guys like it.

Words: 1k

Warnings: Nothing, just some drunk sherlock?

After you received a message from Sherlock, that you should come as soon as possible to Baker street, minus the spelling errors; which you dismissed he messaged while being in trouble… You dropped anything you where doing and hurried outside to hail a cab; to take you to 221B.

The moment the cab halt, you paid the driver and rushed up the stairs to find Sherlock with John sitting towards each other with notes attached on their foreheads and from the liquor in their hand; you could probably tell, that they had too much for this evening, with how wasted they are…

As you gasped for air, you let yourself drop on the doorframe, drawing the attention from the two men. You noticed a smile spreading on Sherlock lips the second his eyes where on you, but it wasn’t a fake one; it radiates warmth like he was pleased to see you came, which was unlike for Sherlock to do. Not that he can’t do it, but when he does; it’s either false ones that you can tell apart from the real, since the real ones are rare and shows how comfortable he is with someone, that he shows it; unlike the fake ones, where he drops his smile immediately the moment the person turns they face away from him; which you noticed a few times…

A giggle from John broke the awkward silence in this room. You turned your gaze to the doctor and raised an eyebrow at him.

“I kneeeeeeeew it!” he exclaimed, pointing to Sherlock, then he took a sip from his drink.

You furrowed your brows in further confusion, but shaking your head; you got your phone out of your pocket and wrote Mary; telling her she should pick up her drunken fiancé… Just as you were done writing the text; a client walked into the flat and asked for Sherlock; but you kindly explained she should come tomorrow, since it gotten late. It made you wonder if clients show up at any hour of the day…

Sherlock, of course…He protested that the client shouldn’t leave even after the client had already left. After all, who knows? It could’ve been a missed opportunity for a case that could have gotten his interest; but you simply pushed him back in his armchair when he tried to stand up.

“You can work tomorrow…Now you better rest, so you’ll be sober for the next day…”

He stared with a sharp glare, like he wanted to prove with some deductions he’s capable of working, but he faltered instantly; which you took as a sign that he gave in. When you turned to help John downstairs; where Mary would pick him up; still you felt his eyes bore onto you.

As Mary left with John; she gave you an apologetic glance before they got into a cab; leaving you to deal with a drunken Sherlock.

When you stepped through the door, Sherlock sat still in his armchair, his posture relaxed; his eyes on something. You never saw him resting like that, but it most likely came from the alcohol…

His eyes wandered to you, noticing you were present again. There was this again…

This warm smile.

“Well…let’s get you sobered up…” you mumbled, leaning your hand on his shoulder to animate him to standing up, which he didn’t and instead, he took your hand in his own; staring at it like it was a piece of art.

“You have such soft hands...”,he murmured, keeping his eyes on your hand; rubbing his thumb along your palm.

You gently withdrawn your hand feeling the a heat rise on your cheeks; before you could say something again that he needs to rest, he slowly stood up wobbly on his own; leaning his hand your shoulder for support.

With you by his side, you brought him to his bedroom and only helped to remove his shoes and his suit jacket. It didn’t need to get more awkward than it already was for you.

Just as you turned the night light off and wanting to head to the living room; you felt your hand taken again and a warm feeling on it. You peeked over your shoulder; seeing Sherlock lean his cheek on it, with his eyes closed.

You tried to withdraw your hand, but at the same time, you didn’t mind it much. So, you stayed for a while and heard Sherlock snoring softly.

**********

The next morning you were preparing some tea and some water with some painkillers. You assumed he'll have a headache after yesterday…

Just as you wanted to get your stuff from the couch and leave for your own flat; you heard a door open followed with some footsteps.

“Morning.” You greeted him with a smile, which disappeared the moment you thought about yesterday again... It made you wonder if he remembered his drunken behavior or if he ‘deleted’ it from his ‘hard drive’.

Sherlock acknowledged you with a slight nod and went for the water and painkillers.

You watched him silently drink the water but felt uncomfortable for you staring at him. So you thought it was better to go. As you took a single step; Sherlock called your name, drawing your attention back to him.

“About yesterday-“

You interrupted him, holding your hands up in defense; ”No! It’s alright…I know you didn’t mean that…“

Sherlock stared at you, and you could tell he thought for his next words, as he slowly opened his mouth to only closed it again.

“I..I really like you, and I mean... It”

You raised your eyebrows in confusion from this explanation about yesterday until he added.

“ I mean…I like you more than a friend…”

You froze on the spot at his confession as weird as the situation was you wanted to show him you felt the same, so you got out of your stupor and hugged him. It definitely caught him by surprise.

“Do you…feel the same?” he asked cautiously.

You only nodded and said while chuckling; “Yes.”

Sherlock hummed in thought. “I might have to thank John for this…it was his idea to text you…”

You thought again before you slowly connected the dots about yesterday. Like when John said he knew it…Did he see that you liked Sherlock or Sherlock, you or even both? You shook the thoughts away since they didn’t matter anymore. The only thing what mattered…

…was now.

#sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock x you #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x y/n #sherlock holmes x y/n

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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 6 months

Text

Last Updated: 2024-02-06

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

✑ A Week Early￨Prt. II￨Prt. III by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: You and Sherlock are having your first children; who've thought the famously emotionless detective would be such an anxious father.

✑ A Little Love and Lots of Laughs by eurusholmmes • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "It's been five years since you met Sherlock Holmes, four since you fell in love, and three since you married. [Now], you have [two children] who... happen to love picnics, swimming and spending time with their cousin Rosie and Uncle John."

✑ Absence of You by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "[You're] away on a mission…, leaving Sherlock to wrestle mentally with his importance in [your] life and how badly he wants [you] home."

✑ Always Attract by luxwritesfanfic • 〔F᜶M〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "The strobe lights won't stop blinding him and Sherlock can't seem to shake the feeling that he's missing out, until he realizes he isn't."

✑ Bedside Manner by luxwritesfanfic • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock figures out who the father is and [a cat's got your] tongue."

✑ Brother, Annoying Brother by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 •

Summary: Sherlock's, once again, struggling to express feelings, refusing to admit he fancies you. Luckily, Mycroft knows just how to get him to confess.

✑ Champagne Problems by leftperfectionmoon • 〔A᜶C〕 •

Summary: reader turns down her boyfriend when he proposes to her as she has been in love with sherlock all this time.

✑ Closed for Today by coppercatswrites • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Sherlock closes shop to take care of you while you're sick.

✑ Come Home by lykaonimagines • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Following Mary's death, Sherlock sent you away to prevent you from stopping him from doing what he felt he had to do to save John. However, now that you're back and has all the details, you're not sure your relationship can survive it.

✑ Don't You Dare Say "I'm Sorry" by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔M〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "Sherlock Holmes had sparred with many an intimidating nemesis. He'd faced off against the most fierce, twisted, cold, hard, calculating, fearful opponents known to man, however none of adversaries that had come before had invoked such terror and panic as the one he was currently staring down."

✑ Exact Opposite by lykaonimagines • 16+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "When his brother still refuses to get dressed and take the case he has for him seriously, Mycroft calls [you in] to handle the situation."

✑ Expectant by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F᜶M〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "[You're] acting strange, and Sherlock notices. [After] confessing the truth and... He struggles to find the words."

✑ Feeling is Mutual, the by classickook • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "You've been harbouring a crush on Sherlock for quite some time now but are determined to keep it a secret for as long as [possible]. Foolish of you to think he wouldn't figure it out... and maybe he'll even return your sentiment?"

✑ Game is On, the by classickook • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You have a little surprise for Sherlock that turns out differently than you had originally planned."

✑ Headache by bewarethecrazyperson • 〔F᜶C〕 • 🚫 •

Summary: "...While it was rare for you to get a proper headache, it wasn't unfamiliar for you or the boys when one resurfaced. They usually let you be, knowing that rest, medication and sleep would usually take care of the problem. [However,] what happens when you accidentally take one of Sherlock's pills?"

✑ Holmes, the by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 •

Summary: When Sherlock's parents invite you to dinner, mistaking you for his girlfriend, it pushes their son to finally tell you how he feels.

✑ If You're Shy (Let Me Know) by classickook • 18+ • 〔E᜶M᜶F〕 •

Summary: "When Irene won't stop teasing you about your lack of experience, Sherlock comes to your defence and maybe even proves the woman wrong."

✑ Ignorance and Lunch Dates by thepokyone • 〔M᜶F〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock was clever. Everybody knew that - especially you, considering you had been friends with him since high school. Being friends with Sherlock had its pros, but it also had its cons."

✑ Jealous? by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: {…}

✑ Jealous, Love? by annesthaeticc • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♡ •

Summary: "Sherlock Holmes doesn't get jealous. Well, that was until you volunteered to help him out on a case that puts his feelings for you in jeopardy."

✑ Kidnapped by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ • 🚫 •

Summary: {…}

✑ Kissing Advice by imagine-by-susu • 〔A᜶C〕 •

Summary: When Irene taunts Sherlock with his sexual inexperience, the detective seeks out your advise on the matter. However, the situation does go quite how Sherlock hoped…

✑ Let's Have Dinner￨Prt. II by classickook • 〔A〕 •

Summary: "as Sherlock's neighbor and friend, you've spent quite a bit of time with the detective and developed feelings for him. unfortunately for you, however, his heart belongs to another."

✑ Make Up by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Although you never enjoy fighting with Sherlock, you love making up afterwards.

✑ Men by imaginesbyella • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You work at the MI-6 Headquarters for Lady Smallwood. You love your job, but one day someone shows up and things get a little bit weird."

✑ Nicknames by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "4 times you used nicknames for Sherlock."

✑ On Edge￨Prt. II by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 18+ • 〔E〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock has no cases and John forbid him to smoke... [leading] Sherlock to find other ways to take out his frustration and, at the same time, showing [you] what it's like to be on edge."

✑ Other Woman, the by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 18+ • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: {…}

✑ Puppy Luv by annesthaeticc • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "While on a case, Sherlock Holmes stumbles upon a new friend… He brings her home, and fluff ensues."

✑ Rest of Our Lives￨Prt. II by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock returns home late after a week long case, and contemplates the current state of their relationship."

✑ Safe Space by lykaonimagines • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "During an argument over one of Sherlock's experiments, [you realize] some events in his life have impacted him more than he usually let on."

✑ Sentiment by goldencherriess • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock finds himself entranced by Lestrade's best friend and co-worker."

✑ Tipsy by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: When John and Sherlock return to the flat, absolutely smashed, it's up to you and Mrs. Hudson to ensure they're looked after.

✑ Waltz by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 •

Summary: {…}

✑ White Lillies by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 •

Summary: You mistakenly confess you feelings to Sherlock, as it happens his reaction is rather sweet.

✑ Woman, the by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "[You] enters 221B and instantly notices the smell of another woman's perfume. [You realize] it's Irene Adler who is [trying] to convince Sherlock that she is a better woman for him."

✑ Woman Who Was No Lady, the by whereiputtheotherstuff • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: A tense conversation with Irene Adler makes Sherlock realize something extraordinary about you.

✑ Why Do I Want to Do This Again

✑ You Don't Know Him Like I Do by classickook • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You're sick and tired of constantly hearing insults thrown at Sherlock about how he handles his emotions."

✑ Your Stupid Face by gaitwae • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock is too proud to admit to anybody he likes you, but John knows."

✑ Affirmation by eurusholmmes • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ All Day by classickook • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Announcement, the by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔M〕 •

✑ Another One!? by imaginesbyella • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Bad Day by oneshots-imagines-and-that • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Bagels by grace-writes-shit • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Birds and Bathtubs by deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Blissful Morning by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Boring Days, the by thepokyone • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Cuddling? Cuddling. by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Dating and Doctors by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Emotions and Experiments by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 •

✑ Enjoy the Show Brother by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Fatherly Advice by imaginesbyella • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ F*ck It by coppercatswrites • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Jaw Kisses by eurusholmmes • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Keep Breathing by eurusholmmes • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Lust by geeks-universe • 16+ • 〔E〕 •

✑ Lying Detective, the by deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts •

✑ Made for Each Other by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Measurements by classickook • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Morning Light by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Never Stood a Chance by luxwritesfanfic • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ New Family by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ No Flirting by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Not on the Couch by imagine-by-susu • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Our First Kiss by eurusholmmes • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Our Little Game by justauthoring • 〔F〕 •

✑ Psychology of Cute by oneshots-imagines-and-that • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Resurrection by moonlightsong • 〔A᜶F〕 •

✑ Rewritten Memory by gaitwae • 〔F〕 •

✑ Safe in Your Arms by classickook • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Stressed by generallynerdy • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Tease by classickook • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Tell It Like It Is by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Texting by imaginesbyella • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ These Words Of Mine by eurusholmmes • 〔A〕 •

✑ Thinking Out Loud by grace-writes-shit • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Wedding Day by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Why Did You Kiss Me? by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 •

✑ Babysitting Rosie w/ Sherlock... by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • 𑁍 •

✑ Being Sherlock's Pregnant Wife... by tessimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Cuddling w/ Sherlock... by spilledkauffie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Dating Sherlock Holmes... by spilledkauffie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Getting into Trouble w/ Sherlock... by geeks-universe • 16+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || BBC!Sherlock Master Index

Authors: @annesthaeticc || @bewareofthecrazyperson || @classickook || @coppercatwrites || @deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts || @eurusholmmes || @gaitwae || @geeks-universe || @generallynerdy || @goldencherriess || @grace-writes-shit || @imagine-by-susu || @imaginesbyella || @justauthoring || @leftperfectionmoon || @luxwritesfanfic || @lykaonimagines || @magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics || @moonlightsong || @oneshots-imagines-and-that || @prettyxlittlexwriter || @spilledkauffie || @tessimagines || @thepokyone || @whereiputtheotherstuff || @writings-of-a-british-fangirl ||

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lykaonimagines · 1 year

Text

Exact Opposite - Sherlock x Reader

Paring: Sherlock Holmes (BBC) x F!Reader

Word Count: 2,427

Description: When his brother still refuses to get dressed and take the case he has for him seriously, Mycroft calls in Y/N to handle the situation.

Other Things: Established relationship. Takes place during A Scandal in Belgravia. Reimagining of the scene in the palace where Sherlock refuses to get dressed. Dressing Sherlock.

Warnings: Suggestive. Suggestive teasing/touches and Sherlock being naked as per scene. Not exactly NSFW, but if you don’t like anything sexual at all, may be uncomfortable. Some swearing. Being snatched off the street by Mycroft’s agents.

Masterlist

Y/N certainly hadn’t expected to be plucked up off the side of the street on her lunch break by Mycroft’s agents. Then again, it was probably better to just assume it could happen at any time the elder Holmes brother willed it.

She’d argued in the street with them for a few minutes, insisting she had to at the very least go back and let them know she wouldn’t be returning for the afternoon. But as most interactions with his agents go, they scooped her up into the car and informed her Mycroft had it handled. Because of course he did.

None of his agents ever tended to be in the mood to chat either. From friendly banter to actual information about where the hell she was being carted away to this time, the most she usually received was a grunt or that ‘Mr. Holmes requests your presence’.”

Pretentious statement as always. Though this time slightly more informative, “Mr. Holmes requires your assistance.”

Clearly related to Sherlock, Mycroft rarely saw any need for her to be around as a whole. Generally he stuck to ignoring her presence at the flat or at Sherlock’s side, a sentiment she ended up reflecting back after several failed attempts at creating some sort of friendly dialog with her boyfriend’s brother.

That is, until he feels he needs to step in or he transports her somewhere on Sherlock’s request. Beyond that, they had little to do with one another. So clearly for her ‘assistance’ to be requested so hastily, it had to be related to Sherlock.

A queasy feeling settles in her gut at the thought. He needs her assistance… and had his agents immediately throw her into the car. Was Sherlock hurt? Staring out the tinted windows, she dreads the thought of a hospital coming into view.

But as they continue on and she starts to pinpoint the surroundings, she’s dumbstruck by the car pulling up to Buckingham Palace.

“Are we… at the right place?” She asks hesitantly as an agent opens her door.

He nods sharply and grasps her arm to pull her from the seat, “Mr. Holmes is waiting for you inside.”

“Right, of course. Mycroft just had me brought here for a cup of tea with him and the Queen huh?” She snaps as she pulls her arm back in annoyance.

The agent sighs and reaches for her arm once again but she pulls away, “You need to come with me Miss.”

“I will, you can lead me there without holding onto me like a misbehaving child.”

Shaking his head in annoyance, the agent nods toward the entrance and starts off, glancing back several times to make sure she’s following.

“I’m not going to run off, calm down.”

“If you do, it’s my head,” he grumbles, straightening up as another agent approaches them and speaks into his ear quietly. “This way, quickly please.”

Speeding up to keep up with the agent, she nearly runs into him as he suddenly stops in her path. He grabs her arms tightly and turns her toward a corner and shoves her in the direction.

“Hey-!” She snaps as she stumbles into the opening, freezing as four sets of eyes snap up to her. Immediately recognizing the two brothers and John, she zeros in quickly on her boyfriend.

Her very naked boyfriend. Sitting in a sheet. In Buckingham Palace.

“Ah finally you join us Ms. Y/L/N,” Mycroft states with a pained smile.

“I was on my lunch break when… I’m sorry but Sherlock why are you only in our bedsheet?” She asks bewildered as his cheeks flush.

“This is how they decided to bring me,” he states unhappily and shrugs. “I didn’t want to be here.”

Her gaze immediately goes to John who also shrugs, “Don’t look at me, he had me out of the city with a laptop to video call him for a six. He was like this when I got here.”

Looking back at the detective with a raised brow, Sherlock furrows his own and looks away from her, “Mycroft you didn’t need to interrupt her day as well.”

“Oh but I did. Y/N handle him. This is a matter of national importance, and this can’t continue,” he gestures angrily toward Sherlock.

“Yes, I see. Got it,” she answers, accepting the pile of his clothes from Mycroft. “Is there a bathroom or private room nearby?”

“Out the hall you came in, first door on your left,” the man she doesn’t recognize responds.

Tucking the clothes under her arm, she goes to stand in front of Sherlock and extends her hand to him.

Pouting his lips, Sherlock holds her gaze and tightens his sheet to himself.

“Sherlock, please just come with me.”

Sherlock reluctantly shifts the sheet around and lets her take ahold of his hand, quickly pulling him up from the couch and out of the room.

She tugs him into mentioned room, locking the door behind them. Turning to face Sherlock, she glances around the pristine bathroom and sighs, “Seriously?”

“They practically kidnapped me from the flat, I’m allowed to be naked in my own home.”

“You know how this shit works, if he really wants you there, you’re going to be there. I was literally picked up and shoved into a car myself today. When it became obvious they weren’t going to take no for an answer, why wouldn’t you just get dressed?”

“They handled you like that? They actually lifted you and shoved you into the car?” He asks sharply as he takes a step closer to her.

“I was arguing that I couldn’t just disappear over my lunch break without telling anyone, and they didn’t like that answer,” Y/N shrugs and sets the pile of clothes on the counter by the sink. “Not a terribly unexpected thing. Annoying, but I’ve accepted when Mycroft decides I’m going somewhere, I’m going there. I’d have thought you’d have accepted that long ago as well seeing as he’s your brother.”

“They’re not supposed to touch you,” Sherlock practically growls, his eyes flickering over her form and narrowing.

Taking a step closer, he runs his fingers gently over a red mark on her arm, “Name of the agents. Or descriptions.”

“Sherlock they-”

“No,” he interrupts her and reaches his free hand up to stroke her cheek. “They’re not allowed to touch you unless it’s a matter of saving your life. That’s the agreement. And they certainly shouldn’t be handling you so roughly they leave marks.”

“We can talk about all that later, if you haven’t noticed we’re in a fancy loo in the middle of a palace, and you’re naked,” she responds and reaches out to grab ahold of the sheet. “Now could we please get you dressed? The sooner you get dressed and hear out Mycroft, the sooner we can leave.”

“We?” He asks curiously, nodding at her as she pulls the sheet down from his body.

“Mhm, thought maybe you’d be more motivated that way,” her hand brushes slowly down his chest, her fingers gently running through the hair there. “And as fortunate as the rest of London would be to get a glimpse of this on the evening news, I think you have a certain look that you like to uphold my posh boy.”

“You make good points, yet do things to encourage the exact opposite of getting dressed dear,” he clears his throat roughly, one of his hands going to her hip.

Leaning into him, she presses several slow, languid kisses along his collar bone, “We can’t do anything of that sort here of course. Consider this… inspiration to get this all taken care of quickly so I can take you apart properly at home.”

Sherlock shivers at the contact and closes his eyes tightly, “You’re being absolutely wicked today.”

“I was dragged across the city to Buckingham Palace to make my boyfriend put his pants on, I think I have the right to be a little unfair,” she chuckles against him as she continues her trail of kisses up the expanse of his neck.

“Mm- fine,” he relents, pulling her in closer and nuzzling his face into her own neck.

“Now who’s the one saying one thing yet doing another?” She chuckles as he grunts against her and she reaches over to pull his pants from the pile.

Ducking down, she holds them out for him as he rolls his eyes at her and huffs in annoyance, “I can dress myself.”

“Could have fooled me,” she teases and nods down at them. “Step in.”

Sherlock sighs and finally steps into them, letting her pull the black boxer-briefs up his long legs. Settling the waistband into place, she presses a soft kiss to his abdomen.

“And trousers next,” she states, also pulling them from the counter and holding them out for him to step into.

He does so quickly, watching her as she pulls the fabric up, and grunting in annoyance as she carefully drags the zipper up over his growing problem.

“Wouldn’t be as much of an issue if you didn’t get everything tailored so tightly,” she remarks and slots the button in place.

“You complain, yet you enjoy it,” he remarks with a smirk and kneads his fingers into her hips. “You aren’t subtle.”

“Am I supposed to subtly check out my boyfriend’s arse? I thought being allowed to look was just a perk of dating,” she teases, pulling out his dress shirt from the pile and shaking it out. “It creased a bit, but it’ll have to do for today.”

“Of course it is,” he sighs unhappily, holding his arms out for her.

Slipping the first sleeve up his arm, she goes behind him to press a kiss to the base of his neck, causing a shiver to run up his body, “Always so sensitive love.”

“If you keep this up much longer, we’re both going to be leaving immediately after this,” he pouts, slipping his own arm into the opposite sleeve.

Coming back around him, she deftly does up the buttons of his dress shirt. Carefully tucking it into his trousers, she circles around him to pull out any wrinkles the best she can.

“Now I’ll let you handle your shoes and socks yourself since you’re behaving,” she chuckles and clears a space away on the counter for him.

Rolling his eyes, he hops up onto the counter and sets to the task.

Her mind wanders as she watches him, his long fingers moving swiftly across the laces.

“Distracted by something?” He asks after a few minutes, a smug grin on his face as she’s pulled from her thoughts and looks back up at him.

“Always you.” She pushes his legs apart to stand between them, “You are quite distracting.”

“I find myself in a similar problem with you,” his hands cup her jaw as his thumbs stroke over her cheeks. “You’ve made my life far more complicated.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she teases, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Oh it’s truly terrible,” he says lowly, pulling her face back to his own to kiss her again. His tongue swipes along her lip and he smiles in triumph at the sound that escapes her. “And yet I find myself liking nearly every moment of it.”

“Poor Sherlock, being forced to confront the fact he has feelings,” her hands squeeze his clothed thighs.

“There are some advantages to sentiment though I suppose,” he continues, opting to press various kisses across her face. “I quite enjoy all this.”

“As do I,” she agrees, taking a step back from him and grabbing his suit jacket from beside him. “Now hop off and get this on.”

Letting out an exaggerated sigh, Sherlock slips to the floor and accepts his jacket from her. Pulling it onto his frame quickly, he glances into the large opulent mirror beside them.

“At least the agents have good taste,” she remarks, reaching out to smooth out his jacket. “I love this suit on you, especially with the black shirt underneath.”

“I know you do,” he smirks and reaches up to run his fingers through his hair trying to tame the curls.

Circling behind him, Y/N sets to fixing the back of his hair, “I think this is the best we’re going to be able to do without any product.”

“If he plans on sending me anywhere, I’m going back to the flat first,” Sherlock complains as he stares at his reflection. “I’m not staying like this all day.”

“If you’d have cooperated in the first place you wouldn’t have had to go out like that at all,” she counters, chuckling at his scowl.

“You really think they’d have let me fix my hair for the day?”

“Mm, good point, probably not.”

“I don’t want to do this case,” he sighs after a moment.

“Why not?”

“I don’t do anonymous clients. He knows that. I’m always going to be missing information, and that’s not how I work.”

“Well it’s not your ideal… but look around. Based on where we are, that he had you dragged here in literally a bedsheet, and says it’s a matter of national importance. I think you can narrow it down to someone from a specific family of people. Depending on the rest of the facts, I think you can get by on that information. Besides, he’s not going to let this go.”

“I’m not a child, he can’t just force me to take the cases he wants me to.”

“Well he can make life really inconvenient for us if you refuse. And as annoying as being carted away and expected to do whatever it is; he is rather useful when you need him. He also cares for you, not that either of you would admit that without threat of death or dismemberment.”

Sighing once again, Sherlock turns away from the mirror and gives her a stiff nod, “I will listen to what they have to say. But if I don’t like it, we’re leaving.”

“Sounds like a deal, just give it a shot. Something this big is bound to be interesting anyways.”

Giving him one last look over, she gathers up their bedsheet from the ground and puts her hand on the doorknob.

Reaching out to her, Sherlock carefully intertwines his fingers with hers as she pulls open the door with her other hand, a soft smile on his face.

“To battle then?” She asks, squeezing his hand in hers.

“To battle.”

----

Sherlock Taglist: @stephenstrangeaddictions @strangeions @asgardianprincess1050 @rbymoon @elisa20beth @black-and-white1 @gaitwae @azu21 @mirikusashes @bubsonnobx @yuu-chan-is-still-a-student12 @catsr0pia @strangelockd @lokidokieokie @icytrickster17 @celilice1

If you want to be tagged in any future Sherlock stuff (or Doctor Strange) let me know or fill out the taglist form on my pinned channel navigation/masterlist. 💙

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlock BBC #sherlock x reader #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock x y/n #sherlock holmes x you

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specialagentlokitty · 11 months

Text

Sherlock x reader - my favourite person

Hello lovely writer, could you do a prompt 67 for Sherlock and fem reader, obviously has age gap but she's cute and he's obsessed with her. Like she's the sun in his day. - Anon💜

67: “Hey! Get back here!” “Catch me if you can you old man/woman!” “Stop running!”

Sherlock had been ignoring you all day simply because you didn’t want to go on a case with him.

He was pouting was the easiest way to put it. Pouting because you made him go on his case alone.

He was acting childish, but you couldn’t really say much because what you were doing right now just about levelled out Sherlock’s am Hmmmm petty behaviour.

“Give me my coat!”

“No!”

You ran under his arms as he tried to grab you and stood by the open flat door with a grin on your face as you flicked your eyes towards it.

Sherlock saw this and raised a hand, pointing his finger at you.

“Don’t even think about it, I know what you’re going to do and don’t do it.”

You slowly pulled his jacket on and he narrowed his eyes at you and you grinned at him.

“Why’re you doing this?” Sherlock asked.

“Because you’re being petty and ignoring me.”

“You’re being petty right now!” He huffed.

You shrugged a little.

“I know.”

You spun around and jumped down the stairs, rushing down them as fast as you could as Sherlock ran after you.

“Hey! Get back here!”

Running out the front door, you jumped down the step and barrelled out into the street, turning around to grin at Sherlock.

“Catch me if you can you old man!”

You took off down the shockingly quiet street, and you could hear him running after you.

“Stop running!”

“Never!”

You knew Sherlock was soon going to catch up to you, he was taller and had the advantage of longer legs.

But you had the advantage of being small, so when he got a bit too close you spun around and ran past him making him stop.

“This is childish (Y/N)!”

“I don’t care!”

You stood in front of him and crossed your arms, well, crossed them the best you could with baggy coat sleeves getting in the way.

Sherlock walked over and stood in front of you, placing a hand on your shoulder so you couldn’t run away from him this time

“Is this all because I wasn’t talking to you?”

“You know what it’s for.” You huffed.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, pressing his lips against your forehead.

“I wasn’t ignore you idiot, I was waiting for you to finish what you were doing and to come and sit with me.”

“Really?”

Sherlock nodded his head and you beamed, taking his hand you laced your fingers with his.

“Can I have my coat back now?”

“No, I like it. It’s warm.”

“Why do you think I’m asking for it?”

You grinned and started to walk back in the direction you had run from and Sherlock looked down at you dragging him along.

Usually he didn’t do things like this, hold hands, kiss your head in public, but sometimes it just felt like the right thing to to.

You stopped walking and looked in a shop window, admiring the display and Sherlock looked at it.

He couldn’t really see the appeal, but it made you smile so he stood there waiting for you to finishing looking at it.

“I wanna look inside!”

You let go of Sherlocks hand and made your way inside and he was right behind you, trailing with his hands in his pockets as he looked around uninterested.

Instead he just kept his gaze focused on you, the only interesting thing in this boring shop

#bbc Sherlock #bbc sherlock x you #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc Sherlock imagine #Sherlock #sherlock x y/n #Sherlock x you #Sherlock x reader #Sherlock imagine #Sherlock Holmes #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes x reader

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shuichiakainx · 25 days

Text

they put Sherlock BBC on Netflix and guess who's watching it again 🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️

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classickook · 2 years

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the game is on | sherlock holmes

pairing: sherlock holmes x fem!reader

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

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

word count: 2.2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“where would you like me to kiss you?”

“surprise me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“i am kissing you and touching you.”

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

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

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

“what about me?”

“what about you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

tags: @nicoletk

2K notes · View notes

kahuunknown · 8 months

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The "Normal" one - BBC Sherlock sibling fanfic

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

~~~

The normal one

(Y/n) Holmes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s dangerous, (Y/n-“

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

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

“You know who he is.” Sherlock stated.

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

“Yes, but it’s also a hazard-“

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

“A scientific priest.” Sherlock grumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.” Sherlock sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

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

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

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year

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The Most Beautiful Riddle

HenryCavill!Sherlock x Female!Reader

summary: Sherlock Holmes had never entertained the idea of marriage. That was, until Y/N came along and turned his world upside down. Now, after a year of sweet love and happiness, he is finally ready to ask the question. There is just one problem: How is he ever to make the proposal worthy of his one true love?

a/n: Henry!Sherlock pulls this poetic side out of me, I don’t know. This is me trying to write this period-appropriate, but don’t hesitate to tell me that I’ve failed miserably. This was also a request from this lovely anon - I hope you like it!

word count: 2.9k

warnings: fluff, fluff, and did I mention fluff?

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

If it weren’t for her, he would have surely misplaced his head by now, Sherlock thought as he was on yet another venture to look through his study for those particular cufflinks he adored. Though he was certain, he had placed them right on his desk the other night, they weren’t anywhere to be found.

“For god’s sake. They can’t have bloody disappeared,” he huffed in the stuffy study when a pile of books tumbled over the edge of the desk. And then, there it was: an envelope wedged between his most recent read and a note that said: ‘in case you forget’. The cufflinks were neatly placed within.

The detective smiled with a shake of his head. The handwriting was unmistakable: the soft swing of the quill made the harshest words sound lovely. There was only one person who could have done this. And this particular person, he was late to meet by five minutes already. He could not leave her waiting, he thought, not in that heat outside.

Sherlock hurried down the stairs of his house as he placed the delicate silver pieces on his sleeves, a light touch grazing the surface of the sapphire pinched in the metal with remarkable expertise.

“There you are, Sherlock. Whatever took you so long?” Y/N’s bright eyes glimmered under her sunhat but the smirk on her lips told Sherlock that she knew. Of course, she did. She was the woman who had placed the cufflinks in the envelope after all, because she had grown custom to his scattered thoughts whenever he was deep into a case, seemly leaving every other aspect of life pass him by as if he were sitting by a train window.

“Darling, I am sorry for I have left you waiting. But somebody appeared to have replaced some items in my study.” Y/N straightened his jacket when he reached her, her hands lingering on his shoulders for a moment longer, her eyes staring into his with a playful gleam.

“Now, who would do such a thing? It’s quite improper to go through a gentleman’s belongings like that.” She did poorly in hiding the mischief in her smile when she turned around. Not, however, before Sherlock caught her hand and placed a sweet kiss on her knuckles.

“Indeed. Though I seem to be relying on this someone after all.” It was an honest attempt in telling her something entirely different than the words he had said. And Y/N knew the meaning behind them all. It was their own personal riddle. A beautiful one, that was, and the very thing he adored most about their relationship.

“Well,” her hand squeezed his in a reassuring manner, “it’s good to have people look after one, don’t you think?” Y/N gathered her skirts and entered the carriage waiting before his home. It would take them to the market, where his favorite part of the day was awaiting the man who stood dazed before the horses, a hint of a smile on his lips and the whisper of a thought hanging in the light summer breeze.

“So it seems.”

❁ ❁ ❁

It had become a custom for the pair to visit the market every Wednesday. Though this tradition had not come to life until Sherlock had started to worry excessively for Y/N’s wellbeing after they had confessed their feelings for one another. It had been a hot summer's day then, too. And Sherlock could not help but be surprised when Y/N had kissed him under the old oak tree by the meadow and shared her feelings with him, that he in fact felt them as well. Much like now, he had been deep in thought about an interesting case of his that seemed to have his head everywhere but in the moment. Y/N had managed to pull him back with this sweet and fleeting kiss. And he were to have almost missed it had it not sparked an overwhelming feeling in his chest. A feeling he had felt many times before but were never able to place; and one he still felt whenever she was close. So, it appeared only natural to accompany Y/N to her weekly market visits.

Sherlock would not admit it to anyone, really, but he found great joy in watching her frolic through the stands, smelling the flowers, conversing with sellers, and making him carry all the items she had acquired throughout the day. He always made sure to buy her a bouquet of the prettiest flowers as well just to see that bright smile shining through.

It were these moments that reminded the usually rational man that he too was allowed to feel. His mind would scatter like petals on a window sill, showering his head with thoughts and scenarios he seemed to be able to visit only in her presence. Faint whispers suggested how the wind blowing through Y/N’s hair made it look just that much softer, or what it would feel like to have his fingers stroke through her delicate locks again. Sherlock knew what it felt like. He had had the pleasure of pushing his hand through the strands when they would kiss - if they were able to catch a lonely moment amongst the endless sea of banquettes and work events their life shipped them through. But he missed it nonetheless. Her laugh made him think of children running through a lively home and her loving stare whenever she presented another item for him to hold showed him how very easily he could look at her eyes and fall lost in them for hours.

And yet, he had not found himself able to ever take their remarkable relationship to the next step. The both of them made a noteworthy team in more aspects than one. Y/N had proven herself of great help on many of Sherlock’s cases and the amount of time the pair spent together seemed unconventional for an unmarried couple. Sherlock himself was constantly reminded of that by the critical eyes of his fellows and the uttered remarks of the old women in the city. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He loved her. That he was sure of. And though Eudoria had been scolding him for courting a lady like Y/N for almost a year now, he had yet to ask the question his mother so desperately wanted him to pop. Sherlock had thought about it of course. There was no other woman he could even imagine marrying that was, but he was also aware that a normal proposal would not nearly do her extraordinary personality justice. So it was not that he didn’t want to ask her, it was more like his sister concluded: he was scared to mess up. Though he would never phrase it that way. His sister was a smart young woman and it seemed to prove her intelligence right once more when Sherlock agreed with her on this behalf.

Another item being placed in his arms pulled him back from his thoughts. Apples. Sherlock looked up with intrigue in his eyes, the smile on the woman’s face in front go him just brightening further.

“I will be making pie today. You love apples, do you not, Sherlock?”

Heat rose up his generally unfazed face. Sherlock was not able to prevent it from happening.

“I do.”

And for some unexplainable reason, this moment felt different than many as such before. Sherlock could feel his heart swell in his chest, the constant thumbing beneath his ribs aggressive and unrelenting. And it did not falter. Not when he followed her back to the carriage later that afternoon. Not when he guided her back to his house, hand resting on the small of her back and the other securely holding a basket of acquired goods. And not when he watched her prepare an apple pie for him while contently humming an unfamiliar tune that still sounded like the most beautiful melody to his ears.

As his broad frame was leaning on the door way, his hand secretly pressed to his chest to still the violent pounding before it would kill him, Sherlock's mind began to wander again. Though this time, much to his dismay, it did not stray to case-related endeavors. It was entirely focused on the very woman spinning through his kitchen in the yellow hues of the afternoon sun. He imagined her cooking there every day. At some point, Sherlock was even surprised to hear the faint sound of tiny feet pattering through his hallway as his mind spiraled into a fantasy world he were only able to visit seldom.

To be entirely honest, it was out of the detective's comfort zone to feel as at home around someone as he did with Y/N. Sherlock was not a man to waste his time with wishful thinking. He was a man of action and rational. The feelings that were enlightened by the very woman dancing in his kitchen, however, were far from any of those attributes. Furthermore, they showed him yet again, how unreasonable he had been acting toward her. It was clear to him that something needed to change in order to set his mind at ease again. And the wave of warmth pushing through his body at the look of Y/N with flour on her nose just confirmed his suspicion.

He stepped forward with careful strides, one hand reaching out towards Y/N and pulling her into his warm and welcoming chest. She must have been able to feel his heart pounding beneath his skin as his decision settled in his mind, he was certain of it. Sherlock placed a ginger kiss on her temple before excusing himself to his study. And when he sat down at his desk, dipping the quill in the dark ink before him, he willed himself to concentrate not to butcher his writing with the way his hands were shaking.

Dear Enola,

I was hoping to receive your help on a personal account of mine...

❁ ❁ ❁

The paper in his pocket was burning holes through the fabric as Sherlock stood above the meadow, where the trees opened to a beautiful view of the sunset. Enola had placed the last hint in the branches of the oak just a couple hundred meters away from him. It was strange for the detective to feel nervous, but this particular endeavor had him experiencing a number of new things. It was the first time, too in which he was not thinking about any case of his. His mind was entirely circled around the moment that stood before him and the plan he had acquired together with his sister.

Y/N would arrive any second now, and Sherlock found himself lost in the speech he had prepared yet again. It was only regarding her in that he ever felt his hand clammy or his nerves firing with a speed he’d never experienced before. But it was confusing nonetheless because Sherlock was certain that Y/N was by far a thing that he could be sure about. Every time anew she proved to him how secure her love for him was, and he had never wished for anything more than her to stay by his side.

“I have to confess: the last puzzle took me some time to solve. Though, I really liked the code you used for the letters. That was quite witty.” Y/N appeared behind the tree line, a soft smile painting her features as she approached the brunette waiting with eager curiosity. He laughed when she held out her hand towards him, fixing her hat with the other. “I believe you have something for me?”

His fingers tightened around the parchment in his pocket. She had solved his riddles - all of them - and that within the span of 34 minutes and 16 seconds, he confirmed after glancing at his pocket watch.

“How very right you are, Sweetheart.” Sherlock held out the paper triumphantly, desperate not to draw attention to his rapidly beating heart, making his wrists pulse vigorously. He had anticipated this moment, of course. But he could not keep the shivers at bay when her delicate fingers unfolded the small note that would reveal what this whole ordeal was for.

Y/N’s eyes flew over the page and it almost seemed as if she took her time doing it in order to make his nervousness spiral. The note was not long. It was simple, too. A riddle Sherlock were able to solve when he was only six years old. He knew very well that Y/n was more than capable of doing the same, but she left him waiting still. It would not be Y/N if she didn’t anyway.

When she finally looked up, her stare was questioning. It did not go unnoticed by the detective, however, that the corners of her mouth twitched into a court smile.

“Sherlock? Whatever is this about?”

Sherlock snatched the paper from her fingers to look it over again:

In boxing I am square

On fingers I am round

I’m inside every tree

And too a bell’s sound

It was clear as day: Y/N was making a fool of him.

“I will not believe that this is the riddle you cannot solve, my dear.” The shake of his head spilled a curl into his face, “but since I have left you waiting for so long...” Sherlock got down on one knee and her smile finally broke free.

He reached out for her hand and was surprised to find it shaking as well. She knew what he was about to reveal to her, she just wanted him to say it. And if it weren’t for anything, Sherlock needed to subsequently get this off his chest. His mother had been right: he had left her waiting for far too long. A year too long. Being there was no denying that he had known he needed to marry her the second she had walked into his life with a witty remark and a teasing smile on her lips.

“I am grateful for you have not run from me after all the things I have made you do and wait for. I realize I am a lucky man to have you by my side. As a friend, a partner, and someone I love. You are smart, witty, and beautiful... and I would be the-”

There was an unusual lump building in his throat, blocking his words from escaping. It was a rather strange experience for the man kneeling. He had never known himself to be capable of emotion. And perhaps his body was resisting the horribly cheesy words he needed to say.

“Do not grow sappy on me now, Sherlock. You better finish that sentence right now,” Y/N cried with playful urgency. Though there was a truthfulness in her tone he had just placed into his. He swallowed the lump and took a deep breath in. This was the moment he as well as her had been waiting for.

“Perhaps what I am trying to say is...” Sherlock reached for his pocket once more to reveal a velvet box. Hidden within was a beautiful sapphire on a silver band. Much like the cufflinks she had gotten him because they shone like the color of his eyes, he wished for Y/N to always think of his whenever she looked at it. The ring shone brightly in the orange sun hues, reflecting the warm summer’s evening light and mixing into a beautiful green. It was perfect, just like her. “I love you, Y/N. Would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Y/N’s head tilted to the side as she eyed the blue stone beneath her. It presented a nearly perfect replica of the cufflinks adorning Sherlock's wrists. He loved them and suited in them every day, and he hoped for Y/N to love her ring just as much. And though he was as certain of her answer as he was of every case he had ever had, the silence coming from the woman in front of him pushed a nervous shiver over his skin.

Her hand reached out to stroke his chin, a loving stare seeping through her irises. “I love you so much.”

“Please, Y/N.” Impatience rose to his head. Her little games were fun most of the time, though right now, he really wished for an answer that would put his racing thoughts at ease.

“Why of course I will marry you, Sherlock!” Y/N jumped forward as her arms slung around his shoulders, a warm kiss pressing to his lips that pulled a bright smile in its wake.

“Excellent,” Sherlock whispered, too afraid to have his voice fail him once more on this evening. He placed the ring on her finger and Y/N reached up to the sky, catching a rainbow of colors in the delicate stone.

As they rose from the ground, he pulled her further into his chest, a deep simmer of warmth traveling from his body to hers. His heart was full of contentment when Y/N pressed her face beside his neck, a soft-shivered promise traveling to his ears as he watched the sun set behind the horizon, filling the sky with colors as hot and intense as the love shared between the pair.

Wanna be added to the Taglist?

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asherloki · 23 days

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Hi I was wondering if I could request Sherlock being protective over the reader? Maybe something like the time Mrs Hudson was held hostage and he saw the bruise marks?🩷

My protector

Sherlock x reader

Word count:- 569

Fluff

I got up from Sherlock's chair and was about to leave when he came with a box of cigerette shoved in his mouth. That sight was bizzare yet made me giggle.

"What?" He said after taking them out from his mouth and holding in his hand.

"Nothing, you're funny" I said and took my bag, "so I'm leaving now".

He looked at his wrist watch and said, "um.. hey" he hesitated for some reason, I stood waiting for him to speak, "don't... " He trailed off again, "it's a bit late for you to go home alone".

He and I became friends after one day he came to my college because there was a leaked question paper case. He investigated because if police were to do that then our college's reputation was to be doomed. It turned out that a student stole those question papers and that's what made the exam to be postponed. I rolled my eyes at the detective. Everyone seemed to be a fan of him, except for me and that caught his attention. He told me later "the way you were unimpressed, made me wanna know you and prove myself". There is nothing to prove now. Nothing is competition. He might be a great detective for others but he's a great friend of mine. I visit him every week. And when we have nothing to talk of I take out my books and he helps me study. It's wonderful. Today I was going through a research paper.

"Yeah, I was so drowned in that research work that I couldn't help but get up in time" I replied, it was all quiet already and my house was still a long walk from his.

"Wait" he said taking his dressing gown off and putting his coat, "let's go".

I was a bit surprised, I... Well now I can admit, since I got to know him I... Am a bit flattered by his gentlemanly behaviour. Like now, he's offering to walk me home.

"You don't have to Sherlock" I answered, he may not have to, but he can, it's rather flattering.

"Oh please, I insist" he replied. Who could say no to such a man. Can you imagine? I rolled my eyes at him, now I can't take my eyes off him.

I agreed with a nod and we got out. We started to walk towards my house. It was quiet comfortable walk. And my hand was itching to hold his.

"Okay fine" he said with a bit of exhaustion in his voice and took my hand.

"What? I'm don't.."

"You were staring at my hand wanting to hold it" he explained, "don't even think of denying since you know it's useless to me and you're rather worse at lying".

I pouted, he's always like this, protective, I love it but not the scolding. Yet I walked along with a huge grin after holding his big hand.

"Your hand is tiny" he said looking down at my hand.

" Yours is big" I replied.

"Could be both" we giggled at eachother for being ridiculous.

Eventually we reached our destination and he waited until I went inside. I sat on my bed, thinking... I may have.. I can't believe it, I may actually have fallen in love with him.

#bbc sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock x y/n #sherlock holmes x reader

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annesthaeticc · 3 months

Text

lovers rock | sherlock x fem!reader

| Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader

| one shot , song fic

| 961 words

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

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

————————————————————————————————

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

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

One. Big. Mistake.

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

Just like he did back then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All he knew was deep seated anger and sadness.

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

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

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

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

“Going somewhere?” you asked.

“Home.” he replied, his voice deep.

“I could drive you.” you offered.

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

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

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

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

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

“Because…”

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

“Sherlock, please,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I loved you,” you whispered.

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

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

TAGLIST:

@migurin @damiensoda @inas-thing @peachywoong @ruevz @sammiisnthere @srapalestina @winchestersgirl222 @taramaria @alexag-barnes @sleutherclaw @will0wfairy @vexedvalerie @lovecleastrange @evelynrosestuff @azu21 @getlostsquidward @bubu890 @strangefilms @ice-ksk @my-beel @doctorswitch @tuitiononlivings @windchaser1990 @swds @andrewgarfieldsloml @spencerreidslittleslut @sherlockstrangewolf @littlebadariell @whosgwyneth @cumberbitch @lostfleurs @strangeobsessed @slvtforstr4nge @jyessaminereads @dancerpanda04 @stephenstrangeaddictions @starryeddie @cemak @valoa3s @paola-carter @runningnannie @siredlust @stupidthoughtsinwriting

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winsteria · 1 year

Text

This post contains fanfic recommendations for Sherlock Holmes (BBC) and Stephen Strange and his variants. I thought it would be nice to share and recommend to all of you the fics that I love! <3

Note: Most of the recommended fics are fluff, but there will be some angst too. Fics that contain smut will be marked with (S), so for those who don't read them can be aware.

Banner created by me.

STEPHEN STRANGE

➥ Doctor Strange

✦ Karaoke Night by @annesthaeticc

✦ Uncle Stephen by @writingliv

✦ Musée de l'Orangerie by writingliv

✦ Glimpse of Us by writingliv

✦ Paper Hearts (Series) by @classickook

✦ All I Ask (Part 1) by @brunchable

➥ All I Want (Part 2) by brunchable

➥ One Dance (Last Part) by brunchable

✦ Can't Love You in the Dark by (Part 1) by brunchable

➥ Can't Love You in the Dark by (Part 2) by brunchable

➥ (S) Can't Love You in the Dark by (Part 3) by brunchable

✦ A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be (Mini-series) by brunchable

✦ Karaoke Confessions by @getlostsquidward

✦ Annoying by @spookyspecterino

➥ Defender Strange

✦ Wardrobe Mix Up by @lykaonimagines

✦ Give Me The Reason by lykaonimagines

➥ Sinister Strange

✦ Notes & Letters by lykaonimagines

✦ Actions Speak Louder by @geeky-politics-46

➥ Supreme Strange

✦ My One Constant by lykaonimagines

✦ Something Interesting by lykaonimagines

SHERLOCK HOLMES

✦ Touch Starved by @starks-hero

✦ Comfort by starks-hero

✦ Deep Water by starks-hero

✦ Dinner With the Family by starks-hero

✦ Danger Night's by starks-hero

✦ Different by starks-hero

✦ Sentiment by starks-hero

✦ I'm Here by starks-hero

✦ Meet the Parents by starks-hero

✦ His Remedy by starks-hero

✦ Darling It's Cold Outside by starks-hero

✦ Always On My Mind by starks-hero

✦ Christmas by @geeks-universe

✦ Bedside Manners by @luxwritesfanfic

✦ Don't Take The Money by luxwritesfanfic

✦ Missed You by @sherlockxreader

✦ The Case of the Unread Article by sherlockxreader

✦ I Want One by @victoriaholmeswriting

✦ The Holmes Family by victoriaholmeswriting

✦ Corpses and Roses by @french-vanilla-in-the-clouds

✦ Iridescence: A Composition by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds

✦ Soulmates by writingliv

✦ Night Terror by @fandom-puff

✦ The Feeling Is Mutual by classickook

✦ Safe In Your Arms by classickook

✦ ILY by annesthaeticc

✦ Puppy Luv by annesthaeticc

✦ Bad Hair Day by annesthaeticc

✦ Here Comes The Sun by @aephereal

✦ Pancakes by aephereal

✦ Late Nights & Violins by @daydreamtofiction

✦ Consequences by @theconsultingdetectiveswife

✦ Limerence by @galactic-academia

✦ Spiraling by @stupidthoughtsinwriting

✦ Morning Light by lykaonimagines

So, that would be the end of this post. If your work is here and you want to remove it from this post, please kindly inform me in the comments and I will remove it! <3

— winsteria

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x y/n #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange x y/n #dr strange x reader #defender!strange x reader #defender strange x reader #defender strange x y/n #sinister strange x reader #supreme strange x reader #winsteria #winsteria's fic recommendations

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maaarijaaa · 1 year

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Mine ❦ Sherlock Holmes Part Eighth

Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: Sherlock Holmes, the most famous detective in the world. After finishing a case, he decided to visit Enola and his mother. On the first day of the visit he laid his eyes on a beauty, you

Disclaimer: I do NOT allow for my work to be translated or posted anywhere else on this app or other platforms. English is not my first language so let me know if I made any mistakes!

Words count: 1.5k

A/N: I am finally done with this story🫶🏻The prologue would be posted in a few hours to see their married life with some kids maybe👀 This part might be bad but I have tried my best❤️‍🔥

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated🫶🏻🫶🏻

Its been a week since you have sene each other.

A week of both of you crying, not sleeping and worst of all, not eating.

Your own father could not recognize his own daughter. He was there for you the whole time and you were thankful for that but you were still angry at him for even trying to set you up with Mycroft.

While you and Sherlock were heartbroken, Mycroft on the other hand was very happy. He knows that soon or later you will be his and your father and him would finally start a business together.

You did not know this but Mycroft was coming over to your fathers house to chat. What you also did not know is that Mycroft brought a red velvet box with him, with your engagement ring being inside of it.

What Mycroft did not know was that a little bird was watching him while he prepared the ring in his study, that little bird would be Enola who would later tell her other older brother,Sherlock, before its too late.

Mycroft gets out of his carriage and sees that your dad is waiting at him at the porch of your house.

“Nice to see you again, Mycroft” your father spoke.

“Well its been a week since I last saw you and your beautiful daughter so I thought why not visit you” Mycroft spoke.

They walked into the house and later on into your fathers study room.

“Before we talk about some business I wanted to show you something.” Mycroft spoke to your father.

“I have brought your daughter a gift and wanted to ask for your permission…”

You father first stared at the ring then Mycroft.

“To take her hand in marriage. I love her deeply.” Mycroft knew himself that it was the biggest lie he has ever told your father but, business is business.

You father was in the disbelief, he did not expect that.

“You know, she is going thru a hard time but maybe you should ask her the question, you have my permission. I want what’s best for her and I think you marrying her would be a great idea.”

While Mycroft was happy that he got your fathers permission to marry you, Enola struggles to get Sherlock out of his bed.

He was very angry at himself for hurting you.

He was not getting very much sleep or eating very much. All he could think about is you.

Your beautiful face, your soft lips that stretch into a beautiful smile whenever you lay your eyes on him and your eyes that he always found beautiful.

While Sherlock was lost in his thoughts, Enola successfully got her brother out of the bed by pushing him and Sherlock falls on the floor.

“Ouch! What was that for?” Sherlock asked his sister

“Well since you did not wanna listen to me, I had to do it the harder way!”

Before Sherlock could even say a word, Enola cut him off

“If you don’t do anything, Mycroft is going to marry Y/N!”

Sherlock’s eyes widen at what Enola just said.

“What do you mean he is going to marry her?” He asked his sister.

“He went to visit her and her father this morning and brought a ring with him!!!”

Sherlock looked at his sister before rushing off to get ready. He needed to fix this.

While getting ready he wondered why Mycroft would marry you. Mycroft had zero interest in you and then it him.

The woman that was flirting with him at the event came with Mycroft and saw her around him few times. He formed the dots and realized that it was Mycroft’s plan all along.

“That son of a bitch!” He mumbled

After getting ready, he rushed down the stairs and ran to your house.

Meanwhile you were getting ready, you heard the voice that sounded too familiar.

Mycroft.

You rolled your eyes. He just loved destroying your life at every chance he got.

You dad knocked on your bedroom door.

“Honey, are you awake?”

You quickly grabbed your robe and put it on before shouting

“Yes father, I am awake! You can come in!”

Right after you said that you see your father entering your bedroom with no other than Mycroft him self.

Your father came up to you and hugged you.

“My only daughter, you have grown into a smart and beautiful woman. I am becoming old and when my time comes there will be no one to take care of you.”

“Father, what are you talking about?” You shed a tear.

“This morning, Mycroft came up with a wonderful request.”

You looked at your father and then Mycroft who was pulling out a red velvet box and was getting on his knee. You stopped breathing at that moment.

“Today is one of the happiest days of my life. Today I came to ask your dear father to take your hand in marriage and to my surprise he agreed. So will you, my beautiful Y/N, be my wife?”

He then opened the box and reveled a beautiful ring with a diamond on it but you knew you could not accept it. Your heart still belong to Sherlock.

Just as you were about to open your mouth, you heard someone running through the door.

“Y/N!!!” Sherlock shouted.

You then ignored your father and Mycroft and ran down stairs.

There he was. He finally came for you.

You ran into his arms and kissed him passionately.

Mycroft was pissed to say at least while your dad was more confused.

“What are you doing here Sherlock?!” Mycroft asked angrily.

Sherlock pulled away from you and looked at his brother.

“I came here to see the love of my life and I also came here to make something clear. Don’t you have anything to tell, Mycroft?”

You and your father stared at Mycroft slightly confused.

“Where is your friend Vanessa by the way, is she destroying other relationships and marriages now?”

You stared at Mycroft and then you too collected the dots. This was one of Mycrofts shitty plans.

“It was one of his many plans. Enola searched your office this morning and found out that it would be easier for you to make money and become businesses partner with her father by simply marrying her. When he passes everything that he would leave for her would be given to you. You found about our relationship and decided to use ur friend, paying her to play my so called “mistress” so that you could end us, but you know what?”

Just then, Sherlock put his arm around your waist and pulled you to his chest.

“Even if you tried it a million times, you would not succeed because my love for her and her love for me is stronger.”

Just then, Mycroft leaves the house, throwing a tantrum outside your house.

Sherlock pulls you close and presses a soft kiss on your lips.

“What now?” You asked him

“Well, do you want to get married. I don’t have a ring with me so I can not really propose you in a traditional way but..”

Sherlock could not finish the sentence since you cut him off with a kiss and said

“Being your life would be the best thing that has ever happened in my life.” You said while pressing your foreheads together.

You then turned around around and saw your father smiling

“I am sorry I wanted to do what’s best for you. And you Sherlock, have my full permission to marry my daughter.”

You and Sherlock looked at each other, smiling before kissing again.

You could not wait to get married….

Tag list requests are closed since there are just too many requests❤️ turn on you notifications to get notified🫶🏻

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specialagentlokitty · 10 months

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Sherlock x reader - my muse

Can you do a fic set after s4 of Sherlock, where Sherlock x reader are flatmates now they developed feelings for eachother and reader is a painter so she insists him to paint with her? - @asherloki 💜

Sherlock had his corner of the living room, you had yours, and that’s where you were sat when he came in front a case he had been working on.

He hung his jacket up and walked over to where you were sat in the corner of the room, mixing paint together on the back of your hand.

“I’m no artist, but I believe the paint is supposed to go on the canvas.” He said.

You smiled a little and looked up at him, then back to your hand where you were mixing paint.

“Obviously I know that. I only need a little bit of paint so I’m using my hand.”

Sherlock hummed a little and nodded, walking over to his chair to sit down.

You both sat in silence for a few minutes, him sat in his head, you sat painting, and when you got up to stretch you looked at him.

An idea popped in your head and you beamed brightly.

You liked Sherlock, like really liked him, and you wanted to do more things with him.

So you grabbed another canvas and set it behind yours, and you walked over to him, hands clasped behind your back.

“Sherlock?”

His eyes moved to yours.

“Paint with me.”

“I don’t paint.”

“But you can, so… paint with me.”

Sherlock looked at your bright smile, the sparkle in your eyes as you beamed brightly at him.

“I’m busy.”

“You’re just thinking! Come on! You can think and paint!”

You grabbed his hand and tugged at it, trying to pull him up.

Sherlock let you keep trying for a few minutes, just looking at you.

“Will you leave me be if I agree?”

“Yes!”

Sherlock stood up, letting you drag him to a chair you set up, and he briefly looked down at your hand in his.

You let his hand go and he had to admit to himself his hand felt strangely empty without your hand in it.

He sat down and you sat back down in your own seat and picked your paints and brush up again.

“Do you know what you’re gonna paint?” You asked.

Sherlock looked at the blank canvas, and then he picked up a paintbrush.

“Yes.”

He began to paint, using his memory to create the image he wanted to create.

It was peaceful for you both, just sitting there painting.

Sherlock wasn’t a painter, but after watching you paint for months, he had picked up on how to do it pretty easily, and he carried on working on his project.

His thoughts of you as he painted just like they were before he began to paint, like they had been all day.

He knew you were painting him, he had seen your work as he came in, but you didn’t know, he was painting you.

And neither of you knew that somehow, at some point, the other one had fallen in love with them

#bbc Sherlock #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x you #bbc Sherlock imagine #Sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock x y/n #Sherlock x you #Sherlock imagine #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes imagine

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freckles-things · 1 year

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Stolen Love // BBC Sherlock

Summary: Not having seen your boyfriend for some days, you head over to his flat with Chinese take away and left with a broken heart. [Happy ending]

Requested by: @talialea05 (I hope it is what you had in mind)

Pairing: BBC Sherlock x fem!reader

Warnings: broken heart, complicated relationships, subject of cheating, swearing

---

Sherlock and Y/N had been dating for a few months now. Both of you hadn’t really been looking for a relationship, especially Sherlock, but here you were. Sherlock had struggled with his feelings at first, not being used to being ruled by emotions. He too had accepted it in the end, and he had to admit that he enjoyed being with you quite a lot. John also repeatedly told him, both of you really, that the relationship had changed Sherlock for the better. Not that he needed changing, in your opinion. Yes, he was direct and brash and downright rude sometimes, but never intentionally cruel. He cared about people and justice and could be gentle and soft if he wanted to be.

Your relationship so far had consisted of ups and downs, just like any other one. At the moment you definitely were in a down-phase. You hadn’t seen Sherlock in days, and he had neither answered your calls nor your texts. You had texted John, who told you that they currently were working on a demanding and top-secret case brought to them by Mycroft. There had been a few times when Sherlock had been so focused on a case that he had forgotten you during the day. Back then, he had at least texted you a few times a day, whenever there was a short lull in his work, letting you know that he was still busy, and he had paid attention to make sure that you would see each other every other day. Yes, those dates had often consisted of you helping with the case or relaxing at Baker Street while Sherlock was sifting through evidence trying to connect clues, but that had been more than alright with you. You had often spent the evenings on the couch reading or telling Sherlock about the newest things happening in your life, him listening and commenting while he was jotting things down or looking things up. You had been content, you knew what kind of man he was before you had entered a relationship with him. You didn’t expect him to change. And you didn’t want him to. You enjoyed watching him work far too much for that.

Now, after nearly a week, you yearned to see him, even if it was just for a few minutes. You had texted John, asking if there were at the flat, which he confirmed. Buying some dinner at the Chinese restaurant you three preferred, you were looking forward to having dinner with both of them. Even if Sherlock would be preoccupied, John never failed to entertain you with his sarcastic comments.

Finally reaching 221 Baker Street, you knocked on the door waiting for Mrs. Hudson to answer you, which she did promptly. She hugged you, as always, and commented on how good it was to see you again. After a quick chat you made your way upstairs to Sherlock’s flat. You opened the door not bothering to knock, taking a few steps into the flat before freezing.

Sherlock and John weren’t alone. A woman was sitting in Sherlock’s armchair. She was gorgeous, almost flawless and seemed to be quite content in the situation. What caught your attention though, was the fact that she was wearing Sherlock’s robe. And if anything, Sherlock was quite peculiar over his robe. Even you weren’t allowed to wear it. That woman was currently wrapped up in it. Your mind drew a blank trying to explain the situation. Maybe she’d been drenched in something? But even then, they had towels and could have lent her a shirt and a pair of pants.

You put down the takeaway and took a few more steps towards the living room, listening to the conversation they were currently having.

“Well handsome, I’m not sure that plan will work. They might be too dazzled by those cheekbones”, the woman said lowly, leaning forward so her cleavage was on full display. You noticed Sherlock shifting slightly, crossing his legs.

“The likelihood of that happening is ridiculously low. We might as well go on with the current plan, as you well know.” His voice was the same as always, not betraying a single emotion. The woman hummed in agreement.

“You know, Mr. Holmes. I always liked detective stories. And detectives.” By now she was leaning even farther towards Sherlock, her hand wandering over the ankle of the crossed over leg, caressing further up his leg. You really didn’t want to see this and most of all you didn’t want to see how your boyfriend didn’t interfere with another woman touching him.

“Consulting Detective. The only one in the world.” You could clearly hear the pride in his voice. Was he trying to impress her?

“Let’s have dinner”, she stated. Even John had noticed that she was flirting and seemingly didn’t seem to care either since he didn’t interject and only made an amused comment over Sherlock’s eating habits.

You felt your stomach drop, taking a few clumsy steps back from the scene in front of you. How neither of them noticed you presence eluded you, but drove home the point of how enraptured your usual very attentive boyfriend was by the woman sitting opposite him. If the woman was part of the important case, it was no wonder that Sherlock hadn’t answered you. She was beautiful, direct, and intelligent and Sherlock was clearly taken by her.

Well then, the relationship wasn’t in a down-phase anymore. It was over. You turned around without announcing your presence, making your way out of the flat and back onto the street, stomping to the next tube station to get home. You felt numb and tried to concentrate on anything but the recent events. If there was one thing that you really didn’t need, it was a breakdown on the tube. Only once the door to your flat closed behind you, did you feel the tears gathering in your eyes and streaming down your face. You had known that Sherlock would sooner or later grow bored of you. He was brilliant, a force to be reckoned with and you were, well, ordinary. You couldn’t always keep up with his thoughts or his logic and preferred a quieter style of life. Of course you would grow to be a bother to him at some point. You just had hoped that this would happen later rather than sooner. And you had hoped that he would have had the decency to end your relationship properly instead of just ignoring you until you got the point.

Growing angry, you fished your phone out of your pocket and sending exactly one text before blocking Sherlock’s number: We’re done. Enjoy dinner.

---

It had taken Sherlock three days to realize that he wasn’t as unaffected by your massage as he had thought.

At first, he hadn’t understood what you meant and ignored the message. That was until both he and John accompanied The Woman to the door, and he spotted the bag of takeaway standing by the door to the living room. You must have been here. How had he not noticed you coming in? Now that he knew, he could smell the heady scent of your perfume lingering in the air. John looked equally surprised when he noticed the food. After The Woman had disappeared, he tried to contact you, but immediately got the message that your number wasn’t available.

“She must have seen Irene flirt with you, Sherlock. And you didn’t quite gave off the impression of being averse to it”, John commented once he understood the situation.

“Flirting?”, Sherlock questioned confusedly. John shook his head and smiled at his cluelessness.

“Quite obviously, Sherlock. I’ve never seen anyone flirt so openly. So, what are you going to do about Y/N?”

“Nothing”, he shrugged. It must have been obvious to you that he hadn’t reciprocated her flirting – at least that was what Sherlock though. And if you couldn’t trust him, then so be it. He had better things to do than to chase after a jealous woman.

“Nothing? Sherlock, you can’t let that poor girl wander around, thinking that you were flirting with other women behind her back.”

“Well, she should know better and trust me.”

“You can be an utter bastard sometimes; do you know that? That girl hasn’t heard from you in a week and comes here with dinner just to see another woman flirting with you. Of course she comes to the wrong conclusion. Look, Sherlock, both of you have bloomed in your relationship. You can’t just let that slip away.” John had grown frustrated by his friend’s blasé attitude. He knew that the two of you hadn’t said it yet, but it had been clear for anybody that the two of you were head over heels in love with each other. He didn’t understand how Sherlock could just let this slip past his grasp.

“I don’t have the time to chase after jealous women, John”, was Sherlock’s clipped response before he disappeared into his bedroom. He didn’t need you after all. He had survived years without a single relationship, so why should he bother. It didn’t make a difference, right?

Well, it did. He had caught himself talking to you on a few different occasions, without you being there. Thankfully, John had been away in those instances, otherwise he wouldn’t have heard the end of it. The one time he had wanted to make tea on his own, and yes, he was perfectly capable of that, the only tea he could find was your favourite. He hadn’t even known that they had it at the flat. Walking the streets of London, every flower shop suddenly seemed to display your favourites and the cake you loved, and would always buy a slice of if you ever saw it, was advertised everywhere. His thoughts were more and more occupied with you, to the point where he couldn’t properly focus on his cases. It was ridiculous, really. He didn’t understand why he was this affected by the situation. Even Gavin had noticed that something was off and had ordered him to rest for a few days before coming back for new cases.

It took him another two days until he decided to try and text you, asking you to talk. The message didn’t go through. So, you had still blocked him. He wasn’t quite sure how to interpret that. Did you want him to reach out so he could try to explain, or did you want to be left alone? He could admit that he wanted to try and tell you what had really happened. A chance to explain the situation you had observed. He had never been good with his feelings, he didn’t always understand them, but after a week and a few not-so-subtle hints from John, he could admit that he missed you. That it hurt that you weren’t there with him. He needed to talk with you. And if he couldn’t reach out like this, then he would have to go and find you.

---

You had spent the last week crying and feeling sorry for yourself. You had predictably heard nothing from Sherlock. Ignoring the voice in your head that reminded you that you had blocked him, you went in search of some chocolate. You were sure that he could reach you if he really wanted to. Wallowing in self pity wasn’t a solution though. You had given yourself the week to cry and be sad about it, all with the clear intention that this would be it and that you would be over him afterwards. Too bad that your heart didn’t quite agree with the plan. No matter how much you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t. You loved Sherlock and your broken heart wouldn’t just go away because you wanted it to. You wanted Sherlock too, but you simply weren’t going to get what you wanted to have.

Grabbing your chocolate and your freshly brewed coffee, you made your way to the living room. Once you had stepped over the threshold, you froze. There was a very familiar figure sitting on your sofa.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” you asked in absolute surprise before you remembered the current situation between you.

“Get out, Sherlock. I don’t want to see you.” You set your things down on the table and waited expectantly for him to move without looking at him. He didn’t though.

“You should change your locks. They were way too easy to pick, didn’t even take me 30 seconds”, his voice sounded the same as always. The deep baritone not giving anything away.

“Get out.” You repeated yourself. How could he even sit there calmly, as if nothing had happened?

“I thought we could talk, Y/N”

“Well, you thought wrong. And now get the hell out of my flat, Sherlock.” He still didn’t budge. How dare he break into your home and then refuse to leave. The audacity made you fume, and you took a deep breath. Exploding at him wouldn’t solve anything.

“Y/N, don’t be unreasonable”, ha admonished. Well, that did it.

“Unreasonable? Who the bloody hell do you think you are to invade my home like this and then disregard my wishes? You’re an arrogant bastard, Sherlock. Leave me alone!” He still didn’t react, which made your anger grow. He was just sitting there and blinking at you. Well, only one solution left then. Without saying anything else you turned around and slipped into your shoes which were standing in the hallway, moving to grab your jacket. You felt absolutely foolish leaving your own flat, but if he wouldn’t leave then you had to. You were just about to grab your keys when a large hand grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t leave, Y/N. Please, let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain, Sherlock”, your voice sounded utterly defeated, and you felt Sherlock shift behind you at the sound of it.

“Please, Y/N. Just give me five minutes.” Maybe it was the fact that he had said please two times in a row, a word which he usually never used, or maybe your exhaustion won, but you agreed. Winding your wrist out of his grasp, you moved back to the living room, taking a seat in the armchair and waited until Sherlock had followed.

“Five minutes”, you agreed, waiting for him to begin his explanation while studiously avoiding to look at him or his general direction.

“I didn’t realise she was flirting with me, Y/N.” You couldn’t help the scoff that escaped your lips. That was an utterly ridiculous excuse. Did he honestly expect you to believe that?

“I realise that it sounds like a lame excuse. But I really didn’t notice until John explained it to me. I… I have no experience with relationships. No one ever stuck around long enough for that, none ever has accepted me enough to want to be in a relationship with me. John explained how it must have looked. Me not answering your texts and then the situation with Irene. I swear that there is nothing between us. I didn’t accept her dinner invitation. I never do.” So, obviously there had been more than one invitation. You didn’t know how to feel about this revelation. How long had he worked on the case for that to be possible?

You didn’t quite look at him while saying your piece. There was no response from Sherlock, which made you swallow hard. Taking a deep breath, you prepared to lay your feelings bare in the hopes to get your closure.

“She was flirting with you, Sherlock. She had her hands all over you, touching you and inviting you for dinner. You didn’t say anything, even John didn’t say anything about it. You didn’t even tell me that you were working a case. I got to know that from John. And when I come over with the intention of making your evening a little easier by bringing food, you’re not only sitting across a woman that shamelessly flirts with you, but she was also wearing your bathrobe. The one even I am not allowed to touch because you’ve got some weird attachment to it. What was I supposed to think, Sherlock? You don’t just let other people touch you like that if you’re not interested. And I’ve never seen you letting anyone touch you voluntarily except for John and Mrs. H.“

“I’m not stupid, Sherlock. I knew that one day, sooner or later, you would lose interest in me. You’re brilliant and extraordinary and no one really can keep up with you, least of all I. Why would you be interested in some ordinary person? And that’s alright. I was prepared for that. But I expected you to be honest and to not just string me along for entertainment or some sick form of amusement”, your voice was quiet and wobbled precariously as you tried to hold back your tears.

This however got a response out of the consulting detective. He closed the distance between you with two large steps, kneeling on the floor in front of you and gently grasping your hands before you could even blink. His large hands encased yours and kept on holding them when you tried to wiggle them free.

“Are you sure? I would understand if you’d prefer her over me. She’s beautiful and intelligent.” His well-protected heart broke at your words. How could you think that he would ever want anyone else if he could have you. You were perfect to him. Exactly what he needed and wanted, and he would never give you up.

“Love, I would never do that. If anything, the last week has shown me how much I need you in my life. I missed you, Y/N. I couldn’t think and everything reminded me of you. I don’t want to lose you. I realize that my reaction to Irene Adler wasn’t the best and that I hurt your feelings with the way I behaved. I promise that I will try to do better. My understanding of emotions is minuscule at best, and I cannot promise that I’ll never make a mistake again. But I don’t want Irene Adler. How could I, when I have you in my life?”, he said in the softest voice you’d ever heard from him. He searched for your eyes, and you met them for a split second. It was enough to see the regret on his face and the earnestness with which he promised to do better. It wasn’t quite enough yet.

“I don’t want anyone but you, Y/N. I didn’t answer your texts because I didn’t realise you weren’t there. I talked to you every evening, running through the case. And I didn't give my bathrobe to her, John did. I asked her to put on something else, but John warned me that she would just not wear anything at all. And I didn't want that. And the last week I caught myself talking to you as well, but there was no answer because you weren’t there. I missed the chatter while I was going through the evidence. Graham even sent me home because I couldn’t focus on the case. You make me a better person, Y/N. And I realised that I can’t live without you anymore. You're kind and always see the good in people. Wherever you are, you bring sunshine. And you are more intelligent than you realize, love. Your input on my cases has helped me a great deal and I can’t imagine anyone else I would rather discuss a case with.”

His warm hands framed your face, gently tilting it up a little. Your eyes met and you were mesmerized by the emotions swimming in his usually cold gaze. There were dark shadows under his eyes that proved that he hadn’t slept well in the past few days, despite not having any cases.

“You are beautiful, love. Inside and out. And it pains me that you don’t see it yourself. I will spend the rest of my life proving it if you will have me.” You slowly leaned your forehead against his broad chest, your shoulders drooping in defeat. How on earth were you supposed to resist that man? Maybe your reaction had been a little harsh and you should have waited for an explanation. It might have saved you both from a week full of heartache.

“I’m sorry, too. I might have overreacted when I saw you together and should have given you a chance to explain. I should have trusted you. Maybe we could talk about boundaries and what we expect of each other some time, so we can be on the same page? Will you forgive me?” You practically whispered your words, but you were sure Sherlock picked them up with no effort.

His strong arms wrapped themselves around your back, pulling you even closer to him. His face buried itself against your neck, and soft lips pressed a slow kiss against your jaw.

“Only if you’ll forgive one stupid, self-absorbed detective as well.” His words forced a wet laugh out off you, your hands grabbing onto the front of his coat and taking a deep breath of his well-known scent.

“I don’t think I could stay mad at you, even if I wanted to. I do love you far too much for that.” Once the words had left your mouth, you froze. Neither of you had said the words until now and you hadn’t intended to let them slip out.

Sherlock’s hand moved up to the back of your head, gently moving it so he could see your face again.

“I’m glad to know we’re of one mind then, love”, he whispered against your lips, before closing the small distance between you. You closed your eyes, the stress of the last week lifting off your shoulders as Sherlock kissed you gently.

You stayed in his arms for hours, not wanting to let go. Sherlock didn’t fare any better, pressing your body against his, his mind finally at ease when he felt your weight settle against him. Both of you would undoubtedly make mistakes again, just like everyone else did. But with a relationship built on trust and communication, you would overcome those as well.

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If you spot any mistakes please let me know!

#bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock x reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock imagine #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x you #sherlock reader insert #tw cheating #tw swearing

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lykaonimagines · 2 years

Text

Absence of You - Sherlock x Reader

Paring: Sherlock Holmes (BBC) x Agent F!Reader

Word Count: 3,304

Description: Y/N’s sent away on a mission for months, leaving Sherlock to wrestle mentally with his importance in her life and how badly he wants her home.

Other Things: A little angsty in bits, fluffy in others. Mostly fluff. Established relationship.

Warnings: Sherlock’s got a bit of self doubt/anxiety/separation anxiety.

Masterlist

“Sherlock,” Mycroft sighs as his little brother tosses an envelope onto his desk. “You cannot continue this.”

“I can and will,” Sherlock responds, staring his brother down. “Just see to it that she gets this one.”

“You know there is no guarantee of delivery with missions such as this, and this is the 23rd letter you’ve written. She’s been gone three months. Get ahold of yourself,” he argues, brushing the envelope to the side. “I’ve accepted that you two share feelings for one another, but this is becoming pathetic. Let her do her job Sherlock.”

“Three months and not a single word Mycroft? And that seems normal to you?” Sherlock snaps as he starts pacing the office. “How do you even know she’s safe?”

“She’s managed to get one report back herself, and her partner in the endeavor has gotten back several more. She’s better at making openings for him to do so than getting away herself. I also have agents that discreetly check on them. She’s fine brother mine, she’s quite proficient at what she does.”

“Then where is my response if she finally replied?” His lips twist into a pout. “You get a bloody report and I get nothing?”

“I’m her boss in an incredibly delicate and dangerous undercover mission, she must report back to me. If she has two minutes to sneak away and write something, she should be writing a report back to me, not a love letter to you.”

Sherlock stops pacing and shoves his hands into his coat pockets.“You can’t tell me anything about this mission she is on?”

“You know I can’t,” Mycroft shakes his head in annoyance. “I warned you to not get involved with one of my agents. Of all the people to get this ridiculous sentiment for. They will be gone for long periods of time, disappear at a moments notice, put themselves into highly dangerous situations. Y/N in particular. She’s rather good at defending herself, but she is an infiltrator. If she’s found out, she will be killed. It’s a risk she takes willingly. I would not employ her if she wasn’t good at preventing that from happening, but you know as well as I that plans go awry.”

“The thing about sentiment Mycroft, is you don’t truly choose who brings it about in you. Whether you know it’s a good idea or not,” Sherlock snaps back angrily, his arms crossing.

“You managed to avoid it for decades prior. Now the list just continues to grow,” Mycroft grumbles and scribbles something on the paper in front of him.

“And I’m far happier for it,” he responds, staring at his brother.

“Are you?” Mycroft questions, setting his pen down and clasping his hands. “Because what I see is a man desperately writing a multitude of letters and hovering about in my office begging for a crumb of attention from someone who works a job that frequently takes them away.”

“She’s really not sent a single word for me?” Sherlock sighs dejectedly, placing his hands on the big desk separating them.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Mycroft opens his desk drawer and tosses a scrap of paper toward him. “It’s not much, I thought it better to not get your hopes up for more and get in a mood over the reality.”

Snatching the small folded piece of paper from the desk excitedly, Sherlock storms out of the office looking down happily at the familiar handwriting on the outside. “M give to S please.”

Plopping himself down into a chair near the office, he glances around to make sure he’s alone before unfolding it.

“I love you beyond measure. Be good for me yeah? - Your love.”

Sherlock’s heart beats wildly in his chest at the words, a pleasant warmth working its way over his body in a way only her words could. A full letter would have been better, but this was still brilliant. The confirmation he needed. She’s ok, and she’s thinking of him. Just as he’s thinking of her.

Rubbing his thumb longingly over the words on the paper, he lifts it to his lips briefly before stowing it away in the inner pocket of his coat to stay.

She loved him and she would be back. She had to come back. He couldn’t bear to think otherwise. He refused to think otherwise.

Pacing the entrance to the terminal, Sherlock’s mind races with thoughts of doubt once again. His fingers tighten around the flowers in his hand uncertainly.

Glancing up at the screen full of flight details, his eyes zero in on hers, the word ‘arrived’ doing little to settle his nerves. Perhaps making them worse.

How was this even supposed to go? They’d never been away from one another this long, and it wasn’t as if she had been on holiday. She’d been gone for months on an undercover mission for Mycroft, with little to no contact with anyone but his infuriating brother that refused to give him much information.

He was unsure if these kind of reunions were meant to be a big romantic moment in the most normal of circumstances. And they were hardly in a normal situation. Nor was he the typical doting partner.

He’d done some research the previous night, couples reuniting in airports. Crying, running, dramatic hugs. Nothing that seemed like something he would genuinely do. Maybe he should fake it?

No. He’d promised himself no faking with her. She inspired the real sentiment that clung to his heart with an iron grip. She’d already caused the chemical reaction in him, she deserved the real thing. What he actually felt, who he actually was.

But was who he was good enough?

The darkest thought that slithered in the back of his mind was that of if she still felt the same way. That if in their time apart she had realized she rather liked not being around him. He knew he could be difficult to deal with at times, and he knew he kept the flat far messier than she’d prefer.

What if she had enjoyed being away from him?

Or found she liked the fake marriage she and another agent were sent undercover in. Feigning a typical romantic relationship with someone that understands exactly what she’s going through. Exaggerated sweet gestures and words that he’d never seen the need for.

Clearing his throat roughly, he looks down at the flowers in his hands. John’s idea. Something about how it was the romantic and proper way to welcome back a partner. Though he wasn’t sure a gesture of plants wrapped in plastic would make up for a lack of prior romantic gestures.

He’d no clue if she even felt any of those things. But the six months apart with no contact beyond one scrap of paper hadn’t been kind to his mind. He had never even realized how ingrained into his daily life she had become, how much he relied on pulling her into his arms each night to sleep, and to open his eyes to her each morning.

The days had seemed to bleed together. He wrote plenty of letters, demanding Mycroft have them smuggled to her. All in a desperate hope she’d find time to write something back. Anything. His brother’s infrequent and lackluster updates did little to quell the storm he’d been fighting back in his own mind. And while the two sentence response he had received three months before had calmed him for some time, it had been far too long since he heard anything.

The sound of people heading down the terminal toward him pulls him from his thoughts suddenly. His eyes snapping to each face, a flood of useless information cluttering his mind as he searches hopefully for her.

As each person passes, a sinking feeling begins in his gut. Another group of passengers not containing Y/N.

What if she knew he was picking her up and simply didn’t come back? Maybe her and that agent had formed something after all…?

His gaze goes to the shiny tile under his feet when the last of the people surrounding him had departed.

She wasn’t coming back.

Curling his free hand into a fist and taking a deep breath, he turns stiffly around to head back toward the entrance.

Not a minute later he picks up the sound of footsteps hurrying towards him from behind, “Sherlock!”

Spinning back around quickly, he freezes as he sees Y/N bounding toward him with a smile. Dropping the flowers from his hand, he quickens his pace toward her to meet her in the middle, her arms flinging around his neck and his own around her waist to pull her closer.

His heart beats wildly in his chest as she looks up at him, leaning forward to capture his lips in a passionate kiss.

His lips part quickly, letting her claim his mouth hotly. Her tongue seeks out his own as a strangled whimper escapes his throat, heat rushing to his cheeks at the sound.

Her fingers tangle in his curls as he hums in approval, swaying the two of them slightly as they kiss.

As their mouths break apart for air, he slowly loosens his grip to let her slip back down to the tile.

“Never again,” she mumbles burying her face against his shirt.

“Never again?”

“No more long missions. I’ll still take short ones, but never again on being away from you so long,” she responds as her hands slip down to rub his back. “If you even knew how many times I nearly just walked away from it all to come home to you. I just can’t do this shit anymore.”

“You missed me?” he asks quietly into her hair.

“Of course I missed you, what a dumb question,” she teases as she looks up and lays her chin on his chest. “I missed you and our life together.”

“You didn’t take to your average married life in the suburbs then?”

“My ‘husband’ was a pretend accountant that I had no feelings for that snored like a freight train every night. We had a teenager not teenager that was actually an 18 year old agent pretending to be our 14 year old son. And the neighbors made me go to PTA meetings Sherlock,” she complains with a furrowed brow. “The house was boring and beige. We had ‘Live Laugh Love,’ hanging in the sitting room. Being undercover has never been so dreadfully dull. I was almost wishing to open the fridge and find body parts.”

“So now you appreciate my experiments?” He asks lowly leaning in toward her ear.

“I mean it still grosses me out to go make a sandwich and find a bag of thumbs next to the cheese. But far preferable to everything of the last six months. I just-”

“I love you,” he says abruptly cutting her off, his cheeks flushing as her eyes widen. He detangles himself from her quickly and swiftly turns around to retrieve the bouquet on the floor and holds it out to her. “For you. I… don’t say or show it as often as I should.”

Accepting the flowers from him, she cradles them to her chest and beams up at him, “I love you too, exactly as you are. Though I love the flowers and it doesn’t hurt to hear it. Take me home now?”

Slipping his hand into her free one, he gives her a nod and gentle smile, “Anywhere you want.”

“I’m surprised I was even allowed this,” she hums thoughtfully as they head toward the entrance.

“Hm?”

“I was certain there’d be an agent out here to lead me to a black car and back to Mycroft’s place or office. Had been dreading that I probably wouldn’t be able to see you until tomorrow.”

“That was the original plan,” Sherlock responds stiffly. “I may have convinced him to allow me to pick you up, though a car will be at Baker Street tomorrow at noon to pick you up for your debriefing. I thought you would rather go home tonight… and had hoped you would be happy to see me.”

“Understatement of the year,” she grins and leans her head against his shoulder as they walk.

“Did you get all my letters?” He asks after a moment.

“How many did you send? I got six.”

“Far more than six,” his cheeks redden at the admission.

“I wish I had gotten them,” she complains and tightens her grip on his hand. “And that I could have responded more. We were being watched pretty heavily by the neighborhood. Didn’t want them getting suspicious by sending too many letters out, chance that they may try to intercept one. And agents coming back to discreetly grab them was risky because it may look like I had some lover coming to the house. Had to look like we had some picture perfect life. Whole thing was maddening.”

“I couldn’t stand it,” he hums in agreement. “Going undercover is one thing, staying undercover for months… and like that. Never.”

“You couldn’t play devoted husband and father for a few months hm?” she teases as they stand at the street waiting for a taxi.

“Play it?” He looks at her thoughtfully. “No, not play it. I can pretend certain things for relatively short periods of time. But those two particular roles are saved for…” Clearing his throat Sherlock lifts his hand for a taxi and looks away.

“Saving them for what Sherlock?” Y/N asks curiously, her eyes scanning his face as he shoos her into the cab first. “Come on, please?”

Sliding into the seat next to her, he sighs before resting his chin on her shoulder in the relative darkness of the cab as it speeds away, “An actual future with you. If you’re amendable.”

Her body stiffens against him at the words before her hand slips back into his and she turns her head to press a kiss to his cheek, “Want to know a secret?”

“Hm?”

“I spent a large amount of time daydreaming about what our version of that life would be,” she whispers in his ear, nuzzling against his cheek.

“I-I will take it you liked the thought?” he momentarily stutters, his breathing refusing to even out.

“Loved it.”

“You think a detective and a secret agent can create a normal life together?” He asks quietly, eyes flickering to hers.

“Normal? As if any life with you is normal, perish the thought,” she grins. “I want the extraordinary life we already have, just build on that. And with less month long stays away from one another.”

“And how do you plan to avoid these sort of missions in the future then?”

“Talk to Mycroft about trying to stay nearby. Or at least nothing longer than a few weeks away. And if that’s not possible, might be time to look for a new career. I doubt he’ll be happy about it, nor do I think he’ll particularly understand… but I have to do what I have to do.”

“You would just quit it all, for me?” He asks softly.

“Mhm,” she confirms and runs her thumb over her knuckles. “For us yes. I started all this when it was just me. Always assumed I’d do it until I died in a mission, or got lucky enough that I just got too old to do it as extensively as I do now.”

“And you’d be satisfied without it in your life?”

“I think so yeah. Whatever job I might take up probably won’t be as thrilling, but like I said, a life with you is never boring. I’m sure I’ll still have plenty of excitement to balance it out.”

“You don’t have to get a job at all if you’d rather,” he responds with more affection than he realized. “You can just work with me.”

“Oh? You’re going to pay me to follow you around and fish your phone out of your pocket?” She teases.

“Payment in the form of room and board. Food. Practically anything you want. A ridiculous amount of sentiment on my part,” he admits with short laugh. “Though you know you’ve got all those things regardless.”

“Hm, so either work or sit in the flat doing nothing, and get the same things?” She chuckles and presses several kisses to his jaw. “I’d follow you into Hell itself for free you know? You just might need me there, for something more than a personal assistant.”

“You say such things so easily,” he responds as one of his hands loosely grips her knee. “You’re always very good at this.”

“Good at this?”

“Saying the right things to produce… affection in me. To make my chest tighten and my heart rate accelerate with words I’d never thought would ever effect me. Or ever be spoken to me in any manner,” he continues, clearing his throat and looking toward the window. .

“I just tell the truth Sherlock. I’ve spent years actively avoiding too much attachment. But I look at you, I just see something else. I feel a million things at once and my chest gets all warm and fuzzy. And I’m just happy. I’ve never been as happy as I am at your side. The last six months really have been hell, and not just because of the cliche decor.”

“It’s gone really well for me ignoring Mycroft,” he says after a moment, smiling as she laughs against him.

“Hmm, another benefit to leaving the agent life behind. I can ignore Mycroft,” she muses happily.

“Oh wait until you try, it’s very liberating,” he smirks and presses a kiss to her cheek. “His face the first time you tell him no, oh it needs to be Christmas. The only gift I need.”

“I’m sure he’ll be absolutely pleased to still have to see me aside from work. Puts up with me for over a decade as his employee, then I invade his personal life.”

“See, we have to stay together. Mildly irritate my brother forever.”

“I can think of a few more reasons other than being a thorn in Mycroft’s side,” she says squeezing his hand on her knee. “You’ve got quite a few perks to yourself Mr. Holmes.”

“Oh?” He asks with a raised eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

“Brilliant, beautiful, loyal, funny, caring, devoted, curious, passionate. When you love, you love hard. I feel exceedingly fortunate I’m one of the few people that gets to experience it. Oh, and you’re quite a good kisser too. That’s an awfully fun perk.”

“Is that so?” His hand slowly runs up her thigh. “I think you need more data to make that claim. Repeat the experiment as it were, many more times.”

“Only you can make that sound so sexy,” she mutters as she presses a kiss to a sensitive spot on his neck.

His breath catches in his throat and he swallows thickly, noticing with marked relief that they’re nearly home. “We’re nearly there.”

“Is that you asking for mercy?” She asks with her lips still loosely on his skin.

“Indeed,” he nods more sharply than intended, his heart rate nearly doubling as she laughs playfully against his ear.

“I’ll relent for now, it looks like we’re here anyways,” she comments as she glances out the window herself.

Pushing open the door, Sherlock slips out quickly and reaches back in for Y/N’s hand to help her out before gesturing toward the door.

Fishing his keys out of his pocket, he promptly drops them into her hands then wraps his arms around her waist.

Once she has the door unlocked and shoves it open, his chin plops onto her shoulder. “Welcome home darling. Now get your bum up those stairs and into bed, I haven’t held you properly in ages.”

----

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