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frost-queen · 5 months

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Outmatched //Part 10 (Reader!Holmes x Anthony Bridgerton)

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Summary: Schemes come to plan in order to force Anthony and you together. Can a heart to heart change matters? Certainly now your aunt has come into the picture, wanting to have her demands over you. [ Final chapter ] Read part 1 & part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 8 & part 9

Sherlock was writing vigorously. The feather in his hand moving swiftly as he scribbled it around. Dipping as quick as he could in the ink seemingly not wanting to forget a word. It had been annoying you for the past couple of days. It made you sigh loud to get his attention. Nothing occurred as Sherlock was lost in his own mind. Having no ears for his surroundings. You sighed again sitting sloppy in the armchair.

Irritated by the scratching of the feather over paper, you got up. – “Whoever are you corresponding with so eagerly?” – You called out making your way over to him. You came to the front of the desk, lowering yourself on your knees, chin up on the level of the desk. Finally Sherlock noticed you with a brief glance. – “A lady perhaps?” – you responded shockingly.

“Someone you met at the ball? Are you in love Sherlock?” – you questioned with a gleam in your eyes. – “Don’t be absurd.” – Sherlock answered dipping the feather in the ink. – “A sister can dream.” – you told him slightly bummed. Sherlock looked up from his paper. – “So can a brother.” – he simply said. It made you roll your eyes at him.

“Should you not be preparing yourself?” – Sherlock spoke barely looking up as he finished the letter with his name. – “Prepare for what?” – you responded confused. Sherlock placed the feather down, giving you his full attention. – “The park.” – he informed you.

You got up half confused. Slightly narrowing your eyes at him. – “Where are you going with this?” – you wanted to know. Sherlock started folding letter. – “Nowhere.” – he let on, burning some candlewax to seal the note. You watched him closely. Trying to decipher a hint on his face.

Something that would give himself away. Nothing. Your brother was good in hiding his emotions. Frustrated you groaned and took a turn towards the hallway. You went up the stairs to your bedroom to prepare. Moments later you were meeting up with your brother Sherlock outside of the house.

You took his arm letting him escort you to the park. The weather was quite nice. A soft breeze bristling through the trees. The sun high as it left a warmth on your skin. – “Have you heard anything from Lord Hill?” – you asked when Sherlock nodded at a passing gentleman. – “No.” – he responded placing his hand on yours over his arm. He came to a brief pause. – “Why? Is it something you anticipate?” – he questioned with a raised eyebrow. – “No.” – you answered tugging at his arm to walk again. – “I was simply curious.” – you mumbled turning your head away from him.

To be fair you were a bit curious off his reaction. You did leave him standing alone at the ball. Rejecting him for the entire ton to see. You hoped he didn’t resent you for it. Or perhaps you hoped he might forgive you. Perhaps he was your only chance of getting out of your aunt’s clutches. The thought alone frightened you. Knowing that your aunt would start meddling herself into your life. Marrying you off to anyone suitable enough in her eyes. Take you away from your family for proper etiquettes. Wanting you to be as stiff and stuffy as all the other ladies throwing themselves at any man possible simply because they can’t get any better.

That was not what you wanted. Far from. You wanted to marry for love if it allow itself to you. At this point you didn’t think you were worthy of love anymore. Sherlock must have noticed the self-pity in your eyes as he gave you a nudge with his elbow. Making you look up to his warming smile. It made you smile faintly back, letting your head rest against his shoulder. Sherlock took a deep breath wishing love upon you so hard. If anyone deserved it, it was you.

You lifted your head back up upon arriving at the park. – “Now what are we here for?” – you questioned. Sherlock just smiled. – “A nice walk.” – he responded not pleasing you with his answer. Now it truly felt like he was hiding something from you. – “Sherlock Holmes now I know you are hiding things from me!” – you outed with a stern expression. Sherlock chuckled at your attempt of a motherly scowl. – “I wouldn’t dream of it sister.”

You puffed loud turning your head away. Sherlock led you down the pathway, greeting some people sitting on the benches with a nod. Up ahead you saw a carriage stand in the middle of the road. Sherlock breathed in as his chest rose. He picked up his pace, dragging you along. You tagged along confused as he walked to the side of the carriage. – “Are…are we getting in?” – you asked confused. Sherlock opened the carriage door pushing you inside. At the same time the door on the other side opened as well.

“You are!” – Sherlock spoke as you felt another body bump against yours. Turning your head your eyes widened at the sight of Lord Bridgerton. His eyes equally shocked. You and Anthony each grabbed for the door on your side. Sherlock shut the door firmly almost in your face. – “Sherlock!” – you called out frustrated. – “Mother!” – Anthony shouted at the same time. You turned your head seeing Miss Bridgerton at his side, keeping the door shut just like your brother did.

“Start the carriage!” – Violet called out with a smile. – “Stop the carriage!” – you screamed out wanting to get off. – “Whatever you do, do not stop this carriage till you reach your destination!” – Sherlock made clear to the driver, flipping him a few coins. The driver tipped his hat to Sherlock, signalling the horses to ride off. Anthony and you fell back against the seats as you rode off. With a lot of effort you pulled yourself forwards as the carriage was speeding. Not just a stroll around the park, but almost galloping.

You grabbed for the handle pushing it open as the door swung open. Your body nearly falling over when you stared down at the quick passing gravely road. A pair of hands on your waist. – “Are you insane!?” – Anthony shouted pulling you back inside the carriage. You automatically closed the door once more as your hand was still on the handle. Panting loud you needed a second. – “Did you truly plan on jumping out of a riding carriage just to get away from me?” – Anthony questioned rudely. – “The offer was tempting.” – you responded making him puff loud.

Anthony and you both turned away from each other looking outside of the carriage. It toggled and bumped around as you could barely sit still. – “I cannot believe Sherlock would trick me this much.” – you mumbled under your breath. – “Or mama.” – Anthony breathed out. His head turned slightly to you as you intended the same. Catching each other’s gaze. It locked in tight, unable to look away. In this moment your breathing became heavier. The yearning for him rising up in tide-waves. Each wave more intense than the one before.

Blinking softly it occurred to you what you were doing. How madly in love your eyes must have looked. Anthony reacted the same way pulling away at the same time as you. Both looking away. Taking a deep breath you let yourself slouch back against the seat. – “What is it?” – Anthony asked with care in his voice. No hint of mockery in his tone. You fidgeted with your fingers on your lap. – “The season will come closer to an end than we expect.” – you told him. – “It won’t be long anymore till I have to say goodbye to it all.”

Anthony was slightly confused with shock. He got up coming to sit in front of you. – “What are you referring to?” – he asked. – “Are… are you…” – he spoke barely able to say it out loud. Something inside of him hoping it wouldn’t be the case. – “No.” – you answered with a shake of your head. Anthony exhaled relieved barely seeable to you. – “I am not engaged my lord or will ever be…” – you went on with a saddened expression. Anthony’s expression full of pity as you reminded him of himself in this moment.

You let your eyes fall onto him. – “Perhaps I have taken all the chances at love that I deserve?” – you told him letting your gaze fall briefly onto his lips. Taking a deep breath, you tore your gaze away from them. – “It doesn’t matter truly for I won’t be able to escape my aunt’s restrictions.” – you continued as Anthony gaped at you. – “Soon you won’t have any trouble of me anymore, my lord.” – you finished.

“By the end of the season I’ll leave to join my aunt where she will groom me to find a match to her liking. It is what has been agreed between my father and her long ago.” – you explained. Anthony took a deep breath with concern. The carriage came to a stop. The glance in his eyes making you scrunch your eyebrows.

The footman opened the door startling you. The moment interrupted as you got out. There you saw your brother waiting for you. You glared at him, storming over to him. Anthony got out numbly. Almost missing his step and stumbling over his own feet. – “Anthony?” – Violet said seeing the sadness in his eyes. – “Sister?” – Sherlock spoke. – “Don’t!” – you made clear wiping your cheek aggressively. He turned to look confused at Violet. It sure must’ve worked right? They had planned it so thoroughly. Violet smiled faintly back at him, moving Anthony closer to her.

With her arm over his shoulder, Violet and Anthony parted ways from Sherlock and you. Sherlock turned round jogging up to you as you had walked off. He didn’t dare to ask how it went upon seeing your distressed reaction. Perhaps it was harder than he expected. To be fair he was very known with the stubbornness of the Holmes’s. The two of you arrived at the estate again. The doorman opening the door to you. – “Do not trick me again!” – was the only thing you said with a loud tone. Sherlock swallowed feeling a bit shameful.

You wanted to storm off to your room when Mycroft appeared from out of the Parlor, clearing his throat nervously. Sherlock stretched his hand out, tapping you gently against the elbow to draw your attention. Mycroft delicately closed the door behind him. – “We… we have a situation.” – he said before you heard the familiar voice of your aunt. Your eyes widened looking frightened at Sherlock. – “Have they arrived?” – you heard her shrill voice come from the Parlor.

The door opened as it bumped against Mycroft’s back making him stumble forwards. Your aunt smiled as wrinkles showed around her eyes and mouth. With open arms she made her way over to you. Sherlock stepping aside to leave room for your aunt to give you an uncomfortable hug. – “Look at you!” – she said unsure to you if it was an insult or not. She tilted your chin up, turning it to the side to have a good look of you. – “I should’ve come sooner.” – she mumbled.

“But!” – she clasped her hands together in delight. – “Tell me Y/n have you found a match yet? Has there been a proposal? Should I expect wedding bells?” – she asked vigorously. – “There has not been.” – you told her honestly. – “Why Y/n the end of the season is nearing. Have you been absent from any balls?” – She turned rudely to your brothers. – “Have there been no gentleman’s offerings? Visits? Interests?” – she wanted to know.

“There…” – Mycroft started. – “There is a gentleman interested… is it not Sherlock?” – Mycroft narrowed his eyes at Sherlock hoping his little scheme of today would be fruitful. Sherlock cleared his throat. – “In the process.” – he answered nervously. He could see Mycroft sigh disappointed and nervous. – “In the process? Sherlock we cannot wait for the process! Y/n must be married off this season to give this family some stability.” – she responded with diplomacy. – “We understand aunt but…” – Mycroft began as he got cut off by her. – “I don’t think you understand well enough!” – she responded bitsy.

“Y/n is running out of time! You shouldn’t have let it come this far. I will not have my niece turn into a hag.” – she finished off. – “Aunt!” – Sherlock called out with a hateful look in his eyes. – “Do not disrespect her!” – he made clear. She simply huffed. She spun back around to you holding her fingers sternly up to you. – “By the end of the season you will come with me and marry the man I offer you!” – she made clear. – “No!” – Mycroft said coming to stand in between. – “Stand aside boy!” – she answered with a hard stare. – “You had your task and failed miserably.” –

Sherlock came joining his brother’s side, blocking you out of her sight. – “You cannot force her to marry out of diplomacy.” – Sherlock outed. – “Oh but I can.” – she answered. You took a deep breath stepping from behind your brothers. They both shook their head knowing you were about to give in. You moved in front of them, curtsying at your aunt. Your aunt smiled proudly. She took you by the wrist. – “Let us have some tea.” – you got pulled back into the Parlor. The second the door shut grabbed your brother Mycroft for Sherlock’s shirt. – “You told me it would work!” – he called out, shaking him around.

“It should’ve!” – Sherlock answered loudly, pushing his hands off. – “I cannot hold her off any longer Sherlock! Our sister is going to be taken away from us in a matter I do not agree upon.” – Mycroft said. Oh how much his character had grown over the months. From a posh man wanting to have you out of his hands to a caring man fighting for his family. – “I will fix it!” – Sherlock replied. – “How? At this rate I don’t see anything happening in the upcoming five years.” – he sighed out letting himself fall exhaustedly against the wall. – “I will figure it out.” – Sherlock said.

The ball was not to your liking. It felt like a goodbye to everything. It felt like the last thing keeping you close to your roots here in London. No intrigued you to join. Standing at the side you watched how everyone socialised. Taking a deep breath you felt out of place. Having no desire or interest in mingling among the people. Perhaps you had already given up. Given up on the last few chances of finding a match. Of finding someone equally to you. Someone you could see yourself love.

Glancing to your right you saw your brothers near. They too had a saddened expression. The ball to no interest to them. It pained you to see them knowing of the trouble they went through. Knowing you had a hand to play in this. Perhaps you have been too stubborn. Too much against it and not willingly. Perhaps… perhaps…Looking back at the dancers you saw Colin Bridgerton amongst them. Colin… Bridgerton.

Your mind went instantly to Anthony. Feeling your chest warm up at the simple thought of him. Not so long ago you saw a future with him. Despite the bickering and competitive you still admired him underneath. Secretly loved how he would provoke you. Send you off into frustration and to your boiling point. Oh how much you loved to get so worked up over him.

Yet it wasn’t meant to be. Your stubbornness had won in flying colours. In need of fresh air you got in motion. Your brother Sherlock wanted to go after you, but Mycroft held him back. Shaking his head in speech of letting you have your space. You made your way through the crowd towards the gardens. Brushing past people to reach the other side. Walking out, you were greeted by a soft breeze. The night sky bright. You made your way over to some bush roses.

Looking up to the sky, you were in deep thought. Anthony had found a way outside. Having almost entirely searched the estate in search. Looking thoroughly and with a destined purpose. Every inch around he wanted to have seen. He neared to the rose bushes that were overgrown like a small forest around the estate.

He turned around, leaning back with furrowed brows. There between the rose bushes he saw his purpose. With determination and without a second thought he made his way over. Finally he had a clear view. A clear view of you. You glanced to the side, having spotted a sudden appearance in the corner of your vision.

Anthony neared looking breathlessly at you. – “Do you still plan on to leave with your aunt?” – he questioned with a mournful expression. – “It is what is intended… for me.” – you responded. – “I am apparently made to save my family from ruin.” – you told him. – “You love your family dearly.” – he spoke coming more over to you. You were looking down fumbling a bit with your dress. – “As much as you love yours.” – you told him without a glance. With a deep breath you finally dared yourself to look up.

Struck instantly by his overwhelming gaze. The brightness in his eyes that could light a fire. – “I was fearful of losing you.” – he confessed with a hard swallow. Admitting his feelings so openly to you felt vulnerable. – “That is why I became… after your accident… I couldn’t…” – he slightly shook his head vowing his words to you. You took a deep breath when Anthony neared more. – “I love you.” – he outed.

“I have loved you from the moment you insulted me.” – taking one more step closer to you. – “I have loved you at every dance, on every walk. Every time we have been together and every time we have been apart. You do not have to accept it or even embrace it but you must know it, in your heart.” – Anthony expressed deeply. He took your hand making you look down at the gesture.

“You must feel it, because I do.” – he pressed his hand onto his chest, staring deeply at you. – “I love you.” – he repeated with all his heart. You scrunched your eyebrow softly at him. – “I don’t not know what to say.” – you told him. – “You don’t have to say anything.” – he answered letting his thumb brush against your hand he was still holding. – “I do not think there is anything else to say… other than I love you too.” – you answered heartily. Anthony exhaled stunned. – “You…” – he breathed out. You lowered your head smiling foolishly at yourself. He looked down taking your other hand in his too.

“I know I am imperfect but I will humble myself before you, because I cannot imagine my life without you and that is why I wish to marry you.” – he spoke with a smile. You returned his smile with one of your own. – “You do know there will not be a day that you shall not vex me.” – you told him teasingly. Anthony let go of your hand allowing his hand to go around your waist to your lower back. – “Is that a promise Y/n Holmes?” – he responded smug. You moved your head closer to his, drawn to him. – “It is a promise.” – you breathed out wanting his lips on yours.

Anthony inhaled deep near your lips, anticipating the moment your lips would touch. – “You are not going anywhere Y/n.” – he whispered to you teasing your lips with the presence of his. You vigorously shook your head moving your hands around his neck. – “I shall not.” – you replied before you forced your lips onto his. An explosion of feelings bursting inside of you. Lips kissing each other with the upmost passion and longing.

Your body being pressed against his, wanting you as deeply as he could. No more you needed to feel saddened. No more you needed to leave. No more you were unloved having finally found your match.

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 8 months

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Take Care

Sherlock and Mycroft x little sister!reader, John x teen!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you get a startling diagnosis that turns everyone around you overprotective

Warnings: cancer, mentions of death (no actual death)

“She…she has what?”

John looked up from his newspaper at the sound of Sherlock’s distress. He had picked up a call from Mycroft and answered with the usual bored disdain, but after listening for a moment he had sat up rigid in his chair.

“I see,” Sherlock went on. “I’ll be right over, I…oh. Yes, alright.”

“What was that all about?” John asked as Sherlock put the phone down. After a moment, John thought he wasn’t going to answer, but finally he spoke, his voice dazed.

“What? Oh, Y/N, she’s…Mycroft is bringing her over for a bit.”

“Is she alright?” John asked hesitantly.

“I…no. I don’t know,”

“Sherlock this is ridiculous, what’s wrong? You’re worrying me.”

You had become quite the regular at Baker Street, sleeping over there almost as much as you stayed with Mycroft, your legal guardian.

“Y/N…she has cancer.”

“She what?” Surely he had heard wrong.

“Mycroft took her in for an appointment, routine check up, that’s all, but…” Sherlock swallowed, and didn’t finish.

“How…I mean…” John wasn’t sure how to ask about the severity.

“I’m not sure,” Sherlock said finally. “Mycroft didn’t say much.”

“Hey Sherlock!” To say Sherlock was surprised when you came bounding into 221B like nothing was wrong would be a severe understatement.

“Hello,” he greeted hollowly. You stepped past him to bring your bag to your room, and Sherlock turned to look at Mycroft.

“She knows?” He asked quietly, and Mycroft nodded.

“I believe she doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“How bad is it?”

“They said they aren’t sure about the outcome. They want to start treatments as soon as possible, and it all depends on how she responds to it. All we can do is make sure she gets enough rest and water between visits for now.”

“Alright,” Sherlock sighed. “Then we do all we can do.”

…

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You looked up at Sherlock with a frown.

“Just for a walk.”

“No you’re not,” he responded. “It’s time you took a nap.”

“Gee grandma, you first,” you scoffed.

“Y/N, don’t be like that,” John insisted.

“You guys really aren’t gonna let me take a walk?” You glared at the two men, who didn’t waver an inch. “Fine,” you groaned, brushing past them to your room and closing the door.

…

“Drink.”

“I’ve had like four glasses of water today Mycroft, I’m not thirsty.”

Mycroft gestured to the glass in front of you insistently. You rolled your eyes and took a sip.

“Finish that, and then you should take a nap.”

“I’m fine.”

“He’s right,” Sherlock chimed in from the sofa.

“Since when do you two agree on anything?” You scoffed.

“Since now.”

You glared at Mycroft.

“You can’t lay off for one afternoon?”

“No.”

“Ok, I’ll nap on one condition; you let me go to Christie’s later, she wanted to study together.”

“You’ll take a nap either way,” Mycroft responded.

“Wanna bet?” You challenged.

“No, because I don’t have to. You’ll do as you’re told.”

“John, a little help?”

“Don’t look at me,” John raised his hands. “I’m with them.”

“Could you guys stop treating me like this for two seconds?” Your tone rose with your anger.

“Like what?” Mycroft’s resolve hadn’t changed.

“Like I’m an invalid!” You shoved past your brothers and slammed the door to your room.

…

“She won’t answer.”

“I know that,” Sherlock griped at his older brother.

“Should we pick the lock?”

“She’d kill us.”

“Well, she’s worrying me, she’s been in there for a while,” Mycroft pulled out a lock pick and got to work.

When the lock clicked, he called out a warning.

“We’re coming in if you don’t open this door!”

Silence.

Mycroft pushed open the door, and sighed in relief when he saw you on your bed, a book in your lap and headphones in your ears. You looked up in disgust.

“Privacy much?” You growled as you pulled your headphones out of your ears.

“You’ve been in here for too long, and you wouldn’t answer when we knocked,” Mycroft insisted.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“Because we need to talk,” Sherlock came to stand by your bed.

“About what?”

“About ‘how we treat you’,” Mycroft sighed.

“Alright, talk.”

“You know why we do it,” Sherlock insisted.

“Yeah, because you’re nosy control freaks.”

“Because we’re worried,” Mycroft corrected.

“You shouldn’t be.”

“That’s a load of crap,” everyone turned in surprise when John entered the room. “You know full well why they’re scared, and you are too. There’s not much we can do, alright? The only things we can do is make sure you get your rest in between treatments, and try our best to take care of you. So that’s what we’re doing.”

You were silent for a long moment.

“I-I just…” the tears in your eyes were perhaps the most surprising because it was the first time your family had seen you cry since the news came. “I don’t want to spend what could be my last few months just…resting. Wasting time, relaxing, and-and-“

“Hey,” the sternness in Mycroft’s tone shut you up immediately. “These aren’t your last few months. That’s what we’re trying to ensure by keeping you rested, and able to fight this.”

“We’re not letting you die, understand?” Sherlock lowered himself to meet your gaze.

“Ok,” you choked, and you were relieved when John stepped forwards and pulled you into his arms.

“You’re going to be ok,” he promised.

You smiled.

“Thank you.”

#Sherlock #Sherlock holmes #sherlock x sister reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock x little sister #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlockholmes #sherlock and mycroft #sherlock fanfic #mycroft #big brother mycroft #mycroft holmes #bbc john watson #john watson x reader

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french-vanilla-in-the-clouds · 2 years

Text

𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Though he's known as a man of reason and cold logic, Sherlock secretly covets a life of art and romance. When a bookworm moves next door, he finds himself bewitched, both body and soul. 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: @asherloki

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

Y/N sat cross-legged on the doorstep of 221B. She bit her thumbnail and smiled down at her copy of Pride and Prejudice.

Her eyes darted across the pages as she muttered along with the story's script. Her favourite character, the proud Mr Darcy, was about to enter the scene, and though she already knew what would happen next, the anticipation of his arrival had her buzzing.

Though she would never admit it, Y/N's fondness for the regency hero stemmed from her love for someone all too real; her next door neighbour, Sherlock Holmes.

Just last month, she had snagged a flat on Baker Street. As the new tenant of 221D, she found herself living across the hall from London's rising celebrity. It hadn't taken her more than a first meeting to fall hard for him.

He reminded her of the heroes she read about in her books. Sherlock was very galant, what with his timeless grace and subtle kindness. Even his movements appeared calculated, each motion as deliberate as the printed words in her stories.

As an avid reader of classic literature, Y/N often let passion guide her life. Practicality wasn't her style so much as star-gazing was. Though Sherlock indulged in a hyper-rational philosophy, Y/N liked to think that a bit of discourse added great fun to any lovers' tale.

She flipped a page and leaned back against the door. It wasn't until a black sedan parked by the pavement that she finally looked up.

From her seat on the front steps, Y/N watched with interest as two men stepped out from the car. She recognized Sherlock, but the other was a stranger to her. From the sound of their bickering though, it seemed that both were agitated.

"Dinner was a mistake, Mycroft. The next time you need to consult me, just text."

"Believe me Sherlock, I'm all for skipping the brotherly bonding, but Mother insisted. She's been pestering me all week with late night calls!"

"Don't pick up."

"I can't just ignore her!"

"Why not? I do it all the time."

The men stepped up to the door, too engrossed in their quarrel to notice Y/N.

"Will you be staying long?" Sherlock asked. He reached out to pull the door handle, but it didn't budge.

"Only as long as I need to. I'll give you the case details, then I'll be off. You know how I feel about your... home."

Mycroft stood impatiently while Sherlock fetched a pair of keys from his coat pocket. He glanced at his watch. "At your leisure, brother mine."

"A bit of patience," Sherlock muttered. He tried twisting the keys through the lock, but they jammed midway.

"That's curious," Sherlock said. "It seems we've been barred out. John must have caught wind of your visit."

"You can't be serious."

"Quite."

At that moment, Mycroft looked down and noticed Y/N. "Good grief," he chuffed. "Are you meant to be the porter?"

Y/N felt her cheeks warm. She hadn't meant to stay quiet so long, but wasn't sure at which point to enter the conversation. She stood up quickly. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to linger."

"Don't mind him," Sherlock sighed. "He simply enjoys rattling off. This is my brother, by the way, Mycroft Holmes. And Mycroft, this is my neighbour, Y/N. She lives just across the hall." Sherlock smiled kindly at her, but quickly turned away.

Mycroft curled his lips reproachfully. "Charmed," he said.

Y/N clutched her book against her chest. "I'm not sure if you recall, Sherlock, but Mrs Hudon said that she was having the locks changed today.

"Annual maintenance?"

"Something like that."

He clicked his tongue. "An advanced warning would have been nice."

"She's been mentioning it all week," Y/N responded lightly.

Sherlock winked. "I can hardly be blamed for blocking out her ramblings." He tucked his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the door. "Light reading?" he asked, nodding towards Y/N's book.

She glanced down at it and grinned. "It's Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Have you read it?"

"It's a waste of time," Mycroft interrupted. He picked at a loose thread on his jacket. "An atypical romance for its time transformed into an odious cliché. It's been written upon a value system where reason is exchanged for ill-spent devotion." He raised a brow at Y/N, his expression condescending. "My brother and I haven't the time to dawdle over banal narratives. I doubt we even spared the brain cells to remember most of the plot, so if you don't mind, this social call is over. Sherlock, could we please talk elsewhere? This case is of national importance!"

Mycroft turned on his heel and stalked away, expecting his brother to follow.

Y/N stood frozen, embarrassed by the outburst. She avoided Sherlock's eyes and wondered if he also had a bad impression of her. Perhaps like his brother, he believed her to be a silly reader with too much time on her hands.

She put on a smile before addressing him. "I'm sure you're busy, Mr Holmes. It was very nice seeing you."

She waited for him to leave, but he stalled for a moment. He seemed conflicted, as though he had something to say, but didn't know how to go about doing it.

Finally, he spoke. "In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you..."

Y/N lifted her brows, taken aback by his words. Sherlock cleared his throat, flustered. "I didn't mean-" he coughed. "I believe that's Mr Darcy's line in the book, yes?"

Y/N nodded.

Sherlock adjusted his coat collar before proceeding. "I know that I have a reputation for being disassociated from the more mundane things like art and literature, and I suppose to some extent, it's true." He licked his lips. "But my good sense shouldn't discredit my appreciation for the humanities."

He leaned in close and smiled. "Or my appreciation of you, for that matter."

Y/N looked up at him. "Sherlock," she breathed. "Would you like to borrow my book?" She held it out between them, her only defense for being stunned, and not knowing what to say. She felt light headed in the best way, overwhelmed by the turn of their conversation.

Sherlock's lip twitched upwards. "That's very kind of you," he said. He reached forwards and grasped the book from her hold. His fingers grazed her hand, and sent sparks shooting through her arm.

He pulled back and examined the front cover. "I'll be off then," he said. He glanced at Y/N, a gleam in his eye. "I wouldn't want to keep your book for long. I'm sure I'll be done reading by Friday at any rate. Would you be able to pick it up then? Say, 8:00 at the café next-door? If that doesn't work for you, we could always try for a late dinner."

Y/N laughed, not able to keep the smile off her face. "That works just fine," she said. "A late dinner it is."

Sherlock pushed back on his heel, and tucked the book under his arm. He tried to appear casual, but was just as excited as Y/N at the prospect of their date. He glanced at the pavement where Mycroft waited, but not even his brother's sour expression could dampen his spirits.

"Have a wonderful day, Y/N," he called out, grinning.

Y/N watched as he walked off, looking over his shoulder every few steps. She could still feel his touch, however brief, upon her skin.

She gazed at him until he finally met his brother and trailed off across the street. Sherlock spared one last look behind him, and flexed the hand that had touched Y/N's.

She smiled.

"A lady's imagination is very rapid," she whispered to herself. "It jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment..."

Y/N ran a hand through her hair, pleased. It seemed that she and Sherlock had the potential for a classic romance after all.

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@asherloki I hope the wait wasn't too much of an issue! I'm sure you've had plenty else to read until now! ♡

tagging: @twisted-monster @starryeddie @high-functioning-lokipath @the-chaotic-cow @turkisherlockian @kabubsmagga @aephereal @andthevillainshallrises @baby-bloos @cookiemumster1 @eternal-silvertongued-prince @bogginsreadings @lumosouls @spencerrxids @serenity-lattes @msseijii @classickook @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @lucywrites02 @danzalladaggers @mrs-holmes @pytharuw @antsn @waiting-for-cas-to-save-me

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rocknroll-stolemyass · 10 months

Text

Sherlock characters and the can you buy me pads text

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlock x y/n #bbc sherlock #john watson #mary watson #william james moriarty #moriarty #mycroft x greg #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade #inspector lestrade #molly hooper #benedict cumberbatch #doctor strange #martin freeman

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kunikame · 1 year

Text

in another life. - w. j. moriarty

just a lil something that's been in the drafts for a while now.... 😇

warnings : mtp anime end + manga spoilers, cussing, stabbing & other mentions of killing/violence, sherlock is called a bastard twice (2 times), reader is called "beautiful" once (1) but no pronouns otherwise, ignore the "- divider -" it wont let me add the pic for some reason

w/c : 1671

maybe it was the way he carried himself, or maybe it was his selfless nature; you never knew the exact reason why you fell for the crime lord in disguise. it just.. happened.

you wouldn’t call it effortless, but you can’t call it hard either. loving william might have always been easy, but loving him never was.

loving william in a physical way was horribly hard. he was always overworked and tired– or working– and most importantly, on his merry way to rid england of the corrupt nobles. he was doing a great thing, you told yourself (the ‘but the wrong way’ remained unsaid, as always), and you couldn’t wait to see the nation become one he’s always dreamt of. a place where people feel safe, and, most importantly, equal.

only, you wanted to see it with him by your side.

yet as your eyes follow his figure and that of the accursed detective he’s grown so fond of– sherlock holmes, the bastard, that should be you– falling into the thames river, you realize that maybe, maybe he hasn’t told you the extent to how far he’s willing to go for this nation. maybe you were too naive, maybe you missed the signs, or maybe he simply didn’t trust you enough to tell you about his plans. now you’ll never know.

you remember one time you overheard the brothers arguing, liam saying “you don’t know what it’s like walking alone every step of the way” then apologizing right after, only to be met with silence. a few moments passed and you heard louis reply “you don’t know what it’s like either, brother. we started this journey together and have walked the path together, as a team. it’s only the destination you insist on reaching alone,” and now you realize, maybe you should’ve inquired about the meaning behind his words.

except, you didn’t. you thought if it’s something important, liam will tell you sooner or later. spoiler alert, he didn’t.

now all you feel is the betrayal settling in your heart because while everyone else knew, they never thought about telling you. no “oh hey, by the way, your boyfriend is going to sacrifice himself soon, but no worries we got sherlock on the job”– a plan which backfired since both of them jumped– nothing. what hurt the most was not even liam thought to tell you.

and here comes the guilt baring its teeth, biting into your heart and lungs and suddenly you can no longer breathe or hear anything other than the ringing in your ears– you never even got to say goodbye. he was just going to die without saying anything. he just.. left you there.

when you saw their bodies splash into the river you felt like a part of yourself drowned with them. with him.

the days after the incident were a blur. you don't quite remember anything through a whole month after they jumped. everyone around you slowly realized you knew nothing of the plan. albert couldn't talk to you about it very long as he got locked up. moran disappeared off the face of the earth soon after. all you had were fred, james and louis, and perhaps they were all you needed. every step of the way, they stood by your side.

you were a team after all. since your younger days. there were more of you back then, but, maybe the 4 of you could go on until you reunite with albert– and hopefully moran– somewhere down the path.

3 months. 3 months have passed.

days turned into weeks, weeks into months.

you missed william dearly each day, but you are not as depressed as you were anymore. louis has been made leader of m16, albert was still sitting in his cell, moran was still missing and fred was tending to his flowers. some things just don't change, you chuckled.

thanks to louis' new position you had responsibilities and jobs to carry out again. you'd say it's with less people but that would be a lie. herder has finally wormed his way into the actual missions– technically.

things start getting crazy from there. 1st a mission regarding moran, next a briefing with the older holmes, next the younger one– the absolute bastard– shows up. without william.

you take a step back– maybe you weren't over it after all, but if you stabbed him right now mycroft would kill you. louis verbalized the thoughts you all had, ".. that day, you fell down the river thames with brother william.. and now, you're the only one standing in front of us like this. can you.. please explain?"

sherlock goes to tell the story of how he awakened on a boat heading for america with bandages all over him and william both. met a guy called henry (also known as billy the kid, apparently), who was the one to patch them up and watch over them and blah blah blah– you stopped paying attention halfway. you only zoned in when he mentioned the blond.

".. i got a telegram from liam; 'help m16 for me' he said. and that's how i ended up back in london, in secret."

when you opened your mouth to speak, fred stole the words right out of your mouth, "mr. william is .."

it hit you then. not like a punch in the face, more like a direct run in with a truck. he didn't die. he's.. he's not dead. he's alive. for the love of god, he's alive.

uncontrollable tears were streaming down your cheeks. it wasn't just a dream, wasn't just something you made yourself believe to cope with his 'betrayal'. it's real. he's alive.

the room broke out in chaos once the news registered in herder's brain. he reminded fred of his new roses, and you of your one wish coming true– it didn't last long however, as louis got right back to the point of the briefing.

"you really are just like liam."

"mr. holmes, may i have a moment?"

you couldn't help yourself, you rushed to the door after it closed behind the 2 men.

".. thank you. for that time.. and all the way until now, for not forsaking my brother.. for saving his life.. from the bottom of my heart, thank you."

william and albert went around greeting everyone in order. you stepped away and chose to gaze out the huge window while you waited. eventually, you were the only one left.

you smiled softly then; you can imagine how much those words meant to louis. they were true, though.

- divider -

yet another mission is over, and now moran is back among your little no-longer-criminal-organization group. it took fred almost being shot, a poker card from william, and a lot of convincing, but he's home. you're back to bickering and teasing each other, just like old times.

barely 2 days later, william and albert showed up, sending the tea cup fred was holding shattering. the idea of letting the 3 brothers have their reunion first was a collective agreement so you pushed louis into the hallway and shut the door softly.

with a soft sigh, you avoided listening in on their conversation this time (much unlike the other occupants of the room; specifically herder, who went tumbling the moment the door opened).

taking the cue, the others slowly filed out of the room, leaving only you and william, who was staring at your back intently.

"you have an eyepatch now i see," you said, turning to face him.

the sun behind you illuminated your figure just right. you looked exactly like an angel would. maybe this a sign, he thinks.

"i do indeed. you've grown even more beautiful than i remember."

"flattery will get you nowhere, pretty boy," you sighed, "why didn't you tell me?"

"i couldn't, i'm sorry. you looked so happy. i couldn't bring myself to ruin it for you. for us. i thought, in the end, if i shouldered the responsibility myself, maybe you'd realize i was a monster all along. tainted, with hands covered in blood. i didn't deserve to hold you, love you, the way i was."

"you're very wrong about that. you were, are, and will always be the most beautiful and selfless soul i know– even if that whole bridge jump scene was very selfish, if i do say so myself," you move closer to him to cup his cheeks (still as soft as you remember, though slightly more bony) and caress them softly, "you deserve everything and more, liam. if the stars would make you happy i'd go and pick some for you. you should've talked to me, relied on me a little more. i thought we were a team, an unstoppable duo, you know? i can't be a duo on my own; neither can you."

"i know now. i'm sorry. are you still mad?"

you looked at him as if he hung the sun and stars himself and he believes he has an answer to that question, "i'm not mad at you. i can't be. i love you too much for that."

the love in your eyes is mirrored in his vermillion one, the burning intensity of it almost swallowing you up like the flames in a burning building, yet the warmth is friendlier– gentler – the last rays of a summer sunset by the ocean.

"never do anything like that ever again, alright blondie? promise me."

"i promise."

you remove your hand from his cheek, placing it in the small space between you and raise an eyebrow in amusement, "do you pinky promise?"

he can only chuckle and hook his pinky with yours, "i pinky promise."

the deal is sealed with a kiss filled with 3 years worth of words and emotions left unsaid.

perhaps it was meant to be like this. is this what "in another life" means? most likely not, yet still. he's a new person and so are you. your lives are not what they used to be.

maybe this is your "another life".

ੈ✩₊˚TAGLIST : @gabirii @sunaaa @menhwa-pdf @arkangelee (if you're in bold i can't tag you. ask/comment to be added/removed or fill form . )

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j-eryewrites · 1 year

Text

The Dancing Men (III)

Part 17 of the Arbitrary Lives of the Occupants of 221B Baker Street

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Previous | Next

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: Sherlock is Sherlock, Sherlock and John fight (Let me know if I missed any)

Author’s Note: Finally finished this chapter! I just want to thank all of you for being so patient. Hopefully, I can get back on track to finishing this series. I’m so sad that it’s almost over but trust me you guys are in for some eventful last few chapters!

Y/N never knew she would hate an overseas travel experience so much more than her flight to London a few months prior. However, that was before she knew what travelling with Sherlock and John was like. She had the overwhelming feeling that she was babysitting the two of them, more so Sherlock than John. She tried to keep her mind occupied as the two men argued over what seat on the plane was the best. Of course, Sherlock occupied the window seat. John, who was ever the gentleman, sat in the middle seat. Lastly, Y/N took the aisle.

Once the debacle of seat choice was decided, they moved on to deducing the other occupants in the aeroplane. First, John would give it a go. Sherlock would listen intently as John relayed the information, he thought was correct about the person, and then Sherlock would correct him.

“She’s dating the man next to her. She keeps looking at him intently,” John nodded after careful observation. He was sure he nailed it.

“Wrong,” Sherlock corrected. “She’s fidgeting with the silver band on her ring finger. She slips it on and then off as she is talking to the man next to her. An expert way of concealing the ring as she’s talking to this man. She’s married to another yet finds the man next to her attractive enough for her to start thinking about an affair.”

“Right. How obvious, why didn’t I see it before?” John sarcastically said.

“Do better next time, John,” Sherlock muttered before pointing to the next object of observation.

John was sure he observed over a dozen people by the end of the flight. The longer John tried his hand at deducing, he found that he had gotten more correct than not. Once Sherlock was satisfied with John’s average observational skills, he moved on to Y/N who intently was reading a novel.

“Y/N,” Sherlock cleared his throat.

It took a moment for the young woman to snap from her literary daze and focus on Sherlock. The book was all too exciting. “Hmm?”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at a man wearing a bright orange shirt in the row in front of them to their right. His eyes pointed Y/N in the man’s direction, and she turned to look at him, then back at Sherlock with a hint of confusion.

“What?” She asked as her hands carefully placed the bookmark into the novel.

Sherlock just scrunched his brows at her unaware that she had no clue what his obscure glances and facial expressions meant.

John sighed. “He wants you to deduce that man.” John offered a sympathetic smile to the woman.

Y/N processed John’s words before asking Sherlock a question. “Why?”

Sherlock looked as if he was about to roll his eyes, but then stopped himself. “It’s perfectly reasonable to train my employees on their deduction skills in case they are needed. John has…” Sherlock looked John up and down, “sufficed for the day. Now it’s your turn.”

Y/N chuckled. “Alright, whatever you say, Holmes.”

Y/N adjusted her seating position so she could get the clearest view of the man of the hour. As the woman observed over the man in the row up by one and on the right side, John couldn’t help how his eyes looked at Sherlock. He saw how Sherlock stared intently at Y/N from his window seat. For a moment, John thought that Sherlock was deducing her rather than her deducing the man in front of them with how carefully his eyes washed over her figure. In fact, John was sure he could see her reflection clearly within his eyes.

“He’s awfully hunched over. Could be reading a book or watching a film, maybe even sleeping with how to calm his body is…”

Sherlock smiled. “But…”

Y/N blinked at Sherlock. “But it’s not that. His slouch gets deeper whenever a flight attendant passes. He’s insecure…?” It was her best guess.

“Close,” Sherlock stated. He reached over John as if wasn’t there and pointed at the man. “He does slouch over more when a flight attendant passes, but only a particular one.”

Then the man in the orange shirt looked over his shoulder as the particular flight attendant passed. His arms protectively hovered over his lap. Once she was gone, Y/N caught sight of a pencil and a sketchbook. The man was drawing the flight attendant.

“Oh,” Y/N gasped.

“You see now?” Sherlock asked before pointing to someone else for Y/N to deduce. “Try again.”

It wasn’t hard for John to take notice of the soft tone Sherlock used to correct Y/N’s deductions. The consulting detective’s voice was a far cry from the reprimanding tone he had used when correcting John’s observations. John most definitely saw how Sherlock leaned ever so slightly forward in his seat towards Y/N’s aisle seat and John most definitely didn’t smirk as he sank as far as he could into the back of his seat, so Sherlock could get a nice view. Maybe these new deduction skills John was gaining were going to be of use sooner than later.

Y/N was able to try her hand at a few deductions before the plane landed in Dublin. Eventually, they were able to exit the plane and find a rental car. John drove the car with Sherlock in the passenger seat and Y/N in the back. She didn’t mind sitting in the back of the car. It gave her an ample view of the Irish landscape as they drove.

She had done some research about Clifden and from what she found it looked like the town came from a fairytale. Located along the coast of Ireland, sat Clifden with its picturesque buildings and homes. Alongside lots of land to explore, a castle, and a National Park.

As she stared out at the passing images of the Irish landscapes, she took notice of everything around her. The skies were grey, as was typical in late November. Sometimes there was snow covering the grounds, and other times there were windy fields of gold and brown blowing in the wind. Despite the gloomy atmosphere, it was beautiful. There was something so cosy about a grey gloomy day to Y/N. It was almost perfect. Unlike days filled with warm sunlight where she was obligated to roam around outside or the freezing stormy evenings where she was forced to stay indoors, Y/N had a choice when it came to grey days. The weather was pleasant enough that she could be outside, but it was also cosy enough to stay bundled up inside. She liked having a choice. It also helped that the grey days usually meant that rain would follow and she loved the rain.

Y/N felt her head grow heavy as her mind was lulled softly by the scenes. For some reason, the hum of the car was all too bewitching. It rumbled in a vivid low tone as the tires of the car drove over the pavement of the roads. The sights began to blur with the sounds echoing in her mind. The perfect combination for slumber and that is exactly what Y/N did.

_____

“Y/N.” A voice called out to her.

She made an incoherent mumbling noise in response. John chuckled at Sherlock’s distaste for the whole scenario.

“Don’t look at me,” John said washing his hands of the whole thing. “ I woke her up last time.” Without another word, John unbuckled his seat and removed himself from the car. His legs were practically begging to be used after such a long travel time.

Sherlock sighed and reached out a hand to shake Y/N awake. Instead of placing his hand on her shoulder, Sherlock’s fingers wove around her hair and found a resting spot on her cheek. His thumb mindlessly brushed up and down her cheek and a small smile crept up on Sherlock’s face.

“Hurry up in there,” John said.

Sherlock’s eyes widened and pulled back his hand from her face. He quickly glanced outside to make sure that John hadn’t seen him. Once Sherlock was satisfied that John hadn’t, he continued his quest to wake up Y/N.

This time his hand found her shoulder. With as much care as he could muster, Sherlock gently shook the woman awake.

“Y/N. We’re here,” Sherlock whispered.

Y/N stirred, and her body sank deeper into the back seat of the car. Her eyes still shut tight refusing to awaken. Sherlock groaned he wasn’t sure that he had it in him to forcefully wake her up. The crunching of gravel behind Sherlock altered him that John was ever present, Hilton was waiting, a case was brewing, and Sherlock needed to wake Y/N up.

Sherlock cleared his throat. “Y/N,” and with a gentle shake of her shoulders, the girl awoke.

Her voice was hoarse as it tried to recalibrate being awake and used. Y/N’s eyes flashed open before narrowing as the light evening light filtered in. She groaned as her body stretched from underneath Sherlock. For a moment, Sherlock forgot their proximity as he took in the sight of her awakening.

“Sherlock?” Y/N croaked.

His mind snapped from its thoughts as he shook his head. “Hmm?”

“Do you mind getting off me now?” Y/N asked.

Sherlock wasn’t on her, so to say, but his hand was still glued to her shoulder and their bodies sat impossibly close. Sherlock tilted his head perturbed by her question, before he remembered that people had something called personal space. A concept that he cherishes most definitely within himself, but always forgot that others had it.

“Sorry,” Sherlock cleared his throat and crawled out of the car straightening his jacket. “We’re here.”

Y/N nodded her head and soon followed him out of the car where she bent and stretched her limbs. Her neck felt a bit funny from the position she fell asleep in on the ride over to Clifden.

“God, remind me to not fall asleep in the car again…,” Y/N grumbled.

Sherlock glanced at Y/N before making a mental note for future reference.

Before any of them could say another word, a joyous voice interrupted. It was Hilton Cubitt in all his glory. He welcomed the trio with a smile and quickly ushered them into his home.

It was a quaint old house made of a grey study brick. While small in stature it was the perfect size for Hilton and his family of three. It was a house that followed the same structure as many others in the neighbourhood: Black pointed roofs, red doors, and window casing to match its crimson hue. Alongside the home was a small garden, which Y/N assumed would be in full bloom if it weren’t for the current seasonal climate.

Hilton graciously led the trio into his living room where they each found a seat on the black leather couch across from where Hilton sat.

“I’m so glad you are here!” Hilton smiled. “Would any of you like tea? Water?”

Although John and Y/N would have loved to have a nice cup of tea, the way Sherlock was eyeing the two of them told John and Y/N that any distractions from the case at hand, including getting some tea, were unacceptable.

“Mr. Cubitt if you could explain to us where you found the latest code.”

Hilton nodded and cleared his throat. “On the windowsill like the last one. Mr Holmes,” Hilton’s voice grew grave. “There’s another. It was out in the garden where I found the paper on the sundial.” Hilton reached into his pocket to pull out another sheet of paper.

Sherlock eagerly took the slip of paper. “What did you do after finding the code?” Sherlock inquired as John and Y/N sat attentively listening.

“I showed it to my wife and she feinted from the shock–fear, I’m not quite sure. That’s when I knew that I should send a photo of it to you Mr. Holmes. If this message got my wife feeling this much fear then…” Hilton shivered. “Then it must be bad.”

Sherlock rose his hand to his chin taking note of everything Cubitt had so far said when John spoke up.

“Could all this trouble be saved if you just talked to your wife?” John asked. He was a bit annoyed with this singular aspect of the case. Clearly, Elise Cubitt knows what the code says and possibly who it is from. One word from her and the case could be solved, the culprit dealt with, and then everyone is happy.

At John’s words, Hilton’s gaze fell and he crossed his arms over his torso, shaking his head. “I promised her and a promise is a promise. If Elise wanted to tell me, she would. If not, it is not my place to force her.” Hilton paused for a moment gauging the reactions of the three in front of him. Something in one of their faces urged him to continue. “You can’t ask her either. She does not need to be put under any more stress and fear.”

Just then a woman and a young child entered the room. They were giggling and chatting as they carried groceries in their arms. The young girl gasped and smiled at the strange new faces in her home before running over to her father. The girl’s mother, on the other hand, had a vastly different reaction. She made quick work of readjusting her hold on the grocery bags removing her hands from sight. Y/N noticed how the woman’s face paled to a bluish tone which made her golden hair grow a sickening yellow. Her voice began to quaver as she strolled over to her husband.

“Hilton, what’s this?” Elise asked.

Hilton picked up his little girl and placed her in his lap. “These people are here to help us,” He said in a soft voice that one would only use when speaking to a child. Except his words were not directed to his daughter, but to his concerned wife.

She did not speak another word as she dropped the groceries off in the nearby kitchen before removing her and her daughter from the room to allow them privacy.

Once his wife vacated the room, Hilton sighed with his whole body and his chest heaved as if he was about to cry. “Sorry,” Hilton muttered as he collected himself.

Y/N looked at John and Sherlock before leaning forward and asking a question of her own.

“If you don’t mind me asking, but has Elise said anything?”

Hilton shook his head and glanced out a nearby window. “She hasn’t…but there have been sometimes where I think she might say something. I was clear that she wanted to, but something was stopping her.”

“Have you found anything out yourself these past few weeks, Mr Cubitt?” Sherlock asked now chiming back into the conversation.

Hilton’s gaze was removed from the window. “Yes. A friend of mine who lives in town found another code this morning. I thought that we could go look at it together when you arrived.”

Sherlock’s raised his brow with intrigue before immediately standing up out of his seat.

No one else had risen from their seat. Each of them still felt that there was more to be discussed, yet Sherlock was a spontaneous man. When a case called or something caught his captious eye that was something he must do the soonest moment possible.

Sherlock’s eye twitched at the stillness in his companion’s figures before clearing his throat. It was his signal that they were to leave and Hilton would lead them to the latest part of the code.

“Right,” Hilton said. He slapped his lap as he stood up. The moment Hilton stood up, John and Y/N were quick to follow.

Hilton quickly retrieved his things before calling out to his wife and daughter and telling them that he was going to be out for a bit. Elise only nodded as her shaking eyes glanced over Sherlock and his friends.

“It’ll only take a moment to arrive there,” Hilton explained as he led the group to his car.

As Y/N opened the backseat of the car, she felt a chill brush on the back of her neck. Y/N rose a hand to brush away the cold when she felt something staring at her. She turned to look back at Hilton’s house and in the window was Elise. The woman gasped upon noticing Y/N’s stare and in an instant, she was gone. The only remnant of her presence was the ripple of the curtain as it fell back into place.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Strange,” she whispered to herself before sneaking into the back seat of the car next to John.

________

Buildings built closely together: a pub, the grocery store, a hair salon, an apartment building. Each piece of architecture was more colourful than the next. Y/N was sure she’d never seen such a colourful street in her life. While there was some colour in London, there was next to none in Wisconsin.

As the bright colours in front of her swirled into a gorgeous kaleidoscope, she remembered her childhood home– Menomonee Falls. Her hometown in the United States was nothing short of stark contrast. Nature was ever-present in Menomonee Falls from the breathtaking trees as they turned from jade green to a burning gold in the autumn weather and the flowing rivers to the three-step staircase that is called a waterfall.

Even though Menomonee Falls lacked in colour like Clifden, Y/N thought that the community of people was more than enough to make up for it. The people of Menomonee Falls were like their own rainbow of personality. She recalled the tales that she’d heard from those she passed on the street. With a cheerful smile and hello, mere strangers would embark on relaying their whole life story to you.

Y/N chuckled as she thought of her old home, the fondest of memories from Halloween where she’d go to haunted houses in people’s garages and maybe partake in a barbeque or two. The parents’ sore feet and even smaller patience to deal with their children were relieved by the passing out of beer as the children received their treats. Menomonee Falls was home. Y/N shook her head with a smile. No, it was no longer home. Her thoughts cleared as her gaze fell on John and Sherlock as they walked alongside Hilton Cubitt. This was her home–with Sherlock, John, Mrs Hudson, and Bjørn. 221B Baker Street was where she was supposed to be. Y/N was sure of it. She’d call it destiny if she believed in that kind of stuff.

“It’s down this alleyway here,” Hilton said. He pointed his finger to the right and the group collectively turned in the direction. Y/N was surprised at how well-kept the alleyway was. I made sense though, as she had previously seen numerous people before her use them as walkways. Y/N was so caught up in her thought that she almost crashed right into Sherlock’s tall frame.

“Sorry,” she quickly muttered not knowing if Sherlock even heard her.

For Sherlock hearing was something completely different from listening. While he did hear Y/N’s quick apologies for ‘not’ bumping into him, he was not listening. All his attention was on the black spray-painted stick figures on the wall.

It was a shame that the light-yellow shade of the building was tainted by the dripping black paint of the code. As Sherlock observed every detail and position of the figures, his mind was aware noting it all down and connecting the dots. It was just like all the other ones before. Located in a place that Elise Cubitt frequented. However, all the other ones were at the Cubitt home, this one was out of the way. This meant that the culprit must have known Elise’s schedule: Where she liked to frequent, how often she left her home, and what routes she takes to arrive at her destinations.

“...hasn’t seen it. She refuses to leave the house for anything other than the necessities.” Hilton explained to John and Y/N. The two of them listened carefully knowing that all of Sherlock’s attention was on the wall.

Sherlock’s brow raised in intrigue before turning away from the wall to face Hilton. Y/N could see there was a fire in his eyes. Something Hilton had said must have broken the man from his ‘detective’ mode, as Y/N called it.

“Say that again,” Sherlock commanded.

Hilton was startled. He cleared his throat and then asked Sherlock to repeat himself.

“Say that,” Sherlock motioned with his hands in a sort of reverse movement, ”again.”

“She refuses to leave the house…?” Hilton sheepishly said unsure of what exactly Sherlock was asking of him.

Sherlock pinched his brow and groaned. “No. Before that.”

Hilton’s eye lit up finally understanding Sherlock’s request. “Oh, erm, Elise hasn’t seen this one yet. At least I do not think she has.”

There was a drop in Sherlock’s expression. One that only John and Y/N could catch. “Y/N take a photo.” She nodded and quickly did as Sherlock had asked. “Mr. Cubitt. I believe it was a mistake coming here. We need to return back to your home.”

Hilton’s face paled at Sherlock’s words. “What are you saying, Mr. Holmes?”

“I am saying that this was a distraction. You are no longer at the house. Your wife is alone. The perfect opportunity for the culprit to arrive.”

_______

Hilton drove with carelessness. His heart pounded in his chest as Sherlock’s words echoed in his mind. He kept trying to tell himself that he’d be safe, yet love is a powerful fuel for worry. Like gasoline to the flame, Hilton’s anguish grew as the minutes ticked by.

The worry they all felt was only fulfilled when they returned back to the Cubitt household. The sun had set and the only lights around were the street lamps and the lights from the home. The yellow glow was just enough to illuminate a large black figure scaling down the wall. He had climbed down from the window on the top floor. His legs bent when they hit the ground.

The car still had the keys in the ignition when Hilton swiftly removed himself from the car. His long strides transitioned into a dash as he charged the figure with Sherlock and the others not far behind. He called out in fury at the man triggering him to run away.

“Get back here!” Hilton cried as he charged after him.

“Hilton!” Elise screamed at her husband as he chased the intruder.

The woman was flailing out the front door. Her hands waved around frantically. At first, Y/N assumed that she was running to her husband in fear hoping to run into the safe arms of her husband, but that notion was soon destroyed when Elise’s voice yelled at her husband.

“Hilton! Stop! Don’t!”

His love was calling for him and there was no bone in Hilton’s body that could not refuse. While Hilton’s step faltered as he stared at his wife with utter shock, Sherlock and John continued the chase. It seemed too often they found themselves running after or away from something.

Suddenly Elise’s body came crashing into her husband's as she enveloped him in a hug. She muttered something into his skin causing Hilton to grow even more aghast. Elise then looked up and saw that Sherlock and John were still running after the man. The two men were barking orders at each other trying to determine the best possible way to catch the fiend.

Back at the house, the wails of a small child filled the air as Hilton and Elise’s daughter emerged from the house. The look of pure terror in her eyes was enough to make anyone’s heartbreak. The young girl wasn’t the only one who was startled. Y/N could see Elise’s lips quiver and her eyes worriedly follow John and Sherlock as they chased the man. Once night overcame those in the chase, Elise’s nervous eyes locked with Y/N’s.

Y/N saw Elise as she hugged her husband tighter before burrowing her head in the crook of Hilton’s shoulder to hide from Y/N. Everything about Elise screamed guilt as the training Sherlock made Y/N endure on the flight over to Ireland kicked into action. The biggest piece of evidence that caught Y/N’s eye was the woman’s hands. They were black. The paint seemed to glow against her pale white skin. All evidence Y/N had gathered pointed to one thing: Elise was in on it.

______

The air grew tense as John and Sherlock darted across the yard. Sherlock cursed the night. If it weren’t so dark it wouldn’t have been so hard to find the man. Numerous times Sherlock found himself tripping over stones or tree roots.

John was faring no better. Chasing a man in all black in the pitch black of night on a cold November night. It was pure torment. The cold seeped into his bones while his muscles were on fire. It was a horrific contrast that made his breath only heavier.

“Sherlock!” John gasped.

The detective continued in his pursuit.

John sighed as he placed his hands on his thighs and leaned over taking the largest breaths in his life. Sherlock also happened to wear black. While chasing the intruder through the night was somewhat acceptable, running after Sherlock was not. John had spent too much of his life running after the man. Sherlock’s legs were much too long and moved at a faster speed than John’s shorter legs and slower pace could keep up with.

By the time John’s breath finally returned to a reasonable rate, Sherlock had returned. All sorts of frustration were apparent on the consulting detective’s face.

“Gone,” Sherlock heaved.

“Right,” John nodded his head. “Cause how likely would it have been to catch a man in black in the dead of night when he had quite the head start on us.”

Sherlock whipped his head around to John and sent him a glare.

“Where’s Y/N?” Sherlock’s asked. He hadn’t realized he had said it aloud until John replied to him.

“Back at the house. She was smart enough to know not to run,” John muttered.

Sherlock hummed before taking a step towards the house. “Let’s go then. I’d like to have a word with Mrs. Cubitt.

______

“I was scared for –” Elise explained.

“Oh, that’s it then?” Hilton barked.

“Yes, Hilton! I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I can take care of myself, Elise,” Hilton hissed. “It’s you and He wasn’t believing his wife’s words of concern. He could have caught the man. He could have stopped all this madness if it weren’t for his wife’s pleas. He could help but think that maybe Elise knew who the man was. It seemed to Hilton that his wife was more concerned about the man in black coming to harm than him.

Elise opened her mouth to reply when John and Sherlock entered the house. Elise quickly folded her arms concealing her hands from view and excused herself upstairs where her daughter was waiting to be consoled and tucked back into bed.

Sherlock’s eye was guided along as he followed Elise’s ascent up the stairs. His mind crawled back to what John had said earlier. This case could be solved with a word from Elise Cubitt. She knew. Sherlock felt like it was safe to say that not only did she know the code, but she knew the man behind the drawings as well.

“Hilton–” Sherlock began.

“He left another message,” Hilton seethed as he clutched his forehead. It began to throb under his touch. For a moment he considered going against his promise. After all, Hilton’s loved his wife and daughter with his whole heart. He’d do anything to keep them safe. Even if it meant opening a wound he promised not to touch.

“Where?” Sherlock commanded.

Y/N stepped forward. The code could wait. The case could wait. The Cubitt family had been through enough this night. Y/N reached for Sherlock’s shoulder and nudged him away from Hilton.

“Sherlock…the code can wait.” She looked to John for help. “It’s getting late. We should be going.”

Sherlock shook his head and was about to scold Y/N for even suggesting a thing when his gaze met hers. Her eyes glossed over as she pleaded with him.

“Sherlock–” Y/N whispered.

“Send me the code Hilton,’ Sherlock said. Then he turned to his friends. “John. Y/N.”

The mention of their names was enough for them to understand it was time to leave. They bid their goodbyes and headed out of Hilton’s house. There wasn’t a word spoken as they returned to the car.

Each sat in the seats with their minds afire; thoughts abuzz about the case and Elise. Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about Elise: her black hands, the fear in her eyes, the concern for the man, and the obvious lies that her husband refused to bring to light. The key of this case lied in Elise.

______

Y/N felt like she could practically collapse against the door of her hotel room and pass out in the hallway from exhaustion. The crick in her neck was feeling any better, in fact, Y/N was sure it was feeling worse.

There was a beep and the door to her hotel room swung open. She sighed in relief as she lugged her small bag of luggage into the room. All she wanted to do at the moment was fling herself onto the bed and sleep. That would be an issue, so long as she knew which bed to sleep in.

She rubbed her eyes awake. That wasn’t supposed to be the case. She was supposed to have a room with one bed. John and Sherlock were to have the one with two. With a puzzled look on her face, Y/N pulled out her phone. John or Sherlock hadn’t said anything to her leading Y/N to think that maybe the hotel made a mistake and that both rooms had two beds.

______

The hotel had made a mistake. That’s all John could think of as he and Sherlock stood in the doorway to their hotel room. Both men stood with perplexed expressions on their faces. Neither of them wanted to address the elephant in the room, yet something had to be said sooner or later.

“I’m too tired for this,” John grumbled under his breath. John stepped into the room and dropped his bag on a chair near the bed. “Right, I’ll take th–”

“I’ll take the bed,” Sherlock stated as he threw his own bag onto the bed claiming.

John’s mouth was thrown wide open. He was going to offer up the bed in the first place, being a good friend in all, but after Sherlock’s explicit claim on the bed, all thoughts of John’s niceties flew out the window.

With a huff, John picked up his bag and dropped it onto the bag. “Sherlock.”

“John.”

“The bed is big enough for the both of us,” John noted. His brown eyes glared right at Sherlock’s.

“Wrong. The bed is fit for only one.” Sherlock removed his eyes from John and looked at the bed. The dimensions would never allow two grown men to share it. Sherlock needed all the room he could get with his lengthy limbs.

John sighed. “I’m the veteran.” He was going to pull all the cards he could to beat Sherlock.

“Yes, good for you. The bed is mine,” Sherlock dictated.

John chuckled. “Oh no it’s not.”

Sherlock raised a brow questioningly at his friend. “You sure about that?”

______

The phone was ringing that familiar ringtone that belonged to only one person: Jim. Y/N groaned and rolled off the bed that she claimed was her own. He was only checking up on her like they had promised. It was sweet of him to call her and put the effort in. She could almost say it was perfect if everything else hadn’t also been perfect.

She tried to move past her concerns and continue to see Jim. Yet after her late-night conservation with Sherlock, the more she thought about wanting more. It wasn’t fair to Jim. He was perfect in every way, yet here she was thinking about a curly-headed detective who drive her insane every hour of the day. She almost hated that she wanted Sherlock to kiss her that night. Almost. It was wrong. She was with Jim. She liked Jim. Jim made her happy. Sherlock was her boss. The man whose brother paid her to watch over him. Sherlock was her friend. One of her best friends if she could admit it. Not to mention he was her neighbour and surrogate son to her great Aunt.

Y/N would have continued to think of Sherlock if it were for the incessant ringing of her phone. Against her better judgment, she picked up the phone and answered the call. Her voice faked a smile and she found herself easily able to put the tone of excitement in her voice.

“Hey, babe,” Y/N said. She could hear Jim chuckle over the phone.

“You sound tired,” He noted with his Irish accent.

“You could say that…” Y/N answered. ”How’s work going?” She scolded herself for asking such an ordinary question. She could do better. After all, Jim was her perfect boyfriend, but the conversation seemed so forced with Jim. Unlike how easy it was to converse with Sherlock.

“Well, it’s finally starting to return to normal. Had to clean up a few loose ends after the last consultation,” Jim explained.

“You’re not working too hard are you?” Y/N said. She couldn’t help but be concerned for Jim. She did like him and cared for him.

“No, nothing I can’t handle. Right, well, I won’t keep you long,” Jim smiled. “Just wanted to check in with you and tell you about a t–”

Bang! Something had hit the other side of the wall by her head. The sound jolted Y/N to a sitting position.

“What was that?” Jim asked concerned.

“...I’m not sure.” Y/N eyed the wall carefully before returning to her conversation with Jim. “What were you saying?”

“A trip.”

Y/N could practically hear the excitement from Jim’s side of the phone. “A trip?”

“I’ll some time off of work after my next big project. Thought that maybe you and I could travel a bit,” Jim proposed.

“I–”

There was that banging again. “Jim, I have to go…”

THUD.

“Goodnight love,” Jim said.

“Goodnig–” BANG! “Heaven’s sake.”

The phone went silent as the commotion next door continued. Y/N’s mouth pursed in thought as she tried to think of who could be next door to her when the sudden realization hit her. Her eyes widened in shock. She had booked the two rooms to be right next to each other. The banging was coming from John and Sherlock’s room.

______

What started as an assertion of dominance with the presence of their travel bags on the bed was now a full-on physical wrestle between the two men. All notions of exhaustion and common sense flew out the window when the fight for the bed began.

John was underneath Sherlock at the moment, which was a good place to be. If only he had just enough leverage or a falter in Sherlock’s resistance, then John would surely be able to claim the bed for the night. In turn, dooming Sherlock to sleep on the floor of their shared hotel room.

“Just give up Sherlock!” John scowled as he lodged an arm across Sherlock’s torso.

Sherlock grunted trying to get out of John’s grasp. Despite his smaller figure, he was surprised at how long John had been fairing in this fight. “Never,” Sherlock replied. “You’ll b–”

There was a knock on the door. It rang loud and clear. All movement between the two men halted as they tilted their heads in the direction of the door. Whoever was behind the door knocking tried again when their original attempt was given no answer. Again, John and Sherlock made no motion to move from their positions on the bed.

Then a muffled voice came from behind the door. “Sherlock. John. It’s me,” Y/N said.

If it was quiet before, the two men were now silent. The silence that came after Y/N’s voice gave way to Sherlock's hesitation. John could clearly see Sherlock’s shoulders slightly relax and his grip on John and the bed loosened. It was the perfect opportunity. The moment John had been waiting for, and he took his chance. No longer was Sherlock's body above John’s on the bed, but it was now seat flat on the floor by the side of the bed.

“Is everything alright in there?” Y/N asked the moment she heard yet another thump.

“Go answer her,” John whispered to Sherlock. In response, Sherlock glared at John from the ground. He wasn’t about to let John bark orders around, especially since he lost the bed to John.

“Sherlock? John?”

John briefly looked at the door before hissing at Sherlock to get up and open the door for Y/N.

Clenching his jaw, Sherlock brushed himself off and walked over to the door before opening it.

“I heard some banging noises and I–” Y/N said as she walked into the room. Then she caught sight of the condition of the sheets and the dishevelled state of, both, John and Sherlock. “Oh…umm, never mind.”

John’s face grew a bright red. “Not what you think. Just fighting over who got the bed, that’s all.”

Y/N couldn’t help the fit of giggles that came from her mouth. “Right,” She sarcastically said. “Anyways, I was coming to say the room that I’m in has two beds. I think we mixed up the key cards.”

Sherlock and John shared a brief look of embarrassment with each other as they both realized this entire scenario could have been solved with a quick word with Y/N. They’d both happily be in bed if it weren’t for their desire to win.

“I’ve already got this bed,” John blurted. “Sherlock can take the other bed. If that’s alright with you, Y/N.”

Y/N was caught off guard by John’s proposal and she became a stuttering mess. “Um, yeah–totally. I’m totally fine with it. With–yeah.”

The mere thought of what John had proposed sent a brilliant blush to Sherlock and Y/N’s cheeks; an expression that only John got to bear witness of. John smiled smugly at Sherlock as he motioned for him to take his bag and follow Y/N back to her room.

______

Sherlock had settled quite well into the extra bed in the hotel room that he was sharing with Y/N. He both cursed and thanked John for providing him with this opportunity to be near her. Something was triggered in Sherlock the night that Y/N confessed her discontent with her current relationship and boyfriend. It gave him hope, and hope was a dangerous thing. A hope that burned bright enough for John to catch on. It was a phenomenon that irked Sherlock. He wasn’t one to be easily read. He prided himself on keeping his thoughts and emotions on a tight lip. Yet here was John Watson acting as Sherlock Holmes himself with his ability to deduce his friend. Sherlock was regretting giving John training in observational skills.

Y/N sat on her bed and sheepishly played with the sleeve of her nighties. Her eyes were cast down to the carpet covering the floor. “I’m going to head to bed,” Y/N stated.

Sherlock gulped and nodded. Why was he feeling nervous? “Alright,” was Sherlock’s only reply.

“Are you not going to bed?” Y/N found herself asking.

Sherlock’s breath hitched at Y/N’s words. He couldn’t think about her. He wouldn’t allow himself to recall how peaceful she was when she slept. He refused to think about how warm her body was as he carried her into his bed during the case of the Blind Banker. His breath quickened as he sought something else to distract his mind with. “...I–the code. I’ll be working on the code.”

“No,” Y/N uttered. Her eyes widened at her abruptness. “I mean–It’s late Sherlock. We had an eventful day. You need to rest if you are going to solve this case and help the Cubitt family.”

Sherlock watched as Y/N began to fiddle with her hands. Her gaze avoided Sherlock’s. He had to admit that she was speaking with reason. Every word of hers was justified, yet Sherlock fear his sleep. He dread the thoughts that his mind would produce as he lay there waiting for sleep to take over. He scorned himself for knowing the dreams the sandman would give him that night in the proximity of her. Sherlock had to keep his mind busy and distracted; never giving it the chance to think of her. However, she had told him that it was best to sleep. She had spoken to him while his mind was not yet distracted by the code. She had broken through his defences and Sherlock now must admit defeat. So Sherlock nodded his head and pulled back the covers of his bed. He settled between the sheets and reached an arm to switch off the light beside his bed.

“Goodnight,” he whispered to Y/N as she did the same as him.

He could hear her breathing come to a calming pace. In and out. In and out it went. With each breath into Y/N’s lungs, Sherlock’s mind grew restless. He couldn’t think or dream of her even if it was all he seemed to do these days. So Sherlock would wait. He would wait until Y/N fell asleep. He would wait until he knew he would disturb her sleep and arise from the bed. He’d open his computer and work on the code. After all, the code was the key to the case. Sherlock would be one step closer to solving the case if he broke the code.

______

Comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Tag list: @bartokthealbinobat @biggerthancalli13 @themartiansdaughter @sunsumonner @silversword7000 @starlightaurorab @melody7 @astudyinlaura @sherlockstrangewolf @neroarrow83 @khaleesihavilliard

Also, I linked cyphers for the Dancing Men code if anyone would like to try their hand at solving the code alongside Sherlock.

Dancing Men Cipher - Sherlock Holmes Code - Online Decoder, Translator (dcode.fr)

Dancing Men Cipher - decoder, translator | Boxentriq

_____

56 notes · View notes

reina-writes · 1 year

Text

Being Holmes’ mastermind criminal sister would include

Requested by anon.

Being Mycroft and Sherlock's sister, however being a master-mind criminal, and a very wild person (wild like joker type of crazy) thank you! I love your writing, always makes me look forward to new writing material! ❤

The brothers knew that there was something off about you since you were young.

You have fun for scaring the shit out of Mycroft, which Sherlock would find amusing.

At first you created an alter ego so that you could challenge Sherlock. After all, you don't want to make things too easy for him.

But then again, your alter ego, Y/N, is much more than just a persona. It's something that you've been hiding deep inside for a long time, and now it's starting to come out. Your alter ego is a way for you to indulge your wild side and test your limits. You enjoy the thrill of the chase and the adrenaline rush that comes with danger and risk-taking.

Despite your criminal activities, you still make an effort to have proper dinner dates with your family and act like everything is going well.

Your relationship with the family is difficult and even though you may act like everything is well, there are times when you feel outsider and misunderstood. You just can’t resist the sweet lure of the underworld.

You still manage to scare Mycroft, despite his years of experience dealing with difficult situations. Sherlock still finds this amusing.

You have a career of your own choosing, which you use to cover your illicit business dealings in the underworld.

You have a deep love and admiration for your brothers, despite the fact that they may not always understand or approve of your criminal activities.

You have a dark sense of humor and a tendency to play mind games with people around you. You enjoy manipulating people, especially your brothers, and seeing how far you can push them before they break.

You also relish the challenge of trying to outwit Sherlock, who you see as one of the few people who can match you.

Sherlock would likely be concerned for the safety and well-being of those around him. He would try to intervene and stop your criminal activities, but would do so with a sense of curiosity and a desire to understand your motivations and thought processes.

His reaction would be a mix of curiosity, concern, and a desire to outsmart you.

He would see the situation and you as a puzzle to be solved.

Mycroft would feel a sense of responsibility for not having been able to intervene earlier in your life and prevent you from going down this path.

He may also feel a sense of guilt for not having been able to protect you from the darker elements of the world that you have now become involved with.

Mycroft would probably try to intervene and stop you even if that meant putting you in jail or otherwise taking drastic action.

Though he may or may not find your intelligence and resourcefulness impressive. Not that he’s going to admit it.

BONUS

Playing your own games with Moriarty. It would be entertaining, long-lasting relationship which would satisfy all needs for both of you.

While it is possible that the relationship could be entertaining and satisfying for both of you, it is important for you to carefully consider the risks and consequences before deciding to engage in this type of activity with Moriarty.

After all, Moriarty is a highly skilled and unpredictable criminal mastermind.

But hey, that’s what makes it so much fun.

63 notes · View notes

neontokyoo · 1 year

Text

Let's talk about marriage

"Let's talk about murder. Did I say murder? I meant to say marriage. But, you know, they're quite similar procedures when you think about it. The participants tend to know each other, it's over when one of them's dead. In fairness, though, murder is much quicker."

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x fem!reader

Prompts: 93

Summary: You start to freak out moments before your wedding.

Genre: Fluff

Warning(s): none

As the wedding day approaches, you can feel your nerves getting worse. You are about to marry the brilliant detective Sherlock Holmes, and while you love him more than anything in the world, the thought of standing in front of so many people and making such a huge commitment is almost too much to bear.

You've been up all night, trying to calm yourself down and get some sleep, but it's no use. You're too wound up, too anxious, and too terrified of what's to come.

As you sit in the bridal room, surrounded by your closest friends and family, you feel a wave of panic wash over you. Ms. Hudson and Mary Watson are there with you, trying to help you calm down. They're both incredibly supportive, but you can tell they're worried about you.

Ms. Hudson brings you a cup of tea, while Mary rubs your back and talks to you in a soothing voice.

"It's okay, love," she says. "You're going to be amazing. You and Sherlock are meant to be together. Just take some deep breaths and relax."

You try to do as she says, but it's hard. Your heart is racing, your palms are sweaty, and you feel like you're about to pass out. You can't believe you're having a panic attack on your wedding day, but you can't seem to stop it.

Ms. Hudson notices your distress and puts a hand on your shoulder.

"Let's focus on something else, shall we? How about we get you dressed and ready to walk down the aisle? Mycroft will be here soon to walk you down."

You nod, grateful for the distraction. As you start getting ready, you feel the panic start to subside. Putting on your dress and veil, you feel like you're putting on armour, ready to face whatever comes your way.

Ms. Hudson and Mary help you with your makeup and hair, making you look beautiful and radiant. They're both so skilled at what they do, and you feel lucky to have them on your side.

As you're finishing up, Mycroft Holmes arrives. He's dressed in a sleek suit, looking every bit the distinguished older brother of Sherlock. He greets you with a smile and a nod, and you feel a sense of calm wash over you.

"Shall we?" he says, holding out his arm for you.

You take a deep breath and nod. It's time to face the music.

As you walk down the aisle, you feel a sense of awe wash over you. The church is filled with people, all here to celebrate your love for Sherlock. You can feel their eyes on you, but you try to focus on the man waiting for you at the end of the aisle.

Sherlock looks handsome and dashing in his suit, and as he sees you approach, his face lights up with a smile. You feel your heart skip a beat, and you know that this is where you belong.

As you reach the end of the aisle, Mycroft hands you over to Sherlock. You take his hand, and together you turn to face the crowd.

"You look quite lovely today, my dear," Sherlock says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I could say the same about you," you reply, smiling up at him.

You turn to face the celebrant, who begins the ceremony.

The celebrant speaks of love, of commitment, of the beauty of finding someone who completes you. You listen to her words, feeling their truth resonate deep within you. You think of all the times Sherlock has been there for you, of all the moments you've shared together, of all the love you've given and received.

When it's time for your vows, you take a deep breath and look into Sherlock's eyes. You know that these words will bind you together forever, and you want to make them count.

You begin, your voice strong and clear. "Sherlock, I promise to love you with every fiber of my being, to cherish you, to support you, and to be your partner in all things. I vow to be there for you through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live."

Sherlock takes his turn, his voice deep and steady. "My dearest love, I vow to love you more deeply every day, to support you, to cherish you, and to make you laugh. I promise to be there for you in all things, through all of life's ups and downs. I vow to love you for all eternity."

The celebrant asks for the rings, and you exchange them, feeling their weight on your fingers. They're a symbol of your love, a reminder that you're bound together for all time.

When the celebrant pronounces you husband and wife, you feel a sense of joy and relief wash over you. You turn to face the crowd, your hearts full of love and gratitude.

After the ceremony, the wedding party and guests move to the reception hall, which is elegantly decorated with strings of twinkling lights, soft candlelight, and beautiful floral arrangements in shades of purple and white. As you and Sherlock enter the room, the crowd erupts into applause, and you can't help but feel a sense of pride and happiness.

The band strikes up a lively tune, and you and Sherlock take to the dance floor for your first dance as a married couple. As you sway to the music, you feel like you're in a dream, surrounded by the people you love most in the world.

As the night wears on, the guests enjoy a sumptuous feast of fine food and wine, served by attentive waiters and waitresses. There's a sense of warmth and joy in the air, and you can see that everyone is having a wonderful time.

Ms. Hudson and Mary Watson come up to you, smiling and congratulating you on your marriage. They both look stunning in their dresses, and you're grateful to have them by your side on this special day.

The speeches begin, with Sherlock's brother Mycroft delivering a heartfelt tribute to the newlyweds.

"Ladies and gentlemen, friends and family, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Sherlock and y/n," he began. "I am Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's older brother and best man, and it is my honour to offer a few words on this special occasion."

Mycroft paused as he looked at his brother. "As a young boy, Sherlock was always a bit of an oddity. He didn't quite fit in with the other children, preferring to spend his time lost in thought or solving puzzles. He was always a bit of a loner, but he never seemed to mind. He was content with his own company, and he was always so fiercely independent. But then y/n came along, and everything changed. Suddenly, there was someone who could match wits with him, someone who could keep up with his quick mind and sharp tongue. She challenged him in ways that no one else ever had, and he fell in love with her for it."

He turned to look at you with a small smile on his face. "Y/n, I have to say that I wasn't quite sure what to make of you at first. Sherlock has always been so difficult to read, and I wasn't sure if you were the right person for him. But as I got to know you better, I realized that you were exactly what he needed. You're strong, intelligent, and fiercely independent in your own right. You're the perfect match for him, and I couldn't be happier that you're now part of our family."

Now he was looking at the both of you. "Sherlock, my dear brother, I have to say that I'm proud of you. You've always been so difficult to read, so aloof and distant, but seeing you with y/n has been a revelation. I've seen a side of you that I never knew existed, a tender and caring side that's reserved just for her. You've grown so much as a person since she came into your life, and I know that you will continue to grow together as a couple."

Mycroft picked up his wine glass, holding it in the air. "So I raise my glass to the happy couple, to Sherlock and y/n, and wish them a lifetime of happiness and adventure together. May your lives be filled with love, laughter, and the occasional mystery to solve. Cheers!"

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as Mycroft concludes his speech, and the guests raise their glasses in a toast to the happy couple.

As the night wears on and the reception begins to wind down, you feel a sense of contentment wash over you. It's been a long day, but everything has gone off without a hitch, and you're grateful for the love and support of everyone around you.

"Thank you for making me the happiest man in the world," Sherlock says, his voice soft and tender.

"You make me happy too," you reply, your heart swelling with love for this amazing man.

As you're saying your goodbyes to the last of the guests, Lestrade bursts into the room, looking panicked.

"Sherlock, there's been a murder. We need your help," he says urgently.

You feel a jolt of anxiety run through you at the mention of another case, but you know that this is just part of the job. Sherlock looks at you, concern etched on his face.

"I'm sorry, my dear. Duty calls," he says, squeezing your hand.

"I know," you say, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. "Just be careful, okay?"

Sherlock gives you a small smile and a nod, then turns to Lestrade. "Lead the way."

As they rush out of the room, you're left standing there, feeling a mixture of emotions. On one hand, you're proud of Sherlock and all that he does to help people. On the other hand, you can't help but feel a twinge of sadness that your wedding night has been interrupted by another case.

But you know that this is just the beginning of your life together and that there will be many more cases to come. And as you head home, surrounded by your loved ones, you feel a sense of gratitude and hope for the future.

#wedding #bride #groom #sherlock holmes #sherlock imagine #sherlock fandom #sherlock x y/n #mycroft holmes #moriarty anime #yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukuko no moriarty #mtp x reader #mtp #yuumori #ynm sherlock #ynm

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tulipsforvin · 17 days

Note

Hiii, how are you? I love your writing sm, especially your Mycroft fics. I didn’t even like his character that much until I read your fanfics about him ^^

So can I request a jealous Mycroft Holmes x trophy wife reader? Something similar to your last post or maybe a continuation?

Thanks sm <3

✦ YOU BELONG TO ME ‧₊˚✩彡

🌷: HII im good :) thnx sm for the kind words !! have a nice day/night

🌷: F!TROPHY WIFE READER x JEALOUS MYCROFT HOLMES

⚠️: such a cliché 🙏, somewhat suggestive at the end.

surely this was to be expected; you were in no way lacking. the attention your beauty and elegance brought with you was only one of the many implications that came with marrying you. he could handle it, couldn't he? surely he could. you were his trophy wife, an accessory to be shown at the best.

but that position didn't quite please you. no no, you wanted more. you wanted all of him, him and his affections, every bit of his attention. you wanted to be more than just a mere prize to him. which is why..

“right! and then he said—” music & loud voices dipped in cheery laughter blur into the background.

watching yet another group of men group you crowd you for the umpteenth time this night—something began to rise within him. anger, frustration, disgust.. he wasn't sure what it exactly was. perhaps a mixture of them all. all he knew was that it made his stomach feel hollow, his chest burn with something foreign and bile crawl up to his throat.

you high five a nobleman. that noble looks too happy over mere skin contact. the muscle under his eye twitches slightly. ‘really?’ he wishes to say out loud. he's the one who brought you here. you're his wife.

“..mr. holmes.”

“mr. holmes.”

“mr. mycroft holmes.”

mycroft snaps out of his thoughts. “ah.” he blinks. his dark eyes smoothly shift back to the man infront of him. “apologies, secretary general. please continue.”

“...” the secretary general scans mycroft's face for any expression hinting to why he seems so out of it tonight. mycroft is too clever not to notice so he arches an eyebrow and the secretary general clears his throat. “ahem. as i was saying, if we are to implement better rules and regulations then..”

the secretary general's voice fades into the background for the second time this night. mere background noise to mycroft holmes—the man known to be devoted to his work. well.. not tonight though. there was something else bothering him.

“you're so beautiful, miss. (name)!” the man infront of you chirps, a patch of hair on his chin for a beard.

his beard doesn't even connect, mycroft scoffs under his breath, thinking to himself. if you can even call it a beard—it's just barely visible stubble. barely there.

“oh thank you!” your hand pats his forearm lightly.

what on earth are you doing? he wishes he could say.

he glances back at the babbling man infront of him; not a stop to his endless tirade of words. he sighs.

“mr. holmes, are you okay?” the secretary general says, tilting his head to the side by the slightest.

“i am.” mycroft replies curtly, not even looking at him. his attention is somewhere else entirely. on you, to be exact. and that rat looking bastard besides you.

“i should be the one thanking you for attending. otherwise i wouldn't have been able to meet you.” the nobleman's gaze falls to your neck where a beautiful pearl necklace rests. “such a gorgeous necklace, i must say.” he uses it as an excuse to caress your neck with the back of his fingers.

mycroft's face darkens visibly, a vein protruding on his jaw as he clenches it. his eyebrows furrow, forming a small line in the space between.

that's enough. he thinks. he doesn't like that. no, not at all. why aren't you saying anything to that bastard?

instead of pushing the nobleman away, it felt like you were encouraging his actions, letting him do as he pleases with you—and that really irritated mycroft.

a server carrying several glasses of sparkling wine walks to each group of people, asking them if they would like some. when the server comes to you, the nobleman alongside you picks up two glasses.

the man is cheerful as he speaks to you, obviously feeling quite joyous at the chance of being able to talk to someone as beautiful as you. “here, miss. a glass of champagne each for you and for me.”

“thank y—”

in mere seconds mycroft has excused himself and began striding to you, footsteps large and distanced.

“thank you.” a man's hands, large and veiny slithers into the space between you and the nobleman. and when they pull back, they retrieve the two glasses of sparkling wine from the nobleman.

your neck snaps around to the deep, familiar voice behind you. you look up to see a tall and looming mycroft, annoyance plastered across his face, hand you one glass and keep the other to himself.

“mycroft!” you smile up at him, eyes glittering. you take the glass of champagne from him and sip at it.

“o-oh,” the nobleman falters, stepping back instinctively. “good.. good evening, mr. holmes.”

“evening.” mycroft's voice is low and rumbly. an arm travels to your hips and he pulls you in close to him.

“fine banquet, isn't it? i quite like the atmosphe—”

“yes, yes.” mycroft hums dismissively. “pardon me, but me and my wife have somewhere to be.”

that's all he says before he's practically dragging you away, a firm hand still grasping onto your waist—not even letting either of you bid farewell to each other.

“we do?” you peek up at him as you're walking away.

“yes.” his voice is quiet. tight. firm. growly. everything sexy. “i feel as if a little disciplining might be in order.”

you gulp thickly at his words as he leads you to the bathroom. but this was what you wanted, after all.

you can't help the small and subtle smirk that appears on your painted lips. “ofcourse.. darling.”

#mycroft holmes x you #mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft holmes x y/n #moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot x you #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x you #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #mtp x reader #mycroft holmes #mycroft holmes mtp #mtp mycroft holmes

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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 5 months

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Last Updated: 2023-12-08

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

❆ Christmas Party by bbcsherloves • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You and Mycroft have been dating secretly for years, and for the first time since, Mycroft has invited you to a Christmas Party."

❆ Gentle Nudge￨Prt. II by girl-next-door-writes • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock is concerned that his brother is lonely, so decides to intervene. The only thing is, the Holmes boys really do not know how 'people' work."

❆ His Soft Spot by specialagentlokitty • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: You, your husband; Mycroft, and your daughter, attend a Christmas party at Baker Street.

❆ Serendipity by girl-next-door-writes • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "When Mycroft [invited] you to his parent's home for Christmas, he didn't realise he was giving his little brother the perfect opportunity to torture him."

❆ Interruptions by fandom-writes • 〔F〕 •

❆ Christmas shopping w/ Mycroft… by geeks-universe • 〔F〕 •

❆ Visiting Mycofts Parents for Christmas… ⧫ by geeks-universe • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

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

Authors: @bbcsherloves || @fandom-writers || @geeks-universe || @girl-next-door-writes || @specialagentlokitty ||

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iamsherlocked1479 · 2 years

Text

That's not how I'd do it

A Sherlock x Reader Masterlist

I have began to write a chaptered fic of YN as Mrs Hudson's niece and she lives with Sherlock and John. Chaos ensues, naturally. Extra info NOT BASED ON THE TIMELINE OF THE SERIES

The Detective platylist

Chapter One |

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Forteen

Chapter Fifteen

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frost-queen · 1 year

Text

Outmatched //Part 8 (Reader!Holmes x Anthony Bridgerton)

Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve,

@queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @october-leaves, @m-rae23,@kazbekkarluvbot, @freyathehuntress,

@kneelforloki, @mamaj-right, @queensgirl718, @abaker74, @thescooby-gang, @readers-posts, @randomstory56, @aureolinb, @fictional-hooman,

@nyenye, @loliakeoghan23, @heyheyheyggg, @aizawash0e, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @novas-dreamworld, @preciousbabypeter, @magical-spit, @heyheyheyggg

Summary: A new truth reveals itself as family bonds together with a plot to perhaps allow Lord Bridgerton to open his feelings up to you. Will he do so or will you remain unloved and unmarried?

Read part 1 & part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 9 & part 10

“Father… when… when did you return?” – Mycroft asked nervously, stepping forwards. Sherlock took you by the wrist, subtly pulling you behind him. – “This very morning.” – Your father answered delighted. Mycroft aided father when he coughed loud trying to reach for his handkerchief. – “Father please, you should not be here.” – Mycroft insisted, holding him firm by the arm. Father waving his handkerchief around like a flag. – “It is only briefly…” – he coughed out, straightening his posture. – “Father.” – Mycroft turned his father towards him, making clear with his eyes he requested a private gathering.

“I’d like to have a word about.” – Mycroft motioned with his head to the unknown suitor in the parlor. He was observing the fineries in the parlor, hands folded behind his back. Mister Holmes’s smile faltered. – “Ah yes him.” – he spoke in a low tone. Mycroft quirked his eyebrow up, waiting for an explanation. Your father took a deep breath, coughing a bit. – “It was not intended I swear.” – he tried to explain, looking over at you. – “The truth papa!” – Mycroft insisted. Sherlock stepped forwards.

“As I like to know as well, father.” – Sherlock interrupted. – “That includes me too!” – you came standing between your brothers, arms crossed. All three scowling in your father’s direction. He swallowed nervously. He gestured for a member of the staff to enter. – “Will you be so kind as to escort the gentleman to his carriage.” – the maid nodded with a bow. Asking for the lord to follow her out of the parlor, outside. – “Father!” – Sherlock spoke loudly with furrowed brows.

Mister Holmes got in motion with a deep breath. Your brothers and you following him out of the parlor into the hallway into the study. You shut the door behind you. Mycroft and Sherlock positioned close to the desk. Your father revealed a letter from his inside pocket, laying it down on the desk. Both Sherlock and Mycroft reached for it, but Mycroft was the one to snatch it up first. – “I received it yesterday.” – mister Holmes started while Mycroft unfolded the letter. – “Your aunt was very specific in the matter.” – he added making you widen your eyes.

The mention of your aunt send a shiver down your spine. Mycroft desperately moved his grip on the letter while his eyes read down quickly. Words whispering out of his mouth. – “With none of my sons married…” – he sighed out coming to sit down behind the desk. – “The prospects of my health unclear.” – he continued pressing a hand against his forehead. You swallowed already having a feeling of where this was getting.

“The chance of losing your dowry.” – he leaned forwards, palms pressed against his eyes. Mycroft gritted his teeth, moving the letter away from his eyes. – “That deceitful woman!” – he hissed out. – “Mycroft!” – Sherlock called out. – “She is still your aunt.” – he made clear that Mycroft should not curse her despite her character. Mycroft puffed loud, tossing the letter onto the desk.

“She’ll have our dear sister engaged to Lord Hill.” – Mycroft made clear. – “Engaged. To be married?” – you repeated in disbelief. – “Yes of course Y/n. What other kind of engaged is there.” – your brother replied slightly annoyed. You turned your gaze towards your father. He lifted his head up, feeling your stare pierce right through him. – “Oh for heaven’s sake Y/n, don’t look at me like that.” – he breathed out with pain in his heart. – “It is what your aunt requires of you. She requires my daughter to be wed to this man for else she’ll take you away for proper preparations of finding a suitor.” – your father explained.

“I barely know him.” – you called back, getting in defense. – “Oh hush!” – he breathed out, silencing you. – “None of us can afford your aunts meddling. The prospect of this family relies on you Y/n. With Sherlock and Mycroft not wed, nor do I see them wed any time soon. It is up to you to do so. You are getting older my dear Y/n.” – you gasped silently knowing how he was close to comparing you to an old spinster. A woman unsuitable of finding a husband. – “He’ll offer you a comfortable home and protection.” – Mister Holmes continued. – “There is a lot to be thankful for.” – he made clear despite not liking his sisters proposal much.

“Father!” – you called out as he cut you off. – “You are five and twenty of age Y/n!” – he jumped up, slamming his fist on the table. In doing so he started coughing loud. Sherlock coming to his aid to assist in sitting down calmly. – “You’ll have no money and I’m…I’m frightened…” – he said after a deep breath. – “So please… don’t judge me daughter… don’t…” – his body started to shake from the intense feeling coming up. Sherlock wrapping a comforting arm around him.

“Papa please… you cannot allow this.” – you begged. Mister Holmes taking a deep breath. – “What if she were to marry someone else?” – Sherlock interfered. – “Sherlock!” – you called out, stepping towards him. Sherlock ignored your call, kneeling before his father. – “What if Y/n were to marry someone else. Someone she truly has a heart for would it please our aunt? Would it settle her with the comfort of knowing our dear Y/n is not lost. That she’ll have the prospects of a good home, money, and protection.” – he pleaded trying to offer you a way out.

A way out of a settlement set long ago by your father and your aunt. When the loss of your mother came, they set up an arrangement that your aunt would be in charge of your engagement when you would not be married within the first few years since your debut. Your father exhaled loud and deep. Mycroft setting his hands on the desk, looking over it. – “Would it father?” – he asked hopefully. You smiled with teary eyes at how well your brothers thought about you.

How they would take your opinion into matter. Something not so long ago seemed unattainable. Mister Holmes looked at both his sons. Then his gaze moved towards you far behind Mycroft. Standing quietly with your hands folded in front of you. Head lowered to the ground. – “I’ll… I’ll give it a chance.” – he told them. – “If this gentleman is willing to engage himself to her.”

Sherlock motioned with his head to the door. Mycroft and you nodding. – “I’ll request some tea to be delivered to you father.” – Sherlock spoke squeezing father’s shoulder tightly. Mister Holmes exhaled weary, clear it was weighing down on him. Mycroft and you were already making your way to the hallway. Sherlock joining after. He addressed a maid to deliver tea to his father before joining the two of you. – “What will we do?” – Mycroft asked. – “Not here.” – Sherlock responded, grabbing his brother and you by the elbow.

Pushing the both of you into the library. He shut the door firmly, even closing the curtains. – “I am under no circumstance to marry Lord Hill.” – you outed, crossing your arms. – “You won’t.” – Sherlock breathed out. – “What the did letter say.” – Sherlock asked his brother as the three of you joined together in a circle. For the first time in a long time agreeing on a matter. – “Simply that Aunt Mathilda has set in writing that our sister is to wed Lord Hill. The suitor of her choice because she is becoming of age of the agreement she made with father.

If she does not agree or is still unmarried by the end of the season, she’ll come for Y/n. Taking her away and comfort herself over her as a proper parent should in her words.” – Mycroft explained. – “She’ll take me away to mother me and force me into more matchmaking.” – you repeated to be clear. The panic slowly worrying you. Sherlock noticed it, taking you by the arm. – “She won’t take you away from us Y/n. You are a Holmes, and you are to remain here with us.”

Sherlock pulled you against him, wrapping an arm around you. – “What will we do?” – you asked frightened of your own future. – “It is quite easy.” – Sherlock responded. – “Anthony Bridgerton will have to marry you.” – he outed as you pushed yourself off him. – “It is undeniable how much you care for him dear sister.” – Sherlock continued as you had turned yourself away from them. – “All we want is for you to marry for love, I will not have you have a relationship like our aunt and uncle.” – Mycroft interfered. – “I am nothing like my aunt!” – you said snappy.

Sherlock and Mycroft moving their hands down. – “We know…” – you slowly turned back towards them. – “What if he does not propose?” – you questioned out loud. Sherlock took a deep breath, laying a hand on your shoulder. – “Then we’ll make him.” – your brother made clear. – “Can we even ask such a thing of him? I never want to force him… no matter the value of my future.” – Both your brothers approached, wrapping an arm around you.

“You are too kind for this world.” – Sherlock whispered. – “Witty and stubborn too.” – Mycroft added, receiving a slap against the back of his head from Sherlock. You laughed loud, hugging them tightly. – “I promise I’ll do my task as matchmaker perfect Y/n. No more slip backs.” – Mycroft spoke pinching your arm.

Birds were chirping loudly. The sun leaving a warm glow upon this very earth. Tents set up around a large garden estate. Suitors walking closely to their hoping beloved. The Bridgerton’s were present as well. You arrived arms in arm with both your brothers. At the sight of Anthony, you looked down at your own dress. – “You look lovely Y/n.” – Sherlock commented. Looking up to him, you smiled. – “Shall we?” – Mycroft proposed. Suddenly the doubts started kicking in. – “What if he does not want me in return? What if I make a fool of myself… perhaps it wouldn’t be that bad if Auntie would take me away.

It would certainly rid me of everlasting shame.” – you tried to stay humorous about it, but deep down you feared it might become truth. – “Hush!” – Mycroft breathed out. With each step closer to the Viscount, your heart thumped louder. It would take one more step for it to fall out of your chest. Swallowing nervously it felt as if you couldn’t think properly. Then you spotted Lord Hill. You signaled to your brothers with a head motion. Sherlock and Mycroft both nodded.

They let go of your arms, walking steady over to Lord Hill. You watched as they grabbed him each by an arm, pulling him away before he could even reach you. Alone and frightened you made your way over to the tent where Lord Bridgerton was. Palms sweaty as you moved them behind your back. – “Miss Y/n.” – Anthony bowed as you curtsied. – “How… how… are you feeling?” – he asked nervously.

Curling up a nervous smile you replied. – “Much better, my lord.” – Anthony smiled hesitantly, letting his gaze settle down. Hands behind his back. Blinking quickly before settling them upon you once more. Was he perhaps feeling nervous as well? You looked briefly away, unsure how to act around him so suddenly. Before it was quite easy. Whatever came out of his mouth, you responded to it. Not afraid to insult the man if he needed a proper lesson in keeping his ego in check. Now that things have changed, you were more hesitant to speak.

Not wanting to scare him off. A wave of relaxation washed over you when his mother approached. The same seemed to be the fact for Anthony. – “Miss Y/n what a delight to see you.” – Violet spoke. – “Anthony has spoken many times of you.” – she confessed as you watched Anthony’s expression tensed. – “Mother.” – he hissed out, trying to keep up his smile. – “Is that so?” – you teased with a chuckle. – “I do pray only good.” – flashing a smile at the Viscount. – “Oh most certainly he did.” – Violet responded as Anthony looked nervously away.

“He told me all about how good of a shooter you are Miss Y/n. Although I did not expected a lady such as yourself to exile in the matter, but my son had high praises of you.” – she continued to compliment you and her son. You smiled. – “Lord Bridgerton is an excellent shooter himself and player of cards too.” – you responded. – “He bested me once.” – Anthony cleared his throat, meddling himself into the conversation. – “Twice.” – he smirked, holding the amount up with his fingers.

You held up the number of three with your fingers. – “Shot three birds.” – you clicked your tongue with one eye closed. Anthony started chuckling. – “Do remind me Miss Y/n how many points was shooting a peacock?” – he asked. You started laughing. �� “I do not know, perhaps we should ask lord Enfield.” – Anthony and you were smiling at each other. Violet observing with a smile of her own. She was not needed anymore. She left quietly as Anthony and you moved closer, loosening up.

Anthony took in a deep breath, almost haven forgotten how delighted it felt to laugh in your presence. He noticed his younger siblings running over. – “Please excuse me.” – he said meeting them half-way. Your smile faltered reminded once more of your future that seemed not so bright. You tried picking up hints of lord Bridgerton’s mutual affection. Trying to see if he would be in character to propose any time soon. Yet it didn’t seem like it. You took your leave from the tent, coming to sit down at a bench.

Watching Lord Bridgerton play around with his younger siblings. It made you breath out short with a smile on your lips. Seeing how tentative he was around his siblings. Exhaling deep, you fidgeted with your fingers on your lap. Till the end of the season you had. If you declined Lord Hill. The very suitor your aunt set you up with. Perhaps you had taken all the chances at love that you deserve. All declined to be left with nothing more.

You got back up, slowly approaching the crowd once more. Remaining in the background, not participating in any games or conversations. Your eyes became teary when you saw your brother Sherlock approach. – “Any luck?” – he asked. You shook your head with a forced smile to stop yourself from crying. – “Then I simply will have to do more.” – Sherlock spoke out to reassure you. – “Brother please… you cannot force him… he does not love me… not romantically. Not good enough to propose.” – you told him blinking your tears away.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around you. – “I know you are frightened sister, yet I promise you I won’t let you go down the path set out for you.” – you hugged him tightly, closing your eyes. Mycroft joined moments later to escort you inside. The sun had begun to set as it announced the ball. Everyone entering with loud chatter. It didn’t take long for dance cards to be filled in and dances to begin. Violet furrowed her brows, gathering with her other sons by the candles.

“Benedict why is Anthony not dancing with Miss Y/n?” – she asked confused. Benedict pulled his shoulders up. – “I do not know mama, was he supposed to dance with her?” – both of them watching Anthony dance with another young lady. Clearly getting annoyed and agitated by how unsuitable his dance partner was. She was rather clumsy in her dancing and too short for his height. The dance had the visual of being clumsy and sloppy rather then graceful.

Violet looked around for any sign of you. The dance came to an end as she clapped mindlessly, occupied in looking around. She found you in the crowd, moving to the dancefloor with a gentleman. You had accepted Lord Hill’s request of dance as he led you up to the floor. Anthony who was just finished stepped away from his dance partner, coming face to face with you. His eyes widening at the gentleman holding your hand. He stepped back but kept following your movement with his eyes.

He joined his siblings sight still staring in disbelief. You curtsied as Lord Hill bowed. There was no smile on your lips when you danced. Hands held against each other as you circled around with him. They lowered as you stepped in a circle around. Your eyes falling briefly on Lord Bridgerton. He gasped silently at how pitiful you appeared. As if all the sunshine had been sucked out of you. Lord Hill placed your hand on his shoulder, moving a hand to your lower back. Waltzing he let the music take over. Performing the steps numbly as if someone else was operating for you. Lord Bridgerton keep his gaze constant on you.

Violet noticed it how yearningly her son was staring at you. How infuriating it was for him to see. A loud rumble outside startled you. It snapped you out of the pitiful dream you were having. – “Miss Y/n is everything alright?” – Lord Hill asked having come to a stop. You were breathing loud, looking over your shoulder to Lord Bridgerton. To his mother and his siblings. Turning your head you looked at your own family. Then back to Lord Hill. This was not what you wanted. Far from.

-----------------------------------------------

Read more of my fic’s on my Masterlists!

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 1 year

Text

It’s Sick!

Sherlock x teen sister reader, Mycroft x teen sister reader

Synopsis: reader gets sick and Sherlock and Mycroft don’t know what to do about it.

Warnings: sickness? Idk none really

“It’s sick.”

“What?”

“It’s sick and I don’t know what to do with it.”

Mycroft ran a hand over his face and sighed loudly into his cell phone. “Sherlock I’m a very busy man, I don’t have time for you to call me in the middle of the day with vague messages. What are you talking about?”

“Y/N, Mycroft! Y/N is sick and I don’t know what to do with it!”

“It? Brother mine, our dear sister is not an ‘it’.”

“She is when she’s sick and I have to deal with it!”

“Oh Sherlock, do calm down, this isn’t the end of the world. Have you phoned a doctor?”

“A doctor? No, Mycroft she doesn’t need a doctor.”

Mycroft frowned. “Then what exactly does she need?”

“How am I supposed to know?! But she insists she doesn’t need medical attention.”

“I see. Why exactly have you called me?”

“I can’t get her fever to break, John is absent on some sort of holiday with Mary, and Y/N keeps drifting in and out of sleep so she’s no help, but she keeps calling for you.”

Mycroft stiffened. “Calling for me?” He wasn’t one to baby his siblings, it was all he could do to just spend time with them sometimes. But if his baby sister was sick and calling out for him…what big brother could possibly ignore that?

Mycroft hung up the phone without waiting for another word from Sherlock, then pulled on his coat, snatched his umbrella from the stand, and headed outside to hail a cab.

…

Sherlock was not a worrier. Sherlock was not a nursemaid. Sherlock was not one to dwell too long on other’s problems, unless it made for an interesting case for him.

Today, however, all of those traits of his went out the window.

In the few moments that he had been able to speak with John on the phone, the doctor had assured him that Y/N did not need a hospital, at least not in his opinion. As long as you got plenty of rest and water, the fever would break on its own sooner or later.

That hadn’t made the past few hours any easier for Sherlock.

You looked so tired and pale, drifting in and out of sleep, only speaking enough to ensure Sherlock that you were alright, or occasionally ask for water. You had tried a few snacks, but nothing would stay down. Sherlock could tell you were in pain, though you tried to hide it.

You couldn’t hide it when you were asleep. The moment your eyes shut, the whimpering started. It got worse as time went on, and you would thrash around in her bed, soft sounds of pain escaping you. Eventually you started to call out, first for Sherlock, for you knew he was near, then for Mycroft. Sherlock couldn’t tell if you were asking Sherlock to find Mycroft, or if you were becoming delirious enough that you actually thought your oldest brother was nearby.

Either way it worried him, and he was getting ready to ignore John’s suggestion and call for an ambulance regardless.

He was just about to pick up his cell phone when the front door of 221B burst open, and there was Mycroft, looking uncharacteristically disheveled.

“Where-“

“Upstairs in her room.”

Mycroft brushed past Sherlock without another word, and headed up the stairs to your room with Sherlock on his heels.

…

“Mycroft?”

The gentle cry reached the eldest Holmes’ ears as he quietly opened to door to his sister’s room.

Upon seeing his Y/N, Mycroft’s heart sank. His little sister was white as a sheet, your body shivering, fingers clutching your comforter.

Mycroft wasted no time in coming to your side. “Hello, dearest,” he greeted with a forced smile. “It’s me, it’s Mycroft. I’m here.”

Your eyes opened wearily, and your lips curled upward as your eyes lit up with a spark of joy. “Mycroft.”

“How are you feeling?”

You winced. “My stomach hurts.”

Mycroft was hit with a sudden, violent flashback.

You were six years old, maybe even five. Mycroft had been visiting home the same time that a carnival happened to be in town, and your parents insisted that Mycroft take you. With much reluctance, he had.

You had had a blast, dragging Mycroft around on as many rides as you could, and making him buy you ice cream and funnel cakes and cotton candy.

Unfortunately, he had bought you one too many sweets, and that night you regretted it dearly.

“How are you feeling?” Mycroft had asked you after laying you down in his bed. You were up hours past bed time due to a stomach ache, and the occasional throwing up. Mycroft didn’t complain once, simply held your hair back when you needed it.

“My stomach hurts,” you whimpered.

Mycroft grimaced slightly, and began to stroke your hair. “It’s alright Princess, I know. You’re gonna be alright.”

End of flashback.

Mycroft hesitated. After all, you weren’t six anymore. But the look in your eyes, the complete faith in them that said you were certain that your big brother was here to fix everything, reassured Mycroft that things hadn’t changed so much.

So he reached out, and began to gently stroke your hair. “I know, Princess, I know. It’s going to be alright. I’m here.”

Sherlock appeared at the doorway, “What do you think?”

Mycroft sighed and stood to face Sherlock, “I think you’re incredibly over dramatic. She’s fine, probably just some 24 hour bug. Have you tried to feed her?”

Sherlock scowled, “Of course. Nothing stays down.”

Mycroft bit back a grimace and nodded. “Try and make some hot broth, she needs to get something to stay in her system.”

Sherlock hesitated. He didn’t like taking orders from Mycroft, and in any other situation he wouldn’t. But it was a good idea, and with you laying on your bed suffering, he didn’t see that he had much choice. Unless…

“We both know I’m not exactly adept in the kitchen, perhaps you should do it. I’ll stay with her.”

Mycroft glanced at you before sighing, “Very well, brother mine. Do try and keep her alive while I’m gone.” He turned to go, but froze when he felt your fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Mycroft?”

He turned to you, his features softening slightly. “It’s alright, I’ll be just downstairs. Sherlock is going to stay with you. I know it’s not ideal, but we can’t very well trust him not to poison you with his cooking, so you’ll have to make do.”

Sherlock stepped over to his sister’s side, glaring at Mycroft, “Yes, yes, very funny Mycroft. Go on now, I’ve got her.”

Mycroft was relieved to see a wide smile on his sister’s pale face as he turned to leave.

…

“Are you feeling any better?” Sherlock asked hesitantly.

“Not really.”

Sherlock sighed, wishing more than ever that a client would walk through the door and distract him from his ailing sister. Comfort was most certainly not his strong suite.

“Thank you.”

Sherlock looked up, “For what?”

You smiles slightly. “Being here. I know you want to be anywhere else.”

Sherlock didn’t bother contradicting you. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Just being here is enough.”

Sherlock wasn’t sure how his presence helped your pain, but then again he’d never been very good at understanding you. As long as you were happy, he’d sit at your bedside for as long as you needed.

Truth be told, he was glad to hear that you appreciated his presence. Hearing you call out for Mycroft, even if it was in sleep, had made him feel completely useless: not a feeling he was used to.

“Then I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

He wasn’t sure if you’d heard him, as your eyes were drooping shut and your breathing began to slow, but it didn’t matter. You already knew that he’d be there, no matter what.

…

Mycroft walked in with a steaming bowl of broth just in time to see you slowly sit up. You were rubbing your eyes, indicating that you’d just woken up.

“Would you like to try to eat?” Mycroft asked, holding out the bowl to you. You hesitantly took it, then accepted the spoon he offered you.

“Nothing else worked so far.”

“Well that’s because Sherlock made it.”

…

A bowl of soup and an hour or two later, a bit of the color had returned to your cheeks, and Mycroft carried you downstairs—Sherlock was so surprised that he instantly pulled out his phone and snapped several pictures—where he turned the tv on for you and turned on a Disney movie, which was probably the biggest surprise of the day. The Holmes’ brothers hated Disney movies—honestly they rarely watched movies in general—so when Mycroft put one on you actually began to worry.

“I’m not dying, am I?” You quipped as the opening credits to The Little Mermaid played. Both brothers turned to you.

“Why would you say that?” Sherlock asked.

“Mycroft carried me down the stairs, and we’re watching a Disney movie. All in all, the evidence isn’t adding up well for me.”

Mycroft shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Well, I can turn it off-“ he reached forwards to grab the remote, but you beat him to it, reaching forward and snatching it off the table. However, the sudden movement caused your unsettled stomach to lurch, and it was all you could do to hold onto your meager lunch. Your head began to spin, and you collapsed out of the sofa and onto the floor.

Sherlock was at your side in an instant, lifting you back onto the couch and pushing your head back so that you were lying down.

Mycroft hid his momentarily worried expression with an eye roll and a shake of his head at his sister. “Really dearest sister, you should be more careful.”

You smiled sheepishly, “Don’t threaten to turn off my movie and I will.”

“Ah yes, heaven forbid you be denied the joy of watching the little mermaid for the 27th time, how cruel of me.”

You laughed sleepily, your eyes yet again beginning to close due to exhaustion.

“Don’t you know? The 27th time is…is the…” you dozed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

…

Mycroft chuckled as his little sister drifted off to sleep, “She’s going to be just fine soon enough.”

Sherlock nodded in agreement, his eyes fixed on your pale face, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like that.”

Mycroft thought back, “Me neither. I have seen you like that before.”

Sherlock looked up, “Me?”

“Ah yes, dear brother. You were insufferable. You had a fairly high fever, but the noises you made, one might’ve thought you were dying.” Mycroft laughed at Sherlock’s indignant expression, “And you made us all watch Pirates of the Caribbean about a thousand times.”

“Mycroft…” your voice drifted sleepily to the two men.

Sherlock frowned, “She’s been doing that a lot in her sleep.”

Mycroft stood from his chair and went immediately to his sister’s side, “Well at least she knows who the better one to call is.”

Just then you called out Sherlock’s name, causing the younger Holmes’ brother to smirk, “You were saying, Mycroft.”

And that’s how you awoke to find your head rested in Mycroft’s lap, and your feet in Sherlock’s.

It took them several minutes to assure you that you were not dying.

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