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teigo-the-explorer · 1 year

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Too good to be true

Anonymous Request: Maybe the reader is a university student and everyone around her is trying to woo her but they don't Sherlock is her boyfriend, so one day protective Sherlock appears and, shows them she's his.

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Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Jealous Sherlock, Major fluff, mentions of sex, Sherlock is in love with you. No use of y/n.

“Guys, I swear on my life,” you chuckled as your finger crossed over your heart, “I’m taken.”

Your friends rolled their eyes at your declaration.

“What?”

“Babes,” Lucy said. “You keep telling us about this guy, yet….” She looked around the bar that your friend group was drinking at. “I don’t see him.”

“He’s just…” You began.

“Married to his work. We know.” Miri said. She took a big swallow of her martini. “Well, I’m off to get another round.”

She quickly excused herself from the table and walked over to the bar.

You sighed. It wasn’t your’s or Sherlock’s fault that there was a new serial killer in town. This one seemed to evade your boyfriend’s and John’s attempts of catching him at every turn. You your friends. knew what stakes his job had, including late nights and missed opportunities to introduce him to

Lucy called your name. “You don’t have to keep lying just because all of us are taken. I promise, as your friends, we won’t judge you.”

To this, you rolled your eyes. When were your friends going to understand you were taken?

“Plus,” Lucy continued. “I’ve heard that Garreth has an eye for you.”

You snickered. “Garreth, the heartthrob of our year. I call bullshit.”

Lucy nudged you on the shoulder. “Is it bullshit that he’s been staring at you this entire time we’ve been here?” Lucy’s grey eyes peered behind your shoulder.

Quickly, you turned around and saw him: Garreth. His bright green eyes lit up the moment you saw him. You had to admit, he was attractive. He was tall, with curly red hair, and freckles all over his face. Not to mention, he was quite smart in all of his subjects. He flashed you a smile, one which you returned. It would have been rude not to, you thought.

“See!” Lucy exclaimed.

“See what?” Miri asked. Her hands were full as she juggled the new round of drinks.

“Garreth’s been checking out, our friend here,” Lucy explained.

“Again? He does that all the time. I swear to god that the man is in love with you,” Miri said in a teasing manner.

“Guys,” You said sternly. “I’m taken which means I have eyes for only one person.”

“Sure,” Lucy and Miri responded at the same time.

You took a shot. The fiery liquid traveled down your throat and spread warmth to your body.

“Look,” Miri said. She herself took a shot of alcohol. “If we haven’t met this…”

“Genius, tall, beautiful man of a boyfriend,” Lucy finished.

“Yeah that. If we haven’t met him by the end of the month. I’m setting you up on a date with Garreth,” Miri said sternly.

You groaned. Your finger pinched the bridge of your nose tightly. This was going to be a long night.

_________

It was a quarter after midnight when you walked into the doors of 221B. A bright light shone from on top of the stairs. The warm golden light could only mean one thing: Sherlock was awake.

You smiled softly at the thought of your boyfriend, as your feet sluggish in movement carried you up the stairs. Sherlock appeared in the doorway watching your climb. It was as if he knew you were coming from a block away. He probably did. Sherlock had a way with those types of things.

The first thing you did was envelope your boyfriend in a warm embrace. Something he gladly returned. The comfort you felt in his arms was unmatched: his heart beating underneath your ears as you rested your head against his chest, his soft hands cradling your lower back and hips pulling you taut to him, and how his head dipped to kiss the crown of your head. If you died right now, you were sure that heaven would be in Sherlock’s arms.

The two of you stood at the top of the stairs holding each other. Your bodies swayed back and forth in a slow dance. It had been a rough day, it seemed, for the both of you.

“Any luck with the case?” You inquired, pulling away from the hug.

Sherlock shook his head. “Not as much as I would have liked. We’ve narrowed down the possible location of the next murder, but that’s all. He seems to have avoided our every plot to catch him.”

“You’ll solve the case and catch him. I believe in you,” you comforted.

Sherlock smiled and whispered your name. “If only the world revolved around your belief in me, I’d have solved the case by now.”

Then Sherlock brought his lips to yours in a gentle manner. He was savoring the kiss. It was one of the only things he cherished. Your lips could bring him out of the grey haze he often found his mind in. He loved the feeling of you flushed against him. He loved you.

“Now,” he said with a hand on your lower back leading you into his flat, “mind telling me what’s on your mind.”

You sighed and shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it’s bothering you, darling.”

An electric wave shot down your spine. Even after months together, you still weren’t used to that nickname. The things you would do to have him whispering it in your ear like a prayer.

“You were supposed to meet my friends tonight, Sherlock.” You said.

“I know, but Lestrade found another body and…”

“The case is important and I understand, it’s just my friends don’t believe me.”

“Believe you?” Sherlock asked. His brow raised.

“They don’t think you’re…” Your voice grew quiet. “...real. They think I’m making you up.”

Sherlock reached out and laid his hands on your forearms, running them up and down in a comforting manner. He stepped closer. His piercing blue eyes are on you. You had his full attention.

“They gave me a vendetta. If they haven’t met you by the end of the month, they're going to set me up with Garreth.”

Sherlock’s jaw clenched. “Garreth? Who’s…”

You cut him off before he could finish. “Just a guy in my year. Apparently, he’s in love with me or something.” Your eyes lowered as you muttered those last words.

Sherlock’s hands stopped tracing your arms. You could hear Sherlock’s entire body grow tense and his breath becomes slow and calculated.

“They just need to meet me?”

You nodded, too embarrassed to say anything.

“I’ll meet your friends. Now tell me about Garreth, it seems I need to have a word with him.” Sherlock began.

You chuckled and pulled him down for a kiss to silence him.

Sherlock’s mind was made up as you kissed him. He’d let Garreth know you were his. He’d make your friends into believers. If there was any truth in this corrupted world, it would be that Sherlock loved you and that he was yours and you were his.

________

“Next class, I would have liked you all to have read chapters sixteen and seventeen,” your professor announced to the class. “These chapters are crucial for the discussion, so please come prepared. Class dismissed.”

It was as if a wave of vitality drowned the class. Students, who were moments before drooling onto the desks and their eyes closed, now shot to life. They stuffed their computers and textbooks into their backpacks.

As you gathered your things at your desk, you noticed a shadow fall over your figure. You peered up to glance at the person. It was Sherlock.

You looked around confused. “Why are you…”

“Thought I’d come to visit my girlfriend and take her out to lunch. Seemed to have a break from the case for a moment,” Sherlock replied. The corner of his eyes crinkled as a grin flashed across his face.

You couldn’t help but match his smile. It really was contagious. “Perfect. I know just the place to eat,” you said. “And it just so happens my friends are working there.”

There was a sparkle in Sherlock’s eye. “Perfect indeed.” He extended his elbow out to you. You linked your arm with his and led him to the cafe for lunch.

________

“Miri, the girl’s got three more days in the month,” Lucy said. “You can’t set her up on a date with Garreth.”

“Oh, and how much do you want to bet that her boyfriend will magically turn up in those three days,” Miri shot back. Lucy sighed in defeat. “That’s what I thought…I just worry about her. She needs to go and find her person. I care about her too much. Plus, Garreth is a big sweetheart and everything she’d ever want in a man.”

“I care about her to Miri, but…”

A bell rang from above the door. The sight left both Miri and Lucy’s eyes to bulge out of their heads. The two of them had to do a double take. Once they certified with their brains that what was in front of them was real, they couldn’t help but squeal.

There stood their best friend, you. What the real sight was the man linked to your arm. They ran through the description you had given them of the mysterious man.

He was tall, check.

He had a head of gorgeous dark curls, check.

Cheekbones that could cut, check.

Entrancing ocean blue eyes, check.

A smile that puts the greatest celebrities to shame, check.

A gentleman, check,

Absolutely and irrevocably in love with you, check, check, CHECK.

“It’s him!” Lucy and Miri whispered to each other.

“Hi, Luc and Miri,” you chirped. You lifted a hand and pointed to Sherlock. “This is my boyfriend, Sherlock.” The two women eyed you and Sherlock. They were doing a horrible job of hiding their excitement. “Sherlock, these are my best friends, Lucy and Miri.”

Immediately the two stuck out their hands to shake Sherlock’s.

“Damn, you have nice hands. Nice fingers as well,” Miri blurted. She sent you a wink to which your face flushed with embarrassment.

Sherlock chuckled unsure of what to say. “Nice to finally meet you two.” He flashed your friends an awkward grin. They couldn’t help but ogle at Sherlock.

You cleared your throat. “Can we order, or are you just going to stand there and stare at my boyfriend,” you teased.

Now it was your friend’s turn to be embarrassed.

“Right,” Lucy cried. “What can I get you two?”

The two of your ordered lunch and then found an open seat in the cafe. Sherlock sat with his back facing your friends, which allowed you the full view of their gawking. Miri kept winking and making sexual references with her fingers. Lucy just flashed you a thumbs-up before preparing your order.

“Sorry about my friends,” You whispered to Sherlock. The evidence on your cheeks let Sherlock know just how embarrassed you were.

“It’s alright,” he said in an attempt to soothe your embarrassment.

Again the bell above the door rang long and clear. In stepped Garreth. He had his backpack swung over his shoulder and a witty smile adorning his face.

“Afternoon, ladies!” He greeted Lucy and Miri.

“Hey there Garreth,” Miri replied as she winked at him.

Sherlock’s ears perked up. He turned to look at you. “Garreth?”

You looked over to the man who just entered the cafe and then back at Sherlock. Your boyfriend had a look on his face. A wave of butterflies was released into your stomach. Sherlock raised his brow up and had a smirk on his face.

As Garreth noticed your presence and uttered your name, Sherlock grabbed onto the collar of your shirt and yanked you to him. His lips met yours in a possessive kiss. It was strong and secure and much brasher than you were used to receiving from Sherlock in public. The man tended to stick to more subtle ways of showing others that you were his: a hand around your waist, his figure standing not far from yours, a glare to anyone who dare look your way as if their eyes didn’t deserve to see you in all your glory.

As Sherlock slipped his tongue into your mouth, dancing alongside yours, Lucy and Miri gasped. You could just imagine the look on their faces. You did tell them he was a good kisser after all and now they just got front-row seats to the show.

You had to pull back from Sherlock. Your breath was heavy as your lungs remembered what it was like to breathe. From the looks of it, Sherlock would have kept kissing you until he passed out and you’d let him. You let out a giggle seeing your friend’s amazed faces. Sherlock pecked your cheek lightly as a small reminder.

“Someone’s jealous…,” You giggled.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I’m just letting the world know what’s mine,” he said in a low voice only you could hear.

“Well, from what I could tell, you’ve only shown three people. If you want to show the whole world, you’ve got a lot of work to do,” you winked.

Sherlock smiled. “It’s a good thing I like kissing you among other things.” There was a suggestive look in his eyes.

You gasped slightly and hit him on the shoulder. “My friends are right behind you Sherlock.”

“I know.”

You rolled your eyes as Sherlock turned around and asked your friends to take lunch to go. He explained that he needed you for the afternoon. Lucy and Miri played along and quickly finished your order. They shoved in your hands and pushed you out the door whispering words of playful encouragement.

“You scored the lottery,” Lucy whispered to you.

You smiled and looked at Sherlock. You really did. Sherlock was everything you could ask for and more.

Once again, the two of you linked your arms together and scurried back to Baker Street. Your takeout left on the counter was forgotten. Unlike that afternoon, when Sherlock showed the world again and again that he was yours and you were his.

_____

Tag List: @bartokthealbinobat @astudyinlaura

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fallingforunrealisticromance · 1 year

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Hold me - Sherlock x fem!reader

Request: "Can you one with the bbc sherlock x female reader? Maybe one where sherlock is touched starved but doesn't realise it. And then he meets the reader and it's all fluffy at the end please? xx"

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2156

A/N: I'm so sorry i haven't been posting!! I've had a hectic month and not much time to write but i'm getting back to it!! If you have requested something, I'm getting round to them slowly but surely. Thank you all <33

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Sherlock never realised how touch starved he was. It was never really something he ever paid any attention to. In his mind, physical affection was yet another unimportant custom most normal people liked to spend their time searching for. He couldn’t be bothered with that. That was, until he met you.

*******************************************************************

“Stop talking Anderson, it lowers the IQ of the entire street.” Sherlock hissed.

You let out a small laugh as Sherlock, slammed the door in his face. John and Lestrade both turned to look at you.

“Sorry. It’s just- well he’s not wrong.” You said, shrugging your shoulders.

“I very rarely am.” Sherlock replied without looking over at you.

You rolled your eyes “Okay, no need to get all cocky Mr detective.”

You walked past him, resting your hand on the shoulder, before quickly taking removing it. “Sorry.”

Sherlocks brow furrowed. “Why are you sorry?”

“I know you don’t like people touching you.” You replied nonchalantly.

Sherlock went to speak but the words died on his tongue. So instead, he opted for a sharp nod before turning his attention back to the dead body in front of him. He had actually rather liked the feeling of your fingers running along his arm, even if it was only for a second. You were right, normally he would hate people touching him. But he found himself wishing that you would do it again, only this time leave your hand there for maybe a while longer.

“Sherlock.” John’s voice snapped the detective from his thoughts.

“Hmm?” He mumbled.

“You found anything? You’ve been crouched there for a few minutes now.”

Sherlock stood up, brushing the dirt from his coat.

“It was her husband. He killed her.” Sherlock relayed to Lestrade before promptly leaving the room.

********************************************************************

“Well. That’s one way to get home.” You said breathlessly as you rested against the wall of 221b.

“Yeah next time we have a case sherlock, can we not chase the killer through London on foot? They have cabs for a reason.” John panted, flopping down on the sofa.

“A cab would have been far too slow Watson.” You answered, smiling at him. “However, I have to agree with him sherlock, less running next time yeah?” You said to the detective who was leaning on his desk.

“Oh I don’t know, I think it adds to the fun.” Sherlock said with a tight-lipped smile.

“Did sherlock Holmes just make a joke?” John asked, staring at you in shock.

“Oh god the bloods rushed to his head” You replied jokingly. Sherlock just scoffed at the pair of you.

“Right, it’s been fun boys but I should probably be off.” You went to take a step forward without noticing your shoelace was undone.

You tripped over, falling forward expecting to crash into the hard floor beneath you. What you weren’t anticipating was sherlock catching you. His arms wrapped around your stomach as your hands clung to his arms. His heartbeat increased rapidly as you rested against him for a moment, trying to regain your footing. You stood up still clutching his arms.

“That’s embarrassing.” You laughed looking down at your shoes, seemingly unaware of sherlocks hands planted firmly just above your hips.

Sherlocks head was spinning. The feeling of your body pressed against him was something he quite enjoyed, even if it was in an awkward position.

You patted sherlocks shoulder.

“Thanks mate, that could’ve been a lot more painful.” To sherlocks disappointment, you moved out of his grasp in order to tie your shoelace.

John furrowed his brow as he noticed the hint of longing held in sherlocks gaze before it quickly faded.

“Yeah. No problem. See you later.” He said before promptly leaving to go to his room.

You watched him leave, rather confused by his rapid exit. “Did he seem a bit off to you?” You asked john.

“Yeah a bit.” He replied honestly.

“Well check up on him, make sure he’s alright yeah?” John nodded at your words. “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow probably. Bye Watson.” And with that you left the infamous flat.

********************************************************************

Since then, sherlock found any excuse he could to have some form of contact with you. Whether it was standing that little bit closer to you in order for his arm to brush yours every so often, or letting you hold his hand if you were ever scared. Your touch provided him with a sense of comfort he never knew he’d needed.

Currently you were sat in your flat, curled up under some blankets on your sofa. There had been a lot of draining cases lately and while you wouldn’t swap your job for anything else – it really took a toll on you. You’d barely slept over the past week and when you had it had been a restless, disturbed night. Your body felt as if it was going to shut down any minute soon and you were honestly hoping it would as it might allow you to finally get a decent rest. However, as this is your life and nothing is ever that simple, your phone began to ring. Reluctantly you pulled your hands out from the bundle of warmth you had created and lifted the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/n hi its Greg.”

You shot up. You loved Greg but he never called for a good reason, something was always wrong. You didn’t have it in you for another case right now, but that was what you were paid for. Your wellbeing would just have to wait.

“What is it this time? Please don’t tell me it’s another murder” You replied.

Lestrade chuckled stiffly. “Er no it’s not a case as such.” He fell quiet.

“Well?” You prompted. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s sherlock. He’s well I don’t really know.” Greg replied.

That did nothing to calm your nerves, if anything it set you more on edge. “

Is john with you?” You asked.

“Uh yeah, I’ll pass you to him.” You heard a small conversation before john’s voice came through the phone.

“Hi y/n”

“What’s wrong with him?” You asked, heart beating rapidly.

You knew he had issues with drugs and if tonight was a bad night, you needed to know. You cared immensely for the detective.

“Well nothing I don’t think. It’s weird, I’m pretty sure he’s gone into his ‘mind palace’ but he just keeps saying your name.” John explained.

You fell silent. Why would sherlock be saying your name in his mind palace? Actually why was he saying your name at all?

“My name?” You repeated.

“Yeah I don’t actually have a clue what’s going on, could you come over?” John asked.

“Um yeah. Yeah I’ll be on my way.” You hung up the phone before scrambling to get off of the sofa. This was really strange, but you just needed to know that he was okay.

After about 20 minutes you found yourself knocking at 221b as you’d done many times in the past, but tonight felt weird. Mrs Hudson opened the door, beaming at you.

“Oh y/n! How lovely to see you” She said pulling you in for a hug.

“Hi Mrs Hudson. I’m here for…well I don’t actually know. John asked me to come.” You explained.

“Yes sherlock’s been acting very strange tonight.” You raised your eyebrows at her. “Stranger than normal my dear. He was getting really worked up about a case earlier and he was doing his normal anticks. You know, pacing, shooting my wall, yelling at john – the normal. But he just went quiet, john said he went to his mind palace whatever that is. Apparently he keeps asking for you.” She explained.

“Yeah john said.” You replied quietly, looking up at the stairs.

“Well you better go up there dear.” She patted your back before returning to her flat.

You took a deep breath before making your way up the stairs. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous, but your hands were shaking tremendously. You pushed the door open, seeing sherlock, sat in his chair with his eyes closed.

“Hi” You said quietly. John and Lestrade greeted you. “So I’m here but what exactly am I meant to do?” You asked looking over at the detective.

“Not a clue. Just talk to him?” John suggested.

You sighed. “okay.” You made your way over to him. “Hi Sherloc-“

But before you could finish your sentence, the detective jumped up from his chair wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you into his body, holding you tightly. His head fell to your shoulder, burrowing it in the crook of your neck. That was the last thing you’d expected him to do. You stood wide eyed, your arms hanging either side of you. This was not like sherlock at all, not that you minded his sudden display of affection – but it worried you slightly.

“Hold me. Please.” He whispered, so only you could hear. His breath against your neck sent a shiver down your spine, your heart racing. He sounded so desperate; it almost made you cry.

“Okay.” You said softly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, slowly running your fingers through the base of his curls.

He sighed, and almost melted into your touch as you did so. You could feel his hands clutching your shirt, as if he was trying to calm himself down.

“You’re okay sherlock. I’m here, your safe.” You mumbled softly.

You had no idea what he was feeling right now, but it felt like that’s what he needed to hear. The two of you stayed there for a while, you just allowing Sherlock to do what he needed. John and Lestrade stood behind you, staring at the sight before them in utter shock. After a moment, sherlock pulled his head up to face you without releasing his hold on your waist. Your eyes scanned his own, trying to figure him out. His face was flushed red from having rested on you for so long

“Hello.” He said gently.

You smiled at him, arms still loosely around his neck.

“Hi.” You replied.

Slowly, sherlock reached a hand up to cup your face. His thumb moved gently across your cheek as he looked down at you. You were almost certain your heart was about to explode.

“Why won’t you get out of my head?” He questioned, more to himself than anyone else.

“I’m…sorry?” You offered not entirely sure what to say back.

He smiled at you.

“Don’t be. I’m more than okay with it. It’s just…strange. I’ve never craved another person before. But you.” His voice trailed off as he stared at you like you were the most precious thing to walk the earth. “You are all I think about. All the time. I want to be with you, near you. I want to touch you all the time.”

You were speechless.

“Not even necessarily in a sexual way. But just, feel you. You seem to calm me in a way nothing ever has before.”

You could feel tears threatening to fall. You weren’t sure exactly why, but just the raw emotion sherlock was willing to show you was overwhelming. In the best way possible.

“I’m glad I can help.” You voice was quiet, barely audible, but you knew he’d heard you.

“So can I-“ John’s voice interrupted.

“Get out. The pair of you.” Sherlock snapped, not even looking at them.

You laughed slightly, turning your head to face them. “I’d listen to him lads. I think I’ll be okay.”

Greg looked utterly baffled but didn’t question it.

“You do know I live here?” John said.

“Well go talk to Mrs Hudson?” You suggested, feeling sherlock becoming rather annoyed.

“Go.” He demanded.

With that, they left the flat. Sherlock gently pulled your head to look back at him. His eyes flickered down to your lips ever so slightly.

“I want to try something.” He said softly.

“Okay.” You replied, knowing exactly what he was going to do. He lowered his face to yours until you could feel his breath fanning across your lips.

“Are you sure-“

“Sherlock just kiss me.” You begged.

Without any hesitation, he crashed his lips against yours. He held your face gently as if he was scared, he would lose you while pulling you impossibly closer. His lips were soft as they melted against yours. Your heart was hammering in your chest, you were sure it would break free. Reluctantly, you pulled away to breathe, but Sherlock kept a firm grip on you as he rested his forehead against yours.

“I don’t know what this is.” He spoke softly, not wanting to ruin the moment. “But I do know, I don’t want to be apart from you. Will you stay with me?” He asked, eyes full of hope.

You grinned up at him as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Until you order me away.” You replied happily, before leaning forward to kiss him once again.

#sherlockbbc #sherlock bbc #sherlock reader insert #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock x you #sherlock x reader #touch starved #john watson #greg lestrade #x reader #fluff #fluffy #kiss #first kiss #benedict cumberbatch #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange

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freckles-things · 1 year

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Stolen Love // BBC Sherlock

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

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

Pairing: BBC Sherlock x fem!reader

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought we could talk, Y/N”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----------

If you spot any mistakes please let me know!

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

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 7 months

Text

Whoa Baby

Sherlock and Mycroft x little sister!reader

Requested by @shinypandacherryblossom

Synopsis: you have startling news for your big brothers

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, this is kinda short.

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock inquired.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell us then,” Mycroft urged.

“Would you sit down, please?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How did you-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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spencerrxids · 1 year

Text

labyrinth

pairing : sherlock holmes x fem!oc

summary :

ANNALIÉSE MOORE was young when she first met SHERLOCK HOLMES, accidentally stumbled onto him when she was running away from the small commotion she had caused which ended with him helping her out of it. He was early in his career but already making a name for himself. Being not much more than two years older than her, they’ve become close, perhaps closer than both had ever thought they would be. The young woman has seen more sides of the renowned genius detective than the one he always ought to put in front of the public's eyes. Although in recent years, they’ve found some distance between themselves, primarily because of the number of cases, Sherlock had drowned him in. And she tried, for the longest time, she tried to understand him until one day, it all stopped.

ANNALIÉSE MOORE had only been in London for a month-long after she returned from France when she heard the news of the missing EUDORIA HOLMES which then followed by the missing of ENOLA HOLMES. So it wasn't really surprising when her old friend had finally decided to acknowledge her existence again, seeking out her help. And boy was it such a privilege to have SHERLOCK HOLMES looking rather helpless on her doorstep.

tags : friends to lovers, slowburn, 1880s slowburn(?), sherlock being painfully oblivious, fluff but also angst

masterlist

chapter 01 : begin with a dance

chapter 02 : patterned days

chapter 03 : tbd

more chapter to be added

taglist! (CLOSED)

#sherlock holmes x oc #sherlock x oc #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes #enola holmes #sherlock fandom #sherlock x reader #sherlock reader insert #sherlock x you #enola 2 #fluff #sherlock holmes angst #fanfiction #sherlock holmes fanfiction

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a-cup-of-earl-grey-please · 1 year

Text

Beg For Forgiveness (BBC Sherlock x Fem!Reader)

Word count: 2,436 words

Pairing: BBC Sherlock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your fiancé, the great Sherlock Holmes, comes back from the dead—just when you were ready to move on. Can you forgive him?

Warning: semi-heavy angst, description of dealing with grief. references to the Reichenbach fall, failing to "move on," suggestive themes towards the end

Note: this has been in my drafts for so long and i'm not completely satisfied. but hey, i really needed to get this off my mind! so i hope you like it.

It was one of those nights where you felt like you were absolutely over Sherlock’s death. You felt fine. You did the dishes. You ate dinner on your own—Mrs. Hudson was out on a date. You felt okay. You finally brought yourself to send his coat away for laundry last week—even though you knew it wouldn’t smell like him anymore. There was one step left in your “getting over Sherlock” project: letting go of the engagement ring on your finger. You fiddled with the ring, slipping it way down to the tip of your finger and back down. The ring felt like it was heavier than an elephant, yet lighter than a single snowflake landing on your eyelashes. You grit your teeth together and pulled on it once more, and it came near your fingertips—

Knock, knock.

You sighed, your breath strained. You hastily slipped the ring off your hand and held it tightly in your hand. You could feel the jewel biting into your palm, but you didn’t let that undo all your efforts to erase him from your narrative. As you went down toward the door. Your padded footsteps softly echoed through the stairwell.

“Who is it?” You absentmindedly said as you glanced up toward the door. Your breath hitched—caught in your throat in incredulousness. That silhouette was all too familiar. But you knew it couldn’t be. It really, truly couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be him turning up his coat collar against the November winds—the very coat that you sent out for laundry last week and hadn’t picked up yet. It couldn't be that very man who put that very coat around your shoulders when you shivered in the winter—tutting at you for trying to impress him with your skirts and blouses.

He’s dead. You bit down on your tongue. This is all a cruel joke. I’ll punch them square in the face. That’ll teach whomever it is to not kid about things like that. No, they have no right to his death. You clenched your fists and opened the door in one angry move.

“You don’t get to joke about—“ Your chastising screams were stopped at the sight of him. Him. It was Sherlock Holmes. The curve of his lips, his pretty cheekbones, his fluffy hair, and oh, his eyes.

“Hello, Y/N, my darling fiancée.” He gave her a smirk and a little wave. And his voice, his stupid voice. The rich voice you had tried for years now to rub clean from your memories. Oh, how every single thing he said to you had ruined you after his fall. A boiling anger surged through her and you slammed your clenched fist against his firm chest. He barely staggered, as if he had expected the blow. “I get the sense that you are mad—“ He said, his voice awfully clipped for a man who just had his chest slammed with a fist. Of course, it was not hard enough to bruise—but it was hard enough, oh yes, it was hard enough. A smug thought surfaced through your blinding anger.

“Is it really you?” You cut him off.

“Yes, Sherlock Holmes. Looking into the eyes of soon-to-be Mrs. Holmes.” He said, smug as always. So sure of your forgiveness. Watching him rub his chest—where you hit him—made you mad. Angrier, if possible.

Your left fist still rested on his chest, just below his right shoulder. And you, seething with anger and sorrow, knew just what move would hurt him. Hurt him—let him feel a fraction of what the past few years had been for you. You looked him straight in the eyes. His eyes swirled with hope and desperation—as if he knew anything about desperation. Yet.

You unclenched your fist and dropped the ring—the precious little silver thing. It hit the ground with a small, yet cruel cling onto the doorstep. Sherlock flinched at the sound. He knew exactly what you had dropped, even without having to spare a glance. He was the greatest detective in all of Britain after all. You could see tears forming in his eyes—oh great, you reduced the supposed heartless man to tears. Tears welled in his eyes—daring to drip. Drip down those cheekbones you loved to caress. Maybe even graze those lips you loved to kiss before he left the flat in the morning. But most importantly, it magnified the emotions in his eyes. The hundreds of layers of feelings he always hid behind a cold curtain were all exposed, vulnerable to your attacks.

You opened your mouth to speak—to spit the devilish words that you could come up with easily in your rage. But you couldn’t. You knew him too well. You knew how his mind carefully stored every word that had ever been spoken to him. Especially yours—you knew how he treated your words. A passing comment on a shade of blue you liked in a flower made him go on a wild goose chase for a dress that had the exact same shade once—just to see that smile on your face. A compliment on one of his shirts—yes, the purple one—had made him save it for special days. He remembered all your “icks” and avoided them, deliberately and lovingly. He learned all your childhood bedtime stories just so he could recite them to you when you suffered from nightmares. He knew your comfort meals and even attempted to cook them when you were feeling down. He knew you. And you knew him. Too well on both sides.

You knew how to break his heart, and the knowledge scared you.

A ring was easier to let go of; the promise was easier to break than the love it represented.

The ring was only a mere symbol for that night when you shoved all the furniture to one corner of the room and made him waltz with you in a drunken frenzy. It was just a reminder of the day he kissed you for the first time in a basement with a tied-up serial killer next to them—at least the serial killer cheered for you two. The ring was barely even representing a fraction of what you both felt on the day he knelt down on one knee to propose—he followed an obscure superstition from East Asia that love comes true on the day of the first snow of the year. He had carried around the ring box for a month in his pocket—just to make sure he did not miss the first snow because he was unprepared. The ring was just a shard of what you had seen in his eyes the first time you two met—surprise, curiosity, sharp intellect, and a warm heart.

The ring was easy to drop, but it was not easy to let go of all that. When he left, all you had were the remnants of him. And they all slowly faded away. His clothes—you left all of them in the drawers—only opening it sometimes to feel his scent engulf you, only that faded away as well. His phone was already cracked during the fall. You left it on the mantelpiece— it lay there forgotten, collecting dust.

The last one to go away before your ring was the mug John convinced Sherlock to buy you—#1 Girlfriend in a pink, barbie font—you dropped it by accident one day.

The mug cracked and so did your heart.

Stupid—you thought as you felt hot tears race down your cheeks, a sharp contrast to the cold outside.

“I had no other choice—besides, I foolishly thought our relationship was strong enough to survive a few months. I was naïve—it took me this long to resolve everything. I think it’s fair though, I must admit, that I would say that you don’t love me anymore, judging by how you literally slammed me in the chest and proceeded to drop the most socially noticeable signifier of our relationship onto—well, a slab of concrete. That was your engagement ring—our engagement.” His words were harsher than the winter winds whooshing past them. His voice was unwavering despite visible tears rolling down his cheeks. His eyes were wounded,

“Don’t lecture me about our relationship, love, if that word still means anything to you after 2 years of being dead? Do you know how many nights I’ve spent, touching that ring—imagining that it was actually your face? I couldn’t send your coat—which you’re wearing right now, heaven knows how—for those 2 years just because I was scared I would lose your scent in the flat!” You shoved him away, and this time, he stepped back, shocked.

“I hate you so, so much. Why did you have to do this to me? All this time, seriously? Are you kidding me? Surely you’re kidding me. Surely. You couldn’t even bear to talk to me, huh? To give me even the slightest hint that you were, you know, not dead?” Pedestrians were staring as they walked past, keeping a safe distance away from the surely maniacal you. You started sobbing uncontrollably. You wanted to turn around and slam the door in Sherlock’s face. But you also wanted to kiss him—feel him, remind yourself of that fading sensation. Kiss him square on the mouth until both of you couldn’t utter anything but sweet nothings and ardent confessions of love. You wanted to bang your fists against him, but instead, you ended up burying your face into his coat—oh, he smelled just the same. Sandalwood and a delightful touch of old books. Focus. You’re angry—you reminded yourself.

“Forgive me, Y/N. It was for your safety. I’m sorry. I really am. How can I make it up to you?“ He tearily whispered into your ear, caressing your hair. To your heartbreak, you could feel his tears dripping down his face, onto your forehead. Your anger dissolved—it would be a lasting grudge, just like how his “death” would be a lasting scar in your heart, but for now, you couldn’t do anything but fall for him once again. You cried into his chest—you could hear his heartbeat. You grabbed his coat lapels and brought his face down to your face—now just barely a centimeter away. His eyes were overflowing with love and fear. You didn’t like that look in his eyes. You wanted them to be full of the former only.

“Kiss it away. Kiss it better. Kiss me, Sherlock. Kiss my scars away. I love you and I hate you—so kiss my hatred away. Simple math: we’ll be left with just love.” You murmured.

His mouth attacked yours with its familiar swiftness and accuracy. Your lips, salty with tears, answered with equal enthusiasm. His tongue grazed over your bottom lip—he was unsure if a kiss of passion was appropriate in that moment. Screw his manners. You needed physical confirmation.

“You know, faking your death wasn’t so gentlemanly either.” You cheekily said into his mouth—only to gently push your tongue into his mouth, capturing his mouth just like you longed to do for the past 2 years. Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open in surprise. He reciprocated the action, cupping your face with his hands—and oh, you could melt into his touch and stay there forever. The door creaked open behind you as his body pressed against yours, causing both of you to stumble backward into the building.

He let out a needy breath as he—quite forcefully—slipped your ring back on your left hand. Heaven knows how he picked it up without you noticing. You hummed against his mouth. Taking advantage of the situation, you caught his hand—now retreating from your left hand—and pulled him flush against you. You did not want to allow a single inch between you two. Your hands were tangled up in his hair, pinky wrapped around a curl. Desperate to confirm each other’s physical presence, you two were hugging each other so tight that it was a surprise both of you were breathing—actually, you weren’t sure if you were breathing.

All you could focus on were his warm lips on yours—the universe could have easily orbited around you two at that moment. As your heel touched the base of the stairs, he broke the kiss. He held you by one hand still entangled with your left and the other one on a suggestive spot near your waist. As you struggled to catch your breath, Sherlock opened his mouth once again.

“Y/N, I thought about you every day, all day, even with the most dangerous criminals in the world—pressing a knife against my throat—all I could think of was you. But I couldn’t let my love come in front of your safety—you could’ve died. One text from me, and a sniper might have shot clear through your skull. Forgive me, Y/N. I love you so much—and I understand if you want me to go away, but please forgive me. I beg you.” Oh, how you couldn’t stay mad at this man for once. His sincerity bled through his usually sharp eyes, flowing down in teardrops over his cheekbones. You wiped his tears away and smiled through your own tears.

“Sherlock, I’m not mad at you anymore—that doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you. But hey, at least I’m not mad at you anymore,” You let out a little laugh. “These are tears of joy. Of incredulousness. Of hopes and thankfulness.” You said, touching his face as if it were the most precious thing to ever exist in this world. Touching the curve of his nose. Following it down to his lips, wet from his tears and the kiss you just shared. All the way down to his chin.

“I love you so, so much. Y/N. You do know that, right? Never doubt that, never. I don’t like saying never, as a detective, but this is the one time I’ll allow myself. Never doubt my love. Even when yours waver, mine won’t.” Sherlock hugged you tight, so tight you were afraid that you two might just become one—from what you felt, his coat was welding into your sweater and his ribcage was touching yours.

“I love you more.” You said, a teary laugh falling from your lips.

“That’s impossible.” He simply stated, holding your hands—leading you up towards your flat—your shared flat. The soon-to-be Holmes flat—as your ring, once again on your finger, reminded you.

“Be a sweetheart and beg for forgiveness again in the bedroom, won’t you, Mr. Holmes?” And it’s safe to say that he definitely begged for something in the bedroom—and not just forgiveness.

#earl's cup of tea #sherlock angst #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #bbc sherlock #sherlock reader insert

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milknhonies · 2 months

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𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞

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sherlocks-blanket · 1 year

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Cold case

Sherlock holmes x reader

A\N: This was really fun to write! But have to mention, that this time , it wasn't really beta read. Sooo if they happen to be mistakes I'm really sorry.

Warnings: None

Words: 1k

Gif not mine

“Sherlock you shouldn’t work in that condition!” you scowled at the detective with your hands on your hips. Trying to reason with him could be really a pain at times… Especially, when he doesn’t take care of himself, like now when he’s ill.

“I’m completely capable of w-“ his face furrowed, as he let out a sneeze.

You handed him with a sigh the tissue box which he accepted, but knowing how stubborn he could be; he likely wouldn’t give up so fast. You crossed your arms with a frown. “I told you; that you shouldn’t run after the murderer in the cold rain, but you’ll never listen… So, please listen now, and just rest; you can work again, when you’re recovered.”

Sherlock groaned and dropped his head back on the pillow in silent defeat.

“Good that we settled that. I’ll make you some tea and soup now. Also if you need something just call.”

Sherlock watched as you left the room, leaving the door only with a slight gap open.

Being bedridden could be a pain for the detective, meaning no cases to work on which comes with boredom he despised. But it would be the least of his problem as a pounding pain started to spread, from the back of his head; his eyes wandered on the side where he saw a glass of water and some painkillers you most likely left there, since you knew how he suffers from headaches when he’s… sick as much he doesn’t wanted to admit it…

Sherlock sat up with a grumble and reached for the medication which he gulped down with the water, before he laid back down.

In the kitchen you poured hot water in a cup leaving it now to rest, just as you grasped a pot, so you could prepare the soup; you heard someone haste up the stairs. Wondering who was the one rushing inside, you turned around and your gaze landed on the ex-army doctor.

“Oh, hello John!” you greeted and laid the pot on the stove. “I’m glad you here.”

John’s eyes scanned around the flat, most likely looking for his friend. “Where’s Sherlock?”

Just before you opened your mouth to respond a sneeze echoed from the bedroom where Sherlock was in. It answered the question for John.

“I see… Should I take a look at him?”

“I even insist, maybe he’ll listen more to you with you being a doctor…” you replied and pointed towards the mug with the tea. “Could you also bring him that, if you would be so kind?”

With a nod John took the cup and headed towards the bedroom, knocking first before he entered his friends space. The veteran found Sherlock laying on the bed, and he looked definitely sick with his red nose, and a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead, most likely from a forming fever. That Sherlock wrote him that he needed to come for a case, and that he wanted to work in this condition was beyond him…

“Hello John. Did you saw my message?”

“Gods sake… You really wanted to work on the case while ill?” John raised an eyebrow and laid the hot beverage on the night table.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, first you, and now John… telling him he can’t work while ‘sick’. “I’m feeling good enough to work, so… can you hand me the files… please?”

John crossed his arms and a soft sigh left his lips. “You need to rest, doc’s order! And I’ll tell Greg you won’t work on cases for now. Just take it easy and rest.”

With that being said John left without another word being exchanged, as he closed the door behind him; he left Sherlock once again alone.

The detective crossed his arms with a pout. Resting… Not even criminals rest. Right now there were crimes happening and he? He was just laying in his bed without something to do…

****

It felt like a eternity when the door opened again, hearing soft steps approaching him; his gaze wandered to you. Sherlock saw you were carrying a tray in you hands with a steaming bowl on it, your face in a frown noticing the full mug with the tea from earlier, which was cold by now.

With a sigh you switched the cup with the bowl. “Sherlock… you haven’t touched your tea… Would you at least eat something?”

“Not hungry..” he replied and faced the ceiling again. He couldn’t smell it let alone wouldn’t he taste anything with how stuffed his nose was.

You crossed your arms across your chest. “I know you want to work on cases but even John told you that you need rest and eating a soup adds also for a quick recovery. So please eat, even if it’s a tiny bit… would you do it for me, please?”

A smile of victory spread on your lips, as Sherlock sat up with a low grumble and took the bowl without further complains. You watched him silently take spoon, after spoon, till he put it aside; half of it eaten. Pleased from the result, you wanted to take the dishes back to the kitchen but just as you wanted to step towards the door; you got pulled on the bed from Sherlock.

“Please stay..”

You couldn’t say no when you stared at him, seeing those puppy eyes begging you to stay.“I hope you don’t make me sick.” You chuckled and just as you laid back beside him, he rested his head on your chest.

“Then it would be my turn to care for you.” He replied closing his eyes and eased into your touch, when your fingers glided gently through his dark curls.

As much how grumpy he could be when he’s ill, you loved every moment like these, when he showed his soft side as well. You pressed your lips on top of his head for a kiss, pulling back, when you felt how hot he was. “You’re burning…”

He hummed as respond, too tired to respond correctly.

You smiled and continued to caress him, watching when his breathing slowed, as he slowly drift off to sleep. You didn’t care if you get sick in the end, when this moment is far more valuable.

#sherlock x reader #sherlock bbc #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x you #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock reader insert #sherlockbbc

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padfootdaredmetoo · 11 months

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Master Post VII - Completed!

Hey everyone! Please find all the new requests below! Hoping to be able to complete it quicker than the last one. Thanks again to everyone that writes in! - May 16th 2023

Sherlock Holmes

The mark of a kiss - Sherlock's other sister solves a mystery involving the notorious Tommy Shelby. - June 24th 2023

Irene - The Reader is not impressed with Sherlock's long-time friend. SMUT

Peaky Blinders

Teddy Bear pt 2 - Follow up to this story - About Alfie finding a little girl who lives on the streets - Alfie Solomons & Adoptive Daughter - May 20th 2023

Allergies - Thomas meets an unspeakable setback as he welcomes his new daughter into the world.

Come on Barbie - Thomas Sits back and wonders how girl manages her crazy lifestyle.

Not a child anymore - Tommy struggles with his daughter as she starts exploring the world of dating - After falling for Isaiah he catches them and all hell breaks loose

Enemies make the best lovers - Reader and Thomas are well-known rivals when a business trip from hell forces them to work together they must overcome their rocky past

Bullet Train

Values - Follow-ups to this series

First day of school

The wedding

Adopt a Fruit - A young girl falls into the hands of our two favorite assassins

Baby Girl - Tangerine and the Reader get caught in a sticky situation and he finally understands the effect he has on her - smut

Harry Potter

Peaky Magic - follow up to this story - where Harry is raised by the reader (a witch who was part of the marauders) & Thomas Shelby

Spidey-Pool

The Amazing Panic Attack - Peter has a panic attack after saving someone that looks like Gwen. After being MIA Wade comes to find him, and after a whole lot of comfort their relationship takes a new direction.

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strangesthirdeye · 8 months

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Sherlock: *makes a deduction about the characteristics of the killer*

Y/n: *looks at Sherlock with a look of love*

Sherlock: *stops when he notices Y/n is silent* What are you doing?

Y/n: *with an expression of falling in love and a sweet smile* You're smart.. I love you.

Sherlock: *stopped responding and looked at Y/n with a blank expression*

John: *sighing* I think you broke him.

#bbc shows #benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch #bbc sherlock x reader #incorrect sherlock quotes #bbc sherlock #sherlock reader insert #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock bbc #johnlock #john watson

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teigo-the-explorer · 5 months

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I’m on vacation right now in Denmark and I found this gem. Coincidence? I think not. I feel like should I go visit.

Maybe I’ll find our consulting detective and talk some sense into him about Y/N😂

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fallingforunrealisticromance · 7 months

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The men you meet - Sherlock x reader

A/N: I'm thinking of making this a series or at least a couple parts but i'm not sure so i figured i'd post this and see what people think. Sorry if theres any mistakes, its literally 6;30am, ive been writing all night. I'm tired.

Warnings; swearing, mentions of a knife??

Word count: 5.4k

Masterlist

****= time skip

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

Living in 221b there was never a dull moment. Whether it was sherlock shooting the walls at stupid o clock in the morning because he was, quote-on-quote “BORED”, or john ranting about how sherlock needed to stop using the fridge as a place to store body parts. Every so often you would walk in to find a rather bloody, beaten body on the floor which more often than not was paired with a dishevelled looking Sherlock. You supposed you should be afraid of him, considering the things he was capable of, but you weren’t. In fact you were utterly enamoured by him. Not that you would ever admit that out loud. But it’s true, everything about the raven-haired detective enticed you. His voice, his dry wit, his intelligence – the whole lot. That didn’t stop him getting on every one of your last nerves. Maybe that’s how you ended up in this position.

****

“Sherlock, your phone keeps going off for god’s sake would you answer it?” You groaned, your head falling back against the sofa as the detective’s text notification went off for tenth time that hour.

“I’m busy” He replied plainly, his eyes fixated on the microscope in front of him.

“One of these days I am going to throw that phone down the toilet.” You grumbled standing up to read his messages. “It’s from Greg, says he has a homicide he wants you to check out.”

“Greg?” The detective stopped what he was doing for a moment, his brow furrowed.

“Lestrade you idiot.” You rolled your eyes.

“Oh. Not important then.” Sherlock resumed his work.

“Did you not hear me? He has a homicide he wants you to check out. That’s right up your street.” You said walking over to him.

“Clearly not important enough otherwise he wouldn’t have texted me” Sherlock replied flatly, not looking at you as you rested against the desk next to him.

“Explain.”

“If it was that major, Lestrade would’ve called or barged through the door demanding for my help. You know what he’s like for theatrics. Seeing as he’s done neither of those things, it’s hardly worth my time.” Sherlock ranted with a wave of his hand.

You scoffed. “He’s one for theatrics? Jesus have you looked in the mirror recently.” Your tone caught sherlocks attention.

“What’s wrong with you today?” He asked, looking away from his work.

You shuffled slightly. “Nothing. It’s just- I don’t know.” You sighed looking down at your feet.

You did know. Your feelings for sherlock were causing more issues for you as the days went on. You were beginning to care about him, too much. Everything he did was causing you to fall more in love with him. And it hurt. Not only because you knew he wouldn’t love you back, but because he didn’t care about himself. Every day he would put his life on the line, throwing himself right into the middle of a warzone whether it be with terrorists or serial killers or whatever else, he had no regard for his own life. Whether he lived or died, it didn’t matter to him as long as he was right. But it mattered to you. Loving him resulted in a constant life of worry. The thought of him dying, it hurt your heart more than you cared to admit. As much as the detective meant to you, life before you were in love with him was a lot simpler.

“You’re lying.” Sherlock replied, snapping you from your train of thought.

“Oh well”

“It’s obvious you’re lying. The way you’re standing gives it away almost immediately. By the way you’re fidgeting with your hands I’m guessing it’s to do with someone you care about, someone you love. A friend, family member, a significant other potentially-“

“Sherlock would you just shut up?” You snapped at him.

He looked slightly shocked by your tone. Not at the fact you’d shouted, no he’d heard that plenty of times, but it was never directed at him.

“You know sometimes people like to keep things to themselves. If I wanted you to know I would’ve told you. What the hell gives you the right to deduce me and find something out I never wanted you to know. I thought as my friend you’d have a little bit more respect for my privacy.” You ranted as you grabbed your coat.

“What? y/n where are you going?” Sherlock stood up, confused by your reaction.

“Out. I need some air. Go help Lestrade.” You replied, before slamming the door.

******

You ran your fingers through your hair as you took a seat in the far corner of your favourite coffee shop, thoughts of sherlock whirling round your head. You needed to move past this silly little crush you had. It was already starting to cause tension between the pair of you and you knew if it continued either your friendship would fall apart all together, or sherlock would find out and reject you. Either way ended in you losing him. You needed a distraction, someone to take him off of your mind. But who? John was like your brother so that was off the table, Mycroft rather repulsed you instead of attract you. The thought of asking Greg out had crossed your mind, sure he was attractive enough, but you were too close as friends. Plus you knew your heart wouldn’t be in it. No you needed someone new, someone to sweep you up in a whole new world of emotion. It didn’t necessarily have to be true love, just something to occupy your mind. Slowly you started to realise how hopeless you truly were. You had no time to meet anyone new and all the men in your life weren’t enough. You sighed, looking down at your coffee.

“Excuse me? Is this seat taken?” A smooth Irish voice filled your ears.

You looked up to see a rather attractive man with slicked back black hair and a grey suit jacket on standing in front of you. You felt your stomach flutter as he smiled at you expectantly. His eyes were beautiful. He cleared his throat, still waiting for an answer. You shook your head slightly, chuckling to yourself.

“Um sorry, no its not.” You replied.

“Mind if I sit? It's pretty busy in here and they told me it would be about a half an hour wait.” He said, chuckling.

“By all means” You smiled gesturing to the seat in front of you.

He thanked you and sat down. The two of you sat in silence for a moment. He was looking towards the counter which allowed you to take in his features a little better. His jaw line was magnificently chiselled, line with a short layer of stubble. His arms looked well defined, even under the jacket. He gave off a familiar vibe even though you were certain you had never seen this man before in your life. But something about him felt, comfortable, almost.

“I’ve just realised.” His voice came, breaking you from your thoughts. “Here I am intruding on you and your coffee, and I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m James.” He said holding his hand out to you.

“Hi James, I’m y/n. And you’re not intruding at all, I’ve just been sitting here wallowing in my thoughts.” You joked, internally cringing at yourself.

However, James didn’t seem weirded out by your statement.

“Something bothering you?” He asked, looking genuinely interested.

You questioned whether or not to say anything, you had just met. In the end you figured – what’s the worst that can happen.

“I think I’m in love with my best friend. And it sucks.” You confessed with a weak smile.

James nodded, smiling slightly. “Okay. Do they not feel the same?” He asked.

“Well I haven’t told him, but no. Relationships, feelings that whole lot – not really his thing. But that’s not even the worst part.” You sighed.

James watched you, staying silent allowing you to continue.

“His job, it’s not the safest. But he helps people, which is good, but he has no regard for his life. I guess it’s just an occupational hazard to him, but watching the man I love almost die like every day of my life is fucking draining. And every time I even try to explain it to him he just gets all stroppy about how I shouldn’t care about what happens to him and that it’s his life and I can’t stop him, which I don’t want to do because I know if he stopped working that a lot of people would suffer. That doesn’t stop him infuriating me on a daily basis.” You ranted, running your fingers through your hair.

“That’s why I am here. He was just getting too much for me.” You concluded leaning back in your chair.

“That sounds really intense.” James replied.

“Yeah his job is a bit mental but like I said he helps-“

“-no no I meant you. The fact that you care so deeply about this man is honestly beautiful, but him seemingly not caring about how his actions effect you – that is intense. And in no way fair to you.” He said, looking you in the eyes.

You were slightly shocked; no one you’d talked about this had ever taken the time to see it from your perspective. But here you were sat with some random bloke in a coffee shop, feeling more seen than ever before.

“Oh…yeah I guess.” Was your response.

You mentally face palmed, what sort of response was that?!

“Americano for J M. J M?” Someone shouted over the sea of people.

James’ head whipped round as he stood to grab his drink. Part of you was sad he was leaving so soon, even if you had just met him.

“Well, I best be off. Told my colleague I’d only be gone a few minutes.” He chuckled, a warm smile spreading over him.

“I’m sorry to have kept you. It was nice meeting you James.” You replied, smiling back.

“Don’t be sorry, it was nice to meet you to y/n. See you around.”

And with that he left. A sigh escaped your lips as you rested your chin against the palm of your hand. He could’ve been just the distraction you were hoping for, but you scared him off with an overload of emotions. Whatever, you’d just need to go out to a bar or something. Even something as simple as a one-night stand would be great right about now. Just as you started to pack up your stuff to leave, the same man appeared at the edge of the table once again.

“James? Did you forget something?” You asked looking around the table.

“Um yes. Well no not exactly. I just wanted to- I know you’re into your friend- we just met so- oh god I’m making a right mess out of this.” He chuckled looking down at his hand which was still grasping the cup from earlier.

“Would you like to go to dinner?” He spat out.

You were once again rendered speechless for a moment.

“I know you said you’re in love with your friend so if you don’t want to or think it would be weird because you hardly know me then that’s fine I just think your beautiful and deserve someone who can treat you well. Not that I’m saying that has to be me but-“

“James?” You cut him off from his ramble.

He looked hopefully at you.

“I’d love to go to dinner.” You said smiling at him.

He left out a sigh of relief. “Okay, brilliant. Do you want to take my number and text me? Or I could take yours?”

“Here” You handed him your phone. “You put your number in there and I’ll take this” You said reaching for his phone. “And put mine in. That way we both can contact the other.”

You typed your number in and handed it back. You took your phone from him, laughing at the contact name

“Mr Americano?” You said glancing up at him.

“You can’t tell me it’s not accurate.” He said laughing.

“Well I’ll be looking forward to your text.” You spoke.

“I’ll see you soon y/n.” He said as he waved goodbye walking out the door.

*****

You returned to 221b in a much better mood. James had texted on the walk home and you’d arranged to go for dinner the next day at 7. You told him you’d meet him there although he did try to convince you to let him pick you up, but you didn’t want sherlock to grill him.

“y/n? Is that you?” The detectives voice called out.

You sighed before replying, preparing yourself for the inevitable conversation to come. “Yeah hi sherlock.”

He came round the corner as you slumped onto the sofa.

“Are you okay?” He asked standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Yeah I’m fine. I’m sorry about earlier, I was just tired and in a bad mood. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” You apologized.

“Don’t be. It’s me who should be sorry.”

Your head snapped up at his words. It wasn’t like Sherlock to say sorry.

“I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like that. You’re my friend and I never want to make you uncomfortable. And I did. So you had every right to be angry at me.” He explained, taking a seat in his chair.

You smiled at him softly. “Thank you Sher, that means a lot. But I’m not angry anymore.” You said genuinely.

“You do appear to be in a better mood. Coffee shop must have worked its magic.” He said glancing at the to go cup still in your hand.

“Something like that.” You muttered, feeling your cheeks blush as you looked at the ground.

“You met someone?” Sherlock stated. Well it was more of a question.

You sighed. There was no point denying it, he could clearly read it in you.

“Yeah. I did. We’re going out tomorrow night.” You replied happily.

“Who’s going out tomorrow night?” John asked as he entered, taking a seat in his chair opposite sherlock.

“I am. I met someone at the coffee shop. He sat at my table, and we started talking. He asked me out and I said yes.” You had the biggest grin on your face, but you were excited.

Excited that someone asked you out, and that you actually felt some type of attraction to him. This could be more than just a distraction. You shook your head slightly at the thought. You’d just met him, there was no reason to be dreaming of a future already. Johns’ eyebrows raised at you.

“Wow.” He glanced at sherlock, who hadn’t said anything. “That’s great y/n. Will we meet him?”

You laughed. “No.”

This caught sherlocks attention. “Why not?” The boys said in unison.

You gestured at the two of them. “Have you met the pair of you? I love you both, but I really don’t need you scaring off the one guy who actually wants to take me on a date.” You picked your stuff up and headed to your room. “I’m going to sleep. See you both in the morning.”

“It’s only 8 o clock” John yelled.

“Well I’m exhausted. Goodnight” You called before closing your bedroom door.

*the next evening*

“Why can’t you come over? It would be a lot easier.” You groaned over the video call.

“Because Tom is over, and I don’t want to leave him.” Molly replied smiling.

You smiled for her. Even if her new boyfriend looked almost identical to Sherlock, you were glad she had someone.

“Okay well what do you think?” You tried to show her the whole dress but trying to fit yourself in the frame was rather awkward.

“I don’t know, dresses aren’t normally your thing are they?” She asked.

“Well no, but I haven’t been on a date in a while, so I wanted to make an effort.” You replied, straightening the skirt.

“Where’s he taking you?”

“Just a little Italian place. Never been there before but it’s near the river. I’ve walked past it like a hundred times.”

“I think you should wear the black dress.” Molly suggested. “The one you showed me at Christmas that you never wore?”

You looked at her, unsure. “Really? Do you know think it’s a bit, I don’t know, flashy?”

“Not at all. It’s perfect. Go on, put it on.” Molly beamed at you hopefully.

You thought about it for a second. “Okay fine, give me a second.” You said, earning a little clap from the screen.

You pulled the blue dress off and found the black one. You pulled it out, admiring it for a moment. It truly was a beautiful dress. It was a soft flowy material, the front falling just above the knees while the back trailed a couple inches further down. The top was in a crossed over, v line neck with two flowy straps going round the neck like a halter top. The back was open which just added to the beauty. It was scattered with sparkles that caught in the light in the most elegant way. In all honesty, you’d been looking for an excuse to wear this for a while. You slipped it on, paired with a pair of chunky black heels as well as your black dahlia necklace. You returned to your phone, so molly was able to see my outfit.

“Well?” You asked nervously.

“Oh my god!! You look gorgeous” Molly squealed.

You laughed slightly but had to agree with her. For the first time in a while, you felt truly beautiful.

“I was thinking of bringing my little black clutch and maybe doing my hair in a messy bun?” You suggested, scooping your hair up.

“Do not touch your hair.” Molly practically yelled.

You blinked, eyes wide, as you dropped your hair. “Why not?”

“Y/n your natural hair is perfect. It looks so much nicer if you leave it down.” She explained.

“But will it not look really messy?” You very rarely wore your hair down due to the fact it was naturally very curly. You always thought it looked quite shabby.

“No trust me. It looks amazing.” You sighed. You trusted her opinion, so you left it. Just then a notification popped up on your phone.

“On my way, be there in about 20 minutes. J x”

“Oh shit, I’ve got to go. He’s on his way there. Okay, thank you for everything Molls. I’ll talk to you later.” You grabbed your things before hanging up the phone.

You rushed out of your room, not even noticing the boys in the front room.

“Wow.” John’s voice came from in front of you.

Your head snapped up, finally clocking they were there. John was sat at the desk with his laptop as stood staring the wall with a bunch of newspaper clippings all over it.

“Y/n you look…wow.” John repeated, looking you up and down.

“uh thank you?” You chuckled nervously as you double checked the contents of my bag.

“I mean that in a good way of course.” He reassured.

You nodded. “Good to know.”

You pulled your jacket on and double checked your makeup in the mirror.

“Right boys, I’m off. No idea what time I’ll be home so don’t wait up.” You turned to walk out the door but walked straight into a certain detective’s chest.

“Jesus sherlock.” He stared down at you, his eyes raking over your body.

“I have to go Sher I’ll be late.” You said, hoping he’d move.

“You are utterly divine.” He muttered. Your heart jumped for a moment.

“What?” You whispered.

He cleared his throat, shaking his head slightly as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He moved to the side, letting you move past.

“Have a nice time. Call if you need anything.” He said, turning his back to you.

You stood there, momentarily stunned before you snapped back into reality. You walked towards the door.

“Right. Um yeah, I’ll see you later.” And with that you left the flat, still processing what Sherlock had said.

****

The date was wonderful. James was an absolute gentleman, and if you were being totally honest with yourself – you were falling for him. Since the restaurant the two of you had been out on a good few dates, each one of them making you fall further and further for him. Sherlock wasn’t pleased. You were never around anymore. Well that isn’t strictly true, considering he lives with you, and you help him on cases but in his mind you weren’t there. He felt like he never got a moment to just be with you, without the stress of a mass murderer or a kidnapping on his mind. John had noticed the change in the detective’s behaviour, which just amused him.

“Y/n, we need to go to Cornwall this weekend for a case. It’s a big one, we think Moriarty is behind it.” Sherlock said, striding into the room with john following shortly behind you.

“Hello to you too” You mumbled, adjusting your position on the sofa.

“We are leaving early tomorrow so be ready.” Sherlock continued, ignoring your comment.

“I can’t come, I have plans.” You replied casually.

“Going out with your coffee man again? That’s what like 3 times this week?” John asked, sitting down next to you.

“Yep, he’s got a whole weekend planned for us.” You smiled.

The detective froze, his back to you. The excitement in your voice was evident and Sherlock felt an intense wave of anger wash over him. He didn’t like this side of himself, and he had no idea why you being happy was provoking this reaction from him. He usually loved nothing more then when you were smiling or laughing. But he wanted to be the one making you feel that way.

“Did you not hear what I said? This case has got Moriarty written all over it. You can’t just decide not to come because of some random idiot you met at a coffee shop.” Sherlock seethed.

You frowned at him, standing to face him. “He’s not some random idiot Sherlock. He means a lot to me.” You argued.

“Well then maybe you’re an idiot too. Look cancel your plans; we need you with us.”

You laughed in his face. “I am not an idiot for falling for someone who actually gives two shits about me and treats me well. I’m sorry you don’t know what it feels like to have someone want to be around you but I’m not cancelling my plans to help you with some bullshit case so you can insult me more.” You raged.

You hadn’t meant to sound quite so harsh, but he was really winding you up. Ever since you’d started dating James he took any opportunity he could to make you feel bad about being happy and you were sick of it. You were finally getting over him and he chooses to be an arse about it. Sherlock blinked back at you, momentarily shocked by your words. The tension in the air was thick before he decided to speak again.

“Y/n, we need you. I need you there. Please” He asked, his tone a lot softer.

You sighed, looking at the floor. “I’m sorry Sherlock. I hope it goes well.” You replied before leaving the flat.

Sherlock watched as you left, unable to fully comprehend what had just happened.

“Well…that was…something.” John commented.

*****

The next day when you woke up, the boys had already left. You felt bad because you hadn’t spoken to Sherlock since the argument and now you weren’t going to see him for two days. Thoughts of him getting hurt, or something worse began to flash through your mind. You couldn’t let yesterday be the last thing you said to him. You scrambled to get your phone, finding his contact before shooting him a message. Down in Cornwall, Sherlocks phone buzzed as he was examining a body.

“John.” He instructed.

John sighed “yeah I know, give me a second”

John grabbed the phone from the detective’s coat before pulling up the message. “

Its from y/n” John said.

Sherlocks head snapped up, grabbing the phone from john.

“I didn’t mean what I said. You just know how to push every single one of my buttons Mr Holmes. Stay safe and catch me a killer. y/n xx” Sherlock grinned at the message before promptly putting the phone back in his pocket.

After a while you decided you should probably et up and start getting ready for you’re weekend away. James had told you he’d be round to collect you and 2pm and you still hadn’t packed. It was exciting that he wanted to surprise you, but without knowing where you were going – you didn’t have a clue what to pack. You stared at the wardrobe in front of you, hands on your hips as you wracked your brain on what the best choice was here. However, before you could continue our mental debate much longer your phone started ringing. Deciding to come back to your clothes later, you grabbed your phone and headed to the kitchen.

“Hey, you” You answered happily.

“Hey y/n, how are you?” James asked over the phone.

“I’m good, definitely not packing last minute I don’t know why you would even suggest that” You reply with a light chuckle.

James laughed nervously, making your brow furrow in confusion.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah…well actually no. Look I’m really sorry, but I can’t actually take you where I’d planned this weekend” He replied.

Your heart sunk a little as you placed the cup of tea you’d been making on the counter in front of you.

“Oh.” Was all you could think to say.

You had been really excited to get away with him.

“I am so sorry. But something came up at work which means I actually have to stay in London.”

You felt a twinge of annoyance at that. You’d turned down a work opportunity for him, but he couldn’t do the same for you? Not that he knew you done that but that wasn’t the point.

“But I still want to see you. I was just thinking we could do something else instead. I’d offer to let you stay over at mine, but my roommates are pretty annoying and-“

“Stay at mine” You blurted out, not really thinking.

James still was yet to meet John and Sherlock, let alone visit your shared flat. But them being in a way for the weekend presented you with a window of opportunity.

“Really?” He sounded surprised at your suggestion.

“Yeah, I mean that way you don’t have to leave London and we still get to spend the weekend together.”

“But your roommates-“

“Are away for work. They won’t be back till Monday evening at the earliest. We can have the whole place to ourselves” You said, smiling.

“Well that could not be more perfect.” He replied.

“Brilliant, ill text you the address and you can head over for 12ish if that still works?” You suggested as you headed back to your room.

“Sounds good, I have a few work calls to make but I should be done with those in time and then I’ll head straight over.”

“Okay, ill see you soon James” You said goodbye, a grin on your face.

It hadn’t been the weekend you were expecting, but it was good enough for you. It also solved your packing issue. You shoved your suitcase back in your cupboard as you began to tidy the flat, the nerves of him seeing your place for the first time finally setting in. It’ll be fine You thought. A weekend in with eh guy you were falling for, what more could you ask for?

****

It was midday Sunday when the boys were finally back in London, making their way back to their flat. Neither one had bothered to tell you they were on their way home, assuming you were out with your mystery guy.

"john I’m telling you, there was no way Moriarty wasn’t leading us astray. That whole case was way too simple. He’s misdirecting us and we were stupid enough to fall for it.” Sherlock ranted as he unlocked the door.

“That may be true Sherlock but that doesn’t get us any closer to finding out what he’s got planned. You heard what Mycroft said, nothing else has happened while we’ve been away. He may have sent us on what was essentially a wild goose chase, but he hasn’t done anything else so what now?” John replied as they made there way up the stairs.

Sherlock was about to reply as he pushed the door to his flat open, but the sight before him made the words die in his throat.

“Sherlock?” John noticed how tense his friend had become. “What’s wrong-“ He stepped around the detective to look into the apartment, his face dropping in shock.

You heard the door swing open, your head snapping round to see Sherlock staring intently at you.

“What the fuck” You muttered scrambling to get off of James’s lap. You’d been enjoying a rather heavy make out session moments before. Your face flushed red as john also caught sight of you in the compromising position.

“Why are you guys’ home already?” You asked rather frustratedly.

James didn’t say anything, but you noticed his grip on you hadn’t loosened.

“Y/n, come here.” Sherlocks voice was low, almost scarily so.

His eyes burned into you as he glared at you. You noticed the lack of colour in John’s face. Why were they being so weird?

“What? No! What the hell is wrong with the pair of you? You’re acting like you’ve never seen someone kiss before” You scoffed.

“Y/n seriously, listen to him.” John said, a hint of nerves laced in his tone.

You stared at the two of them, feeling increasingly more annoyed. Why were they being so ridiculous?

“No!! John what the hell-“

“Get over here. Now” Sherlock demanded once more.

You were about to reply when you heard a small chuckle from behind you.

“I’m not going to hurt her if that’s what you think” James said from behind you.

You noticed now the boys weren’t glaring at you, but rather him. You turned to face him, utterly lost. His face had changed, he didn’t look as kind as he had moments before. He wore a sinister smirk on his lips, his eyes gleaming with an emotion you couldn’t quite place but it unsettled you to no end.

“James? What are you talking about?”

“Let go of her wrist then” Sherlock replied, talking to him as if you weren’t even in the room.

His words made you realise just how tight James was holding onto you. You tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you. Your heart was racing, a bad feeling sinking into your bones.

“James, let go” You tried to keep your voice steady, but he noticed the way it wavered.

He chuckled ominously, meeting your slightly panicked gaze. “Would you look at that” He leant forward, so close you could feel his breath on your face.

He reached up a hand to brush some hair from your face, causing you to flinch. “She’s scared. Poor thing. Rather pathetic actually, considering how you had your tongue down my throat not too long ago” He said, his words laced with venom.

Your face flushed red in embarrassment.

“Why are you being like this James?” You asked, your voice just higher than a whisper.

“You know that’s such a boring name. James” He grimaced as he said it. “No I much prefer Jim. Or the name your little friends over there know me by. Any guesses as to what it might be pet?” He asked you with a smirk.

You sat staring at him in silence. Nothing about this situation made sense.

“Moriarty” Sherlock’s voice answered for you.

Your blood ran cold. It felt like your heart had stopped beating as you stared at the man in front of you. The man you had developed feelings for. Your reality came crashing down around you. Fear swept through you as you sat there, frozen.

He grinned wickedly at you. “Hiya love.”

Suddenly you felt the cool metal of a blade against your stomach. You heard the boys tense from behind you. Your breath caught in your throat as Moriarty just laughed.

“Now what are we going to do with you?”

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

Thoughts?? Part two??

#x reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock reader insert #sherlockbbc #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock fandom #sherlock holmes #jim moriarty #moriarty the patriot #sherlock fanfic #fluff #angst #fanfic

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specialagentlokitty · 1 year

Text

Sherlock x reader - choices

So Sherlock fakes his death but he and reader were in a relationship. After he faked death, she found it hard to move on, but after a year she dated a guy, and that guy turned out to fall for him, she liked him but she knew loving someone else is hard. So when he was about to propose that day Sherlock appears? - Anon 💜

Looking at your boyfriend from your side of the table, you smiled softly as he handed you a menu.

“I’ve never been here before.” You said.

“Me neither, I’ve heard it’s really good though.” Ryan smiled.

You hummed, looking at the menu, not really paying much attention as he spoke to the waiter about choices of drinks.

Once he managed to get the waiter to leave, you placed your order for food and he cleared his throat as he looked at anything but you.

“Is everything alright Ry?” You asked.

“I.. I have something to talk to you about..”

He started to fiddle with the hem of his napkin and you titled your head a little bit.

“I know after what happened you found it hard to love again, and I know even now you’re still having a hard time with it. But I love you so much (Y/N), I really do, and I know I’ll never be him but I was wondering if-“

Ryan was cut off by the waiter coming back, setting a plate down in front of you with simple writing on it.

‘I’m back.’

You frowned and looked up, only to nearly fall out of your chair as you found the face looking back at you to be one you never thought you’d see again.

“No.. no…”

Ryan jumped up and stood in front of you, holding his arm back to keep you behind him.

“Oh please you know you don’t need the hero act.”

“I.. I need to go…”

You spun around and all but ran out of the restaurant, you didn’t even bother to get a taxi, you just ran down the street until your couldn’t run anymore.

Then you finally got a taxi straight back to your flat and you slammed the door shut, locking it, and then you shut all the windows and locked them.

Your phone chimed and you pulled it out to see you have numerous messages.

John: we need to talk.

John: right now we need to talk I’m coming over.

Ryan: I’m not sure what happened back there but I think I understand. Call me or message me to let me know you got home safe. I love you.

Sherlock: it’s rude to run away from someone.

Sherlock: I’m coming over.

Sherlock: John said you moved again.

Sherlock: I know you’re reading these.

Sherlock: stop ignoring me.

You tossed your phone aside and just sat on your bed, head in your hands as you tried to process everything that was going on.

A pounding on your door knocked you out of your head.

“(Y/N) it’s me!”

Getting up, you made your way to the door and opened it, there stood Mary, John and Ryan.

You let them all in without a word and closed and locked the door again.

As you turned around John hugged you tightly, and finally your tears fell free as you hugged him back.

“John.. I.. I.. I saw him.. he can’t.. he can’t be…” you sobbed out.

He shushed you and lead you to the sofa and sat you down, Mary made you some tea and Ryan just sat with you, holding your hand lightly in his.

“I know. He’s just done the same to me.”

You sniffled and looked up at your best friend, shaking your head a little.

“I.. I can’t…”

“I know. I know you can’t. It’s okay.” He said softly.

Mary sat down next to John on the table and she smiled softly at you.

“If it makes you feel better John didn’t let him get away with it. He’s currently treating a bloody nose and a split lip.”

You cracked a small smile and looked at John who just nodded his head with a little smile of his own and you sighed.

Leaning back, you rested your head on Ryan’s shoulder as you just tried to process everything.

“I watched him jump…”

“Maybe he had a good reason?” Ryan offered.

Was he upset that your ex mysteriously risen from the dead? Of course he was, but he also knew how much Sherlock really meant to you.

You scoffed, shaking your head a little.

“No, no there’s no reason he didn’t tell us. And Mycroft? Jesus of course Mycroft would’ve been part of it…” you mumbled.

It made sense, Sherlock wouldn’t have been able to pull this off without the help of Mycroft.

Mary and John stayed for another hours before they had to go home, but Ryan stayed with you.

He ran you a warm bath, he made your favourite drink and ordered your favourite food since you hadn’t had a chance to eat at the restaurant.

And he held you in bed as you cried, all the unwanted memories coming back up to haunt you.

You didn’t dare leave your flat for the fear you would bump into Sherlock somewhere.

You ignored his calls and texts, you ignored Mycroft, only messaging Mary, John, and Ryan when he was at work.

Days slowly turned into nearly a weak, and you were sitting in the sofa when the door opened so you turned to look at Ryan who was with Sherlock.

“Wait! Wait! Please, just talk to him.” Ryan sighed.

He walked over and knelt down in front of you, taking your hands in his as he gave you a gentle smile.

“I love you, okay? I love you so much, but I know you can’t love anyone like you loved Sherlock. Just hear him out okay? It’s up to you what you want to do, if you want to be with him, if you want to just take a break, or be with me that’s your choice. No matter what I won’t be angry, and even if we’re not together I’m always going to be here for you.” He said gently.

Ryan stood up, kissing the top of your head he walked to the door and nodded and Sherlock who gave a nod back and closed the door.

He wasn’t really sure what to do now, so he decided to walk over and sit on the sofa opposite from you.

He looked up at you, you refused to meet his gaze. You couldn’t even look at him.

Even after all the stupid things he had done, you had always looked at him, but you couldn’t even meet his gaze now, and something inside of him hurt at the thought of it.

“I watch you jump…” you whispered.

“There’s a good explanation.”

“A good…”

You stood up and walked over to him.

“A good explanation?! I watched you jump Sherlock! I watched you his that floor! I had you blood on my hands!”

You went to slap him but he quickly jumped up, dodging your hand as he walked around you, hands in the air.

“I had to do it. I couldn’t let Moriarty win.”

“I don’t give a crap about him Sherlock! I give a crap about the fact you didn’t tell me! I blamed myself for your death! I thought about everything I could’ve done to prevent it!”

“Why would you blame yourself? You never made me do it?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sat back down, looking at your hands as you balled them into fits, resting your forehead on them.

“I blamed myself because I thought I could’ve done something to help you… I wondered how I didn’t see the signs…”

Sherlock watched you for a moment before he slowly approached you, taking a seat next to you on the sofa.

“There’s no good reason for what you did.. you faked your own death…”

“I did it for you.”

You looked up at him.

“I did it to keep you safe. John, Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, I did it to keep you all safe, especially you.”

“I don’t care Sherlock… I.. I don’t care. I cried at your grave every day, I thought I’d never love someone ever again, I thought I’d I loved someone they’d leave too…”

Sherlock sighed.

He didn’t know what to say, because he knew nothing he said could make the pain he made you feel away.

No amount of words could fix that damage.

“I… I’m sorry (Y/N).”

You looked at him. Never had he apologised for anything.

“I have no right pushing my way back into your life, none. I know that. But I’m a selfish person, and I don’t want to come back if I can’t see you again.”

“Sherlock you can’t just expect it to go back to the way it was. Not after this… maybe you can with John… but not me… not after what we had…”

Sherlock nodded his head.

“I know. But you’re the better part of me, the human part of me. The part of me that tells me when I’m being rude or unfair, you’re the part of me that I don’t want to let go because I can’t.”

He reached out and touched your hands lightly, pulling away before he clasped your hands between his.

“I never wanted to hurt you, in fact you’re the last person I want to hurt.”

Sherlock looked at your, staring for a minute before he sighed.

“He was going to propose to you tonight. He loves you a lot. You don’t know who to choose, and that’s okay. Just think about it, he’s a good man, you deserve that.”

Sherlock kissed your forehead, lips lingering there, his hand coming to hold the side of your face as he pulled away.

“I know you need time to think, I have a case but I’ll be back.”

Sherlock left the flat and stood in front of your door.

He didn’t know how to tell you that every night he thought about you, every day he pictured your smiling in his head.

You were the only thing that kept him going through everything, the only reason he carried on powering through everything that had happened.

All he wanted to do was hold you, never let you go again because these past two years were unlike anything he had experienced.

Sherlock never thought he could care for anyone like he did for you.

Sherlock Holmes was so deeply, madly, in love with you it drove him mental.

But he knew after what he did he didn’t deserve you to forgive him.

He hoped you would choose him, but he couldn’t read you like he used to able to, you had changed so much, all he knew is you still loved him. But you loved Ryan, and you didn’t know who to chose.

Did you choose your first love? The one who broke your heart and trust? The one you were so deeply in love with?

Or did you choose you second love? The one who picked up the pieces of your broken heart? The one who would hold you every night when no one else could?

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

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 7 months

Text

A Supernatural Meeting at 221c Baker Street

Sam and Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, Sherlock and John x reader (platonic)

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you go to university in London, and make some interesting friends.

“So, this is the place,” Dean glanced around your small apartment with an appraising look.

“Yes, and it’s perfectly safe,” you scoffed. “No mold, no holes, no-“

The sudden crack of gunfire had both your brothers on high alert, but you just rolled your eyes.

“Excuse me,” you huffed, heading out your door and towards your neighbors, 221B Baker Street. Your brothers followed close on your heels.

“What the heck was that?” Sam demanded, and you waved him off.

“Nothing, I’ll take care of it,” you knocked on the door, and within seconds Mrs. Hudson was at the door, waving her hands frantically.

“Oh he’s shooting again, and John is out doing the shopping, will you please talk to him?”

“Of course Mrs. Hudson. These are my brothers, Sam and Dean, they’re going to stay down here with you while I talk to Sherlock, if that’s ok.”

Mrs. Hudson opened her mouth to reply, but Dean beat her to it.

“Like crap we are. You’re not confronting some crazy shooter alone.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you sighed. “Sherlock’s not dangerous, he’s just an imbecile.” You headed up the stairs towards Sherlock’s door, and despite your protests, your brothers followed.

You didn’t bother knocking as you shoved the door open, and Sherlock’s head jerked up in surprise, his gun hanging loosely from his hand.

“What are you-“

“Sherlock Holmes,” you glared at the man, marching up to him and holding out your hand for the gun. When he didn’t move, you snatched it out of his hands, despite his whining protests. “You’ve given poor Mrs. Hudson a heart attack, and you’re going to destroy the wall!”

“The wall is fine,” Sherlock growled.

“You’re behaving like a petulant two-year-old. You don’t have a case, so you vandalize things? That isn’t ok.”

Sherlock was about to retort, when he finally caught sight of your brothers behind you.

“Ah, Sam and Dean have come to visit.”

Sam and Dean shared a look, and you sighed.

“Sherlock, please don’t.”

“Tell Dean he can relax, the various weapons he’s itching to reach for will undoubtedly bring unwanted attention upon him.”

You glanced at Dean, and sure enough you saw his hand twitching at his side, right next to where you knew a blade was hidden.

“Dean, chill. I told you he’s not dangerous.”

“You think so?” Sherlock looked offended.

“How’d you-“

“Don’t,” you cut off Dean’s question. “Don’t ask, it just encourages him.”

“What’s going on in here?” You turned, a relieved sigh escaping you when you saw John enter the apartment. If anyone could diffuse this awkward situation between your sociopath neighbor and your overprotective brothers, it was John.

“This psychopath is shooting up the apartment,” Dean grumbled.

“High functioning sociopath,” Sherlock retorted.

“And…who are you?” John glanced back and forth between the two intimidatingly tall men in his living room, before he finally spotted you between them. “Ah, Y/N. Wait, are these…” he took another look at the boys, and you smiled.

“Yeah, this is Sam and Dean.”

“Great to meet you,” John stepped forward and shook hands with both of your brothers, who seemed hesitantly pleased at having a normal person in this conversation.

“You seem to know us,” Sam began. “But…who are you?”

“John Watson, and yeah your sister talks about you all the time. Being neighbors, we’ve gotten to know her quiet well,” John smiled at the newcomers, and they finally began to relax—slightly.

“And that guy?” Dean gestured at Sherlock.

“Ah, yes. He lives here too, he’s…different.” John seemed to piece together the last few minutes as he laid eyes on the wall. “Sherlock, the wall, again?”

“It was bothering me,” he grumbled.

“I’m sorry about him,” John sighed, turning his attention once again to the brothers.

“We’re just worried about her,” you cringed at Dean’s words, and John cut in reassuringly.

“He wouldn’t hurt a fly, he’s just a big baby.”

“Yeah I told him that, it just takes a while to sink in,” you glared at Dean when he shoved your shoulder.

“John, the case,” Sherlock suddenly bolted up, and John stared at him.

“How-“

“You’re still out of breath, you rushed up the stairs, and you have the newspaper gripped much too tightly in your hand. Something’s there, something important.”

“It’s…strange,” John admitted, and you didn’t miss the way that Dean straightened.

As John laid the paper out and Sherlock poured over it, Dean and Sam slowly came up behind him, intent on the strange and grisly crime that had just occurred. You felt a smile creep up on your face.

Maybe your crazy new friends and your strange family would get along after all.

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a-cup-of-earl-grey-please · 1 year

Text

Mastermind (A Songfic | BBC Sherlock x Fem!Reader)

Word count: 1,797 words

Pairing: BBC Sherlock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Truly a mastermind, Sherlock outsmarts himself and you; at least he thinks so. How will he ask you out, though?

Warning: first fic on tumblr (aka crappy writing/formatting), if you squint really hard with the hubble telescope—the tiniest bit of stalking, just basically fluff though

Gunshots rang through the room as the yellow smiley face on the wall was punctured in its left cheek once again. Sherlock was bored out of his mind. His mind was like a television—flashing with hundreds of different channels at the same time. Yet, none of them interested him.

He could hear John’s habitual limp, along with the slight thump of his walking cane, but another pair of shoes—heels, he noted—were hitting the floor as well. Giggling and oh-so-obviously chippy, you emerged first into his flat, John at your heels. Sherlock kept his head low, still running his fingers over his gun. You were probably John’s new date—whatever, nothing new.

The giggles stopped, and Sherlock felt something disappear from his mind—a small hollow hole was left.

He looked up. What Sherlock saw was nothing short of magnificent. The girl—or woman, should he say—John brought today was definitely not a supermodel, but there was this strange charm around you that brought him to stand up. Except he only did that—stood up and froze like an idiot.

Once upon a time, the planets and the fates

And all the stars aligned

You and I ended up in the same room

At the same time

“Erm, Sherlock, I’d like to-” John pointedly said after a few seconds.

“Oh, John, let me introduce myself—I am very capable of that.” You laughed a little, and Sherlock felt that missing something come back into his mind, full of warmth. He only watched as you approached him confidently.

You stuck your hand out, and Sherlock grasped it—a bit too earnestly, he realized.

And the touch of a hand lit the fuse

Of a chain reaction of countermoves

To assess the equation of you

The first thing he deduced: you were not dating John. John had a habit of rubbing his thumb over the back of his girlfriend’s hand. However, to his confused delight, Sherlock could feel the residue of hand cream—obviously applied to avoid the November weather in London affecting your soft skin—on the back of your hand.

The second thing he noticed? Your hand felt so—what’s the word?—nice in his hand. His mind went a million miles per hour after that realization: you were working an office job that was obviously not satisfying your intellectual desires, your boss was an absolute cock, and you seemed to enjoy Sherlock’s presence.

That last one caught him off guard.

“Y/N, John’s friend from uni. Nice to meet you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.”

He let go of your hand, still dazed by his last piece of deduction. The moment you let go, he knew he couldn’t wait to feel it again. He wondered why.

“Y/N?” He tested out your name—he liked how it felt on his lips. “Call me Sherlock, please.”

Checkmate, I couldn't lose

They did that several times, with a success rate of approximately 73% of seeing you—oh, the conversations you two had were magical and almost dreamy for Sherlock. You offered great insight into frustrating cases, and you had a collection of random facts that he could listen to for hours. You came over to his flat sometimes, giving excuses about something you read in the news about Sherlock or something, just to stay for hours talking with him. One time you two talked about the history of dish soap and how it affects what parts of their hands people dry with a towel after doing the dishes—leading him to a victorious solution to a serial killer case a few minutes afterward.

And of course, on this random Tuesday, Sherlock and John were at your favorite cafe again, strategically near your lunch break.

“Oh hey, Sherlock—and John.” You hastily added John, as if your eyes had simply glazed over poor John. “Didn’t expect to see you two here again, huh. I mean-” You approached them with your signature grin. John stood up to get another chair for you, cheerfully muttering about bloody coincidences.

What if I told you none of it was accidental

And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me?

A smug smile crept up on Sherlock, only to quickly drop when he saw the coffee stain on your blouse.

“Who did that?” He quietly interrupted. His eyes were transfixed upon that small stain.

“What?” Your eyes dropped down to the stain he was staring at. “Oh, that was my boss, but it was a mistake.” You said hastily, as you sat down. He saw your smile falter, however, as if you were insecure all day about the stain.

“No, it wasn’t. The shape of the stain is too lopsided for an accident that happened because of the sudden loss of balance. He just wanted to humiliate you. Look at where he spilled it. Almost strategically right in the middle of your—ehem—chest.” He cursed internally as he felt himself blush slightly as he said the word chest—hell, he might as well be a schoolboy with a crush.

Before you could escape your shock, he offered: “Why don’t we get you a new blouse, a better one, just to spite him? To show him that it does not affect you.” John stared at him as if Sherlock suggested that they take Mrs. Hudson to a nightclub. Sherlock Holmes never volunteered to go shopping with someone—especially not for someone.

“Oh, but my lunch break ends in a few minutes. Thanks for offering though. It’s all right, I guess.” You gave him a little smile—which did not reach your pretty eyes, he noticed—and stood up to leave. Sherlock froze, his mind going faster than ever. Without even realizing that John, confused as always, said goodbye to you without him, Sherlock sat there, thinking.

I laid the groundwork and then, just like clockwork

The dominoes cascaded in a line

“John, come on. We’re getting Ms. Y/L/N a new blouse because her boss is an absolute jerk to her. We can’t let that get to her head, can we?” Sherlock abruptly stood up, pulled his coat on, and left the cafe. John hurriedly caught up with him, carrying two coffees behind him, sarcastically grumbling about how Sherlock had once thought sentiment was a loser’s virtue. Sherlock dismissed the implications his statements had.

What if I told you I'm a mastermind?

In the bitter cold of London, Sherlock thought: Why was he doing this? What was going on? Was this—god forbid—love? Was he in—it hurt him to say the word—love? After interacting with you for less than three months? Sherlock lied to himself, pretending to think hard. No matter how hard he thought about you, the answer to those questions was clear.

“John, I’m in love.” He turned to John, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

John promptly dropped a coffee, and the other one dripped onto his beige jumper. Even in that situation, Sherlock proudly noted that his mental simulation about coffee stains had pinpoint accuracy.

“With Y/N, I presume?” John asked, exasperatedly attempting to get the stain out of his jumper.

“Yes, and intentionally so, I must admit.” Sherlock realized his mind had known all along that you were the one. He had absentmindedly figured out where you worked and your favorite cafe just so that he could fall in love with you. That bastard brain.

“So you dragged me along to this cafe three times a week, which coincidentally happened to be Y/N’s favorite as well?” John laughed, resigned. “You absolute bastard, you planned to fall in love with someone?” John asked incredulously as he absentmindedly followed Sherlock into a women’s clothing store. “So I was a blind idiot who just came along to your potential dates?”

If you fail to plan, you plan to fail

Strategy sets the scene for the tale

“Yes, and what do you think of this one?” Sherlock held up a peach-colored blouse. He knew your size, because of that one time you left your jacket on his sofa. His mind palace had immediately dedicated a whole room just for you, since the first time you two had met.

He had truly outsmarted himself. He had truly, once and for all, planned something without consciously planning, outsmarted himself without thinking, and fallen in love with someone without even registering a hint of romance in his mind. If he wasn’t dazed by this revelation, he would have been laughing for once.

No one wanted to play with me as a little kid

So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since

To make them love me and make it seem effortless

“Wrap it as a gift, please.” Sherlock said, as he approached the cashier with his credit card. “Oh, and throw in a card, please? I could also use a pen as well—if you don’t mind.” John threw him a strange look.

This is the first time I've felt the need to confess

And I swear

I'm only cryptic and Machiavellian 'cause I care

So I told you none of it was accidental

And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me

His small note wrote—hidden inside the gift box:

“A date. 5 o’clock, Friday. Your favorite cafe. Just me and you.

-SH

P.S. I must admit, I planned all the coincidental meetings we had so far. Forgive me.”

You had to cover your mouth to stop yourself from laughing out loud. First of all, that note was just so purely Sherlock—except for the “forgive me” part. Secondly, of course, you knew already! Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday—John and Sherlock were at that cafe. That’s a bit unusual, isn’t it?

I laid the groundwork and then saw a wide smirk

On your face, you knew the entire time

You knew that I'm a mastermind

You texted Sherlock: “Not the cafe again, I’ve had more than enough of that in the past two months you’ve been pursuing me. Angelo’s at 6 o’clock. Let’s have dinner. I won’t let you plan our first date as well. I’ve played along nicely for long enough.”

And now you're mine

Yeah, all you did was smile

Sherlock smiled with a warm glow of happiness as he heard the long-awaited ding from his phone.

And obviously, the night ended in a shy little peck on your lips from your new boyfriend.

‘Cause I’m a mastermind.

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