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#bbc sherlock fanfiction
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Last Updated: 2024-02-06
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Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite BBC!Sherlock Holmes stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.
Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning
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✑ A Week Early│Prt. II│Prt. III by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
Summary: You and Sherlock are having your first children; who've thought the famously emotionless detective would be such an anxious father.
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✑ A Little Love and Lots of Laughs by eurusholmmes • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
Summary: "It's been five years since you met Sherlock Holmes, four since you fell in love, and three since you married. [Now], you have [two children] who... happen to love picnics, swimming and spending time with their cousin Rosie and Uncle John."
✑ Absence of You by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "[You're] away on a mission…, leaving Sherlock to wrestle mentally with his importance in [your] life and how badly he wants [you] home."
✑ Always Attract by luxwritesfanfic • 〔F᜶M〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "The strobe lights won't stop blinding him and Sherlock can't seem to shake the feeling that he's missing out, until he realizes he isn't."
✑ Bedside Manner by luxwritesfanfic • 〔F᜶A〕 •
Summary: "Sherlock figures out who the father is and [a cat's got your] tongue."
✑ Brother, Annoying Brother by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 •
Summary: Sherlock's, once again, struggling to express feelings, refusing to admit he fancies you. Luckily, Mycroft knows just how to get him to confess.
✑ Champagne Problems by leftperfectionmoon • 〔A᜶C〕 •
Summary: reader turns down her boyfriend when he proposes to her as she has been in love with sherlock all this time.
✑ Closed for Today by coppercatswrites • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: Sherlock closes shop to take care of you while you're sick.
✑ Don't You Dare Say "I'm Sorry" by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔M〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
Summary: "Sherlock Holmes had sparred with many an intimidating nemesis. He'd faced off against the most fierce, twisted, cold, hard, calculating, fearful opponents known to man, however none of adversaries that had come before had invoked such terror and panic as the one he was currently staring down."
✑ Exact Opposite by lykaonimagines • 16+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "When his brother still refuses to get dressed and take the case he has for him seriously, Mycroft calls [you in] to handle the situation."
✑ Expectant by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F᜶M〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
Summary: "[You're] acting strange, and Sherlock notices. [After] confessing the truth and... He struggles to find the words."
✑ Feeling is Mutual, the by classickook • 〔F᜶A〕 •
Summary: "You've been harbouring a crush on Sherlock for quite some time now but are determined to keep it a secret for as long as [possible]. Foolish of you to think he wouldn't figure it out... and maybe he'll even return your sentiment?"
✑ Game is On, the by classickook • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "You have a little surprise for Sherlock that turns out differently than you had originally planned."
✑ Headache by bewarethecrazyperson • 〔F᜶C〕 • 🚫 •
Summary: "...While it was rare for you to get a proper headache, it wasn't unfamiliar for you or the boys when one resurfaced. They usually let you be, knowing that rest, medication and sleep would usually take care of the problem. [However,] what happens when you accidentally take one of Sherlock's pills?"
✑ Holmes, the by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 •
Summary: When Sherlock's parents invite you to dinner, mistaking you for his girlfriend, it pushes their son to finally tell you how he feels.
✑ If You're Shy (Let Me Know) by classickook • 18+ • 〔E᜶M᜶F〕 •
Summary: "When Irene won't stop teasing you about your lack of experience, Sherlock comes to your defence and maybe even proves the woman wrong."
✑ Ignorance and Lunch Dates by thepokyone • 〔M᜶F〕 •
Summary: "Sherlock was clever. Everybody knew that - especially you, considering you had been friends with him since high school. Being friends with Sherlock had its pros, but it also had its cons."
✑ Jealous? by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: {…}
✑ Jealous, Love? by annesthaeticc • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♡ •
Summary: "Sherlock Holmes doesn't get jealous. Well, that was until you volunteered to help him out on a case that puts his feelings for you in jeopardy."
✑ Kidnapped by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ • 🚫 •
Summary: {…}
✑ Kissing Advice by imagine-by-susu • 〔A᜶C〕 •
Summary: When Irene taunts Sherlock with his sexual inexperience, the detective seeks out your advise on the matter. However, the situation does go quite how Sherlock hoped…
✑ Kiss Me Mr. Detective by angeli-marco-writes • 18+ • 〔E᜶C〕 •
Summary: Following an argument with John, Sherlock seeks comfort from you, the one person who's always supported him. The evening takes an turn leading to a night of exploration and intimacy. The only question left is whether or not you'll stay the night?
✑ Let's Have Dinner│Prt. II by classickook • 〔A〕 •
Summary: "as Sherlock's neighbor and friend, you've spent quite a bit of time with the detective and developed feelings for him. unfortunately for you, however, his heart belongs to another."
✑ Make Up by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: Although you never enjoy fighting with Sherlock, you love making up afterwards.
✑ Men by imaginesbyella • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "You work at the MI-6 Headquarters for Lady Smallwood. You love your job, but one day someone shows up and things get a little bit weird."
✑ Nicknames by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "4 times you used nicknames for Sherlock."
✑ On Edge│Prt. II by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 18+ • 〔E〕 •
Summary: "Sherlock has no cases and John forbid him to smoke... [leading] Sherlock to find other ways to take out his frustration and, at the same time, showing [you] what it's like to be on edge."
✑ On Tap by luxwritesfanfic •
Summary: "Sherlock insists that it would work better with [you] on top and after the night [you] had, there's no point in arguing."
✑ Other Woman, the by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 18+ • 〔F᜶A〕 •
Summary: {…}
✑ Puppy Luv by annesthaeticc • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "While on a case, Sherlock Holmes stumbles upon a new friend… He brings her home, and fluff ensues."
✑ Rest of Our Lives│Prt. II by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "Sherlock returns home late after a week long case, and contemplates the current state of their relationship."
✑ Safe Space by lykaonimagines • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "During an argument over one of Sherlock's experiments, [you realize] some events in his life have impacted him more than he usually let on."
✑ Sentiment by goldencherriess • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "Sherlock finds himself entranced by Lestrade's best friend and co-worker."
✑ Tipsy by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: When John and Sherlock return to the flat, absolutely smashed, it's up to you and Mrs. Hudson to ensure they're looked after.
✑ Waltz by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 •
Summary: {…}
✑ White Lillies by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 •
Summary: You mistakenly confess you feelings to Sherlock, as it happens his reaction is rather sweet.
✑ Woman, the by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "[You] enters 221B and instantly notices the smell of another woman's perfume. [You realize] it's Irene Adler who is [trying] to convince Sherlock that she is a better woman for him."
✑ Woman Who Was No Lady, the by whereiputtheotherstuff • 〔F᜶A〕 •
Summary: A tense conversation with Irene Adler makes Sherlock realize something extraordinary about you.
✑ Why Do I Want to Do This Again
✑ You Don't Know Him Like I Do by classickook • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "You're sick and tired of constantly hearing insults thrown at Sherlock about how he handles his emotions."
✑ Your Stupid Face by gaitwae • 〔F〕 •
Summary: "Sherlock is too proud to admit to anybody he likes you, but John knows."
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✑ Affirmation by eurusholmmes • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ All Day by classickook • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Announcement, the by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔M〕 •
✑ Another One!? by imaginesbyella • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
✑ Bad Day by oneshots-imagines-and-that • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Bagels by grace-writes-shit • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
✑ Birds and Bathtubs by deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Blissful Morning by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Boring Days, the by thepokyone • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Cuddling? Cuddling. by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Dating and Doctors by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Emotions and Experiments
✑ Enjoy the Show Brother by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Fatherly Advice by imaginesbyella • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ F*ck It by coppercatswrites • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Jaw Kisses by eurusholmmes • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Keep Breathing by eurusholmmes • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Lust by geeks-universe • 16+ • 〔E〕 •
✑ Lying Detective, the by deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts •
✑ Made for Each Other by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Measurements by classickook • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Morning Light by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Never Stood a Chance by luxwritesfanfic • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ New Family by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ No Flirting by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Not on the Couch by imagine-by-susu • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Our First Kiss by eurusholmmes • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Our Little Game by justauthoring • 〔F〕 •
✑ Psychology of Cute by oneshots-imagines-and-that • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Resurrection by moonlightsong • 〔A᜶F〕 •
✑ Rewritten Memory by gaitwae • 〔F〕 •
✑ Safe in Your Arms by classickook • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Stressed by generallynerdy • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Tease by classickook • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Tell It Like It Is by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Texting by imaginesbyella • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ These Words Of Mine by eurusholmmes • 〔A〕 •
✑ Thinking Out Loud by grace-writes-shit • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Wedding Day by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Why Did You Kiss Me? by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 •
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✑ Babysitting Rosie w/ Sherlock... by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • 𑁍 •
✑ Being Sherlock's Pregnant Wife... by tessimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
✑ Cuddling w/ Sherlock... by spilledkauffie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Dating Sherlock Holmes... by spilledkauffie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Getting into Trouble w/ Sherlock... by geeks-universe • 16+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
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See Also: Navigation || BBC!Sherlock Master Index
Authors: @angeli-marco-writes || @annesthaeticc || @bewareofthecrazyperson || @classickook || @coppercatwrites || @deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts || @eurusholmmes || @gaitwae || @geeks-universe || @generallynerdy || @goldencherriess || @grace-writes-shit || @imagine-by-susu || @imaginesbyella || @justauthoring || @leftperfectionmoon || @luxwritesfanfic || @lykaonimagines || @magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics || @moonlightsong || @oneshots-imagines-and-that || @prettyxlittlexwriter || @spilledkauffie || @tessimagines || @thepokyone || @whereiputtheotherstuff || @writings-of-a-british-fangirl ||
328 notes · View notes
lilmoonbunny · 4 months
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Denial; Mycroft Holmes
Mycroft only seeked you out to deduce you (aka, how Mycroft realised he liked you).
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John and Sherlock were, without a doubt, the loudest neighbours that Y/N had ever had.
Gunshots at God only knows what hour, constant stabbing, banging, and so on. Despite this, she still considered them dear friends and the best neighbours that she had ever had. Sure, they were weird and loud, but they were also kind and genuine, at least for the most part. Alongside this, they also appreciated her baking, especially after long cases.
A gentle knock sounded on the door the 221B catching the attention of three people.
“You can come in, Y/N,” Sherlock called from behind the door, greeting the woman with a nod before turning his attention back to Mycroft whilst John smiled at her.
“Hi, Sherly. Hi, John.” She smiled at the two friends before turning to the older Holmes brother. “Hi, Mr Holmes.” Y/N greeted him with a smile. Although she hadn’t met him before, it wasn’t difficult to deduce who he was; the expensive suit and the fact Sherlock was glaring at him gave it away.
“Sherly?” Mycroft spat, grimacing at the nickname given to his brother. “Who on Earth would you let call you that?” He asked.
“This is Y/N, our neighbour. What have you brought for us today? I’ve been looking forward to this all week.” The sweet smile Sherlock gave to the woman made Mycroft feel ill. He had no clue who this woman was and absolutely no idea why they seemed to be this close.
“Chocolate cake, sugar cookies, and love.” She joked, beginning to laugh at the way Mycroft audibly gagged. “I’m only kidding. No love.”
“I should certainly hope not,” came Mycroft’s response, one which simply made her laugh again.
“Are you jealous, Mycroft?”
“Because of the cake, he is.” Sherlock interrupted, waving Myrcoft off. “No, I won’t take the case. You can leave now.”
“This is an urgent matter, brother mine.”
“Don’t care.”
With a groan and a roll of his eyes, Mycroft lifted himself to his feet and prepared to leave.
“I’ll leave these with you, just in case you change your mind. Goodbye brother mine. John.” The hesitation was obvious on Mycroft’s face, despite how well he typically hid his emotions, as he faced Y/N.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr Holmes.” Y/N smiled sweetly, earning a simple nod from him before he left.
Sherlock, who had leaned to grab the tub of baked goods from the woman’s hands, rolled his eyes as Mycroft left and immediately began to eat.
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It wasn’t long until Y/N’s entire life had been researched.
There wasn’t much there. No criminal record, a few jobs, occasional moves, but no sign of her posing any danger to Sherlock and, by association, John. However, the way Mycroft felt upon seeing her was unusual, so he decided to do his own investigation.
“Morning, Mr Holmes,” he was greeted before he reached the empty counter. “Welcome to my bakery! Would you like anything?”
“Just a coffee, please. Black.” Mycroft nodded, not returning the smile she had given, despite the odd feeling it gave him. She was evil and he would prove it to Sherlock.
“Coming right up! Take a seat wherever you’d like, and I’ll bring it over.”
As Mycroft occupied a seat, he took a moment to properly assess the woman making his drink.
She didn’t seem threatening: a content smile on her lips as she prepared his coffee, humming a quiet tune that he barely picked up on. In fact, she didn’t seem out of the ordinary at all, but the feeling when he first saw her – a feeling Mycroft couldn’t explain – had him needing to investigate her further.
“Here you go, Mr Holmes.” Y/N said, placing a hot coffee and chocolate cake on the table in front of him. “Sherlock mentioned that you like cake, so I grabbed you some. It’s all on the house.”
“Why?”
With a small laugh, she responded without hesitation. “You’re Sherlock’s brother.”
How odd, Mycroft thought to himself. She doesn’t even know me and she’s giving me things for free…
Despite his thoughts, Mycroft simply nodded, watching as she took a seat opposite him. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s quiet today so I figured I’d try and keep you company the best I can. I’m sure you have better company than me, though.”
“I don’t mind,” he replied before even thinking. It was safe to say that he didn’t enjoy the way his chest felt whilst he watched her smile.
Maybe she’s a witch? No, don’t be stupid, Mycroft. They don’t exist.
“So,” Y/N’s voice broke the man from his thoughts. “It’s a funny story how me, Sherlock, and John met. I was actually working and Sherlock bursts in demanding to talk to me. My baking stuff had been found at a crime scene and he thought it was me!”
“How interesting.” Came Mycroft’s blunt reply, even if he was intrigued.
“You listened to it, so you must care, even just a little bit. I think that’s a win for me!”
Mycroft couldn’t help the tiniest smile that crawled onto his lips, but he internally prayed that nobody noticed it, especially her. She, however, seemed oblivious to the movement, simply staring over his shoulder and out of the window.
“Anyway, what was he like growing up? Was he like he is now? Blunt and rude?” Y/N asked with a giggle.
“He wasn’t, actually. He was rather sweet. He liked playing pretend with his friend; he always wanted a dog too.” Came Mycroft’s reply. “His favourite thing was pirates.” He said with a fond look in his eyes. Sherlock wasn’t going to be happy when he found out that he had told her, but he couldn’t resist answering her question.
Mycroft watched closely as the woman in front of him grinned, the bright and happy smile a nice contrast to what he was used to whilst working with the government. He couldn’t help but smile back, noting how her smile widened further as he did so.
“That’s sweet. I couldn’t imagine that, to be honest,”
It was time to ask the question that was on his mind. “Are you attracted to Sherlock?”
“Sherlock?” Y/N said, bursting into laughter. “No, absolutely not. He’s more like an annoying older brother. Same with John. We’re just friends, and, well, neighbours too.”
Confusion spread over Mycroft as she felt the weight on his shoulders lift at her words; she was telling the truth.
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“How is she?” Sherlock asked the moment he answered the phone.
“How is who?” Mycroft’s voice sounded through the device.
“Y/N,”
“Why do you assume that I know?”
“It’s obvious you were there earlier.”
“…”
“Well, that and Mrs Hudson told us.”
“Of course she did.” Mycroft said with an involuntary roll of his eyes.
“So, how was it?”
“It was fine.”
“You like her then?”
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, you went to see her. It’s quite obvious, Mycroft. Come on, I thought you were smarter than that.”
Mycroft simply put the phone down.
He did not like her.
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The next time that Mycroft came across Y/N was when it was raining.
He hadn’t wanted to seem ‘creepy’ by seeking her out again for more investigations and deductions, so he simply waited. She was friends with his brother, it wasn’t like their paths wouldn’t cross at some point. Besides, he didn’t want Sherlock to think that he liked her.
“Raining real bad tonight, isn’t it?” The driver spoke to Mycroft. He was new, so Mycroft couldn’t exactly blame him for attempting some type of conversation with him; it was still annoying, though.
Anthea, looking up from her phone was what caught Mycroft’s attention. “I feel bad for her.” She said, nodding towards a soaked woman. It only took Mycroft a moment to realise who it was.
“Pull over,” he stated bluntly, grabbing his umbrella. He simply ignored the look he was receiving from his assistant.
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It had been a long day filled with rude customers, and to make it worse, it was raining, and she had forgotten her coat. Today couldn’t be going any worse for Y/N.
Shivering wildly and soaked to the core, Y/N huffed, watching the way her breath instantly evaporated; it was clearly below freezing, but she held out hope that the rain would stop and she would be home soon.
Her hope seemed to pay off, though, since she could no longer feel the rain. As she looked up at the sky, she spotted a familiar face.
“Mycroft?”
“Y/N.”
“What are you-“
“Get in.” He said, pointing towards the car before wordlessly leading her towards it, still holding the umbrella above her, even if he was getting wet.
“You don’t have to, Mycroft.” She said as he ushered her in and shut the door behind them both. “I mean, I’m soaking your car!”
Mycroft, who could feel the heat on his cheeks from their proximity, simply shook his head. He was too focused on the way her leg was pressed against his as she sat between him and Anthea who stared at her phone with a small smirk.
The ride was void of conversation, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, the only noise was that of Y/N shivering.
After a moment of hesitation, Mycroft shrugged off his jacket and handed her it. “Here.”
There was no chance of refusal, Mycroft wouldn’t allow it, so with a quiet ‘thanks’, Y/N popped the jacket over her shoulders. He just found the chattering of her teeth annoying, was what he told himself.
As they arrived at the flats, Mycroft followed her out of the car.
“Thank you, Mr Holmes.” She said as they stood on the door of her flat.
“Mycroft is fine, Y/N.”
“Thank you… Mycroft.” She said with a small smile before bidding him a goodnight.
“I see you gave her your jacket,” Was all Sherlock said as Mycroft entered 221B.
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It was hard. Very hard. Harder than anything Y/N had ever experienced. Having a crush was not easy as it was, but having feelings for Mycroft Holmes was the hardest thing in the world: he rarely showed emotion, he was blunt, he was rude, but most importantly to her, deep down, he was nice.
A small sigh left Y/N’s lips as she worked on her latest batch of cookies for the morning. He was on her mind… again. It was a common occurrence by now.
“We’re not open yet, sorry!” She called over her shoulder at the sound of the door opening. As she turned around to see who it was and apologise again, a blush rushed to her cheeks. “Mycroft! What are you doing here?”
Mycroft stood there, umbrella in hand, and gave a simple shrug. “I was on my way to work so thought I would ‘pop in’ as people say.” He explained, earning a laugh from the baker.
“Modern phrases don’t suit you, Mycroft.” She teased.
With an amused shake of his head, Mycroft took a seat at the table nearest her.
“Want some cookies? They’re fresh out of the oven!”
Mycroft nodded with a grateful smile, always glad to have sweet treats. He would never turn down anyone’s desserts, least of all Y/N’s; not because he liked her and didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but because she was a good baker.
The pair sat in a comfortable silence, Mycroft gladly eating his cookies with an appreciative look whilst Y/N worked on her next batch. There was nothing awkward between them, and there, surprisingly, never had been.
“Are you not at work today?” Y/N broke the silence with a question that was bugging her. She could have sworn Mycroft had always worked this time over the months that she had known him.
Mycroft hesitated for a moment. He was supposed to be there right now but had decided to visit you before. It wasn’t like anyone could fire him for it, he was basically the British government, after all.
“Not yet,” he lied, and he was glad that he was a good liar.
“Oh, okay! I’m happy you came then. I don’t want to bother you.”
“You could never be a bother,” the words fell from his lips before he even registered what his thoughts, and he noticed the blush race up her cheeks, as did she with his.
“Thank you, Mycroft.”
As he stared at her and her rosy cheeks, a million thoughts went through his mind, but they were all related to one thing: her. It was in that moment that he realised the truth, he did like Y/N, and he had been attracted to her since the beginning; that was what he was feeling.
Oh dear…
286 notes · View notes
classickook · 2 years
Text
the game is on | sherlock holmes
pairing: sherlock holmes x fem!reader
summary: you have a little surprise for sherlock that turns out differently than you had originally planned.
warnings: smut (18+), kissing, lots of teasing and foreplay, oral (fem receiving), cocky!sherlock
word count: 2.2k
a/n: a few anons requested some sherlock smut so i hope this does the trick! <3
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“sherlock? can you come here for a second?” you called from inside the bedroom.
an unintelligible noise rang out followed by the clanging of what you could only assume was some tools from his countless experiments, before his approaching footsteps sounded in the hallway and his head of curls popped into the crack you left open in the door. 
“you’re wearing my shirt,” he said simply. his blue eyes drank you in from head to toe: at the bare legs leading up to his deep purple shirt—your favorite—that cut off at mid-thigh with nothing else beneath; hair a loose mess around your shoulders and lips slightly swollen from where you had been biting them during his perusal. 
“excellent observation skills, detective,” you replied smoothly. “and what might you deduce from this situation?”
sherlock took a step further into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. you watched in anticipation as he slowly crossed the room to stand in front of you, peering down at the lashes fluttering across the apples of your cheeks and the teasing grin pulling at your pretty pink lips. “you are… doing laundry,” he said quietly, the deep baritone of his voice like crushed velvet sliding over your skin, causing goosebumps to prick at your arms and bare legs. “and ran out of shirts,” he continued, “so you resorted to wearing mine in the meantime?” there was a mischievous pull to his lips at the silly response, playing along with your little game. 
you tapped a finger to your chin in mock contemplation. “hmm… not quite. take another guess.”
he reached for your arms then, his hands sliding down your shoulders, cupping your elbows, playing with your fingers until he finally draped them around the back of his neck, a silent request that you hold on to him, that you touch him in some way. “are you trying to seduce me, my dear?” he whispered into your ear, lips just barely brushing against your earlobe and you shivered at the contact.
“maybe i am… is it working?” your fingers teased beneath the collar of his button-down shirt—the one that he was wearing—and felt a demanding heat take up residence between your legs. it was almost painful, the ache inside you that was just begging to be touched, to be filled by him. you wished he would just touch you already, really touch you, to release the buttons of your (his) shirt and slide the material down your shoulders for his lips to quickly follow after. you wanted his mouth and teeth and tongue on every inch of skin. “touch me,” you whispered as you neared him, breath mingling with his where the distance between your mouths gradually lessened.
the cool skin of his hand was a stark contrast against the warmth of your neck as he touched you softly, slender fingers wrapping around the base of your throat and applying the slightest amount of pressure. his thumb was positioned just under your earlobe, soaking in the incessant thrumming of your pulse where it jumped up to greet him. “it seems that it might be working for the both of us,” he answered lowly. his free hand then moved to slide along your side, rubbing at the curves hidden beneath his shirt and aching to slip inside to feel the welcoming heat of you; he ached to cup your breast in his hand and feel the pebbling of your nipple against his palm, to slide his fingers under the hem of his shirt until he met the wet heat at the apex of your smooth thighs.
“do you have any idea what i want to do to you right now?” his tone was low, barely audible, and you felt it more than heard it.
“why don’t you show me, mr. holmes,” you whispered up at him, eyes blinking demurely as you placed a kiss to the base of his throat, which just so happened to be the only place your lips could reach from your current angle. 
he moved forward—and you, backward—until the backs of your knees hit the bed frame and you sat down, your eyes dragging up his tall form to meet his piercing blue gaze. you slowly reached for the buckle of his belt, loosening it and then moving to unzip his trousers until a triangle of his black underwear was visible, before his hands jumped down to cease your movements. 
you wet your bottom lip with the tip of your tongue and watched in satisfaction as his eyes followed the action. “are you going to kiss me, mr. holmes?”
“where would you like me to kiss you?”
“surprise me.”
the only warning you received was a quick curl of his lips before he leaned over you, bending at the waist to reach your height on the bed, and placed an open-mouthed kiss beneath your ear, his tongue flicking out to lick a stripe down your throat to the space between your collarbones. 
sherlock slowly moved down to his knees to get a better angle and then nipped lightly at your chest, lips wet and warm and making you ache everywhere for him. his hands slid up your calves to your knees, then to the insides of your thighs until they were dangerously close to the place you wanted him the most. you rubbed your legs together in an effort to soothe the ache that was building the more he ghosted his fingers over you, but never really made contact. 
“please, sherlock.” your request was embarrassingly desperate, but you didn’t care at this point.
you felt the curve of his lips against your skin where they trailed down your chest, rustling the collar of his shirt that you wore until more skin became available to him. “please what, darling?”
“please,” you begged. when did this planned attempt at seduction turn on you? you were supposed to be seducing him and you were failing miserably.  “kiss me, touch me, anything.”
“i am kissing you and touching you.”
you peered down at him disapprovingly, then reached up to grab a handful of curls and forced his head back to look up at you. the glorious pale flesh of his throat was fully exposed to you now, practically glowing in the morning sunlight that peeked through the blinds, and begged to be devoured by you. “i want more,” you said lowly, “can you give me more, mr. holmes? should i show you how it’s supposed to be done?”
a shaky exhale passed his lips and mingled with your breath as you pressed a kiss to his chin, to the corner of his mouth, to his upper lip and then to the bottom, swiping your tongue there until he opened up to you and you slid inside, licking into his warm mouth and tasting cigarettes on his breath. you pulled back a fraction. “i thought you said you quit.”
his blue eyes were mostly black now, pupils blown wide as he tried to focus on you. “i did,” he said. you narrowed your eyes at him. “okay, fine. i did for a week, but you know how i get. i need a distraction, some sort of stimulus.”
“what about me?”
“what about you?”
your lips ghosted over his sharp jawline until you reached the shell of his ear. “why don’t you use me as a distraction instead, hmm?”
“i think you’re worth more than that.”
“maybe so,” you replied. “but i’d rather you use me than those things.”
sherlock gripped your chin between his thumb and index finger, his way of regaining control in your current position, and pulled you in close to slot his mouth against yours, before whispering, “then so be it.” he kissed you furiously then, and you were shocked into silence by the force with which he devoured your mouth, his palms cupping your cheeks to hold you steady with each swipe of his tongue against yours. 
the ache between your legs was throbbing now and you felt wetness coating the inside of your thighs now, thanks to your lack of underwear. “sherlock,” you breathed helplessly. “sherlock, i—”
the good detective understood your silent request as his nimble fingers flicked the buttons loose until the fabric of his shirt was now pooling at your waist. your nipples pebbled in the cool air but sherlock took care of that too, his mouth quick to latch onto one nipple as his hand toyed with the other. he flicked and sucked and nibbled lightly at your breasts, and a moan bubbled its way up your throat and slipped passed your lips where sherlock moved up to capture the sound. the elegant speed with which he maneuvered between your lips and breasts, taking his time with each yet ensuring he didn’t miss your body’s not-so-silent call for more attention was impressive, fascinating, but not at all surprising. the great sherlock holmes knew how to work your body just as he knew the ins and outs of each of his cases. 
his large hands moved down to your ribcage, clutching you there as his lips descended down your chest to nip lightly at your hipbones and then at the sensitive flesh just beneath your navel. you could practically feel the various hues of purple and pink blossom there as he bit and sucked and licked along your lower half. 
he still hadn’t kissed you or touched you where you really wanted him, and it was driving you crazy, this game of his he was playing with your body. little did the public eye know that the famous consulting detective was cruel in his teasing, submitting you to foreplay that could go on for hours with barely any thought given to his own pleasure. you could feel the obvious bulge pressing against your inner thigh where he was positioned between your legs, and you experimentally kneed at it, feeling him jolt slightly before a firm “mm-mm” was pressed into your skin, the man nonverbally scolding you for attempting to return the favor, to play with him for a bit.
“sherlock,” you said again. it seemed that was all you had been able to say; the man had rendered you practically speechless, with only the pathetic two-syllabled name passing through your bitten lips. 
you were panting now, feeling his lips moving even lower until they were just barely ghosting over your throbbing clit, but then he shifted focus again before he could make contact, instead, mouthing at the crease of your inner thigh. a helpless whimper escaped you and you honestly felt like you could cry in that moment, being teased and toyed with as sherlock offered you only a glimpse of what was to come. “this isn’t fair,” you whined. 
“what isn’t fair,” sherlock said tightly, digging his fingers into the fleshy part of your outer thighs, “is that you had me come in here…” he tugged you to the very edge of the bed then and slowly lowered his mouth just above your aching core, “to find you…” a kiss to your clit, “wearing nothing…” his eyes flicked up to yours just as his tongue delved inside, “but my shirt.” 
a scream jumped up your throat as he licked at your cunt, sucking and nipping and groaning as he went, taking his time with you but knowing that you were close to coming after all his teasing. “sherlock,” you sobbed, “you arsehole.”
he laughed against you, and the vibration of it shot straight through your core until you felt it everywhere and nearly blacked out by the sensation. he slid his tongue in and out, in and out, licking and tasting you until the familiar knot in your lower belly intensified—doubling, tripling, quadrupling in ways you had never experienced before—until it finally unraveled and your climax came crashing over you as sherlock captured your arousal on his tongue and swallowed every drop that slid from between your thighs. 
your eyes were squeezed shut as your arousal washed over you from head to toe, feeling the warmth of it in every corner of your body. you vaguely felt sherlock’s lips press a tender kiss to your belly before footsteps echoed out of the bedroom door and returned a few moments later.
once he had finished cleaning you up, with both his tongue and a warm cloth from the bathroom, sherlock rested on top of you, comfortably nestling his clothed form along your naked one and pressing soft kisses between your breasts as you twirled your fingers in his thick curls. “well,” you said hoarsely, “that’s not how i had planned this to go.”
a velvety-smooth laugh rumbled against your chest as sherlock soaked in the aftereffects of your pleasure. “it was for me.”
you leaned back slightly, the angle uncomfortable given your current positions, and peered down at him with furrowed brows. “what?”
his lips curled up in self-satisfaction, his cheeks dimpling adorably yet infuriatingly due to his little scheme.
“are you meaning to tell me that you knew this was going to happen? did you plan this somehow?”
“you think you’re so clever, darling, but i think you forgot who you married.” he raised up on his hands and knees so he could lean over you, and whispered in your ear, “i always win, mrs. holmes.”
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tags: @nicoletk
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kahuunknown · 7 months
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The "Normal" one - BBC Sherlock sibling fanfic
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!NOTE!: Non-specified reader/insert, inspiration from SHERLOCK TV Show
~~~
The normal one
(Y/n) Holmes.
That was your name. Of course you loved your family, you held them all dear and close to your heart, but that name came with a lot of baggage and responsibility. You’d often wonder what living life normally would be like, being born under a different name. These were just thoughts however, you knew in the end, you wouldn’t change a thing.
You were smart; there was no doubt in that fact, being born a Holmes provides such natural intelligence with ease. However, you would argue that you were anything but. You were a humble, gentle and modest soul, you were adamant in arguing that both your brother’s surpassed your measly intelligence without effort. Of course, the IQ tests would prove otherwise, but they were rid from the world quickly after there creation.
Living a normal life wasn’t something you detested, rather you grew rather fond of the mundane routines people lived day-to-day, it was funny watching them fuss over little mistakes, or creating the emotion of happiness with simple gifts and pleasures. You worked as a psychologist funnily enough. You could deduce much like the rest of your siblings, and decided to apply that skill toward something complimentary.
You were a young prodigy with a psychology major at only 26 years old; you lived a very financially stable life with your own private at-home psychology firm. You were comfortable with you life within London, you enjoyed being close to your family, and so it was never an option to live anywhere else. Often as a well respected personal to the community and the police, you were requested to provide psychoanalysis on victims, suspects or even the criminals themselves. You’d get paid of course, but your real motivation was helping you middle brother with his detective cases. Sometimes even the eldest would request your help, those were rare favours however.
Your brother’s wouldn’t admit it, but they absolutely adored you, you were the baby of the family and the most normal of them all. Your parents didn’t like to pick favourites but you were always the exception. Mycroft and Sherlock treated you like a child most often, they couldn’t wrap their heads around the thought of you growing up and maturing, when they looked at you, all they could see were those innocent orbs staring right back at them. This admittedly made them overprotective, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it was restricting.
You proved your intelligence and maturity every now-and-again, but you honestly didn’t mind their dotting. It showed the world that Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes were human too.
So when the two were on the way to your house, they were honestly surprised and both mortified when the Consulting Criminal Jim Moriarty of all people stepped outside of your house with a laugh and bid you farewell, hopping into a awaiting sleek black car and driving off smoothly. Sherlock and Mycroft had hidden themselves upon the sight, they weren’t stupid, but they were terrified for your safety. Did you even know the true identity of the criminal you’d invited inside?
Neither brother remembered if they’d disclosed that information to you or not, they tried they upmost hardest to give you the privacy you desired, as hard as that was. They weren’t very good at it, but they did try their best to shield you from their enemies. You were untrained in any sort of defensive arts like they were; you were utterly defenceless if someone attacked you.
Nodding to each other, once they were satisfied with the distance Moriarty’s car had driven away; they quickly made their way to your doorstep and hurriedly rang your doorbell. You needed to be warned straight away, you needed to cut your ties with the villain immediately. Your safety was compromised.
You greeted them with a kind smile as always, both brothers nearly forgot the urgency and softened upon your sweetness, but reality was quick to return to them. They ushered you to let them inside, which you calmly did so, asking if they wanted any snacks or tea. Mycroft paused and politely requested some sweets and both brothers of course agreed to some tea. You chuckled at them, reminding them to make themselves at home; they were family of course, no matter how dysfunctional. The two elder Holmes watched you like hawks as you waddled around the kitchen. It was cute that you inherited their mother’s much shorter height, leaving you struggling and whining about reaching items on the top shelf. Though your brothers were more than willing to help, they teased you often about this fact.
Returning to the living room, you gently placed down the tray with balanced drinks and sweets situated on top.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Theo chimed, cradling his own cup of tea close and bringing his legs to his chest, curling into his usual ball-like position on his single seated couch.
Sherlock was first to speak, “Well, originally we both decided to check-in on you, we hadn’t seen you in a while.”
You chuckle, “Yes, well I was having a fantastic time in New Zealand. You should visit if you have the chance, it’s beautiful country.”
Sherlock rolls his eyes, completely disinterested in the idea. But he admired your simplicity.
“Like Sherlock said, that was ‘originally’.” Mycroft pressed, narrowing his eyes at the detective.
“Who was that man that left your house moments before we arrived?” Sherlock questioned, though he already knew, he wanted to see if you were aware.
You rolled your eyes at the two overbearing brothers, “That was one of my clients, of course.”
“He’s dangerous, (Y/n-“
“Jim Moriarty.” You finished, “A charming man, to say the least. The infamous consulting criminal.”
Mycroft and Sherlock frowned, this couldn’t be good.
“You know who he is.” Sherlock stated.
“Of course, I do.” You retorted, “But that’s not my business, is it? I’m a psychiatrist and psychologist; my client’s background means nothing to me. That is my work.”
“Yes, but it’s also a hazard-“
You interrupted Mycroft, “Without Moriarty confessing to future crimes in the motion, I have no legal standing. Past crimes are useless.”
“A scientific priest.” Sherlock grumbles.
“In some ways.” You agreed absentmindedly. “I’m bound by my word.”
“Then I suppose there is no use asking you to share some details.” Mycroft sighs.
“None at all.” You chirped, “Now, if you two are free this afternoon, would you care for some fish ‘n chips? It’s been a long while since we’ve talked like this.”
Mycroft pursed his lips, it was his favourite food. A Holmes delicacy in some ways, as even Sherlock was fond of the food as well. Mycroft frowned, a defeated expression forming on his face, “I suppose, I have time.” He admitted.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at your happy face, you were sweet and innocent, but boy did you now how to use that to your advantage. Those damn puppy eyes.
“Fine.” Sherlock sighed.
Suddenly a knock sounded at the polished wood of your door, you furrowed your brows in confusion, not expecting any clients or guests over at this time. Standing, you gestured for your brothers to stay put while you answered the door.
Sherlock and Mycroft tensed as Moriarty waltzed into the house, smirking at the two of them confidently. He looked more than comfortable in your home, and both the protective brothers felt their instincts flare in that instant.
“Sorry to intrude, I believe I forgot my jacket.” Jim swooned, slinging his arm over your shoulder as you rolled your eyes and led him away from your siblings and into the office/ library room, where all your clients reveals their deepest secrets and feelings. Sure enough, Moriarty returned to the front door with his suit jacket under one arm.
He seemed to be talking normally to you, joking and laughing as if he were just a mundane human male, like all the rest. It was obvious to the brothers, that you and Moriarty knew each other quite well, they didn’t like that one bit.
Jumping to his feet, Sherlock decided he’d had enough of seeing that smug face and those evil beady little eyes looking at his youngest sibling.
“Leave.” Sherlock simply ordered, holding open the door for the mastermind to exit. Jim raised an accusing eyebrow at the new emotions Sherlock provided him with, but decided to play nice and do as he was told, for now at least. He left quietly, ignoring the slam of the wooden door after him; he was far too satisfied with this new discovery to care about rude behaviour.
He was originally just curious about you, intrigued and fascinated. He didn’t even know you existed; it wasn’t until Eurus cooed about you during his visit. She was smitten by you, couldn’t stop remembering all those memories as young children, when you’d follow her around, listen to her every tale with admiration and love. She talked about you as if perhaps you were a god, a higher being that she prayed to- or a rare exotic creature like most thought fantasy. You seemed too good to be true.
Yet here he was, obsessed with it all. Obsessed with you.
The expression of your brother’s were both the same, stern beyond belief. And you sighed, anticipating the emerging argument to take place.
“This is my job.” You stated, smile vanishing with the seriousness of your tone.
Mycroft and Sherlock almost didn’t recognise you, you looked different without the aura of sweetness drifting around you like a halo. They’d never seen this side of you.
Mycroft clears his throat, “He is dangerous, (Y/n). We would be fools to-“
“Then be fools.” You hissed, “This is my job. The career I’ve strived for, and Jim Moriarty is a normal client. You will not drag me around under the guise of your ‘safety’.”
Sherlock watched you carefully, scanning your expression and body language, trying to deduce you. Yet he came up with nothing. Normally you were so open to him and Mycroft, usually it was so easy to pull you apart, dissect every emotion and activity you’d been up to for the past week or so. But you’d shut down that gate, preventing any clue to find.
But then your shoulders slumped, and suddenly everything came flooding back, he could read you like an open book once more.
Sighing you looked them both in the eye, “I propose this.” Instantly you had your brothers intrigued, “I’ll install a camera within my office. You may have access to its feed at any time, and I’ll send you both my schedule, if you so desire as well. However, due to patient-confidentiality, the audio will be wiped, you will hear nothing.”
Sherlock scowls at the idea, obviously wanting to hear the conversations you and Moriarty had, he wanted to know everything. Mycroft on the other hand was more open to the idea; he eventually gave a slow nod.
“Deal.”
“Great.” You clapped your hands together, smiling once more and instantly relieving the tenseness in your brother’s posture, “Now, how about that fish ‘n chips, eh?
In the end, perhaps you were not as normal as everyone believed.
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strangelockd · 6 months
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👋🏻Howdy👋🏻
If you enjoy my little world and would like to join my Masterlist for upcoming works please comment below 👇🏻 💕
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legoboys221 · 5 months
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fandom-imagines · 10 months
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Awkward Confessions
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader
Warnings: Awkward Sherlock
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Sherlock was many things. Some were good, some were bad, some were… interesting, but if there was one thing that Sherlock was absolutely terrible at, it would be admitting feelings. That much became obvious as he stood in front of Y/N, the object of his affection, attempting to express his feelings for her.
“Sherlock?” She asked. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, just be quiet for a minute.” Came his response.
“All right?” She was confused, it was pretty obvious to anyone. Sherlock never looked this awkward.”
“There’s something I need to say, something I should say…” He began, unsure where he was going with this. He lost his trail of thought the moment she looked at him with her wide and worried eyes; they were beautiful. “I know I’m… me, and I’m not exactly the most likeable person in the entire world. I’m rude, blunt, and a smartass, but…”
“There’s no need to put yourself down so much, Sher,” she sighed, shaking her head at his insulting words.
“I thought I told you to be quiet!” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as she laughed and apologised.
“What I’m trying to say is… I like you. Don’t ask me why because I have no idea why, you’re a moron.”
Y/N burst into giggles at the final sentence. “That was so cute, at least until you called me a moron.” She smiled, stepping towards the, now blushing, man. Lifting herself onto her toes, Y/N placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.
“Don’t worry, I like you too, even if I am a moron.”
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pleading-the5th · 8 months
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realizing House is just a Sherlock AU where Sherlock and Watson are doctors was life-changing
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ik its not based on bbc’s sherlock, i just wanted parallelling gifs
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adumpofdumbstuff · 14 days
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Chapter 2 of my Johnlock fic is up!
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The Mistletoe Test (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)
The Mistletoe Test (Rated T)
Pairing: BBC!Sherlock x Watson!Reader
Word Count: 1.9k+
Warnings: Brief language, Sherlock being a Scrooge
Summary: It’s your first Christmas at Baker Street and you’re determined to make it the best one ever. When your brother tries to warn you about his flatmate’s aversion to the holidays, you start to see a whole new side to the consulting detective. Will it affect your friendship?
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“That is absolutely pointless.” You heard a thunk of porcelain being placed back onto the counter beside you. It was accompanied by the third exhausted sigh you had heard in the past hour alone. Your brother had apparently finished his morning tea, but still made no effort to assist in your plans. “He’s not going to buy into it and you know it.”
Your tongue poked past the corner of your lips in concentration. The small step ladder you had been perched on wobbled under your movements, but you still managed to keep your balance. “Why must you always be such a Scrooge, John?” you retorted, arms outstretched toward the top of the doorframe. There was a smear of something sticky on the wood and you did your best not to imagine its origin. “I think you might just be afraid that you might get caught under the mistletoe with a certain someone and have a bit of an awakening.”
“I’m not ‘being a Scrooge,’” your brother’s hurt bled through his tone. “And again, I’m not gay. I just don’t think you recognize how…against Christmas Sherlock really is.”
“How can anyone really be against Christmas?” You frowned as you attached the sprig of the plant to the doorframe. Leaning back slightly to admire your work, the step ladder groaned against your movements. “It’s a time for family, for light displays…for God’s sake, it’s Christmas!”
“Careful,” John’s hands reached up to your waist to steady you. “You’re going to fall and break your neck if you’re not careful. Besides, I think that is exactly why Sherlock doesn’t like Christmas. Have you met Mycroft?”
You shrugged as you took a step back down onto the messy kitchen floor. “Doesn’t he have parents, though?” you asked. “Surely he enjoys spending time with them.”
“They’re simple minded,” came a familiar deep tone from behind you. Its presence startled both you and your brother, causing John to remove his hold from your waist. Still perched against the edge of the step, you wobbled before falling backwards without warning, sending you toppling against a strong chest. 
Sherlock peered down at you with an unamused expression as his arms snaked around your waist to set you down. “Just being around them longer than twenty minutes causes my IQ to decrease significantly.” Without so much as another glance at you, he made his way over to the cabinets to grab a cup for some tea. “It’s especially worse around the holiday season. Positively dreadful time.”
You risked a glance over at John in silent question. What just happened? Your brother merely shrugged in response, shaking his head and raised his eyebrows with lips set in a tight line. Like always, it was obvious he had no clue. He lifted his own cup of tea and set off toward his chair to flip through the morning’s newspaper. 
You hadn’t been residing at Baker Street long, but you could tell this was the boys’ typical routine. Every morning, John rose early to have his breakfast and read the paper before trudging off to work. Sherlock, on the other hand, would stay up until ungodly hours playing his violin, staring at the bullet-ridden wall, or doing the Lord knows what before sleeping until noon. 
The truth was, you found your brother’s detective flatmate to be a whole mystery in his own right. He was the dark and mysterious stranger who you had only vaguely known secondhand through your brother’s stories. Seeing and interacting with him in the flesh gave you a different perspective. Sure, he drove you mad as all hell, but you couldn’t help but be enticed by his demeanor. You didn’t plan on falling for him. It was just almost attractive how he acted. His tone was sharp and to the point, he didn’t care to be bothered by trivial things. Yet underneath the harsh exterior, you knew he had a soft spot when it came to those he cared about. 
So that’s how you came about hatching the plan. It was the infamous mistletoe test, according to your coworker. If one hangs a sprig of mistletoe and stands underneath it. If the object of their affection walks by and doesn’t notice, the attraction is one sided. A kiss of the cheek assumes a platonic connection. Finally, the most obvious sign of shared attraction is a kiss on the lips. It was a stupid idea. You felt it in your bones as you stuck it up on the doorframe. But with John there, it was too late to back out. 
Besides, what could possibly happen? If Sherlock really was as opposed to Christmas as John said, there was a good chance the mistletoe wouldn’t even mean anything to him. He could just walk under the plant with no knowledge of the tradition at all. It wouldn’t be a big deal, right? You couldn’t help the pang of disappointment in your stomach at the thought. Would it really be that big of a deal?
“What the hell is this in my lab?” Sherlock’s voice cut through your thoughts and snapped your attention toward him. He was staring at the small wooden trees and garland wreath you had placed in the center of the kitchen table as though it was about to explode. You had needed to clear up the surface a bit after his constant experiments, but you had been proud of the end result.
“They’re Christmas decorations,” you started, but the private detective was quick to cut you off. 
“You have your own flat,” he spat back. “I suggest you use it and place your rubbish somewhere that matters to you, hm?”
Your whole frame stiffened as he began to pick up and shove each trinket into the box. He hardly spared you a glance while he continued through with the task. You watched as his upper lip practically curled in disgust at the garland shedding across the table, pinecones rolling out of the wrapped decoration onto the floor below. “Bloody mess,” he muttered to himself.
Like it was any better before, you wished to shout back. Instead, you merely took the box back from him and headed back downstairs to your flat without another word. As soon as the front door shut behind you, you tossed the box onto your coffee table and sunk to the floor. How could you have been that stupid? You were just trying to do something nice for your brother and his friend. You should have known it wouldn’t have ended well – John had clearly warned you. 
The next few days, you decided it may be a better idea to spend your holidays doing the things you enjoyed instead of worrying about your brother and his flatmate. So you repurposed some of Sherlock’s discarded decor within your own flat, making sure to help Mrs. Hudson with the garland on the outside banister (she was more than pleased to say the least). Things had been going well, especially after you silenced John’s incessant text check-ins with a simple, I’m fine.
Two days before Christmas, you decided to indulge yourself in a little holiday baking. The idea was to bake gingerbread, brownies, and little Christmas puddings to give out as last-minute gifts for the rest of your friends and coworkers. Molly had been hinting about a craving for gingerbread earlier that morning, so you couldn’t think of a better sign to get started. 
Donning your most festive “kiss the baker” apron, you pressed play on a Christmas radio station and got to work. You were so engrossed in your process, you hardly noticed the sound of someone knocking on your front door. It wasn’t until they knocked for the third time– at an increasingly more frantic pace– that you registered the sound and wiped your flour-coated hands on your apron before unlocking the door. 
To your surprise, Sherlock was standing outside your doorway, hands behind his back. His glassy green-blue eyes searched your face in what you could only describe as desperation. He seemed almost nervous as he cleared his throat. The private detective lifted an eyebrow before gesturing with his right hand in a silent question as to whether he could enter your flat. When you gave a small nod, he stepped inside and raised an eyebrow yet again at both your attire and surroundings.
“You haven’t been by the flat in two weeks,” Sherlock spoke after a moment, tone unreadable. 
“I’ve been…busy,” you replied, arm outstretched toward the kitchen. “You know, with simpleton Christmas celebration things.”
Sherlock stiffened at your response, eyes darting around again. “I see.”
“Why would you care how long I’ve been away anyway?”
The private detective before you cleared his throat. “John is also far less irritable when you visit the flat. I’ve counted that he has checked his mobile roughly twenty-two times this morning alone to check for any missed texts from you,” he explained. “I suppose I’ve also come to find your presence rather…tolerable. I function better with a challenge. ”
The two of you stood in an awkward silence for a moment before Sherlock parted his lips to speak again. “We’re having a small get together at Baker Street on Christmas Eve. It was John’s doing, really. I’ve been instructed to invite you to attend.”
You bit into your lower lip and gave a slow nod in return. “Right. Well, with an invitation like that, however could I possibly refuse?!”
“...I detect an element of sarcasm.”
Yeah, no shit, you thought to yourself. For a self-proclaimed genius, the man before you was fairly clueless. “What time does it start?” 
“Seven.”
You gave a small nod and began to lead him back to the door. “I’ll be there,” you said. “Now I really do need to get back to my baking before all I’m left with is ash. Goodbye, Sherlock.” 
“I suppose there is one more thing,” Sherlock mused as he stepped backwards in the doorway. He moved his hands in front of him, opening his left hand. “You left this behind at our flat the other day. I’ve only just thought to bring it round.” 
You frowned in concern as you peered into his gloved palm. Nestled inside was a small sprig of mistletoe – the same plant you had hung in the kitchen doorway, no doubt. You hadn’t thought much of it since your dramatic departure from your brother’s flat, having just assumed Sherlock would have thrown away whatever remnants of Christmas you had left behind. “You didn’t need to bring it,” you replied smoothly. “It’s inexpensive and won’t do me much good.”
Sherlock gave a silent nod, eyes now locked onto yours. “Most likely not,” he agreed. “However, there is a…tradition.” 
You watched as his gaze flickered from you, to your apron, the doorframe, the mistletoe in his hand, then back to you. Your breath hitched ever so slightly as you tried to decipher his meaning. Surely you must be mistaken. Before you had a chance to comment, Sherlock lifted the plant above your head and pressed a quick kiss upon your lips. It was soft, gentle even, but just so Sherlock. It had an air of elegance, yet was commanding enough to be orchestrated perfectly. 
When he pulled away, you needed to blink a few times to reorganize your thoughts and look at the man before you – truly look at him. He gave you a smug little smirk and stepped out into the hallway. “Might want to check your oven,” he mused as he placed a foot on the first stair and began to make his way upstairs. Suddenly, he paused and turned his head to face you. “And merry Christmas.”
You gave him a soft smile before stepping back into your own flat and shutting the door. “Merry Christmas, Sherlock,” you whispered to the wood and made your way back to the oven. 
Maybe that test wasn’t so strange after all.
===================
Author’s Note: Well, I meant to post this before Christmas, but I just didn’t get a chance to with my schedule. So why not make this my final fic post of 2022? Damn, that’s weird to say. I haven’t watched Sherlock in forever, but I plan to before I head back to uni for the next semester (hoping it’ll give me inspiration to get back to The Last Three Years). There’s just something about how Benedict portrays this character that makes him so fun to write. Especially around the holidays (:
Like always, if you enjoyed this fic and want to see more like it, make sure to leave a comment, tag a friend, even reblog. Likes are appreciated, but it’s interactions like these that spread the word about my works and motivate me to keep writing/posting content for you all.
Until next time, my little sparks <3
Taglist: @bakerstreethound, @theelmgrove, @severuined, special tag for @sobeautifullyobsessed as a holiday treat 💙
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aljedd · 3 months
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Wrote my first SHCO fic! It’s a BBC/Podcast crossover!
Originally for @4thelneyj0nes for secret santa!
Link here!
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Last Updated: 2023-11-07
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Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite BBC!Mycroft Holmes stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.
Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning
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✑ Earth Angel by lacelynpage • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "[You] spent the last year and a half planning [your] wedding and know every detail except one. Mycroft picked and then wouldn't tell you what song you would be dancing to for your first dance."
✑ Force Majeure by the-girl-next-door-writes • 〔F〕 •
Summary: "Mycroft Holmes is so caught up in analyzing his own feelings that he doesn't see they could be reciprocated. Lucky for him, his little brother is an interfering shit."
✑ He Should Know What to Expect by galactic-academia • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "Lady Smallwood wants to 'have a drink' with Mycroft; he's confused, but Reader knows exactly what to do..."
✑ Hold My Hand by grace-writes-sh*t • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "Mycroft Holmes was not known as a very compassionate man. To some, his emotionless personality is… strength, himself included in this. To others, it is viewed as insensitivity and rudeness. [However,] to one such woman in his life, it is nothing [more than] a shield to protect the ones he loves."
✑ It's Beautiful by sherlockxreader • 〔F〕 •
Summary: "Rain usually means less people milling around London streets. [Still,] you love the rain. Seems someone else appreciates it as well."
✑ Little Smiles by marvelmymarvel • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "When life got crazy as a spy and your life was endangered, the US sent you to England to be protected and to 'start over' as they would like to say. You were placed under the care of Mycroft Holmes and soon became the mystery woman to the people of England."
✑ Motivated by sherlockxreader • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
Summary: "Mycroft hasn't been enjoying exercising, so the reader decides to help motivate him creatively by working out with him."
✑ Pointless Jealousy by megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms • 〔A〕 •
Summary: You can't help but feel heartbroken after learning about Mycroft's *ahem* arrangement with Lady Smallwood. Mycroft makes the situation by dismissing your jealousy as a pointless emotion.
✑ Your Hand in Mind by the-girl-next-door-writes • 〔A〕 •
Summary: "Witnessing the death of Mary Watson causes Mycroft to focus on what he feels is truly important to him."
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✑ A Matter of Take Out by bakerstreethound • 〔F〕 •
✑ Can't Lose You by specialagentlokitty • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Cuddles with Mummy by fandom-puff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
✑ Deeply and Unswerving
✑ Feelings by imagine-by-susu • 〔A〕 •
✑ First Date by multific • 〔F〕 •
✑ First Sight by collecting-stories • 〔F〕 •
✑ His Weakness by imagine-by-susu • 〔A〕 •
✑ I Need to Go by imagine-by-susu • 〔A〕 •
✑ Jealousy by coppercatwrites • 〔A〕 •
✑ Just a Tad Sweeter by sherlockxreader • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Late at Night by multific • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
✑ Masquerade by megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms • 〔F〕 •
✑ Midnight Mission by fandom-writers • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ My Boys by make-me-imagine • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Never Fell Out of Love by raggedy-dxctor • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Oh Darling by lacelynpage • 〔F〕 •
✑ Pleasant Distraction by fandom-puff • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Precious Cargo by bewarethecrazyperson • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Prim and Proper by fandom-writers • 〔F〕 •
✑ Pub by make-me-imagine • 〔F〕 •
✑ Sherlock No! by specialagentlokitty • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
✑ So Brilliant by lacelynpage • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Surveillance
✑ Time the Ice Man Melts, the by deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Visiting by fandom-puff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •
✑ Work Function by multific • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Wrong Person by anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
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✑ Dating Mycroft would incude... by lacelynpage • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
✑ Dating Mycroft would include... by raggedy-dxctor • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •
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See Also: Navigation || BBC!Mycroft Holmes Master Index
Authors: @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek | @bakerstreethound | @bewareofthecrazyperson | @collecting-stories | @coppercatwrites | @deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts || @fandom-puff | @fandom-writers | @galactic-academia | @girl-next-door-writes | @grace-writes-shit | @imagine-by-susu | @lacelynpage | @make-me-imagine | @marvelmymarvel | @megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms | @multific | @raggedy-dxctor | @rreader | @sherlockxreader | @specialagentlokitty |
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lilmoonbunny · 4 months
Text
First Kisses; BBC Sherlock
Includes: Sherlock, John, Mycroft, Lestrade, and Moriarty.
Sherlock:
It wasn’t rare for Sherlock to come out with the strangest things, but there were times when his requests were so unexpected that one would choke.
“I need to test out a theory,” Sherlock broke the silence between himself and Y/N one day.
“…Okay?” Y/N replied simply, preparing to tell Sherlock that he can’t put a head in the microwave again.
“I require your help.”
That was odd, he rarely ever trusted someone else to help him with an experiment, not even John.
With a raised eyebrow, she responded. “How so?”
“You need to kiss me.” Whilst his words were as blunt as always, Y/N couldn’t help the way that she choked in surprise, all whilst he rolled his eyes. “It is not that serious, Y/N. I simply need to see if it solves these thoughts.”
“These thoughts?” Came her confused response, watching him as he walked towards her seat on the chair opposite him.
“That is what I said, yes. Do keep up.”
Rolling her own eyes, she stared up at the detective who had an impatient look on his face.
“I mean, okay? If that’s what you want.” He smirked slightly at her attempt to seem nonchalant at his request; he didn’t expect her to actually do it.
“I just need to see if t-“He began speaking, only to have his sentence cut short by her lips pressing against his own.
Sherlock’s eyes widened as her hand gently gripped his cheek as kissed him. He was frozen in place, heart racing, and chest heaving once she pulled away.
“Did that help?” She asked, looking up at the startled and silent man as she seated herself back where she was previously. She waited for a few more moments to see if he would respond before giving up. “Anyway, I need to get going. Tell John I said hello whenever he returns.” Y/N said as she reached the door, Sherlock still frozen in place, at least, until the door clicked, and he snapped out of his haze.
“Hey, Y/N, wait!”
John:
Despite his initial dislike for the youngest Holmes sibling, John couldn’t deny the feelings that he had grown for Y/N Holmes over the past few months. It was obvious to everyone besides the woman herself who was, unlike her brothers, oblivious to any and every sign of affection towards her.
It was just the two of them in 221B going through the latest case files whilst Sherlock attended a crime scene. He had originally asked John to accompany him, but the man refused after realising that Y/N was remaining at the flat, something at which Sherlock simply rolled his eyes, having already deduced his friends crush on his sister long before he even knew himself.
It was a trickier case than usual, hence why Sherlock had to return to the crime scene, leaving John and Y/N to search through mountains of files looking for one specific word.
“This would be so much easier if these files were all on a computer.” Y/N yawned, flipping the page over to the other side, John doing the same.
“Agreed.”
“Wait, this might be what we’re looking for!” The woman shot up onto her feet in excitement, turning the paper towards John and pointing at what she was looking at with a smile which was soon returned as he agreed.
In excitement, Y/N’s arms wrapped around John, and she pulled him in for a hug, only to pull away once she realised what she had done.
“I’m so sor-“ she began, only to be silenced by John wrapping his hand around the back of her neck and pulling her into him for a moment, lips pressed against each other.
“Finally,” a deep voice sounded from the doorway, making the pair pull back away from each other in both shock and embarrassment. “Now if you two lovebirds are quite finished, what have you found?”
Lestrade:
It was odd for Greg to enjoy working with Sherlock.
Whilst he didn’t mind John’s company, Sherlock was an absolute nightmare, but their friend on the other hand, Y/N, she was wonderful and Lestrade could not get enough of her.
She was everything that Sherlock wasn’t. Kind, sweet, funny, genuine, and it came as no shock to him, or anyone else for that matter, when he began developing feelings for her. However, despite how obviously reciprocated his feelings were, the man refused to believe that she could ever like him back, even after Sherlock himself told him that she likes him too.
The two had become fast friends, having clicked as soon as they met, and a friendship with Lestrade meant coffee. All the time. Coffee was his favourite time of the day, especially if there were doughnuts involved.
“Your coffee is in the kitchen.” Y/N called as Greg let himself into her apartment, a common occurrence amongst the two, and he shot her a thumbs-up as he passed her to grab his drink.
“Thank you very much.” He grinned, taking a seat beside her on the sofa and turning his attention to the football for a moment. He knew she had no interest in the game, so why she had agreed to watch it with him, he didn’t know.
“It’s no problem, Greggy.” She teased him with the new nickname, one that always earned a blush from the older man.
“Do you have to call me that?” He muttered, both his cheeks and ears tinted red in embarrassment.
“Yep!” She smiled, pinching his cheek as he continued to stare at her, or, more specifically, her lips as she licked them.
He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but he couldn’t resist. He leaned over, his hand resting on top of hers, and pressed his lips against hers, something which she gladly reciprocated.
In his panic, he abruptly pulled back before registering that she had returned his kiss and began rushing out apologies.
“I’m so so sorry, oh my God, I should definitely not have done that. I am so sorry!” He rambled, previous blush darkening as she pushed himself to the other side of the sofa, disgusted with himself.
“Greg.”
“If you don’t ever want to talk to me again, I get i-“
“Greg.” Y/N repeated his name to try and catch his attention.
“I’m just so-“
Sick of his unnecessary apologies, the woman reached out to grasp the fabric of Lestrade’s shirt, pulling his lips back onto hers, her other hand landing on his shoulder.
“There’s no need to apologise.” She whispered against his lips as she pulled back. “I wanted that.”
Greg, too confused and happy to even register what she was saying, just listened to his brain go oh!
Mycroft:
Mycroft Holmes had two soft spots, his brother and Y/N, the latter being one that he was unwilling to admit to himself, let alone anybody else.
“Morning, Mycroft,” Y/N greeted him as he entered the café, one which he was a regular at; only for her, of course, but she could never know that.
“Good morning, Y/N,” came his simple response as she brought him his usually coffee, having already anticipated his arrival; he was nothing if not punctual, after all.
Neither of you knew how your friendship had evolved into him driving you home once you finished work, but there was never a single complaint heard about it. The moment you ended up at his home, however, that was when something shifted.
It wasn’t uncomfortable, just… odd. Having never been this close to someone besides his younger brother, Mycroft wasn’t entirely sure how to act, especially when the tension in the room reached its peak and your lips ended up pressed up against the others.
It was awkward, as to be expected considering that the older Holmes had never kissed anybody before. However, the awkwardness had its own charm about it, especially when he pulled away with flushed cheeks and immediately changed the subject, ignoring what had just happened for his own peace of mind.
“Should we like, I don’t know, talk about it?” You asked him the next time he entered the café, watching him closely for any sort of reaction.
“Talk about what? Nothing weird has happened recently, nothing at all. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Mycroft rushed out, desperately praying that you were oblivious to the shade of pink that now covered his cheeks.
He had no idea how it even happened, it just… did. Myrcroft was never one for affection, or even friendships, so he didn’t know why he kissed you and even worse for him, he didn’t know why he wanted to do it again.
“If you say so,” you chuckled at his embarrassed demeanour. “Either way, I finish in an hour if you like, wanted to go for dinner or something.”
Maybe he would wait around an hour, not for any specific reason. After all, nothing weird had happened.
Moriarty:
For as long as they had worked together, Y/N and Jim had always flirted with each other.
It started off small, almost unrecognisable, but gradually grew into full-blown flirtations with invitations that were never accepted. Co-workers turned into friends, and a friendship turned into longing, it was just how the cookie crumbled.
The two stared across at one another, Y/N pushing a plate of food in front of the criminal. “Eat it, or I’ll shove it down your throat, do not test me.” She warned, although there no malice in her voice; she just wanted him to eat something for the first time in a few days.
“Do I have to?” He pouted like a young child, earning a giggle from Y/N.
“Yes!” She laughed, leaning in closer. “Or I’ll force feed you it.”
“With your mouth, I hope.”
A blush dusted the woman’s cheeks as an idea formed in her mind, one which would solve many problems, including his refusal to eat.
As she leaned in closer, Moriarty couldn’t resist the joke falling from his lips. “Ohh, are we about to kiss right now?” His words were teasing, he didn’t actually expect her to do so, but as she leaned in and pressed her lips against his, he couldn’t stop his eyes from widening.
Despite his initial shock, he was quick to respond to the kiss, his hands moving to cup her cheeks and pull her closer into him, deepening the kiss whilst one of Y/N’s hands moved to his shoulder and the other to his neck.
“I suppose we are,” were the only words spoken with a cheeky smile before she pulled him back in for a kiss to shut him up.
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classickook · 1 year
Text
a study in vulnerability | sherlock holmes
part one | part two
pairing: sherlock holmes x fem!reader
summary: sherlock wants to know why you’ve been avoiding him.
warnings: angst, swearing
word count: 2.2k
a/n: i’m so sorry this is a million years late omg i hope it’s worth the wait 😭
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a few months had passed since the incident between sherlock and irene, and you had done everything in your power to stay as far away from the consulting detective as possible. you couldn’t stomach the thought of bumping into the pair again; who knew what you might interrupt next. the reminder caused a wave of nausea to roil in your stomach until the acidic taste of bile burned your throat and coated your tongue.
enough!
sherlock didn’t think of you in the way you wanted and that was fine. you were over it now—really, you were. you had decided that you would just continue on without seeing him, rushing past his flat and up the stairs to yours with barely a glance at his door; the days where it was left wide open and you caught sight of him pacing back and forth were harder for you, but you pushed the creeping feelings far, far down and kept them under lock and key.
he was your neighbor, and that was all.
in the past couple of weeks, however, sherlock seemed to be loitering just outside his flat, or close enough to its threshold that he could meet your gaze as you ascended the staircase. you had tried countless times to brush past him without a word, pretending as if you were scrolling on your phone or reading through your mail, but he managed to catch your attention each and every time, much to your chagrin.
he would offer a polite greeting—a ridiculous attempt at small talk on his part—but all you could muster was a tight lipped smile and faint hi before continuing on your way.
it turned out that sherlock holmes was unable to accept your meager greeting and took it upon himself to put in more effort, which was nothing less of surprising that the seemingly robotic, closed-off, emotionless, married-to-his-work, (the list could go on) man would go to such lengths to catch your attention was something you couldn’t wrap your head around. what were you to him, and why now?
the following week began sherlock’s next level of neighborly, and downright uncharacteristic, hospitality.
“good evening, y/n,” sherlock announced to you from the top of the staircase, hands casually shoved into his trouser pockets and suit jacket nowhere to be seen.
your workbag was draped heavily over your shoulder and hindered your balance as you climbed up the steps. the soles of your feet ached from standing all day and desperately needed a proper lie-down. you moved past him as fast as your tired feet could manage with a light, “hi, sherlock.”
“good day at work today?” he continued as if you weren’t practically running for your life to get away from him. he was now propped lazily against the doorframe in a very un-sherlock fashion; you had never seen the man so uncharacteristically relaxed in all the time that you’d known him.
“it was fine, thanks,” you replied crisply, injecting a certain edge to your tone that would hint at your desperation to get away from him and up to your flat.
much to your disappointment, and surprise—wasn’t he supposed to be the most famous detective around? read the room, you begged silently—a soft smile pulled across his lips in a way that made his blue eyes sparkle in the dark hallway lighting as he offered kindly, “i made some tea. would you like a cup?”
“no, thank you.”
“have you eaten yet?”
you mentally rolled your eyes. why couldn’t he just get the fucking hint already?
“i’m not really hungry. i’ll probably just head to bed. so, if you’ll excuse me—” your additional attempt at moving away from him was rendered useless once again as he quite literally blocked your path to the next set of steps that would lead to the comfort of your flat.
your eyes widened. “sherlock—”
“y/n.”
his tone was deep yet soft, a hint of quiet pleading on his lips as he tried to meet your fleeting gaze that was looking at everything but him.
you were left staring at the wall behind him as he took a hesitant step closer, the scent of his cologne invading your senses with the close proximity: warm amber, sandalwood, and musk. the familiarity of it was a bittersweet sort of nostalgia, coating your skin and hair with its rich earthiness that you once loved but now dreaded as it settled in your lungs.
as much as you hated to admit to yourself, it reminded you of her… you wondered if the scent of him lingered on the delicate skin beneath her ear or across her pale collarbones or along the blue-green veins that lined the insides of her wrists—
you were caught in your own thoughts, the echoing silence of the hallway pounding at your eardrums in a painful rhythm. sherlock’s own silence could be felt as well, his attention now fully drawn to you. the lowering of his dark brows, the spaced-out gaze, the twitching of his fingertips against his clothed thigh signaled to you that he had slipped into detective mode as he tried to figure you out, digging into your psyche to find what lingered beneath the silence.
but you were in no mood for it today.
“i’m tired, sherlock,” you said carefully, “can i please go up to my flat?”
“you never come round anymore.” his voice was nothing but a rasp, the statement rushing through his lips as if they couldn’t be forced out fast enough.
“i’ve been busy.”
“doing what?”
you bit your lip. what were you supposed to say, that you’ve been busying trying to avoid him?
“all right,” he said, taking a cautious step back, giving you room to breathe but silently hoping you wouldn’t make a run for it again. “well, could you just stop by and say hi every once in a while?”
your brows furrowed in genuine confusion. “why?”
“because i’d like to see you.”
“you’re seeing me now.”
his lips twitched. “yes, but you don’t want me to. you won’t even look at me and i’ve been blocking your path to go upstairs.”
well, you certainly couldn’t argue with that.
“have i done something wrong?” he voiced quietly, almost afraid—vulnerable, even. when had you ever seen him in such a state, and at your expense of all things?
“...no.”
“you’ve been avoiding me.”
“i haven’t.”
you have.
“yes, you have,” he said, reiterating your silent thoughts aloud. “you never come by the flat anymore, and every time i try to make conversation, you always rush off without saying barely anything. as such,” he continued in his usual detective tone, “this causes me to believe that you’re avoiding me, which means i must have done something that upset you.”
“i’m fine, sherlock. i’ve been busy… had a lot on my mind.”
“certainly you have enough time for a cup of tea, at least. would now be all right?”
a sharp inhale. “i don’t know, i—”
“please?”
—a rush of deflated air. you couldn’t recall a time when the detective had ever uttered that word in the past year or so that you knew him.
you should just get it over with, you thought. bite the bullet, humor him for a bit, and then be on your way. you could go back to your original scheme of avoiding him and maybe this minor interaction would soothe his hurt—or whatever it was—for the time being.
“fine,” you said defeatedly, “i guess i have time for one cup.”
the look that crossed his features could only be described as immense relief, his eyes alight with childlike wonder and unashamed enthusiasm.
you readjusted the strap of your work bag and crossed the threshold, rubbing your arms self consciously at the chill settling over you at being inside his flat again. it felt familiar but changed somehow, like the worst kind of nostalgia.
“cold?”
your eyes flicked to sherlock from where he now stood waiting for you in the kitchen.
“i’m fine.”
sherlock stepped closer, noticing your slight shiver and refusal to meet his gaze. “yes, you are. here.” in his outstretched hand was one of his dressing gowns that had been lazily strewn across an armchair. you chanced a glance at him before staring over his head at the fireplace, arms crossed defensively and ignoring his offer.
he exhaled out a sharp breath, still insisting that you take the robe.
“i said i’m fine,” you muttered, hoping he would just drop it and get to preparing the damn tea so you could leave. you couldn’t stand being in his flat again with all the memories that followed, feeling like an outsider who didn’t belong.
sherlock stepped around you, the clipped heels of his leather shoes echoing throughout the otherwise silent room as the weight of your bag was lifted and replaced by the silken material of his robe, the detective gently slipping each arm into the sleeves without a word. the action was achingly sweet and so unlike him, you weren’t sure what to do or say.
why was he acting like this, desperate to see you and have you in his company again? he had never seemed to require it before your gradual disappearance from his life, so why now?
sherlock stepped away silently with a hesitant smile in your direction before wandering off to make the tea he promised you. in the meantime, you stood in the middle of the living room and took in the usual state of disarray that you had grown accustomed to: crinkled newspapers placed haphazardly along the coffee table, half-empty teacups teetering on the kitchen counter, even more bullet holes decorating the wall that could only be a result of sherlock’s ceaseless boredom. as your eyes took in every familiarity and difference, nowhere within his flat could you locate a sign that irene adler had been present.
you cleared your throat before speaking. “where is ms. adler?”
a sudden clattering could be heard from the kitchen followed by sherlock’s voice, sounding unsteady. “how do you mean?”
how could you say this without sounding jealous…? your fingers toyed with the silken tie that hung loosely at your sides. “I just… thought she would be here. weren’t the two of you”—oh, god, you were going to puke—“together?”
the clattering amplified into a full-on shattering as sherlock stumbled out of the kitchen and into the living room. “what?”
you swallowed down the bile rising in your throat. fuck, you were royally screwing this up. you should just turn around and leave, forget about the damn tea, this was a mistake—
“y/n,” sherlock began quietly, tilting his chin down to meet your wild gaze, “what do you mean? why would ms. adler and i be together?”
your eyes squeezed shut. what could you say now? no way in hell would you mention walking in on the two of them together from that awful evening. “forget i said anything, i’m sorry—”
“y/n,” he repeated, tone suddenly serious, “talk to me. why are you asking me that?”
“i just… i saw her in here—with you—and the two of you looked awfully close, i just assumed that—”
sherlock’s cool touch met either side of your jaw as he drew your attention back to him. “i’m so sorry, my dear girl,” he said vehemently. “it wasn’t anything like what you’re thinking, i swear it. she was helping me with a case and that was all.”
“the two of you looked awfully close for a case.” you hated how you sounded; it was absolutely none of your business who he spent his time with or who he dated. what gave you the right to question him like this?
you felt utterly vulnerable in that moment, paper-thin as sherlock searched your face, his brows arched in concern while the smooth stroking of his thumb across your cheek aimed to soothe your fractured thoughts.
“she is nothing to me, i promise you that. i have not been in contact with her since that evening and i have no desire to reach out to her—ever. you are who i want to spend my time with, my dear. you have no idea how useless i’ve felt without you here in the flat like before.” he expelled a shuddering breath that warmed your mouth as he said, “i’ve missed you.”
you felt the prickling of tears at the sincerity in his tone and gaze, his emotions written on his face in a way you had never seen from him before. he typically kept such private emotions to himself, or barely allowed himself to even feel such things in the first place, yet here he was, practically pouring out his heart to you by the sheer depth in his blue eyes.
“i want you here with me, y/n. i always have.”
your lower lip wobbled pathetically. “really?”
“yes.” he brushed his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks to collect the wetness there. “you’re important to me. please don’t ignore me anymore. my heart would break if you did.”
the vulnerability in his tone did not go unnoticed. you clasped your fingers around his wrist, feeling the sharp jump in his pulse as he held you carefully, reverently, as if afraid you might slip away if he wasn’t careful.
you offered a watery smile up at him to which he returned in earnest, a certain brightness surging across his features. “stay with me for now?”
“of course,” you replied coyly. “you still owe me that tea.”
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tags: @sherlocks-blanket @selcouthangel @singhfae @nicoletk @sherlocksgirl91 @ironstrange1991 @evelynrosestuff @french-vanilla-in-the-clouds @feral-for-strange @readingbookelf @starstruck-loner @winsteria @dadcomfort @imeternallylove @x-avantgarde-x
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kahuunknown · 7 months
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The "Rebellious" one - BBC Sherlock sibling fanfic
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!NOTE!: Male-reader/insert, inspiration from SHERLOCK TV Show
~~~
The rebellious one
Sherlock absolutely loved you; you were by far his favourite sibling by a long shot. You were the eldest of all your siblings, 1 year older than stuck up Mycroft and 8 elder than dear little Sherlock Holmes.
You were the troublemaker, mischievous without a doubt. You saw little reasoning behind Mummy dearest’s desires for you to become something great, like a doctor or lawyer. You hated the private piano lessons, the pointless tutoring sessions and eventually school altogether. It was easy to guess what you did, but dropping out of school was by far one of the best decisions of your life, and one of the easiest as well.
You were rebellious by nature.
Mummy and Daddy weren’t quite sure where the behaviour stemmed from as it was definitely not inherited from either of them. It was obvious to you however, the stress of being the first born, the expectation to be the most successful and therefore grand of your siblings. To be able to support yourself with ease and help your siblings if the need arises.
While you respected the ideal. You ultimately rejected the pathways your parents provided, paving a new one and building everything from nothing. It was satisfying seeing your parents reaction when you visited one Christmas dinner, they were horrified at the ink adorning your right arm. Sherlock however quite liked it, in fact he wasted no time gifting his present early, he wanted you to get his pirate sketch tattooed. And who were you to deny him?
That cute little face was irresistible normally, but with added intent and desire behind them? God, you were putty in his hands.
Together you went to a tattoo parlour, Sherlock was rambling furiously to the tattoo artist whilst the ink was being stained onto your skin, it was adorable, the passion in his story as he explained the intricacy of his design and the meaning behind it. ‘The adventures of Yellowbeard’. Sherlock called it, or something similar at least.
It didn’t quite match the other tattoo’s you’d gotten, as those were all grey-scale realistic designs, but Sherlock was adamant that colour was non-negotiable. The young Holmes was a hyper little bean as he jumped around in joy at the completion of his masterpiece. You couldn’t stop chuckling at his antics; the innocence was overloading your system.
Of course, Mum and Dad were horrified once the two of you returned, though they seemed less upset at the tattoo and more with the aspect of Sherlock in a ‘biker’s tattoo shop’ of which it was absolutely not. You weren’t an idiot, you’d made sure Sherlock was as safe as could be.
Mycroft thought you a moron the majority of your life. Growing up he strived to pass you at everything he possibly could, interestingly enough, it took much longer than expected. He thought you were just another goldfish, swimming around dumbly just like all the others. But of course, you were more than that he later realised.
You were a sponge. While you hated your mother’s insistent lessons and tutoring, you had an eidetic memory and couldn’t help but memorise absolutely everything ever taught to you. You would have been a prodigy, everything your parents ever dreamed you to be. But unfortunately for them, you had slightly different plans.
Mycroft thought he’d finally done it when he joined the British Government, there was no way you could outshine him now. Yet, despite not having achieved a high standing career, it was obvious that whenever the two of you met, who was smarter ultimately. You were the opposite of what you parents dreamed you to be, yet you were the happiest having done so. Mycroft admired that.
He’d admit that of course, you would win in physicality. Always. You loved going outside, working out, playing sports, and eating healthy. It was one of your passions, something that ultimately benefitted you quite greatly as your appearance remained younger for much longer than if you had of neglected fitness and health. Sherlock teased Mycroft relentlessly about it as well, how young and fit their elder brother looked in comparison. Of course it was playful teasing, but it was definitely something to respect.
It was only more recently that all three brothers started getting along quite nicely. Sherlock of course never thought ill of you, he just assumed you were an average idiot like John. You played the part quite well, snickering behind Sherlock back while explaining things to John, whom believed you to be his favourite of the Holmes children. You were fun to be around, the most human and emotional of all. It was refreshing to be around.
When you finally decided to reveal your hidden superpower, he was dumbfounded but also instantly relieved.
Mycroft however was a very different story. It started slowly, you invited him randomly to a gig, of which he was pleasantly surprised when he arrived to a wedding, you adorned in an unfamiliar suit standing at the stage and singing a sweet lullaby to the lucky couple. It wasn’t your usual style, sure, but you wanted to ease Mycroft into your life, and what better way to do it?
Over the years, Sherlock had subtly provided you with more tattoo designs he’d wish for you to get, all his own of course. You were still a sucker for those eyes; it seemed their affect never dimmed as the detective aged.
Eventually one day Mycroft approached you on the matter, rather shyly you’d point out as well, you were open and encouraging as he mumbled the reluctant request to add to your collection of ink with one of his own. Stating through hidden messages within his speech that he’d been feeling a little left out. Of course you were ecstatic, more than happy to agree.
It was then that Mycroft realised no matter what he’d accomplish, you always have the upper hand in the end. Not because of intelligence nor deducing skills, but because of your raw compassion and commitment to your beliefs and dreams, it was awe inspiring. Beautiful even.
Perhaps those brothers of yours might do a little rebelling of their own.
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strangelockd · 1 year
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A Queen For A Mindpalace
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Pairing: Victorian Sherlock x Reader
Synopsis: You and Sherlock have a past, but before you attempt to move on. You stop by to make amends, only for a realization to take place. The question remains, will you stay or go?
Word Count: 2,750k
Warning: Angst,Pining,Tooth Rotting Fluff,Male Masterbation,Thigh Riding,Mentions Of Past Sexual Encounter,NSFW Themes
•If you enjoy the song you can find it on my Sherlock Playlist•
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Slouching deeper into his favorite chair Sherlock stared up at the ceiling, she will come back. Casting his weary gaze to a small side table the detective reached for his trusty pipe, taking a few pinches of tobacco; his nimble fingers effortlessly stuffed the brown dried herb into the blackened wooden chamber. The leftover soot always stained his fingers with just a tinge of black. Packing the leaves snugly into the wooden bowl he smiled proudly. His fingers went groping inside his silk-lined pocket fishing out for the matchbox, sliding the paper box open Sherlock pinched out a match striking the side of the box and igniting the pipe chamber. Releasing a satisfied exhale, the smell of tobacco loomed in the flat leaving a smokey haze. It was the ideal evening after the week he had but something was missing. A sigh escaped his lips as he leaned over grabbing the violin trying to banish any thought from his mind.
You had your chance…many times, but now you really screwed it up. You brainless old fool….
Releasing a sigh, Sherlock brought the violin up resting it under his chin. His fingers effortlessly danced along the neckline as he got lost in one of his favorite pastimes. Closing his eyes, Sherlocks mind could not help but wander to all the memories. How could he forget the first-time you showed up on his doorstep in the middle of the night soaked from the storm, asking him to help find her father's killer. The case that would change his life forever in more ways than one. His mind wandered deeper as he recalled your first night together. How your delicious sex swallowed him perfectly like you were tailored just for him. Or the countless times those supple ruby-red lips moaned as you devoured him whole with a fiery passion. Little would he find out how much he craved that flame, your desire…the way you moaned his name as you reached the crescendo of your climax was better than any drug he ever consumed. 
He missed the nights he would worship at your feet getting drunk off you. The supple bounce your breasts made as you rode him again and again into climax. He missed the way they felt under his touch, the way your nipples would pebble under his touch as he would tease and pinch them into flushed sensitive buds. The way his hands would travel down the small of your back as he rested them on the swell of your hips. Oh, how he missed the way you tasted, the way his tongue traveled from bud to bud as he trailed his mouth up your sex-flushed skin leaving purple blossoms in their wake. The way you felt under him, the way your body bloomed only for him, for you were a force of nature, and he wanted to be in the center of your storm. But all of that was in the past now for he had to focus on the reality at play. You moved on, and he was stuck here in London…alone.
Sherlock groaned, noticing the stiffness in his trousers he rolled his eyes, for he was now conflicted with an obvious but still awkward choice. Setting the violin down, Sherlocks large slender digits slowly grazed the outside of his seams as his mind trailed back to you. Thumbing through a drawer he fished for a rag, his hips bucked at the increasing sensitivity of his pressing member making Sherlock groan. His eyes caught a white handkerchief, and hastily pawed for it, pulling it closer Sherlock noticed the lipstick stains…. Y/N. Lifting it to his nose he took a deep inhale taking in the remnants of your scent…lavender. The smell shot right to his cock as he felt the pressure grow greater. 
Oh, bloody hell screw it.
Lifting himself upward Sherlock quickly unbuttoned his trousers allowing as much that was necessary to do the deed. Once they rested on his knees Sherlock quickly sunk once more into the chair. His palm stroked across his virility thats now standing practically at the ready. As he grazed the bulbous head of his member, leaning his head back becoming lost in his own pleasure. Lost in the smell of you…His cock oozed out the hints of glistening pre cum as he groaned in ecstasy chasing his chemical high. 
Knock knock knock
Dropping the handkerchief to the floor Sherlock quickly adjusted his trousers breathlessly, “Mrs. Hudson, will you get that! I- I’m in the middle of something!” stuffing what he can into his pants with little avail he managed to finally straighten himself out. 
Her voice trailed off in the distance with that sweet tone, “Sherlock I’ve told you this before, I’m not your housekeeper,” hearing her bedroom door close shut Sherlock rolled his eyes again. Apparently, she was not going to accommodate.
Knock knock knock
“Ugh!” he scoffed standing up lazily. This better be worth it. Sherlock stood up reaching for his silken robe, tying the matching beige belt around his toned waist he looked around one last time. Making his way to the front door he turned the latch; suddenly having to catch his breath once more because it was you, of all the people standing outside looking beautiful as ever. Your corset hugging you in all the right places as his eyes trailed back to the ruby red lips he remembers so well. All those nights where you would entertain each other with the pleasures of your flesh and conversations, but those were faded passions burned to memories. His eyes casted his gaze to your voluptuous bosom. Admiring the rise and fall with the swelling of your breathing as his trousers slowly began returning to their previously stiffened state. Leaning against the doorframe Sherlock cleared his throat; an obvious poor attempt at maintaining composure. 
“Y/N…to what do I owe the spontaneous visit,” Sherlock stammered while his fingers nonchalantly adjusted his robes attempting to hide the growing stiffening arousal. Shrugging your shoulders, you allowed yourself in, “I was in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by.” Taking a seat in his chair you smirked knowing it would annoy him. Closing the door Sherlock turned walking back placing his hands in his pockets, staring at you flatly, “you know there’s another chair right there” gesturing with a finger masking his annoyance. Setting down your reticule drawstring bag smiling, “Ya but I like this spot and besides,” crossing your legs with a smug expression,” I’m a guest.”
Sherlock released a scoff rolling his eyes. Taking out the pipe he reached for the tobacco box. “You’re not a guest, you’re more of an annoyance” a beautiful annoyance, taking a step closer his eyes glowed against the fireplace. Igniting the chamber he exhaled a puff of smoke. 
“That’s mighty bold of you to say considering US,” spitting with venom in your tone. 
He paused returning his gaze to you, taking in his expression you noticed his eyes harden, “There never was an us Y/N,” those six words cut through your heart like ice. At that point you didn’t care anymore, you just wanted to get your point across and take your leave.
“Look I didn’t come here to argue Sherlock. In fact, I came to say goodbye.” That look of earnestness in your eyes left him dead in his tracks. He knew you were not lying this time about leaving England. You have an offer for a job overseas in the new world. It was going to be a fresh start for both of you since there was no future in London, especially with Sherlock Holmes.
He took another step closer his eyes never leaving yours, “Well if that’s the case, then I feel like there’s nothing much left to say” he took another puff, Tell her the truth…before it's too late. His mind screamed to stay but his feet lead him forward as he took the seat across from you.
Pausing, your mouth parted open in shock at his lack of response, “that’s it? That all you have to say Sherlock Holmes?” your tone above a whisper. Desperation hazed as you fought off the tears.
 He wasn’t going to fight for me after all…
“It’s just that…,” Sherlock took a deep sigh, “I don’t want to be the one who holds you back. You deserve a future and need to go on and forget about me Y/N.” By this time, he couldn’t look at you for it was too painful. He can already picture the devastation in your eyes. Peaking over, he was right. Tears streamed down your face as you reached for a tissue from the mahogany chaise lounge. You were always stunning, but when you cried it was devastatingly beautiful. It aroused him in some way. This look of pure innocence, walls completely torn down. You were a goddess of grace he couldn’t stay away from anymore no matter how hard he fought it.
Fight for her you idiot…just ask her, now!
Leaning forward he sat the pipe down next to him taking a deep breath. His gaze locked yours as he slowly raised a hand upward, “Y/N, you know this is for the best” his chest rose and fell quickly as he attempted to steady his breath all while convincing himself that this is even what he wanted. Sherlock couldn’t help his rapid heartbeat as he was sure you could hear it through his starched white shirt. The ring was burning a hole in his pocket at this point. Normally he was an excellent liar, but with you, he couldn’t mask the truth for very long.
“You don’t get it, do you?” wiping your eyes you noticed his eyes widening, “every time I walk away from you, I feel like a piece of your soul is with me. You’ve stolen my heart Sherlock Holmes, the least you can do is tell me what you intend to do with it before I g—.”
Before you could finish Sherlock lunged forward, his form towered over you on his favorite chair as his mouth consumed yours with a slow passion. His lips parted yours ever so slowly but begging to taste more. Despite the time apart your bodies still moved in sync with each other. As eager as he was to have you, Sherlock wanted to take his time to savor every bit of you. He noticed your hands instinctively trailing through his slicked-back hair, tugging the ravened strands gently. He released a hiss as his palms trailed down the chair to meet your face, he will have to fix his hair later no doubt. Sherlock smiled wide, he knew his hands were always your weakness, for you couldn’t help but lean into his touch making him smile all the brighter. 
Tilting your head back he dove deeper into your mouth savoring the taste of you. You moaned as he pulled away slowly, his nose just a hairline away. His thumb gently rubbed a tear away as he smiled sweetly at you. Your eyes widened as you saw your reflection in his sea-glass gaze. “I intend to never let it go again…because you are everything,” his gaze unwavering, he pressed your palm to his chest. Feeling the rapid tapping of his heart under his shirt, you realized he was not lying. “For you are worth the fight my love”
Your eyes lit up as he leaned into you once more feeling the warm tears stream down your cheek. Parting your lips, he moaned as he shifted your weight to his lap. Lifting your skirts, you adjusted yourself as you rested on top of his stiffening trousers. 
“Oh!” You exclaimed feeling yourself turning bright red. Even when not fully erect Sherlock’s cock made you blush. The reaction went straight to his cock as he smiled widely like the Cheshire Cat. 
His tone laced with lust and longing,
 “Like what you feel?” One hand wiping your tears as the other trailed down resting on your hip.
Rocking back and forth chanting like a prayer, “always…” you missed this. Missed the way he made you feel. Arching your back you rode him slowly, leaning into his hand enjoying every twitch and response Sherlock made. You always had a way of breaking him, turning the great detective into putty. You couldn’t help but grin as your eye caught something on the floor. Pausing your movements Sherlock groaned in protest. Leaning over scooping up the material immediately noticing was it is. The old handkerchief that you swore was “lost.” Returning upwards facing Sherlock you noticed a rosier tone in his cheeks as he looked away sheepishly. Dangling it in front of him you teased, “what's this?”
His ears flushed a bright red as he snatched it from your hand inhaling the thin cotton smiling sentimentality, “Oh, just a souvenir,” tucking it into his pocket he couldn’t wait any longer. 
“There’s been something I have been meaning to ask you”
Fishing out a small velvet box he grabbed your hand.
His voice was slightly shaking as Sherlock fumbled with the box, “I should have done this the first morning I woke up next to you Y/N”
Opening the box slowly your eye’s widened as they gazed upon a gorgeous diamond halo engagement ring. The beautiful rose gold complemented the fiery opal that stood in the center. It left you speechless. 
“Y/N, please stay. For I cannot survive another day of you not being my wife. I love you. Please, marry me” his eyes never left yours as he waited for an answer. Your hands shook as you sat there going through thousands of options at once. But all the options always lead back to him, this man in front of you who choose you above everyone else. This consulting detective was yours and you wanted to be his and his alone. Jumping off his lap you squealed, “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes! Of course, I will marry you!”
Tears streamed down your cheeks as Sherlock grinned from ear to ear. He stood up, placing the band on your finger before giving your palms a gentle kiss. His lips were warm and inviting as they danced up your arm. Peppering your face with kisses, he pulled you in for an embrace. The feeling of his sturdy form made you feel so comfortable and safe. Bringing your hand up he laced his with yours to gaze upon the glittering ring resembling your future together. 
“It really is very beautiful Sherlock, where did you even find it?” Leaning your head into his shoulder, Sherlock moved a lock of hair kissing your neckline whispering, “oh this, it was Mrs.Hudsons. She thought it would look perfect on you. She’s been hounding me for months to puck up the courage to ask you.”
You chuckled, “not surprised the great detective is bashful”
“Not bashful,” he chuckled placing another kiss against your neck, “just a old fool who kept waiting for the right moment”
His hands trailed to your waistline as he slowly turned you around. Arms laced around each other you both got swept away in the moment and began swaying back and forth together. A small, adorable dance that was shared between the two of you. Taking his hand up he spun you around slowly bringing you back to his chest. Leaning your head against him you took in the strength of his forearms, how you missed his embrace. Sighing with joy Sherlock sat back down in his chair, pulling you in his lap his arms laced around you, “Im sorry for saying such hurtful things my darling,” looking you in the eyes his voice lowered, “I love you more than anything in the world Y/N. And I can't wait for you to be my bride”
Lacing your fingers with your future bridegroom you brought them up to kiss his hand gently. The ring glimmered in the light as your forehead rested on his,“Its ok Sherlock, its in the past. What is love without forgiveness.”
Words were no longer needed as Sherlock held you tight, he was always a handsy man even though Sherlock would never admit it. Especially when after a case there was nothing he wanted more then to come home and just hold you. No words. Just the pure feeling of you with him. For you were not just his fiancé, but the queen to his mind palace, and you finally made your way back home. 
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Heres the ring that inspired me…❤️
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