#henry!holmes x reader

[love-strawberry]

we'll be alright

summary : in which they fight but there's no doubt that they'll end up alright.

pairing : sherlock holmes x reader

warnings : slight spoiler for enola holmes 2, ooc!sherlock, slight angst

author's note : so, hi!! i love you, thank you for sticking around, i love you!! <3

tagged : @0oolookitsme

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“sherlock?” 

“enola. what are you doing here?” sherlock questioned, swaying as he tried to focus on his sister. “it’s not safe. there are scary people about”

“yes, let me know when you meet one,” enola sighed, walking towards him and standing close in case he fell over. “brother, are you quite yourself?”

“i’m fine, it was just a disagreement over a glass of wine and whose wine it was,” sherlock waved her off, looking around. “there was another disagreement that i had, not here, no. at home. it quite upset me. very much, in fact.”

“you fought with y/n?” enola asked, her eyebrows raising. she absolutely adored y/n and to hear that her brother and her sister-in-law were fighting was a shock considering they were totally smitten with each other.

“i find after wine, it’s very difficult to make your arms and legs move,” sherlock completely ignored her question, swaying dangerously. enola rushed to support, a wince escaping her as sherlock leaned on her for support. “i don’t usually imbibe but i’m not a case, you see. it’s proven rather tricky”

“cab,” enola called for a carriage, walking while supporting her brother’s weight, losing her footing every once in a while during their very short walk to the side of the road.

“hello,” both the holmes’ siblings greeted the driver, moving to sit inside.

“where are we going?” sherlock asked, looking at enola for answers.

“221 baker street,” enola replied, helping him get in the cab.

the ride to 221 baker street was filled with silence, with enola occasionally trying to ask about y/n and sherlock mindless chatter about his latest case.

the pair of siblings exited the cab, paying the driver and walked to the front door. after opening it, enola stood with sherlock in front of 221a and stopped, looking at her brother for any sort of indication that he was going to open it.

“that’s a and i’m b,” sherlock mumbled, his eyes unfocused as he first pointed at the door in front of them and then at the stairs going to the upper level.

enola sighed, rolling her eyes slightly as she moved over to the staircase. she looked at the number of stairs they’d have to climb before looking at her drunk brother.

“i didn’t know you had steps,” enola mentioned, wanting nothing more than to just sleep and wake up in a week or so.

“one should always have steps to avoid people stepping on you,” sherlock said, his words slurring together as he stood there. “that’s a tip, you should probably write that down.”

“alright,” enola started as she let go of him slightly and helped him lean against the wall, “how about i go upstairs and get y/n and she can help me get you upstairs?”

“y/n?” sherlock’s attention shifted to enola, his head leaning on the wall. “i don’t know if she’ll be here.”

“why not?” enola asked, worry growing in the pit of her stomach. had the fight really been that bad?

“she was quite upset with me,” sherlock spoke, his words stringing together to a somewhat coherent sentence. “i wouldn’t be surprised if she chose to go and stay with her sister for the time being.”

“we’re not at all done with this conversation as i’m very eager to know just how you’ve messed it up with the most loving and caring woman but we do need to get you upstairs,” enola said, her tone of voice sharp as she supported sherlock and guided him towards the first step. “all right, lift your left leg.”

“enola?” a voice questioned from the top of the stairs, making both the siblings look up. “and sherlock? what happened?”

“y/n!” enola exclaimed with relief in her voice, excited to see her sister-in-law and to get some help. “could you please help me in getting your drunk husband in the apartment?”

“y/n, love,” sherlock called out but his voice was ignored by both the ladies, leaving him with a frown on his face.

“oh my, i’m so sorry,” y/n rushed down the stairs, her dress flailing behind her as she went to sherlock’s other side and supported him. “did you get him here all by yourself?”

“had to,” enola informed, climbing up one step at a time. “he was drunk and got thrown out of an establishment.”

“god,” y/n mumbled, ignoring sherlock’s attempts to talk to her. it was obvious that she was angry with him. “i’m sorry you had to see him like this, enola.”

“it’s alright,” enola replied in her cheerful voice, the one that made y/n smile at the girl. the company of three finally reached the top of the stairs and y/n opened the door. “i can hold this incident over his head for years to come. at least, until he does something else.”

“i got him from here,” y/n assured the girl, her hands going over her husband’s shoulders as she supported him. “you go, get freshened up."

“alright,” with that enola went off in the direction of the bathroom, leaving sherlock and y/n alone.

“you should sit down, sherlock,” y/n said to her husband, leading him to the couch in the corner of the room. 

“you’re right,” sherlock mumbled, tripping as he moved across the carpet. “of course you are, darling.”

sherlock sat on the couch with a grunt falling from his lips, y/n’s hand automatically going to his shoulder while the other cupped his cheek, making him look at her. when she realised what she was doing, she quickly withdrew her hands and folded them in front of her, trying to ignore the confused look on her husband's face.

“are you okay?” she questioned, keeping in mind to keep her voice low.

“yes, i’ll be up and running in no time,” sherlock assured, reaching for her hands but stopped when she made no move to take his.

“i was worried when you stormed out and didn’t come back before nightfall,” y/n admitted, her fidgeting with the numerous rings she wore, a nervous habit she had; something sherlock always picked on.

“i apologise,” sherlock whispered, burying his head in his hands, the light from the lamps making his head hurt. “for worrying you. and for other things.”

“that’s alright,” y/n replied, chuckling lightly, though it was weak and she sounded tired. “i think i'll always be worrying when it comes to you. i’ve made my peace with it.”

"you're not mad?" sherlock asked, his voice muffled.

"we'll talk later, sherlock," y/n spoke, her voice sharp as she took a deep breath. "you make it hard to be mad at you, when you're in this stage."

“i suppose i don't make it any easier," sherlock asked, a small smile on his lips though y/n couldn't see it. "being me."

"you don't," y/n looked away, choosing to look at the portraits on the wall. "but that's okay."

sherlock was about to say something else when enola's voice sounded from their bathroom.

"i better go and see what she wants," y/n spoke though she made no move to leave. a moment passed between the couple before y/n moved towards him and pushed him to lay on the couch by his shoulders. "you, rest. please."

"if i must," sherlock said, leaning into her touch and craved it when it was gone. he settled and closed his eyes. "is she to stay the night?"

"yes," y/n spoke sternly, leaving no room for argument making sherlock grumble but he didn't object; knowing it would be fruitless.

y/n moved through the living room, making her way to the bathroom and knocked twice before waiting for enola to open the door.

"a moment," enola called from the inside and half a minute later, the door was thrown open and y/n was pulled inside.

"is everything alright?" y/n questioned, looking at the teenager whose hair were down, strands falling in her face.

"could you do my hair, please?" enola questioned, a pink tint on her face. "i usually just throw them in a bun and that does the trick but i love how you do your hair and since i'm here and you're here, maybe you could do my hair?"

"of course i will!" y/n exclaimed as she pushed enola's hair out of her face. "you shouldn't ask, enola. you're like my sister. i basically raised you."

"still, i felt the need to ask," enola shrugged, handing her the brush that was on the counter and turning around.

"you shouldn't," y/n reassured her, brushing her hair softly. "i'd never refuse."

"i'm glad to hear that," enola smiled at her, looking through the mirror in front of her. "is sherlock okay?"

"he's resting," y/n mentioned, starting to braid small braids. "at least, i hope so."

"did you two have a fight?" enola questioned, no longer being able to control her curiosity.

"he told you about it?" y/n asked, mild surprise on her face but still, she smiled at the girl.

"he wasn't sure if you'd be home when we reached here," enola spoke, wincing slightly as her hair got caught in one of the many rings y/n wore, the latter apologising profusely as she untangled them. "said you might've chosen to go to your sister's house. and he also mentioned something about a disagreement at home when i first saw him outside the bar."

"oh, um, we did have a fight," y/n admitted, a small frown on her face as she recalled the harsh words that were thrown around. "but i'd never just leave."

"did he apologise?" enola questioned, admiring the braid y/n had finished. "please tell me he did."

"he did," y/n assured the younger girl. "i wouldn't be here any longer if he didn't."

"that's good," enola smiled, her fingers twirling around the braid. "you're both good then?"

"i don't think it works like that, darling," y/n spoke slowly, her eyes trained on her hair, a sad smile on her face as she refused to look at her in the mirror. "it's not just a simple 'sorry' and then everything is fine."

enola stayed silent as she thought about what y/n and finally after a couple moments, spoke. "what do you mean?"

"i mean, you can't just hurt someone and then realise that what you did was wrong. you can't apologise and expect everything to be okay, that's not how it is," y/n spoke, her voice calm and controlled but her mind was filled with the words that sherlock and her had spoken—yelled at eachother. "the person you hurt, they're not just going to forget and forgive you."

"then, what are we supposed to do?" enola spoke, her voice a whisper as she watched y/n finish off the last braid and tuck it neatly with the others. "if we apologise but they don't accept it, then what? we're supposed to keep on telling them?"

"we need to show them," y/n corrected her, turning her around to she could pin up the strands that kept getting in her eyes. "with actions, not just words. with what we do, with gestures. they need to know that we cherish them, that we're thankful that they're here, with us, they need to know that we love them and that we're sorry."

"sherlock does that?" enola asked, her eyes on her sister in law.

"he does," y/n whispered, looking down as she felt the familiar burning in her eyes and the floor became a mosaic. "he really does."

"then why are you both not okay?" enola asked, comforting y/n as she rubbed her arms.

"because i'm so worried," y/n started, her breathing heavier and her voice choked up. "i'm so worried, enola. it's starting to affect me physically. he's taking on dangerous cases everyday, the next one more dangerous than the last and he goes out without any sort of protection and i'm so scared that he's not going to come back home to me."

"he's always going to come back to you," enola spoke, her hearting hurting when she heard y/n sniffle. "he's sherlock and you're y/n. you'll always find eachother."

"last night, he didn't come home until midnight and i had stay up waiting for him because i hate it when he comes back and there's no one greeting him and he had a cut on his upper arm and i freaked out," y/n rambled, her hands clutching enola's, the latter not letting go even for a second, "and we had a small argument about him coming this late and coming home hurt when i've told him many times to take someone from scotland yard with him but it ended in a big fight and we both went to bed angry, it was the worst. in the morning, i brought it up again and he just—yelled at me and i yelled at him and he just stormed out."

"i—i don't know what to say," enola breathed out, her hands still onto y/n's. "except, let me go out there and smack some sense into him."

y/n let out a shaky laugh, letting go of enola's hand to wipe her eyes.

"letting all of that out felt good," y/n admitted, sniffling slightly, twirling enola as she looked over her hair. "i needed this, thank you, enola."

"of course, y/n," enola smiled, her eyes sparkling under the lamp in the corner of the bathroom. "thank you, for doing my hair."

"don't mention it, love," y/n waved her off, her heart feeling lighter. "the guest room is neat and clean, you should get some sleep."

"ah, yes," enola spoke, looking at herself in the mirror before smiling at y/n. "i'll see you in the morning."

"of course," y/n smiled back tiredly, her head hurting.

"good night," enola called as she walked away from the bathroom and towards the guest room, her voice drifting as the door closed.

"good night," y/n whispered, knowing that there was no way she heard her. she looked at herself in the mirror, taking note of the year stained cheeks and how anyone could tell that she had been crying. her hair was a mess, flicks restricting her view.

she sighed, before opening the faucet and washing her face, cursing at herself for not doing it earlier as it already made her head feel less heavy.

after drying her face with a cloth, she made her way to the living and spotted sherlock in the same position in which she had left him. he seemed to have fallen asleep, with how even and deep his breathing was and how he was still and peaceful. there was no furrow of his eyebrows, y/n noted as she admired him.

"sherlock?" y/n called as he leaned over him, her voice barely audible as she didn't want to startle him. "we should head to bed."

sherlock groaned as his hands covered his face, moving slightly but he made no indication of sitting up.

"sherlock, please," y/n spoke, her hand on his shoulder. "let us go to bed."

"hm?" sherlock hummed, opening his eyes a fraction before closing them.

"sit up," y/n ordered, her voice still light. sherlock pushed himself up, looking up at her with tired eyes and y/n had to resist the urge to kiss his forehead.

“come on, let’s get you in bed,” y/n spoke softly, holding onto sherlock's shoulder as he stood up. she lead him to their bedroom, his body swaying slightly at the movement, making y/n grip onto him a bit tighter.

“that sounds nice,” sherlock mumbled, his hands holding her waist as he walked into their bedroom with her support.

“it does, doesn’t it?” y/n sat him on the bed, removing his coat, tie and vest. “have some water before you fall asleep. here.”

“i’m not going to fall asleep,” sherlock huffed before drinking the water y/n from the glass on the bedside table with a small ‘thank you’, “i’m not tired.”

“sure you aren’t, love,” y/n muttered, helping him get under the covers and adjusting the pillow under his head. “do you need anything else?"

"huh?" sherlock asked, his head falling against the pillow. "no, i suppose."

"alright," y/n moved towards the dressing room to change into her night gown. "i'll be back in a minute."

y/n only got a hum from him in reply as she made her way into the small attached dressing room and changing as fast as she could into her night gown. folding the dress as neatly as she could, she opened the door to find sherlock sitting up with his back to the headboard.

"sherlock?" y/n asked, confusing evident in her voice as she made way towards him. she sat on the edge of the bed, her worries increasing as sherlock stayed silent for the better part of a minute.

"i'm sorry," sherlock spoke, his voice small as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "for yelling, for storming out, for worrying you, everything. all of it."

"it's okay, love," y/n didn't even notice the term of endearment fall from her lips. "we can talk in the morning. you need to rest."

"no, it can't wait," sherlock argued, opening his eyes and looking at her with utmost seriousness. his hands clasped hers, holding them with a firm grip. "i have only just realised how much worry i cause you."

"sher—"

"if you were out there, i don't know what i would do," sherlock continued speaking, the words falling from his lips effortlessly. "and i realise that i have been selfish, worrying my wife about my well being, coming home late and sometimes even injured."

"darling—"

"i'll work on that," sherlock nodded, not noticing y/n trying and failing to speak. "i'll talk to lestrade about getting a constable with me on dangerous cases."

"love—"

"we already went to bed angry at eachother yesterday," sherlock spoke tiredly, his eyes dropping and his grip on her hands going lax. "i didn't want you to be mad at me tonight. i love you and i'm sorry, y/n."

"i love you and i'm not mad, not anymore," y/n shook her head, smiling as she leaned over and kissed his forehead, stroking his face with her thumb. "i just worry about you, a lot."

"and from now on, i won't give you a reason to," sherlock promised, leaning into her touch.

"good," y/n dropped another kiss to his forehead, smiling when he looked up at her and leaned in to kiss her on the lips. she smiled as she met him halfway.

the kiss was messy, with y/n leaning over him and sherlock's hand supporting her. y/n's hand found the front of his shirt, pulling him even more closer while sherlock's hand circled her waist, tracing small circles on her hips as he kissed her back with fervour.

they broke apart, their breathing heavy as they smiled at eachother, hearts beating fast.

"you need to sleep, mr. holmes," y/n reminded him, pulling away from him and moving towards her side of the bed. "you're tired."

"no," sherlock denied, watching her as she got in under the cover. "maybe, yes. god, am i tired."

"told you," y/n smiled at him with satisfaction. "sleep."

sherlock watched as she leaned over her bedside table and turned off the lamp settled comfortably, shifting slightly. he waited until she was fully settled in before moving close to her.

he laid his head in the crook of her neck, his nose touching her collarbone as his breath hit the exposed part of her neck, making her shiver. her hands automatically went to his hair, running her fingers through it.

minutes passed as y/n laid in bed, staring at the ceiling and running her fingers through her husband's hair.

"sherlock?" y/n asked, her voice barely a whisper.

after hearing no answers from him, she shifted lightly to get a good look on his face and smiled as she noticed that he was fast asleep. his mouth was parted slightly and each exhale of breath made y/n shiver and get goosebumps. his grip on her was relaxed and the look on his face was so peaceful that it made y/n feel at peace.

kissing the top of head, y/n inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and sending a prayer to whatever force that made him hers.

sure, they had their disagreements, both big and small. their difference of opinion cause a rift every now and then but still, there was no doubt.

we'll be alright, she thought before falling asleep with the love of her life.

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#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes blurbs #enola holmes 2 #henry!holmes x reader #henry!sherlock #henry cavill

[marvelousmando]

"The Game is Afoot, Indeed"

Sherlock x Reader

A/N: So here's my first attempt at a one shot - the idea for this popped into my head not too long after watching Enola Holmes 2. Hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: None! Pure fluff with a sprinkle of mutual pining. Reader is wearing a dress.

"Here we are," Sherlock said after you exited the carriage, walking up to the side of the building to peer through the nearest window.

Looking around with awe at the large home decorated with beautiful flowers and twinkling lights, you wished for a moment that you were here to enjoy the lively music and celebrate like the other guests. You could see them through the window, dressed in all their finery, dancing the night away.

Taking a breath to clear your mind and focus on the task at hand, you looked around the corner to the front of the building. More guests were lined up outside along a winding path, and - yes, as you looked closer - were holding slips of paper in their hands.

"Alright! This is simple. All I need is one of those invitations," you exclaimed with a mischievous grin, turning towards him. "So, what's the mystery item you're after?"

His dark brows immediately furrowed.

"You're not taking it."

You crossed your arms and stared back in disbelief.

"Are you serious?"

"This item that I am taking is of high value to my case. It is not something I can entrust in anyone's hands but my own," Sherlock stated matter of factly. "I will slip in, break into the viscount's office, grab it, and slip back out."

You let out a soft snort.

"Sherlock, we are at a ball. Do you really expect me to believe that you won't be attention grabbing?" you said while studying the crowd through the window again. "There are a great deal of ladies in there with what looks to be barely any gentlemen. All the ladies will be constantly surveying the dance floor for their next match, waiting to sink their claws into the most eligible bachelor, and you are so very …"

Your words trailed off. You pressed your lips together, with a blushing glance back at Sherlock.

He returned your gaze, waiting, his features painted with slight curiosity.

"... tall," you finished lamely.

Silence.

A heated tension gathered between you both.

After a few moments, Sherlock released a small smirk.

Clearing your throat and breaking eye contact, you continued on, "The point being, I would attract far less attention, and as you know, I have plenty of experience breaking and entering, among other things."

Sherlock stepped towards you.

"Two things. First of all, that was a one-time occurrence that will never happen again. You caught me on a very rare, off day." Still moving closer, he finally stopped, with barely any space remaining. A quiet gasp escaped your lips, drawing his eyes to the source of the sound.

"Second of all," his voice lowering into a gentle tone, "how could you ever think that you would not be the most eye-catching woman in that ballroom?"

Lifting his hand to turn your face up towards his, you could feel your stomach doing somersaults. Resting your hands on the sides of his coat, you began to lose yourself in his deep blue eyes, framed with the most -

-"Even if you're not … tall, was it?" he teased, interrupting your runaway thoughts.

You huffed, glaring at him while taking a step back, causing Sherlock to drop his hand.

He immediately offered his arm. Upon taking it, you two strolled over to the front to join the moving guest line.

"So what exactly is my purpose in accompanying you this evening, if not for helping you with your case?" you questioned with a raised brow while waiting for your turn along the path.

"You are simply my date,'' he answered. You immediately opened your mouth in retort. Before you could pose another objection against him, he smoothly continued, "I don't deny your skills, but I believe your beauty will attract too much attention for you to break into the office successfully."

A smile broke out on your face at his attempt at flattery with a double compliment. He watched you closely as it slowly turned into a more sly expression.

"Well, I guess that just means I'll need a big distraction." By this time, you and Sherlock were a bit closer to the head of the line, with a few more guests waiting behind you.

In a loud voice, you suddenly gasped and stared at him in pretend shock, "Oh my goodness! I can't believe it! You're Sherlock Holmes!"

Not a second had passed and the guests ahead and behind craned their heads to get a look at the famous "Sherlock Holmes" who was attending the party.

Stunned into silence, Sherlock stared at you as you pulled out two invitations you had hidden within your dress. His mind flashed back to the heated moment you shared at the side of the building, when your hands had rested right by his coat pockets. At least he wasn't wrong about your skills, he thought.

Murmurs began to break out amongst the guests remaining in line, staring more openly at him.

"What's the item?" you asked again. "If you tell me, I'll give you back your invitation," you offered with a twinkle of mischief in your eyes.

He sighed in defeat.

"It's a silver compass with a chain. Engraved on it are the letters, H E G." He held out his hand impatiently for his invitation, as people were beginning to break away from their spots in line to talk to Sherlock.

"I didn't say when I'd give it back," you laughed, moving farther away as more and more people approached him and started to surround him. "You're Sherlock Holmes, you'll get in!"

He wasn't worried, he knew everything would be fine with your level of talent and capable hands. Lately, Enola had been telling him that he needed to be better about giving up control when it came to working with others. He guessed this was as good a start as any.

Sherlock couldn't help but admire your cunning and quick thinking as he watched you hand the invitation over to the footman, shooting a quick glance and flirtatious grin back at him as you entered the ballroom scene.

Hardly listening to the people now crowding around him and attempting to introduce themselves, he returned the smile as a thought entered his mind.

He would just have to get to the compass first.

"The game is afoot, indeed."

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #henry!sherlock #henry!holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes one shot

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Sometimes The Silence Guides A Mind

Title: Sometimes The Silence Guides A Mind

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Fandom: Enola Holmes series

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: As you were getting close to Sherlock, he stops visiting. You pop over to Baker Street and share an eye-opening moment.

Warnings: age gap(reader is about 20 in this, Sherlock is mid-30s), slight voyeurism, masturbation (male), handjob, unprotected p-in-v sex (wrap it up y’all), creampie

A/N: I’ve been throwing around this idea about Sherlock for quite some time. I hope you enjoy it. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist 

You’ve been friends with Enola for a short time, only since the beginning of the year. She’s led you on a few fun adventures, but more often than not, she’s led you on wild goose chases. She has helped you come out of your shell and you are grateful for that. On days that you weren’t exploring the countryside or causing a ruckus in the city, you would lounge around her large house. 

Spending time with her in her large house had its benefits. One of which was 6’1 with a head of unruly curls. The famous Sherlock Holmes was your best friend’s big brother. He lived in the city but came to visit Enola every week. 

You always made sure to be available on those days. If only for the chance to say hello to Sherlock. You wanted more but, truth be told, he made you a bit nervous.

You tried your best to keep calm when he would arrive, but Enola noticed your demeanor change every time. She teased you endlessly about your little crush and you would always bring up Tewkesbury. That would usually shut her up.

In truth, she did not care that you liked her brother, she just didn’t want you to waste your time. The man was not exactly sociable unless he found value in the opinions of others. One opinion he respected was that of his sister. You could sit and watch them talk for hours. She would get him to laugh with her jokes, and he would bring her to annoyance with his riddles.

You would interject a thought here and there and when Sherlock would give his attention to you, you froze. Something about the look in his eyes, it was more than attention. It was intense as if the two of you were the only ones in the world let alone the room.

More than once, Enola had cleared her throat loudly to get you and Sherlock’s attention back on her. But sometimes, she would just listen to you ramble on while Sherlock seemed enthralled in your thoughts. You mused about music and how interesting you thought his cases were. The more you spoke with him, the more comfortable you felt around him. 

Sherlock would show up now and then with little trinkets from his cases. At first, it was just things for Enola, but soon he would start bringing you little gifts as well. He started small with a single flower or a tasty treat from his favorite bakery. But soon, his gifts grew oddly specific. He bought you a brooch you had mentioned seeing at a store in the city. He would learn pieces of music from a composer you talked about and play it for you, much to the chagrin of Enola who wasn’t a fan of the violin.

It was when he didn’t visit for two weeks that you started to realize you were developing feelings for the older detective. You’d come to enjoy his presence and not because of his gifts. You just enjoyed seeing his face light up when he saw you. You relished the power you felt when the normally unflappable and distant man would sit enthralled when you gave voice to your thoughts. 

So, why did it stop so suddenly? Had you done something to offend him? 

You wracked your brain and Enola’s brain for that matter. She gave you his address so you could go and talk to him and she could finally be free of your fretting. 

You arrive at 221 Baker Street, your hands trembling as you knock on the main door. A sweet woman opens the door and introduces herself as Ms. Hudson. When you ask to speak to Sherlock, she sends you up the steps to 221B.

As you’re about to knock, a man opens the door and almost collides with you.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. May I help you, Miss?” 

“Ehm, I’m here to see Mr. Holmes…but I can come back if that’s–” You are cut off when he speaks again.

“You wouldn’t happen to be friends with Enola, would you?” You nod, giving your name, “Of course, Sherlock mentioned you. I’m Dr. John Watson, and I have to be going but you are more than welcome to come in. Sherlock is just in his room down the hall.” He points around the corner from the door and walks past you before waving goodbye.

So, that’s how you end up in Sherlock’s apartment. It is eerily quiet and you think he might be asleep. That is until you hear soft moans coming from down the hall. Your first thought is it must have been the floorboards creaking under your feet.

What you hear next is the unmistakable sound of your name followed by a whimper. It sounded like Sherlock was calling to you, but how would he know you were here already? You walk down the hallway quietly and see that his bedroom door is slightly ajar.

Peeking in, you are blessed with a sight! Sherlock is laid out on his bed with his shirt and waistcoat open, his hairy chest on full display as it rises and falls quickly. His beautiful face constricted in pain one second, solemn and peaceful in the next. His curls are a sweaty mess on his forehead. One hand is fisting the sheets at his side and the other hand is wrapped around his thick veiny dick. You’re mesmerized watching him stroke himself until you hear him moan your name again.

In a moment of bravery, you step into the room. Your bosom heaves in your bodice as you breathe shallowly, adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

His hand stops its ministrations and he looks to you as you walk towards him. He’s frozen on the spot and can only watch you as you climb atop the bed and lay next to him. You replace his hand with yours and continue to pump his dick. Your hand barely fits around him and you enjoy the feel of his soft uncut length in your hand.

His hands come up to caress your face and pull you down for a kiss. When his tongue begs for entry, you allow it in. Heatedly, you mold your mouth to his, letting your moans and whimpers be consumed by him. Breaking the kiss, he looks into your eyes and you can tell he is close.

You remove your hand from him and stand up from the bed. It is only when you remove your undergarments does Sherlock understand why you stopped. Climbing back on the bed, you settle yourself with your cunt dripping onto him.

“I want you to be certain that you–” You cut him off as you slink down, his velvety smoothness sliding inside your wet heat. You take a moment to get used to the sheer size of him. He stretches you almost painfully. Leaning down, you whisper into his ear.

“Do I seem certain, Mr. Holmes?”

Instead of an answer, Sherlock groans and twitches inside you. His hands travel under your skirt and rest on your hips. You take that as a sign and sit up. With your hands on his chest, you begin to ride him slowly, agonizingly to the point where his hands start to guide you to a quicker pace. 

Using you like a ragdoll, he flips you so he is atop you while you are on your back. He slams into you repeatedly and you are no longer in control. He savors the sounds coming from you as he fucks into you. He urges you on as he kisses and licks and nips at your neck, careful not to leave any marks.

Pulling out, he moves you to your hands and knees before inserting himself again. The angle allows him to go deeper and you thank the Gods for it. As he holds onto you, he hammers into you. The filthy utterances that come from his mouth only serve to solidify the notion that he missed you too.

“I knew you would feel like Heaven, my sweet angel…”

“This pretty pussy belongs to me now…”

“You would look so perfect with my cum dripping out of you…”

“I could fuck you all day and night and still never get enough of you…”

“Be my good angel and come all over my cock,” He reaches down and rubs your clit between two fingers as he plows into you. You never stood a chance, your walls quivering around him within moments, “That’s my good girl. So good…for me. Fuck, so close!”

“Sherlock, please! Need you to fill me with all you have to give!” You surprise yourself and your lover with those words. 

Sherlock’s answering grunts as he makes mincemeat of your pussy are music to your ears. His punishing thrusts falter and he pulls you flush to him. He’s deep enough to kiss your cervix with the tip of his dick. You feel him swell inside you and it’s enough to make you climax again, milking him through his release. 

And the noises he makes when he comes are more intricate than the 24 Caprices. You’re sure that Sherlock would disagree but you don’t even care. You revel in the melody of his moans and surrender to its hold on you.

Sherlock’s hands roam over your back, your hips, your ass, and your thighs. As if he can’t get enough of you. He doesn’t pull out until you wiggle your hips, a sign that your legs are tired. Extricating himself from your sensitive folds allows his spend to escape. He catches what slips free and pushes it all back in before helping you lay down on your front.

He lays down next to you, pulling you close to him with one arm while the other rests behind his head. He looks so peaceful as he closes his eyes and hums. The feminine urge for pillow talk is high, but so is the need to just bask in this moment.

You’re in the arms of the man you care for, who also adores you. You rest your cheek on his shoulder and tangle your fingers in his chest hair. You breathe in his smell, his pheromones are surely on high alert from your activity. When he rests his head against yours, you feel at peace.

You do plan on talking to Sherlock later about everything. But, for now, you can take pleasure in the simplicity of the harmonization of your heartbeats.

A/N: The title of this fic is taken from The Neighborhood’s Sweater Weather. There is an amazing violin version of this song by Joel Sunny. And anything violin makes me think of Sherlock.

A/N: Also, I know Ms. Hudson wasn't featured in Enola Holmes, but I love her as a character and I wanted to use her.

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[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2024-02-08

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Henry!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

✑ Love-Performing Night | Prt. II | Prt. III by st-juliet • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: "…An actress at Covent Garden Theatre and neighbour to a certain eccentric detective, [you're] equal parts flustered and delighted when [Sherlock] arrives [backstage]."

✑ Utmost Merit | Prt. II | Prt. III | Prt. IV by st-juliet • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock presents [you] with a most unconventional proposal."

✑ When We Were Young by youvebeenlivingfictional • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "You were an only child, a girl (which had disappointed your parents), and while you loved to learn, you hated your governess. You were curious, a little wild, and lonely."

✑ A Work Proposition by zodiyack • 〔F〕 •

Summary: After witnessing your, another detective, interaction with Sherlock, Enola sees a perfect opportunity to play Cupid

✑ An Absolute Mess by youvebeenlivingfictional • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Your Aunt [sent] you a, moderately frantic, letter [requesting] help [tidying up after one of her more peculiar tenants]."

✑ Don't You Remember￨Prt. II by iguana-eyanna • 〔A〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock is hired by an old flame that claims that a family heirloom has been stolen, but he has suspicions of why he was hired in the first place."

✑ Enigma by iguana-eyanna • 〔A᜶F〕 •

Summary: "When Sherlock comes at your door seeking help, you two realize you can't deny the pull you have on each other."

✑ Exactly What You Need by delicate-moon-princess • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "It seems Sherlock understands your needs better than you do."

✑ Experiment, the￨Prt. II by sherlocksoft • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "When you married Sherlock, you discovered a side to him that you would never have expected. A side that was only for you."

✑ Family Man by buckybarnesthehotshot • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "In which [Sherlock], along with other ladies of high society, learns his wife is with child"

✑ Fresh Air and Exercise by daydreaming-in-letters • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock may [refuse] to join, [you] for an afternoon walk, but that doesn't mean he has to pass up on the much needed exercise altogether."

✑ Give It Up by theplaid-wearingmoose • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "When Enola had told him he needed to learn to give up control sometimes, he was fairly certain this is not what she had meant."

✑ Hair by buckybarnesthehotshot • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ If Only You Would Know by espinosaurusrexex • 〔A᜶C〕 •

Summary: "You and Sherlock are in love; Enola is sure of it. [However,] she is forced to watch you tiptoe around the topic for an eternity. So when the opportunity arises, and Sherlock is forced to confront his feelings towards you, she does not hesitate."

✑ Jigsaw by andsheloved • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "As you wonder what it would be like for him to return your affections, Sherlock finally understands what he would sacrifice to fit within your world."

✑ Most Beautiful Riddle, the by espinosaurusrexex • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock Holmes... never entertained the idea of marriage. That was, until [you] came along and turned his world upside down... After a year of... love and happiness, he is finally ready to ask the question. There is just one problem: How is he ever to make the proposal worthy of his one true love?"

✑ On Subjects of the Heart￨Prt. II by andsheloved • 〔A〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock has a good head on his shoulders; he's straightforward, critical, and almost painfully logical, so why have you had his mind swimming with thoughts that are anything but?"

✑ Only Women, the by writingfortoomanyfandoms • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: {…}

✑ Only You by thisisawonderfulusername • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "After becoming pregnant, you notice that Sherlock has been distancing himself. he finally returns home after at least a month of being gone."

✑ Propriety by andsheloved • 〔F᜶C〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock was sure his heart stopped when he saw you lying in the hospital bed, all because of him. He has to take care of you. He has to… who cares if the only way he can be in the room… is to tell them he's your husband? Certainly not him. Absolutely not."

✑ Pubs & Pebbles by youvebeenlivingfictional • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: {…}

✑ Pulse Point by st-juliet • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "To help him relax in the midst of a trying case, Reader exploits Sherlock’s only vulnerability."

✑ Red Carnation by shotgunbunny • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock's jealousy shines through and makes you annoyed, [to make amends he] shows you how he's loved you all these years."

✑ Riotous by st-juliet • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "A wealthy, titled, chaste young lady such as [yourself] should most definite… in attendance at a secret back-room boxing match… Neither should a refined [and] proper… detective. [Yet,] here you [both] are, two weeks away from your wedding no less…"

✑ Run Away by multific • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♡ •

✑ Smallest Joys by inknopewetrust • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "The tree in the Holmes' backyard [is] a place of… peace and laughter… and a moment arises for it to be a place of forgiveness and love as well."

✑ Simple Things by dyns33 • 16+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Sir Snuggles by thisisawonderfulusername • 〔F〕 • 𑁍 •

Summary: "Your niece [enlists] the help of Sherlock Holmes to find her teddy bear."

✑ Surely Not Love by youvebeenlivingfictional • 〔F〕 •

✑ Taste of Home by delicate-moon-princess • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You wake up next to, [your husband], Sherlock... after months of being apart. It never [feels] like home when [he's] gone... now, [he's finally back] to fill the void in your heart."

✑ Teacups and Telegrams by theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Your morning was normal until you received a telegram from your friend Sherlock Holmes with a simple request: help him find Enola."

✑ Thursday 4pm by starkleila • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "Enola deduces something about you before Sherlock."

✑ Waiting Game, the by ithebookhorder • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock comforts [you after a] heartbreak…and opens a door for a happier future."

✑ We Meet Again by maarijaaa • 18+ • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♡ •

Summary: "After your father stepped down as a detective, you decided to take over... [you did not expect] a letter standing on your front porch from a person you wanted to leave in the past…"

✑ We'll Be Alright by love-strawberry • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "In which [you] fight but there's no doubt that [you'll] end up alright."

✑ What It Would Be Like to Love You by cruelfvkingsummer • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: "What happens when a genius and a hopeless romantic are arranged to be wed?"

✑ What They Didn't Know was Missing by iguana-eyanna • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "It's hard to [coming to] terms [with] becoming a mother, but Sherlock [will] remind you [daily] that you are worthy of being one to your child."

✑ Women, the by dyns33 • 〔M᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: After learning of her sister-in-law's jealousy towards Miss Adler, Enola is determined to make her brother realize how he's hurting his wife.

✑ Words Cannot Express by espinosaurusrexex • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "In which [you] and Sherlock have a forever crush on each other."

✑ Your Only Warning by st-juliet • 16+ • 〔E᜶M〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Alone in the library with his betrothed,... Sherlock fights to remain a gentleman…with limited success."

✑ Always Here by andsheloved • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ At the End of Each Case by writingfortoomanyfandoms • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Autumn Morning by henryofsteel • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Blue by fivequartersoftheorange • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Convince Me by youvebeenlivingfictional • 〔F〕 •

✑ Darling by runawayolives • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ En Garde by ithebookhorder • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Game is Afoot Indeed, the by marvelousmando • 〔F〕 •

✑ Governess, the by ladyfloriographist • 〔E〕 •

✑ Hold My Hand by make-me-imagine • 〔F〕 •

✑ Investigating Love by shotgunbunny • 〔F〕 •

✑ Lovely Neighbour, the by dyns33 • 〔F〕 •

✑ Midnight Activities by loganbcrnes • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Oh What a Fool You Are by germangirl321 • 〔M᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Perhaps Not by writingfortoomanyfandoms • 〔F〕 •

✑ Playing Games by dyns33 • 〔F᜶A〕 •

✑ Ready Now by st-juliet • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Sister's Roomate by writingfortoomanyfandoms • 〔F〕 •

✑ Talking in Your Sleep by writingfortoomanyfandoms • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Waiting on Your Husband | Prt. II by dearfandomdiary • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Wild Violet by st-juliet • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Being Sherlock's Wife in Enola Holmes Would Include… | Prt. II by starkleila • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Fancying Sherlock Would Include... by hobbit-historian • 〔F〕 •

See Also: Navigation || Henry!Sherlock Holmes Master Index

Authors: @andsheloved || @buckybarnesthehotshot || @cruelfvkingsummer || @daydreaming-in-letters || @dearfandomdiary || @delicate-moon-princess || @dyns33 || @espinosaurusrexex || @fivequartersoftheorange || @germangirl321 || @henryofsteel || @hobbit-historian || @iguana-eyanna || @inknopewetrust || @ithebookhoarder || @ladyfloriographist || @loganbcrnes || @love-strawberry || @maaarijaaa || @make-me-imagine || @marvelousmando || @multific || @runawayolives || @sherlocksoft || @shotgunbunny || @starkleila || @st-juliet || @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction || @theplaid-wearingmoose || @thisisawonderfulusername || @villainvindicator || @writingfortoomanyfandoms || @youvebeenlivingfictional || @zodiyack ||

#Henry!Holmes x Reader #Henry!Holmes x Y/N #Henry!Holmes x You #Henry!Sherlock x Reader #Henry!Sherlock x Y/N #Henry!Sherlock x You #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill x Y/N #Henry Cavill x You #Enola Holmes Fanfiction #Enola Holmes Fanfic #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #Henry Cavill Fanfic

[shotgunbunny]

═๑♡𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬♡๑═

WC:4.7k+ GIF by gay-bucky-barnes

dark!Sherlock X reader

{warnings: NONCON/DUBCON!! reader is sold!! mentions of prostitution in Victorian era!! misogyny!! age gap!! blood but not a lot at all!! dirty talk!! virginity loss!! breeding kink!! insane Sherlock!! murder!! like this is dark baby!! manipulation!! brainwashing?/Stockholm syndrome!! kind of a sugar daddy?!! dacryophillia!! spitting!! }

Sherlock was accustomed to lady company quite often but the problem was the fact he didn't get satisfaction from any of the the ladies. After every intimate moment he shared, a numbness settled over him faster than he expected and he would lay there miserable all while his company was perfectly satisfied.

Sherlock heaved a sigh over his problem. He didn't want to be detached from his emotions during sex anymore. He craved to be wrapped up in pure bliss with the overwhelming feelings of love too. And that was apparently too hard for the detective to find. So he had decided to take on this problem like a case.

He stood at his desk staring down at the chart of paper. He needed someone who would fit his type perfectly, and even he didn't know what it was. He grunted frustrated over this. That didn't help him get any closer. By the time he had decided to just look at a local whorehouse, convinced that there would be a lady there who would help him due to their experience, night had fallen over the London streets.

Sherlock grabbed his coat and left his cane behind, trying his hardest not to be noticed by any that would recognise him. He headed down to the pleasure house that is simply known as 'THE PINK STRAWBERRY.' Apparently there, all the women smelt and tasted of strawberries and Sherlock was positively excited to see if this was true. He entered the establishment, allowing his eyes to drag along the men that were sat in the velvet chairs.

He headed to the desk where a man dressed in a dark 3 piece sat. He looked up at Sherlock and smiled. "What can I get ya' sir?" He spoke nasily and it made Sherlock irritated yet he hid it, determined to solve his issue. "Do you have anything new? Any new deals? Anything intriguing?" The man looked around before looking Sherlock up and down. "You ain't a pig are ya'?" He whispered the question and Sherlock leaned forward, "I am not." Technically not a lie, he was a detective not a police officer after all.

"Good then. I got a new deal indeed. A new girl just came in. Innocent as can be. Naive and dumb, perfect for molding. You can have her for the night. Or you can have her forever at the right price." Sherlocks interest peaked as he thought about the offer. The molding part definitely appealed to him. Don't get Sherlock wrong he was glad that feminism was making a move into society, but he needed a submissive wife. He had worked hard and supported enough so he deserved a reward.

"I'd have to meet her." The man stared at Sherlock suspiciously before he heaved out a sigh and slid a key to him. "You get five minutes. And then it's decision time. Got it?" The man stated it all firmly all while staring Sherlock down. "Understood sir." With the agreement made the man directed Sherlock to the room where this new woman was.

He unlocked the door feeling his palms slightly sweaty from nerves and excitement over the prospect that there might be someone by his side soon. He kept his eyes on the floor as he entered the room and then turned to close the door, preparing himself to see you. He turned and his breath was instantly knocked out of his chest.

You sat in the messy silk sheets. Clad in a white nightgown that was short on you and only just hid your lady parts. The sexy lingerie pushed your breasts together perfectly and you looked like an angel. Your hair framed your face perfectly and your big doe eyes stared up at him questioningly. Scared even. He scanned the rest of you, your lips were big and plush, your skin looked soft and your legs looked positively sexy to him.

Sherlock moved to the bed and sat in front of you, cooing as you slowly moved away from him, cautious of the strange man. "Do not worry angel. I am not here to hurt you. I wish to get to know you. My name is Sherlock, what is yours my darling?" You continued to stare up at him with those big eyes, mesmerising him. You whispered your name to him, your voice a melody to his ears. He repeated your name, feeling his heart flutter over how he pronounced every syllable of your name and how it would perfectly match up with his last name.

You stared at the hulking form of the man that sat on the edge of your bed. He was handsome yet he intimidated you. His eyes were a beautiful cold stormy blue, yet the way they observed you made you uneasy. It was like he knew everything about you just from a glance. His dark brown locks looked so soft and you couldn't help be drawn into the contrast of how he looked both hard and soft at the safe time. His broad shoulders and muscular arms that were tight against his suit had you squirming over how he looked almost godly. He was a specimen of a man, but you knew he was here for something you had tried to save. Your virginity.

"Is it okay if I call you angel?" He asked gently soothing you to a degree and you nodded your head at him. Still keeping your eyes on him. "You know angel, I was given an offer to buy you. I can get you out of this place and keep you safe and warm. All you'd have to do is be my wife. I can assure you there are no bad intentions behind this. I simply wish for a pretty girls company." His voice was soft the whole time and he allowed himself to reach out and hold your small soft hand in his large one. Embracing the size difference between the two of you and how he would have to go easy on you.

"I-I wanna get out of here. But I don't even know you sir. How can I trust you?" Your curious gaze lingered on him and he smiled softly bringing your hand to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles. "You just have to trust me angel. You can ask me anything you want and I shall answer." You examined him and his soft demeanour trying to conclude if it was fake or real.

"O-okay. Why do you want a wife sir? You're already h-handsome enough. I am confused as to why you've come to a whorehouse to find a wife. It's almost ironic." Sherlock chuckled at your mumbles. "I need someone pliable to my needs. I've struggled with connecting my emotions to sexual activities so I'm seeking an emotional bond first. A whorehouse is where women are used to finding a man's pleasure, I believed they helped me. And indeed they have, they've brought me to you."

You blushed at his words, yet you remained confused over them. You had no idea what to expect from the hulking man and if you rushed into a relationship with him, you were scared of where you'd end up.

"Can I confess something Mr. Sherlock?" He resumed his soft smile allowed his gaze to soften too. "Ofcourse angel, anything to keep hearing your heavenly voice." You blushed at him before bringing your gaze to his, allowing your eye contact to hypnotise him. "How do I know you won't hurt me?" Sherlock got off the bed before he kneeled down with his hand on his heart staring up at you in the bed from his bowing position and spoke confidently. "I promise you, I would never raise my fist at a woman and I would most certainly never even dream of hurting you angel." You smiled finally and nodded at him.

He stood up and resumed his place on the bed, allowing his final few minutes of getting to know you be filled with you shy mumbles of what you liked and who you are. A knock on the door startled you and he placed a large hand on your leg comforting you. The door then opened revealing the man from the front of the house.

He started displeased of Sherlocks hand on you thigh and spoke loudly and confidently. "So, do we have a deal?" Sherlock turned his head to look at you and you stared at him. You saw his eyes scanning your reaction and you looked away with a blush, not wanting to give away the fact that you were hopeful to be leaving here and even excited to become a wife. Sherlock grinned at your shyness. "Yes we do have a deal." And with that Sherlock threw a bag stuffed with coins and notes at the man making him gasp at the amount inside.

Sherlock turned to you, and grinned making you smile too. "Come angel, let's go home."

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

Adjusting to life with the detective was a hard one, a terrifying one. You never really agreed to be with Sherlock, you felt like a cattle being sold off to the next consumer where you would eventually be slaughtered and devoured. You were forever grateful to God above for saving you from marrying Sherlock as he had no time at the moment or the coming moments to take your hand.

He had often argued with himself over it and you stood looking at him. You remember when you came into his office and saw him staring at his chalk board filled with writing and conclusions and you heard his frustrated mumbles clearly. "Stupid fucking pricks. I will marry her, she will be mine and that'll show them. I'll make sure she's fucking filled with my kids, so that then you can't deny letting me marry her. And I'll ofcourse get kids. What a perfect scenario." You gulped and tiptoed away terrified.

You were often alone at Baker Street, staring longingly out of the window trying to figure a way out of this hell hole. Yes Sherlock never raise his hand at you but his insults were vile and left you heartbroken and self conscious. He often reprimanded you for ending up in the whorehouse rather than waiting for him, and when you went to respond about your father selling you he would cut you off with a glare filled with a darkness that filled your stomach with dread.

Because of the long periods of time being locked up in his house, you had become accustomed to the lay out and began to hatch out a plan of escape. You had to plan it carefully making sure that the detective didn't suspect and that you were 2 steps ahead of him. You mapped out the floorboards and the windows, even single structure of the place and began planning any route that would lead you to the streets where you would bolt and never look back.

After you had planned four pathways perfectly so that even the mighty Sherlock Holmes wouldn't even suspect, earth shattering news was given to you. You see while you thought you were cautious and cunning, you were actually sloppy. Sherlock noticed every move you made, he overlooked your plans while you slept and chuckled at how silly they were. From going under the floor boards to jumping out the window.

He knew he had to find a way to discourage this, afterall he had spent money on you and was promised a moldable doll that would fulfill his needs. And don't get him wrong, he was most definitely attached to you emotionally. Everything you did drove him crazier in love with you. From something as simple as you gentle morning breathing when you were at peace to your more fiery moods when you were planning an escape erratically. He loved your passion, your gentleness and your ever growing desires to escape.

See he also had a plan too which would boost his love for you and unite you both. Yet first he had to discourage you, crush you. And he did this by killing your parents, making sure it ended up in the newspaper where he then gave it to you. He watched with sadistic pleasure as your eyes filled with tears over their deaths. Yet he did not predict you throwing yourself into his arms and sobbing.

You longed for some form of comfort, even if it was with the man that held you prisoner. His arms were warm and for a small second that bled into a week, you felt safe. You felt comforted grieving in his arms, he promised to take care of you and he had. He was. "My Angel, you know that I adore you. I will keep you safe forever, you just have to stop fighting. Let yourself fall into being Mrs. Holmes and I'll promise you whole the world." He whispered gently into the crown of your hair, you hummed, your throat aching from crying so loudly.

And after hearing his words of adoration, you let yourself sink into him. Into his love and his comfy and soon he began surprising you. He brought you home beautiful dresses, jewelry. Anything you wished for he would bring to you. It was then that Sherlock realised the key to your heart was through money and beautiful things, so he decided to spoil you in hopes to catch you when you fell deeply in love with him.

He remembers the time he got you to wear your potential wedding dress. A long white dress covered in lace with long arms. You walked out shyly and coughed quietly. Sherlock turned and his mouth opened slightly, his eyes widened slightly and a blush coated his cheeks. With quick firm steps, he headed towards you and placed his large hands on your waist. You looked down meekly, mumbling, "What do you think?" Sherlock brought his hand up to your chin, tilting your head up to look into his eyes. He flashed you a charming smile before he gently spoke with passion and love swirling around his eyes. "You look perfect angel. Truly sent from heaven."

All too soon you found yourself surrounded by gold and rubies, and as beautiful as they shined, but it only helped prolonged the aching in your heart. The need to run free and choose your own fate began to rise up in your blood again and you began devising your escape again. And Sherlock caught on immediately feeling his heart ache that his gifts weren't enough to satisfy you. But it was no matter, you would be thankful soon, you would worship him for the gifts he bought you.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

Tonight was the night that you escaped. You were ready, Sherlock had told you he would be working late and you faked a pout and spoke gently, "I hope you hurry home soon, I get lonely with you honey." To which he placed a kiss on your forehead and then on your lips before rubbing your noses together and replied in his soft gruff voice, "Don't worry angel, I'll be with you sooner than you think." And then he headed out the door locking it.

You looked outside and saw the darkness spread down the streets and the with a sigh, you dragged yourself to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. You were prepared to fight for your freedom. You stared in the mirror, you were dressed in your comfiest dress and you were thankful you took your corset and other accessories off. You put on sensible shoes and then heaved a breath in and out and started to undo the window lock. You heard a click and smiled.

You got up and pushed yourself out of it so that you were sat on the ledge. A cool breeze swept past you and you breathed it in. You looked down your heart hammering at the giant drop that you faced. There was a large bin beneath you thankfully yet you were still terrified. You closed your eyes and pushed off the ledge suppressing your scream the best you could. When you peaked your eyes open you saw your in the large dumpster and saw that many pillows were stacked in here to cushion your landing.

Your blood turned cold at this and you quickly scrambled out. You fell out and as you pulled yourself up, you heard the familiar taps of a cane. Sherlock knew. You froze and turned to stare at him. His face was blank and he stared at you. He spoke clearly. "You may have thought you were 2 steps ahead of me angel. But I am always a leap ahead of you. So I give you the choice. Go back to our room and your punishment won't be that bad and I will forgive you for your temporary lapse in judgement."

A pause played between the two of you and you felt tears gather in your eyes. You had come so far, you were so close. You waited for him to speak feeling your heart hammer. With a heavy sigh from Sherlock, he spoke again, his voice deepening a warning evident in his tone. "And if not, then try running and see what will happen angel. Because I can promise you, I will tear your wings off and break your halo before you can even apologize."

Your heart raced and you slowly turned gulping. You had worked too hard and with that one thought playing through your mind you sprinted and a dark laughter soon followed you. And before you could even make it to the first lamp post you were tackled onto the ground by his hulking figure. He spoke hotly into your ear, "I warned you. Now you're gonna deal with the consequences." He pulled you up over his shoulder and stomped to your shared apartment. He kicked the door down and the kicked it closed.

He stormed to the bedroom and threw you onto the bed. You gasped trying to catch your breath from crying and the fear that was vibrating in your chest. You watched as he quickly stripped from his clothes in anger. His predatory gaze settling on you immediately after his cock sprang free. You couldn't bring yourself to look at it. Instead you continued begging with your eyes to stop this but you were only met with his cold, dominating gaze.

"Strip." He said, his voice a hiss. You shook your head crying more. "Do it or I'll do it for you." You let out a pitiful sob and within seconds he was upon you and tore your dress open. Buttons popped off and seams torn, your breasts spilled free and within a few moments of them being exposed, Sherlock brought his head down and took a nipple into his mouth. Licking and sucking it, you felt yourself grow wet for him yet you held back your moans. A squeal left your lips as he quickly bit your nub and smirked. All the hike his thumb was pinching and caressing the other.

He pulled away and stared down at your tits. "Just wait til these are full of milk for our children. Your breasts will get so heavy, and I'll happily hold them. Fuck this little body is so perfect. Pretty tits to match your pretty face. I can't wait to mark them up with my bites and my cum. And don't give me any crybaby shit, this was your choice whore."

He soon tore the rest of your dress off followed by the rest of your clothing. You quickly tried to shield yourself but he was too fast. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head and smiled wickedly at seeing your naked body on display to him. You slowly brought your gaze down his body, getting wet at the sight of his muscular arms and his chiseled body. And then staring in shock over his big cock. It was long and girthy. A prominent vein running from the bottom to just under the tip.

Sherlock settled between your legs, you were hip to hip and with a grunt, he grabbed his cock, and slid it up and down your folds before pushing into you ripping the air from your lungs and replacing it with a scream which was quickly muffled by Sherlock's massive hand. He stared down at where you both connected and groaned feeling your pussy tighten around him trying to lubricate itself around his massive cock.

"Fuck. You're tight little pussy is fucking perfect. So warm, so tight. It's fucking hugging my cock. Your pussy is a big a whore as you. You wanted this, you wanted me to fuck you. You wanted me to shove my big cock into your little pussy. Awwh look at your tears, you look like such a slut. Maybe that's why you were in the whitehouse, cause you're just a fucking slut."

He looked down at you and smirked and your closed eyes, he moved his hand from your mouth to your chin and then pried your lips open with his thumb and then spat into your mouth. He then held himself up with one hand, remaining perfectly still letting you adjust to his cock. He then spat on two fingers and brought them down to you clit and began rubbing viciously. He then stared down at you again and pressed his mouth to yours.

He swallowed your groans and moan and let his tongue swipe around you mouth letting him taste every part of you before pulling away while sucking on your tongue. When he pulled a way a wire of spit attached you both for a second before it broke and splattered on your face. He smirked and the felt how wet you were and licked from your cheek to your temple. You fluttered your eyes closed until his hand gripped your jaw, and took away the small bit of pleasure you were feeling. You stared up at him mortified.

"You will look at me. Understood, I'm warning you. You keep your pretty eyes on me. With your fucking pretty crocodile tears. You keep looking at me or else it will get worse. I'd hate to lay my hands on your pretty face an leave a nasty mark there."

He then began to rock his hips and let his thrusting start slow and steady. Letting your virgin cunt get used to his cock and his thrusting. He moved his gaze from your eyes to where he was in you. As he pulled out he saw bits of blood on his cock and he groaned feeling a sense of glory over taking your virginity. And after he felt that glory he let himself go and began thrusting with wild abandon.

"You were a fucking virgin. God that's so fucking perfect. My good girl. You saved this cunt for me didn't you. Ofcourse you did, you had no idea what to do with it until you met me. This is my cunt now. I'm gonna cum in it, so it's fucking mine!"

You began moaning and whining feeling bliss wrap around you everywhere. You brought you legs up to knot around his hips, needing more of him even though you didn't want more. Your small hands travelled to his broad back and began scratching it, needing to grasp something to hold onto reality from the pleasure you were feeling. You felt the knot in your stomach and unwinding and then you finally felt go and came all over his cock with moan that echoed in his head.

He placed his head in your neck and planted kissed and sucks everywhere. Covering you in his love bites and the pure fact that you were purely his in that moment nudged him closer to his climax. And then he felt your pretty pussy flutter around his cock and cum all over it. And soon he lost control and came in you. Making sure to fill you up and not let one bit go to waste.

"Fuck did so good. Did perfect. Gonna make me a father aren't you. Such a perfect little angel, such a good girl for carrying all my kids. Did so fucking good taking my cock, gonna get a ring on that finger tomorrow and then I'm gonna fuck you until you can't think of anything but me. My angel. Gonna make you love me as much as I love you."

He laid on top of you and peppered your face in kisses, whispering things into your ears that you didn't hear as you were too blissed out and were close to falling asleep while he still had his cock in you. You let your eyelids close and your breathing slow as you drifted to sleep with Sherlocks cum dribbling out of you.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

You and Sherlock had moved into a much more spacious home and it was truly wonderful. The garden was big and filled with flowers and he would pick one single flower a day and present it to you before explaining the meaning. You were positively drowning in his love. So much so that you had stopped fight against it and allowed yourself to sink into it. And in return you gave Sherlock all the love in your heart too, allowing for your mind to be vacant with everything except Sherlock and your family.

Enola adored staying over to play with her nieces and nephews. In total you and Sherlock had 5 children, not counting the one that was currently in your stomach. With 3 strong boys and 2 gorgeous girls it seemed like life was complete. Enola taught them key things even if they were little, but they understood. You blamed that on Sherlocks genes afterall he was the smart one.

Speaking of, you just heard the front door close and the sudden parade of small feet dash down the hall to see their father. You giggled and continued making dinner for everyone all while pregnant and a baby in your hip. Little James was quite the mother's boy and he was clingy. Yet they all were at his age. He babbled to you as you stirred the stew, he listed colours and insects trying his hardest to remember what insect came out of a cocoon.

You heard the childish laughter getting closer and the heavy footsteps of you husband. Sherlock watched you, absolutely mesmerized by how perfect of a mother and wife you were. Don't get him wrong he still supported the feminist notion slowly rising, but he could not bring himself to allow you to do any of it. Seeing you as a reward for all his hard work. He drew his attention to James sat on your hip listening to his confused babbles.

"A butterfly my dear James." Your son's eyes lit up and you gently placed him down for him to wobbly toddle towards his dad for his daily cuddles. You smiled content at the homely and domestic atmosphere. You zoned out looking at the blue sky, still stirring the stew, completely missing Sherlock dismissing your children to go and wait in the dining room.

With gentle steps, Sherlock curled himself around you, and you leaned back into him and turned your head up and slightly turned it, and he placed a soft gentle kiss on you lips and gazed into your eyes lovingly. "How were the children, Mrs.Holmes?" You smiled, "Enola came over and kept them busy drawing, yet James decided to cling to my side and question me as to why my stomach has gotten so big."

Sherlock chuckled and moved his large hand up to your stomach cradling your pregnant belly. He placed a soft kiss in the crook of your neck before gently whispering, "And how are you my love, is our little one treating you okay?" You sighed happily feeling peace radiate through your bones and into Sherlocks. "I'm fine, they were kicking up a storm this morning but I think that's because they weren't ready for daddy to leave for work."

He hummed, "I apologize my angel. Truly, this one is going to be a little devil and I think that's my fault entirely." He said smugly. You giggled at him, and allowed him to keep cuddling you as you made dinner and settled into your husbands embrace and his dark love.

#henry!sherlock #henry!holmes #henry!holmes x reader #henry!holmes x black!reader #henry!holmes x woc!reader #henry!holmes x plussize!reader #henry!sherlock x reader #henry!sherlock x black!reader #henry!sherlock x woc!reader #henry!sherlock x plussize!reader #sherlock x reader #enola 2 #enola holmes #henry cavill #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x plus size reader #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x woc reader

[problematic-weather]

Ointments and Bandages (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

Sherlock Holmes x GN! Reader

summary: after another solved case, it seems sherlock and enola are caught up in a storm— and underestimated the severity of the storm and their injuries. battered and bruised, they stumble upon a small cottage. who would’ve known that it’d be a home to the countryside herbalist? and it seems sherlock finds peace and interest in the pain.

word count: 2.3k+

it’s really just fluff and teasing, and was self-indulgent to get out of a writing slump

warnings: unedited, and i did not watch enola holmes 2 yet ;(( GIF NOT MINE!

Before Sherlock had opened his eyes, a concern that drowned in his mind is that he was nowhere near London. Nor where they were supposed to have gone after concluding the case. The tiniest shift sent a spike of discomfort through him, an aching feeling hard to ignore throughout his body– pulsing the most around his ankle. 

Sherlock had already gone down the list of things possibly wrong; evaluating himself and the damage that had befallen him before he had finally peaked open an eye.

Sunlight was his welcome. An abundance of it, as well as the earthy smell of nature. It was then confirmed, he was definitely not in the streets of London, nor in the confines of his flat. Green was the next color seen, as his eyes adjusted. Plants of all sorts hanging from the roof, and an array of dried leaves and grass hung across the wall. He stared down at himself, inspecting the cuts and burns covered with bandages, a green trail of liquid flowing down one of his arms. Where was he–

“About time you’ve risen, Sherlock.” Enola grinned, walking closer to her brother, a kettle in her hands. “We thought you wouldn’t budge till sundown.” Sherlock’s brow raised as he attempted to sit upright, groaning in the process of his ankle shifting off the chair (as a rest), the wrap loosening as well. 

“I’m sorry,” he inhaled, “‘We?’”

Enola grinned as she settled the kettle down on the table near him, rustling with the fabric dangling around her arms. There, Sherlock noticed the change of clothes his sister was currently wearing. Bigger clothing, looser, and much more available pockets– more than likely deeper as well. The type of clothing that was convenient for someone who dwells in the countryside, rather than the bustling streets of the capital. 

“Yes, ‘we.’ Very generous, they are. Letting us in during the storm and dressing our wounds. You were left down here, due to your inability to walk and symptoms of fever– I was barely able to walk the stairs, though, in much better condition than you were.” Enola smiled widely, “I doubt you remember any of it.” 

Sherlock hadn’t. Fragments of images flashed through his mind: the storm, the solved case, the guilty aristocrat, chasing the aristocrat– fighting the aristocrat, and ending up in the doorway of a house through the horrid storm. Ah, there does it. 

“Now that you’ve awakened, I’ll go and alert the–” 

“No, Enola. We need to leave.” 

That’s when Sherlock noticed the figure. Or, the owner of the cottage. Through the oak-framed window, skin glowing in the sun’s light as fingers gently trailed along the various vegetation through inspection– lost in thought. 

Sherlock continued to watch as they slowly continued to walk towards the window, eyes scanning the different species before finally deciding, pricking the plants before tying and positioning them into the basket properly. 

“Ah!”  Enola called out your name, waving enthusiastically as she gestured towards the kettle. “It’s finished!” 

A laugh was an immediate response, hands dusting themselves against the now-dirtied apron. “I’ll join you in a moment, Enola.” Eyes wandering across the room, finally stopping and lingering on Sherlock. 

“It seems the last guest will also be joining, isn’t he?” Sherlock responded with a simple nod, confused at the pleasant welcome. As you disappeared from view, Sherlock turned to his sister. Before he could question her once again, Enola cut him off. 

“Do be polite, and ask not as many questions as you’d like to partake in.” Sherlock’s mouth opened slightly, eyes gleaming with feigned offense. 

“I beg your pardon. Out of the two of us, are you not the most inquisitive? Jotting notes in a scramble and accusing the–” Enola shushed him loudly, walking over. 

“Alright alright! There’s no need to bring up past efforts. Just don’t bombard.” 

“I certainly will not. But given our situation, a few questions are certainly in order.”

The door adjacent to the fireplace creaked open, revealing you. 

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Holmes. I do hope you haven’t suffered a great deal recovering on that chair.” Sherlock tore his eyes off his sister and provided a small smile to his healer.

“Of course not, I apologize for the inconvenience I might have caused throughout our stay.” A hand raised in the air and dismissed his apology, footsteps groaning against the floor as you drew closer. Scanning his injuries, the smile on their face faltered. 

Turning away, Sherlock watched as your hands and feet moved with familiarity. Straining the golden liquid from the kettle into two cups, pushing them forward to both of the Holmes’ hands. 

“Tumeric and ginger tea. Though, if you’re not a fan, I’ve noticed a few ginger slices dipped in honey would be more than adequate for both of your sakes. Being injured and such.” Sherlock and Enola offered their gratitude, quietly taking a sip each. 

“I must ask,” Sherlock started, lowering his cup first. “Why would you let us in?” 

“I wouldn’t have a clear answer to give you,” you replied, pouring another cup for themselves. “I planned on turning you away, but the guilt would eat at me for refusing shelter for two strangers in the brute of a storm.” 

“And if we were dangerous?” 

“Then, I guess that would be unfortunate on my account. No one ever really is in these parts though, wandering travelers or villagers asking for simple ointments.” Sherlock’s brow raised as he took another sip. 

“A profession in medicine?” 

“On the contrary, I merely dabble in it and such. Your common street doctor in London holds much more qualifications–” 

“And yet,” Enola cut in, “You have reduced the swelling of my brother’s ankle, the burns, and cuts on our bodies, as well as lowered our feverish heads.” 

“I still wouldn’t–” 

“I would have to agree with Enola as well,” Sherlock grinned. “For a herbalist that simply ‘dabbles,’ your skill has reduced our condition a great deal.”

A bright smile tugged on your face, one Sherlock could only describe as infectious. There seemed to be a certain air about you– a mood or comfort that trailed along with your steps. A simple life, but complex within the mind of an individual who welcomes injured strangers, and heals them into full health. A skill to aid with absolutely no knowledge of their patient, but does it with the notion of being good. 

Being better. 

Something that Sherlock had forgotten, being wrapped up in the cases and twisted lives of England. It was almost endearing. 

“You both are too kind for your own good. You both may have to stay the night if you’d like. Before dawn, tomorrow, I can request that you both ride in the back of one of the villager’s carts.”

“That would be gracious of you, but too much, really,” Sherlock rejected, ignoring the look of his sister’s shooting glare. “You’ve already tended to us enough. We’ll be on our way to report back as quickly as we can.” 

“It isn’t a bother, but if you wish. Enola, before you go–” you grinned, staring at the girl in question with a small wink. “Why don’t you go outside and check the sundial? Or try the trick I showed you. I know you–” 

“Absolutely!” Enola agreed, grabbing at the full-sleeves, hiking them up and past her forearms. Scurrying out of the room, a smile crept onto your face. As you turned to face the older Holmes, you noticed he had a small one as well. A tiny upturn on the right side of his face as he stared at the door she had ran out of. 

“She’s a very bright kid, very interested in everything around her.” You complimented, walking around and opening drawers with the needed wraps. “I wonder if she gets it from her older brother.” 

His frown vanished, though the idea had made his mind turn. 

“I certainly hope not. She’s much more free and impatient to know the in’s and out’s of everyone she comes across. I’m afraid that gets her in more trouble than she wants.” 

You hum as a response, placing the materials on the table near him, and pulled up a stool to sit on. 

“I need to redress your wounds,” you offered, hands stopping in front of his forearm, hovering over the old bandages. 

“Of course, thank you, once more.” Unraveling the bandage and discarded it to the side, you reach out and grab a cloth, wiping away the mixture of plants and grim. Adding a new salve to his wound, you slowly bandaged it up and continued to the next. 

A comfortable silence fell onto the two. As you continued from one small injury to the next, careful hands and skillfull analysis to use different mixtures in vials to apply and dress once more. It was until you reached for his ankle, and made slight contact, did you hear a quiet hiss. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled. A hand supporting his heel as the other peeled away at the wrapping, showcasing the tiny splotches of soft purple. You scootched your stool closer, resting the ankle on your lap. 

“I’m going to have to touch around the ankle, unless it’s–”

“Do as you must.” 

You nodded slowly, ignoring the flush of embarrassment attempting to flood through. With skilled hands, you slowly move around the different parts of his ankle, rubbing and squeezing gently. 

In doing so, your eyes slowly look up again at him. He seems calm, for the most part– but with eyes staring intently at his ankle, there might’ve been an area you had missed. 

As hands trail upward and circle around the malleolus (yk, the bony ankle joint– the circle-like one, yeah, that one), his breath had hitched. Mouth frowning as he focused more, you had gotten your answer as to where. Now, the question was how bad. 

“I find it inspirational that your sister is such a free personality,” you trailed off. Sherlock’s eyes were torn away from his injury, and you could feel them settling onto you. You slowly continued to feel around the bone, and carried on. 

“It may bring in the possibility of danger, but I believe that comes with the package of expanding your connections and personalities.” 

“Arguably, yes. However, with the occupation we serve, the outcome of meeting a foe rather than a friend can outweigh those ‘personalities.’” 

“Perhaps that’s what makes her feel free. Being passionately curious and unlocking everyone’s own inner workings.” 

“Yes, but in the circumstance of high stakes, a few simple mistakes can threaten her life of her and–” 

At that moment, you squeezed the under part of the joint, and Sherlock winced terribly. Completely thrown off, you hid the thought of cracking a smile. 

“Well then, it seems you have a bruised bone, Mr. Holmes. The tea and ointment helped reduce your inflammation, at least. Nothing a few days of–” 

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock started, glaring at you. “Did you–” 

“Distract you? Yes, and it worked. I heard a rumor that detectives liked argumentative conversation,” you joked. “Clearly, it’s true.” 

Reaching out a simple salve, you smeared a thin layer around the bone– massaging it quickly in the process. 

“Don’t be discouraged, I did enjoy the topic. And I believe mistakes are good to make.” 

“And how so? Or is this another attempt to distract and assault me?” 

“Assault?” A loud laugh coursed through you before you realized, “Rude, but I won’t object. I’d be a fool to reveal my true intentions before you’ve interrogated me.” 

“I just think mistakes help us, sometimes. You’ll accept failure better, you learn, and you counter them in the future as you grow.” You muttered.

Grabbing a fresh bandage, you lifted his leg once more and slowly wrapped it around it. You knew he wasn’t staring at the bandage this time, but you, as you silently tended to him. 

Honesty, you’d look if you knew you could handle it. Truly. 

But a man such as Sherlock Holmes is hard to look at, you came to the conclusion. Especially when you’ve teased him; a man you’ve just met, your first conversation too. There was always the tiniest bit of embarrassment when offering a quote worth of “wisdom.”

“You both seem to be good people, and something tells me if Enola finds trouble… you’ll be there to protect her. As impatient and free as she may be in her youth.”

You finish wrapping his ankle and tie a small knot. With a final look of satisfaction, you clapped twice. 

“That should be everything, I believe. I’d suggest not leaning all your weight just yet, leave it ‘til the weekend. Or until your doctor urges otherwise.” 

But as you raised your head, you realized your words may have fallen on deaf eyes. Sherlock seemed lost in his own world, fingers tapping against the wooden table in a quiet rhythm. As the silence began to be uncomfortable, he spoke: 

“You’re a peculiar puzzle piece.” 

The sudden observation raised interest in you, paired with much confusion. 

“Should I be flattered?

“Do you find it flattering?”

“I would need you to elaborate before I can say for certain.” 

“A false-edge piece, specifically. That is all I will say on the topic.” 

If you weren’t as stumped at Sherlock’s vague explanation, you would’ve caught the small, lopsided smile and huff of amusement. 

The steps of the youngest Holmes burst in suddenly, eyes wide. 

“We have a quarter and four hours until sundown.” 

Enola’s eyes gleamed hopeful, waiting for her brother to respond. 

Sherlock had given you a quick glance, before giving his sister a wide grin. 

“I guess that means we’ll have to stay the night. If, it isn’t a bother,” he quickly adds, as he says your name. “I’ve quite enjoyed our talk, doctor. A night more may better my condition.”

Heat flamed across your face, as you watched his eyes shine with challenge.

“I’d be honored.”

—————————

thanks! hope you enjoyed! <3

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #henry sherlock holmes x reader #henry!holmes x reader #henry!sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #henry cavill x reader #Henry!Sherlock #enola holmes #problematic-weather

[germangirl321]

{The detective's wife} Henry! Sherlock x Named Reader

There she was. Elizabeth Holmes, wife of the famous detective, Sherlock Holmes.

She hears familiar footsteps ascend up the stairs, he came back from Scotland Yard. Lestrade has given him a new case. Liz heard his office's door slam shut. Elizabeth sighed, she knew how much her husband was stressing out and she wanted to do something to relax him. She began walking up the stairs to his office and knocks. "Sherlock? Can I come in my dear?.." There was a moment of silence.. "Of course Liz" She opened his door and saw her husband sitting down his chair, smoking his pipe while staring off to space. Elizabeth walked behind him, placing both of her hands on the detective's shoulder and started to hive him a massage.. Sherlock didn't realise how much stress he was i but knew that the moment his wife started giving him a massage, he realised how much time he was away from home...away from her and yet here she was...taking care off him.. He needed her. He loves her. He placed his hand on hers and kisses it. Liz smiled as her heart fluttered. Sherlock knew her weaknesses very well. "Im sorry" he spoke, this made Liz raise her brow "whatever for?", Sherlock sighed.. "I cleary haven't spend time with you...and I know how much u hate it when we are apart" Liz couldn't help but glance at her feet, "Yes I suppose you could say that...but don't fell guillty, London needs a man like you...a man with a good heart.." Sherlock wasn't naive. He knew his wife was just brushing her feelings off. He stood up, facing towards her and gently held her chin... Liz hesitated for a bit but looked at his ocean like eyes, you could just get lost in them. "I'm not a fool Lizabeth... don't treat me like one.." Sherlock spoke "I never intended to Sherly..." He just looked down at her and carefully wraps his arms around her waist, gently pulling her into a sweet hug {There will be a part 2..maybe-} {Feel free to request anything}

#henry!holmes x reader #sherlock holmes #henry cavill #enola holmes #sherlock x reader

[sammyboyimagines]

Friendly Competition

Pairing: Henry!Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: The famous Sherlock Holmes never had any competition regarding solving a case. Until you came along, and he learned to appreciate some friendly competition, very friendly competition.

Warnings: Smut 18+ MINORS DNI, praise, unprotected sex, swearing, little bit of degradation, idk what else

//I fucking love this character he's perfect in every way and I finally wrote something about him. Also sorry if this is trash I honestly just wrote it for fun. Also, I listened to strictly Lady Gaga so I'm sorry if the main characters are too girlboss I was dancing the entire time while writing this. also with like 5 minutes of classical music for the sherlock vibes

The game was afoot. You were hot on the trail of some insane criminal with an aptitude for kidnapping women. And you have every intention of catching him before he could harm any other woman in London. That was until you found out about a new victim this morning.

The headlines read, "Woman reported missing by her family. Police and detectives are on the case!" you groaned to yourself, massaging your temples as you grappled with the news. You had been searching for these women for two weeks, and every time you had been closer to finding the man, he inched further away by grabbing another girl.

You knew that the paper meant "Sherlock is taking the case" when it said there were police and detectives on the scene. How could anyone say no to a world-renowned detective taking your case? It enraged you to no end, as you had already had him snatch two cases right from under you!

Sherlock wasn't your worst enemy, you hadn't even met the man. But you had no intention of allowing him to steal one more bloody case from your grasp. Not without a fight, anyway.

Your bag slouched across your body, and you made your way to the house where the woman was taken from. You assembled with the family. It was curious. Sherlock was nowhere to be found. So you spoke to the police, gathered your wits, and developed a few theories. Of course, you would preserve those theories for yourself. You not-so-fondly recalled the time when you explained your theories to the police and they told the paper without a single credit to you.

You examine the scuff marks on the floor, made by a cane. "Ah, this must be the Y/n L/n everyone has so graciously told me about." a voice behind you made you stand up, smoothing out your dress.

The man was very handsome, his broad shoulders and curly locks making your face flush a little. You put your journal away in your bag. You kept all your evidence in it, to keep your ideas to yourself.

"Yes, I am. And you are?" you shook hands with him, proving that you weren't shy and meek. If the men thought you were weak, they'd try to manipulate you, and you couldn't possibly allow that to happen. Though nobody who truly knew you would ever call you shy.

"Sherlock Holmes." He flashed a disgustingly charming smile at you. "Ah, it's you." you pull your hand away. "Come to steal another one of my cases, have you?" you smirk as you examine a few things around the house. Sherlock followed you, glancing at the bookshelf you were admiring. 

"It was not my intention to solve those cases before you. Next time you might want to be faster," he says matter-of-factly. "And you've missed a couple things if you're looking for clues. Cane marks on the floor, obvious signs of struggle." Sherlock underestimated you and thought you needed his help. You, however, thought he was foolish.

"Already noted, dear. And it seems you've missed some things. Gunpowder and blood on the bookshelf." You watch his eyes widen in shock. Sherlock hardly ever missed a clue.

You were throwing him off his game. "It seems we're not all that different. Let's see who finds the woman first. Don't be upset if you don't find them faster than me." he puts his hat and coat on, ready to walk out into the rainy streets of London. You grab his arm.

"Don't fret, darling. I won't be upset because I'll be the one to find them." You pat his shoulder. "Good luck, though. I might implore your sister about the case. I think she'd be fascinated." Sherlock turned to you.

"You know Enola?" he looks you up and down, his eyes lingering on your chest for a few seconds longer than he should have. You took notice of that but decided not to say anything. Sherlock was a nincompoop at times, but he was awfully good-looking. If you were being honest, it didn't feel bad to have his eyes on you, looking at you lustfully.

"I've spoken with her many times, yes. She works with me on my cases and visits my establishment a couple times a week. You know she can't stay away from a good missing person case." You smiled, remembering the way her eyes would light up at the mention of an interesting case.

"Perhaps we could work together on the case? You're very intelligent, and I'd like to get to talk to you about the case from one detective to another." Sherlock wanted to meet with you under the guise of "talking about the case" but really, he was very intrigued by you. Your knowledge of the case, detective work, and his sister, all made him more interested in you. And it certainly didn't help that you were one of the most gorgeous women he'd ever seen. 

"I'd love to, Mr. Holmes. How about tonight we meet up at the pub down the street for a drink and a place to conversate?" you proposed, your eyes never leaving his. Sherlock admired your forwardness. It reminded him of his sister, very headstrong and confident. He could tell why Enola visited you so often.

"So be it. I will arrive at...how does eight sound?" Sherlock continued eye contact, his piercing blue eyes gazing into your very soul. Sherlock wasn't trying to intimidate, he'd hardly intimidate anyone, much less a woman.

"Sounds fantastic. I'll tell Enola you and I had a lovely conversation. And that you're technically still my competition. This is still my case, y'know?" You give him a sharp look, making him nod.

"Of course, Ms. L/n. This is still your case." he agreed to your aggressive statement, he liked seeing you worked up. In his eyes, it was cute to see you so defensive about your work. But it was also admirable. He'd never seen someone so dedicated to their craft since Enola became his ward. 

So, here you were at the pub waiting for Sherlock. He was late. 1 hour late. Suspiciously late.

Just as you stood up to walk out, ashamed of yourself for believing he wanted to work with you, Sherlock walked through the door. He rushed over, panting as if he had just run a mile before entering. You eye him, "Where were you?! I waited an hour. That's no way to treat a lady." you could barely look at him you were so mad. His eyes widened at the dress you were wearing. You didn't wear any shapewear, just a corset around your waist and chest. He couldn't stop himself from staring at how well the dress hugged your body.

"I stopped by the house to gather some more evidence." he shrugged, to which you slapped his shoulder. "Ow! What?" he looked puzzled. "You went without me? Traitor! We're supposed to be working together!" you were frankly very offended and in need of a drink. Sherlock gazed at you, finding himself unable to be freed from your beautiful eyes. You reminded him of sunshine, of home, of everything pretty in this world. He'd only just met you.

"Just for that, you're ordering me a drink before we share our findings." You watched him laugh, his hypnotizing smile was enough to make you melt.

"Very well." he paid for your drink and his before he took out some of his notes. "So, here's what we know so far. He's got us going in circles, but we'll find him in time." you two share evidence. It was clear that neither of you had any ill will toward the other, so sharing was an easy feat. Sherlock admired your work. "Your handwriting is very pretty, I've tried calligraphy but I cannot seem to grasp the concept." You laugh. "Writing class must have been awfully difficult then, Sherlock." His heart skipped a beat each time you uttered his name. It was an unfamiliar feeling but he knew exactly what it was. Attraction.

"Forgive me if I'm overstepping but you look stunning tonight, Ms. L/n." he takes a sip of his drink, a large hand cupping the glass. You smirked. "I thought we were talking about the case. That's highly unprofessional of you, Mr. Holmes." you teased him. He chuckled, watching you try to hide your enjoyment.

"Thank you, though. You're very attractive as well." you felt a little shy under his gaze. He ran a hand through his hair, unable to find the right words to say.

"We might be able to get some more productive work done if we go back to my apartment. We can go there now if you'd like?" Sherlock had no intention of going back to his place to do more detective work, and neither did you.

"I'd love nothing more. My drink is warm anyway." you chuckled and set your drink down. Sherlock took this moment to drink in your features. Your warm appearance melted his cold heart with every word spoken from your pretty lips. It confounded him.

He escorted you to his house, loving the feeling of your arm wrapped in his. "How come I've never seen you around? I'm always around London completing things for my cases and I've never bumped into you. Why?"

Here came the truth. He was avoiding you. "You are my competition, Y/n. I knew that if I met you, I'd let you win. And that's exactly what's happened." he laughs to himself, feeling pathetic for confessing his weakness.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I've been avoiding you. Each time you take on a case that I'm working on I drop it because I thought you'd take all the credit if we worked on it together." You stepped inside his apartment, and the smell of lavender and old books filled your nose.

"Y/n I would never take all the credit. I won't take all the credit for this case because it's not fair to you." his words convinced you to entertain him for a while. Even if he was a nincompoop.

"If this was any other detective, they would have taken the credit without a second thought." you smiled, suddenly aware of how close Sherlock was to you. You could feel his presence behind you.

"Well, I'm not like any other man, am I?" he smirked, his flirty behavior starting to show itself. "No, you're...different." you hesitated.

"How am I different, darling?" You felt butterflies in your stomach at the pet name. "Use your words," he whispered from behind you, his voice low and raspy. He hadn't even touched you yet and you could feel wetness pooling in your panties. 

You were at a loss for words. "You've said I'm attractive. Is that it? Is that why you're blushing right now? Because you like what I'm doing to you?" one of his hands snaked around your waist.

"Don't think you can hide it, love. You're flushed, you've been clenching your thighs together for the last five minutes, and you aren't talking," he smirked in satisfaction.

You couldn't take it anymore. You turned on your heel to face him before pulling his face down to meet him in a deep kiss. Neither of you came up for air, you didn't want to. The feeling of his big hands holding you in his strong arms and his soft lips on yours made your head spin. 

"God, I hate detectives," you say before returning to make out with him. He chuckled. "Yet you're kissing one," he mumbled against your lips. Your back leaned against the wall, and Sherlock's hands traveled over your soft dress. His hands found the straps holding your dress up. He pulled away from the kiss, his blue eyes now sharper, lustful. The darkness gave the room a dark blue ambiance as he watched you. 

"Are you comfortable with this, love?" he slowly pulled the straps down, brushing his warm fingers along your collarbone and shoulder, making you shiver. "Yes, keep going please.." you weren't usually this eager. But Sherlock looked deliciously striking in the moonlight, reflecting off the many objects scattered across his floor.

"Eager aren't we?" he worked faster, reaching behind you to slowly take off your garments. "Darling, you look so needy for me." he took your chin in his hand. He pressed your arms against the wall, his eyes scanning your body. "I've been imagining what you'd look like underneath that pretty dress. But this...is much much better than I could have ever dreamt." he pressed sweet kisses along your neck.

You tried to relax under his grip, but one of his legs slipped between yours, spreading your legs. Sherlock kissed your collarbone, relishing the sweet little gasps coming from those lips he loved to kiss. "So responsive for me, love. I wonder what you'll sound like on my cock." he smirked against your hot skin as you blushed. You had no idea the cold detective could be so seductive.

"This is not what I was expecting from you, Mr. Holmes. You're so dirty." you teased him, pulling off your top, exposing your breasts to him. He groaned lowly at the sight of them. "Mmm, as are you my love." you couldn't hold back the moan as he took one of your nipples in his mouth, massaging the other. The pet name made you grow wetter under his grasp.

"I must confess this was not what I was expecting from you either. I was expecting a chase to gain your favor." he teased you, looking up at you from where his mouth kissed your tits.

"Well, you were eager to get your hands on me. We're both being a little friendly here." you pushed him back. "You're too clothed." You felt a little too exposed in nothing but your undergarments as he remained in his suit.

Sherlock began to undress with fervor, smirking at your obvious staring. "Darling, weren't you ever taught not to stare?" he teased, his toned, muscular torso fully exposed to you. You cross your arms over your chest. 

"Oh please, like you weren't staring at my breasts during our conversation this morning." Sherlock didn't say anything, knowing it would be worse to argue with you. He was in fact, staring at your breasts all morning.

After all your clothes and his were taken off you took that as your moment to take in the sight of him. His arms were very big and muscular as well as his chest, it was difficult to look away. "Now who's staring?" he chuckles, his hand reaching out around your waist and pulling you closer to him, your bodies not even 5 inches from each other. You could feel the heat radiating from each other's bodies in the cold dark room.

"Do you have a bed or something? Not that I'd complain if you took me here.." Sherlock's eyes lit up at the idea. "I don't think I can wait that long." he chuckled, "Might have to bend you over this table, you'd like that wouldn't you?" his hand felt up and down your body, grabbing handfuls of your ass. You whimpered at the thought of him pressing your front down onto the cold, messy table and fucking you until the morning.

"Mmm, you're such a pretty little whore. So desperate for me." his hands gently ran over your thighs, biting his lip at the feeling of the soft flesh against his rough fingertips. "Yeah yeah, don't let it go to your head." you chuckle, your arms wrapped around his neck. 

He lifts your chin and looks into your eyes. "Don't pretend like you don't want this, love. I know how badly you want me, I've seen the way you stare at me. Just say the word and I'll give you exactly what you need, darling. Beg for me, love." he places a soft kiss on your lips that leaves you wanting more.

"Please Sherlock I need you so bad, been waiting all day for you to take me." you pressed against him, feeling his hard erection against you. He smirks, "The truth finally reveals itself. Good girl.."

He kissed you, full of burning passion before turning you around by your shoulders. He placed a hand on your back, slowly pressing you down onto the table. He brushed off the many scattered papers, letting them hit the floor out of their order. 

"Feeling comfortable?" he rubs his hands over your ass, groaning to himself. You pressed your face against the heavy wooden table, ready for whatever he would give you. "Hurry up, Sherlock.." you whined, pushing your hips against his. 

He grabbed his cock, rubbing it up and down your pussy. He hums and lets out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. "I wish we would have met earlier." he pushed in, his dick stretching out your warm pussy. "Could have been inside this sweet pussy months ago-fuck" he bottoms out, your walls squeezing him tight.

You moan his name softly, the feeling of him buried inside you felt euphoric. He began thrusting, his hips slamming into you, making your body move with every thrust. "Fuck, you're so good for me, you're fucking perfect.." he could hardly believe you were real. Sherlock usually spent his time around prissy, judgemental old detectives. He hardly had any time to meet a lady, let alone a woman with your glowing personality and detective skills.

It was a dream come true.

As his pace quickened, you could hear skin slapping fill the room as you arched your back. Sherlock groaned, his body leaning over yours as he slammed into you. Your legs were shaking at this point, weak from both the pleasure and standing. You were a moaning mess underneath him. Hearing his harsh breathing and groaning brought you closer and closer to the edge.

After a while of relentless pleasure, you had already cum once. Sherlock was still going, fully convinced he needed to make you cum twice before he did. You weren't complaining. "C'mon darling give me one more please.." Sherlock was sweating and barely holding back any of his groans and grunts. With every few thrusts, he lost a shred of his dignity, but he didn't care. Not when you sounded so delicious underneath him. Not when your pretty pussy was squeezing him so tight he was seconds away from cumming early.

"I wanna feel it, love." you were gasping for air at his point. Your mascara, you suspected, had already started running down your face as you were fucked into oblivion. Sherlock was big, but he also knew exactly what to do with it.

"Sherlock please.." you weren't sure what you had been begging for, but you wanted him so bad, one orgasm simply wasn't enough. You adored the feeling of his strong body over yours, his arms caging you underneath him.

You were sweating, your whines and moans filling the large room as he filled you to the brim with his cock. You were trembling and gasping, Sherlock could tell you were close. "Cum for me. Fuck-I need you to cum for me.." he pulled your hair, dragging you into a sloppy kiss. He was so close, his groans got louder the closer he got to cumming. "Where do you want it, darling?" he mumbles against your skin, his hands holding your hips as he thrusts at a relentless pace. 

"Inside! Inside please!" //we're gonna pretend that birth control exists for right now

His eyes roll back at that. "Fuck, you're gonna be the death of me." your pussy clenched around him as you came, your body shaking as your orgasm washed over you. "Mmm good girl, so perfect for me.." he mumbles as he spills into you, thrusting slowly to ride out both of your orgasms.

You heard Sherlock move away from you and shuffle around the room before coming back with a rag to clean you up. "When they say friendly competition, I don't think this is what they meant." he helped you up and brought you to his bed. "We're just being extra friendly. 

"I don't want you walking home this late. Stay here, I'll take the couch." He smiles as he admires how you look in his bed. Your makeup was messy, your clothing discarded somewhere in another room, your tired eyes admiring him just the same.

"No, stay here with me. It's too cold to sleep alone." you hold your hand out to him. "You don't think it's improper?" he asks.

"We just fucked. I think anything is more proper than that." you pull him into bed with you.

"Fair point."

//ah!! thanks for reading!

#henry!holmes x reader #henry!sherlock #sherlock holmes #enola holmes #enola and sherlock #sherlock smut #sherlock fluff #sherlock x you

[mybloodyknifedidkill]

Sherlock x Reader

I wrote my first steamy Sherlock x reader fic where the reader’s gender is not specified so anyone can enjoy it!

Read it below or on AO3:

The pure light of the moon mixed with the kerosene yellow of the streetlamps as it filtered in through the curtains and painted the room in the muted shades of night. You lay sleepless in the bed, only the sound of Sherlock breathing beside you disturbing the gentle quiet. You turn to gaze at his sleeping face, made softer in slumber and darkness. He seems so vulnerable, a stark contrast to his usually resolute and rugged daytime facade. You smile to yourself, feeling affection and adoration for this man swell within your chest in equal measures. What an interminable honour it is to be invited into the extremely private life of this careful enigma.

You fondly think back to how you first met, the heat of the moment and the dire circumstances leaving love last in line for thoughts on your mind. Yet over time, the combination of working on the same case, albeit from different angles, and the satisfaction of finally solving it created the opportunity for something more. Nothing about it was instantaneous. In fact, it took years of a delicate push and pull between the two of you, learning about each other, and learning to trust each other. It was your honesty in the end that put an end to the incessant dancing you were doing around each other, that finally opened the door for the prospect of something more than reluctant colleagues turned friends. You remember it quite clearly, the intense yet uncertain look in his eyes as he acquiesced to your shared feelings. It was Enola who first opened his heart to affection, and you cannot deny that you are forever grateful for her tenacity and her tendency to wear her heart on her sleeve. It was a turning point for Sherlock to open himself up to caring for her as his sister and ward. The man, previously so closed, unemotional, and unattached, found that emotion wasn’t entirely unnecessary, and that attachment was less of a weakness than he had deduced in all his lonely years. And from this revelation were planted the seeds that allowed your romance to bloom.

Sighing in contentment you shuffle closer to him under the sheets, melting into his warmth as you drape an arm around him, coming to rest at his side. He stirs minutely, body tensing briefly as his eyes blearily blink open. He grunts halfheartedly and stretches out a strong arm, wrapping it securely around your waist before dragging you on top of him. Willingly, you allow your body to be positioned, letting out a pleased sound in the back of your throat, which Sherlock returns in kind. “It doesn’t look like morning,” he playfully chastises you, voice heavy and gruff with sleep. “It is morning somewhere,” you retort. “Besides, I like to look upon your face no matter what the hour.” Sherlock smiles wryly, squeezing you closer and tucking your head under his chin. You feel his heartbeat against your cheek, strong and steady as always. “Though I cannot deny my desire to gaze upon your lovely face at all hours of the day, I am fond of reserving at least a few hours for sleeping.” You smile against him, turning your head upwards to press a kiss to his neck. “Ah-” he chokes abruptly, followed by a sharp intake of breath as you repeat the motion. “What might you be up, my night-time angel?” he enquires breathlessly. “Bestowing my love upon you,” you reply firmly, reaching further to press kisses along his jaw. His lips part on a gasp, and even in the dull light you can see his eyes losing focus as his hands come down to grip your waist. “Hmm,” is all he says as he relaxes back against the bed, stretching his neck to the side to allow you clear access to his pulse point. Without hesitation you press an open-mouthed kiss to his flesh, followed by a gentle nip with your teeth. That is all it takes to have him releasing a tortured moan into the dark room. Eagerly you press more kisses against him, one hand roaming over his chest while the other tangles in his soft curls as you nuzzle against him. His moans and sighs spur you on as his hands slide under your nightclothes, stroking your bare skin and causing you to gasp. Just as you feel your affection for Sherlock reaching a breaking point his hands cup your face and guide your lips to his in a time stopping kiss.

Waves of pleasure and love pulse through you as he gently slots his lips against yours, kissing you like you were the most precious thing in the whole world. You kiss him in return with equal passion as he slowly sits up, guiding you into his lap. He breaks the kiss then slides his hands through your hair, bringing them to rest at the base of your neck. "Sherlock-" you moan, quivering. “Tell me darling,” he starts, voice gruff with desire, “what do you need?” You can feel him against you, hard and leaking through the thin fabric of his nightclothes. You press your forehead against his as you grind down against him, effectively giving your answer. Wasting no time, he lifts you slightly and tugs off his clothes, leaving you with the stunning view of his body, bared for no one but you. Without pause, you remove your own clothing, tossing it to the side without a single care as Sherlock’s hand finds its way to your lower back and pulls you forward and down, eliciting a loud moan as you feel yourself glide over his hardness. You grind against each other breathlessly for what feels like too short and too long of a time before you find yourself leaning back as Sherlock grips his cock. “Yes?” he asks, gaze intense. “Yes,” you answer, hands twining around his neck as he lowers you down. The feeling of him entering you is enrapturing, and the pleasure only builds as you move together, whispering words of affection and veneration to each other as you reach your climaxes in a crescendo of bliss.

You find yourself laying against his chest again, breathing harshly together as your bodies and minds return to equilibrium. His arms are wrapped around you protectively and his hand strokes your back, reassuring you of his care and devotion. You can see the light beginning to grow brighter in the room as the sun begins to outshine the moon and the streetlamps in its golden glow. Turning your head away from the light you nuzzle against Sherlock’s chest, eyes falling shut. “It doesn’t yet look like morning,” you yawn. “Hmm,” he responds incredulously, chest reverberating pleasantly against you. You can just picture the look of halfhearted bemusement on his face at your clearly facetious comment. “Well then I suppose we still have plenty of time for sleep.” Grinning, you snuggle up against him, relishing in the softness that he has reserved only for you. Just as you begin to drift off to sleep you hear him whisper a soft “I love you,” against your ear. You hum your loving response before sleep snags your consciousness for the next small while.

#henry!holmes x reader #enola holmes #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes #sherlock x non gendered reader

[chellybean15]

Hi everyone! I decided I was gonna post more here since I have a couple stories in mind. If you would like to send in requests such as headcanons or drabbles, I would gladly write them. I write for Henry Cavill and his characters. I also will write for Spencer Reid. Have a lovely day!!

#henry cavill x reader #captain syverson x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #walter marshall x reader #charles brandon x reader #clark kent x reader #august walker x reader #napoleon solo x reader #mike (hellraiser) x reader #will shaw x reader #henry!holmes x reader #spencer reid x reader

[imagine-by-susu]

Fandom I write for (March 2023 Update)

Movies

Enola Holmes

Sherlock Holmes

X-Men

Wolverine/Logan Howlett

Scrooge (2022)

Ebenezer Scrooge

Phantom of the Opera (2004)

Erik Destler

(Any Phantom is fine)

Harry Potter

Sirius Black

Fantastic Beasts and where to find them

Percival Graves

Series

The Mandalorian

Din Djarin

Games

Assassins Creed

Edward Kenway

Haytham Kenway

Shay Patrick Cormac

Jacob Frye

m!Eivor Wolfskissed

Far Cry 5

Joseph Seed

John Seed

Jacob Seed

Red Dead Redemption 2

Arthur Morgan

#fandom list #fandoms i write for #list #list of fandoms #far cry 5 #phantom of the opera #assassins creed #sherlock holmes #x-men #scrooge #scrooge 2022 #x reader #henry!holmes x reader #wolverine #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #ebenezer x reader #scrooge x reader #erik destler x reader #phantom of the opera x reader #edward kenway #edward kenway x reader #haytham kenway #haytham kenway x reader #shay cormac #shay cormac x reader #jacob frye #jacob frye x reader #eivor x reader

[holylulusworld]

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (1)

Summary: Your marriage starts rocky.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader

Warnings: angst, injured reader (light), mentions of getting robbed, angry Sherlock, implied innocent reader

A/N: A collection of drabbles on how you became Mrs. Sherlock Holmes.

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes masterlist

“Where is my brother? We need to talk about Enola and the upcoming event. She needs to make her debut…” you hear Mycroft downstairs. He’s usually a stoic and silent man, but you kinda like he’s silent and leaves you alone most of the time. “Where is the lady of the house? Maybe she can help my sister correct her behavior."

You hear his voice grow louder as Sherlock’s head housekeeper raises her voice. She always acts more like the lady of the house than a servant.

“Mr. Holmes,” you gracefully walk down the stairs, putting on a strained smile hurting your bruised face. “I’m afraid my husband is not at home. He’s solving another case.”

“Again?” Mycroft holds out his hands. He presses a quick kiss to your offered hand. “He should’ve left his lovely wife all alone so short after your wedding.”

“Sir, it’s fine,” you flutter your eyes shut as you try to keep the wrong words from spilling from your lips. It all became too much lately.

Sherlock's absence, and his displeasure in participating in your marriage. The head housekeeper acting like you are not Sherlock’s wife but a peasant.

“My dear, what happened?” Mycroft gasps when his eyes finally see your swollen left cheek and your split lip. “Please tell me my brother didn’t raise his hand on you. If he did, I’ll make sure he’ll regret putting his hands on you.”

“It wasn’t my husband,” you reach out for Mycroft and grab his hand. “He’s a little distant and mostly interested in solving cases but…he would never. I swear, Sir. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have gone to town on my own. But Mrs. Demeter refused to send for a carriage.”

“What happened, my dear,” Mycroft worriedly asks. He offers his arm to you, and wonders if you are lying to protect his brother. “Please do not fret. Tell me everything.”

“I left the house to get the books Sherlock wanted,” you sniff. “I paid for the books and carried the books out of the store. A woman ran into me, and I dropped the books. I tried to pick them up and then…” You choke out a sob. “There was a masked man. He ripped my bag out of my hands and hit me with it.”

“My dear!” Mycroft gasps audibly. “Did you tell my brother about this?”

“He wasn’t home,” you drop your gaze, ashamed about your weakness, and inability to stand up for yourself. “The owner of the bookstore helped me pick up the books and accompanied me to Scotland Yard but…they didn’t want to listen to me.”

“Did you tell them your name?” Mycroft is furious. “How dare they ignore a young lady in need.” He huffs as you tell him repeatedly it was your fault for not telling them your name. “Stop blaming yourself, my dear. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s my brother’s for ignoring his wife.”

Downstairs it sounds like a war is going on. Sherlock and Mycroft yell at each other. And you are afraid, Mycroft is winning.

Your betrothed falls silent after a while, and you hold your breath as you repeatedly hear your name. The last thing you wanted was to cause a rift between the brothers.

They already have their hands full with their younger sibling. Now you are causing trouble too.

You wring your hands while hearing footsteps on the staircase. You hold your breath and step away from the door. “Wife,” Sherlock grumbles as he opens the door. “Where are you?”

“I’m here,” your voice cracks. “Sir.” You add, in the hope of appeasing your husband. He steps inside your room, eyes roaming your body. “Please accept my apology.”

“What for, Precious?” He steps closer to cup your face with both hands. “Why didn’t you send for me? I would’ve come here to take care of my wife.”

“I didn’t want to disturb you, Sir. It’s nothing,” you close your eyes when his gaze gets too intense.

“You got hurt. This is not nothing,” he raises his voice but gets a grip seconds later. “No one touches my wife.” His lips press against your swollen cheek, but you only feel the warmth of his soft pillows, not the slight pain. “I will call for Lestrade. We will find the man hurting you.”

“I think he worked with the woman running into me,” you explain while Sherlock inspects your injuries. “She distracted me long enough for the man to steal my bag.”

“Why did he hurt you?”

“I-I didn’t want to give the bag to the man. You gifted it to me,” you shyly batt your eyelashes as Sherlock angrily furrows his brows.

“You are fearless, my dear,” he cracks a smile. “I am sorry about my absence. After our wedding, we should’ve…” He clears his throat. “I'll send for a doctor.”

“She’s well then?” Sherlock sizes the doctor up. “I need to know every detail. Please don’t shelter me.”

“Her cheek is swollen, but the cut on her lips is already healing. She’s mostly frightened of the person attacking her,” the doctor says. “I’d suggest not leaving her alone for the time being.”

“Sir, what are you doing?” You almost screamed when Sherlock entered your room. He softly whispered your name and picked you up in bridal style to carry you toward his bedroom.

“I’m bringing my wife to my bedroom,” he carried you out of the room. His chest swelled when you rested your head on his chest.

"Sir, I think...you have a case and..." you whimper. If he wants to finally have your wedding night, you are not sure you are ready to be with him.

“I shouldn’t have taken case after case. We didn’t have the chance to get to know each other better. I know this was an arranged bond my mother and your father agreed to. But I…I want you to know that I’ll protect you from now on.”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill is sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x y/n #Mrs. Sherlock Holmes

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Hi, can I ask for some Sherlock Holmes with a side of spanking and cuddles?

Title: The Paganini Problem

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader

Fandom: Enola Holmes series

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: Being Sherlock’s wife proves to be difficult when a case stumps him. For @princessphilly, I hope this works!!

Warnings: female!masturbation, spanking, softDom!Sherlock

A/N: I listened to “24 Caprices for Solo Violin, Op. 1, MS 25: No. 24 in A Minor” while writing this, you do not have to. But it is quite good if you like violin and suspenseful music. Also, Enola correctly guesses that Paganini is Sherlock’s favorite composer in the first Enola Holmes film, so like, research! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist 

The sounds of violin wafted through 221B Baker Street. You loved to hear Sherlock play most days. But, today was different. This was day three of a Paganini marathon, which could only mean one thing.

He was stumped on a case. 

A case he refused to talk to you about. No, he could only converse with his beloved violin about it. However, that’s not how you see it. No. 

Your perception? He decided to play instead of paying attention to you. Being the brat that you are, you are determined to make him regard your presence.

You don your tightest bodice and skirt, the deep sapphire one that Sherlock purchased for you as a gift when he asked you to move into Baker Street. He specifically had it tailored to your measurements, showing off your ample bosom and child-bearing hips. 

You make your way from your shared bedroom into the drawing room where Sherlock is playing. His violin is tucked between his chin and shoulder. His left hand bows at a speed that makes the messy curls on his head dance along to the music. His right hand holds the violin at the neck so delicately, it’s almost loving.

You step around several stacks of papers, narrowly missing a tower of books. You remind yourself to have that talk again with Sherlock about the difference between organization and chaos. 

You finally make it to the chair next to his music stand, his eyes never leaving the sheet music. You make sure to sit down in a way that makes a squeak that Sherlock has commented on many a time. He’s actually shown you how to sit so that said squeak does not occur. You remarked that he could just get rid of the chair, to which he replied that you can sit elsewhere if you’re going to complain.

No reaction. 

You seethe, watching as he continues with 24 Caprices. You kick over the music stand and the sheets dance gracefully to the floor.

Nothing.

He simply closes his eyes and plays from memory. He plays it perfectly, of course. Paganini is his favorite composer, after all. He would know it forward and backward.

You were growing impatient, running out of options for how to get this man’s attention. Until it hit you. The idea was just ridiculous enough to work. It would be depravity in polite society, sure. But clever enough to get him to at least acknowledge your presence. And that would be enough.

You get up from the chair and make your way over to the chaise lounge. Arranging a few pillows to rest your head upon, you then lie down and pull your skirt up enough to get to your drawers. You pull them down and toss them out of the way, Sherlock being none the wiser as he continues playing.

You let your hand wander down to your folds, already slick with the frustration of being untouched for days. You allow yourself time to tease, playing with your swollen bud before dipping lower to enter a single finger within yourself. A sigh escapes your lips as you explore your inner walls. As another finger joins the first, Sherlock’s name falls from your lips.

Sherlock’s sense of smell is what pulls him out of his hyperfocus. He smells your arousal as he hears his name in the air. In an instant, his fixation becomes all about you.

He places down his violin and bow next to the fallen music stand, not putting it right-side up. Not bothering to be quiet, as your moans now fill the room louder than his playing did, he stalks over to you and clears his throat loudly.

Your hand stills and you open one eye looking up at your husband. The look on his face of disappointment is enough to cause heat to flare behind your cheeks. Then, his face changes to that of…impatience?

“Well? Are you going to finish then? Or must I intervene?” Sherlock’s words have a bite to them, and you can’t say you’re surprised. Well, you are stunned he is offering to help.

At least you were under the impression that he is offering to help. And that is why he is the expert detective and you are...well, not.

Before you can ask for assistance, Sherlock is lifting you off the chaise and throws you over his shoulder. He takes you into the bedroom and set you down on your feet before sitting on the edge of the bed. 

He points to you and beckons you with a curved finger in a ‘come hither’ motion. You begin to sit next to him, but he blocks your path.

“I don’t believe bad girls get to sit down next to Sir. Over my knee with yourself, girl. You’re going to practice your counting. And don’t make me repeat myself.” Sherlock’s voice is stern and you involuntarily gulp before settling your middle across his lap.

Sherlock pulls up your skirt so it rests along your back and the cool air of the room produces gooseflesh along your bare bottom and legs. No sooner do you register that feeling does the first blow land. You grunt as Sherlock’s hand grazes the skin of your left cheek.

“One, Sir!” You cry out, surprised at the white-hot heat of the smack.

“Good girl,” he praises.

He raises his hand again. He waits until your ass relaxes and brings down his hand upon your right cheek. This time harder than the first.

“Two, Sir!” You shout, the sting radiating through you.

“Good girl, I think you deserve one more though,” Sherlock informs you and you nod, “Use your words, girl. Do you deserve another?”

“Yes, Sir, I deserve another,” you whimper, clenching your thighs to try and gain some sort of friction.

“I wholeheartedly agree, my dear,” he laughs, punctuating his sentiment with one last swat to your left cheek.

“Three, Sir!” You gasp, clutching onto Sherlock’s pant leg as his hand finds its way between your legs to find you soaked.

“That’s my good girl, look how soaked you are for me. I bet you’re right on the edge. All you need is one…last…push,” Sherlock plunges two fingers into your sodden cunt and expertly finds your inner bundle of nerves. He massages it while praising you for taking your punishment so well. “You’ve been so good for me, my love. You take all the attention you need, girl.”

Before long, you are clenching around Sherlock’s fingers and he is working you through your orgasm with his skilled fingers. You send thanks to the heavens for marrying a man who understands the female anatomy. 

As you come down, Sherlock pulls down your skirt. He pulls a pillow from the bed for you to sit on as he turns you around in his lap. He kisses your forehead and presses your head down to lean on his shoulder, resting his head upon yours. 

“Now, my dear little one. Care to explain what that little show was for?” His voice is calm as his arms wrap around you, holding you flush to him as he rocks a bit back and forth.

“I hate it when you’re stuck on a case, you don’t pay any attention to your wife, my love,” You don’t attempt to hide the sorrow in your voice.

“You’re so right. I’ve neglected my dearest. She even had to turn to her own ministrations in the wake of my absence,” he pulls back and looks down at you, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “As frustrating as a case may be, it is no excuse to ignore you. I promise you, my love, it will not happen again. You have my word.”

“Thank you, Sherlock,” you twirl your finger around a curl of his hair and watch it spring back, “I love you.”

“And I love you, dear one. Now, shall we solve this case, Mrs. Holmes?”

“That we shall, Mr. Holmes.”

**Tag List**

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[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2023-12-06

Main

Henry!Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Seasonal

Henry!Sherlock Holmes x Reader: Winter Edition

See Also: Navigation | Private T.B.R.

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[shotgunbunny]

Hello! how about Sherlock getting jealous of the man the reader is spending time with and his deduction skills go out the window so he doesn't realize they aren't romantically involved 👀

═๑♡𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧♡๑═

WC:1.3k+ GIF by strdstpixie

{srry I got way too carried away in this little plot and I hope you like it anon even though I got side tracked}

{Warnings!! The most fluff!! The love language of flowers!! Literally just heartwarming!!}

♡being engaged to Sherlock could be hard sometimes. He was the most sought after bachelor before he met you when suddenly, he was ready to give his life to you.

♡Sherlock fans would often send you rude mail and menacing glares. Yet Sherlock would always tell you to ignore them.

♡Yet how could you ignore them when you got them everywhere. With Sherlock always at work, you decided to confide in your closest friend: Max.

♡You had grown up with Max and he was your dearest friend. He never upset you and often supported your ideas, he was truly lovely. Yet you both never saw each other in a romantic light.

♡One morning, after you had woken up alone due to Sherlock going to work. You decided to go and visit Max and see how he was doing as he was currently trying to woo a woman.

♡When you got there you were immediately encased in a hug and Max dragging you down the streets of London to go shopping while he spoke about how he was going to find the perfect bouquet of flowers to woo his lady.

♡As you were both strolling down the market with your arms linked, you felt eyes watching you. No doubt the folks that detested you for stealing Sherlock from his work.

♡When you turned to look you were shocked to see, Sherlock and Ebola stood there. Enola was talking to him yet he had his eyes dead set on you. You could see his jaw tighten and his hands crumple into fists.

♡You felt your heart race, Sherlock had never been angry, let alone angry at you which is why you were so nervous to see him angry now.

♡Max pulled your arm and dragged your attention away from your fiance babbling excitedly about seeing the perfect bouquet.

♡As you stood next to Max as he was looking at the variety of flowers, you heard the familiar voice of Enola grow closer.

♡Before you could even turn to see the girl, a hard chest was pressed against your back and an arm wrapped around your waist making you gasp. You turned and there was Sherlock.

♡He wasn't glaring at you, rather at Max. He jaw still clenched. You squeezed his bicep and he focused his attention on you. You raised an eyebrow at him.

♡Max turned his attention to you both and Sherlock spoke, "Dove, come on we must return home. We must continue planning our wedding. Enola had a few ideas."

♡You looked at him shocked, "My darling, can it not wait? I am busy here trying to help my friend."

♡"My dear, I do not care if he is your friend, I am your fiance and I require your attention more than him."

♡You glared at him, "Sherlock how hypocritical of you. You never pay me any attention so why should I give you any? If you are going to let your foolish jealousy talk for you then I suggest you stay away from me."

♡Max stared and looped his arm through yours and you continued strolling down the street, all the while Sherlock felt his heart crack.

♡He turned to Enola, "Have I really not shown her how much I adore her? Does she feel that deprived of my presence?"

♡Enola stared at him, placing a hand on her hip before glaring at him, "You are silly dear brother. You often go to work rather than talk to your dear future wife. You haven't even professed your love for her you stupid man."

♡Sherlocks eyes widened, "Help me Enola, help me fix my wrong."

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

♡It had been a day since you had seen Sherlock and you felt your heart ache a fraction over not seeing him.

♡Max had been wonderful and allowed you to stay at his house for the night where finally revealed he was trying to woo Lady Ristunberg.

♡You were awoken by a knock at the door. You grabbed a night coat and sorted yourself out so you looked mildly decent and opened the door.

♡Your heart hammered at seeing Sherlock stood there with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

♡"Sherlock? What are you going here? It's so early." You stared at his beautiful puppy dog eyes and how he was starting to get eye bags. "Have you slept?"

♡He stared at you, "I have not my lady. You see I require you to be happy with me so that then I can sleep peacefully. And due to the fact you are not, I have not slept and have dedicated the night to searching for ways to prove my love for you."

♡You stared at him and then at the flowers in his hand. "Will you give me a minute to change so that then we may return home?"

♡A sigh left his lips, and he nodded relieved.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

♡When you arrived back with Sherlock hiding in your shadow, you were surprised to find the flat organised.

♡You watched as Sherlock walked past you and handed you 5 books. All the books that you had given him to read while he was trying to court you.

♡"What is this Sherlock?" He walked over to you and took the first book you ever gave him from your hands.

♡He opened the book and flicked to a page where a flower rested. A pink camellia. You looked at him, "A pink camellia. It symbolises longing. The first book you ever gave me when I was courting you. I marked the pages with how I longed for your love."

♡He took the second book, and there rested a blue salvia. "The second book, where you started to slowly give in to my advances. And then the first time I heard your laugh, your cute little giggle. I marked it that day with a blue salvia, it means thinking of you. I thought about the beauty of your voice for days on end."

♡The next book was taken and the next flower shown, a pink rose. "Happiness. A pink rose is happiness because everything you did, you do, makes me happy."

♡You felt tears gather in your eyes, as the fourth book opened and there was a red rose. He smiled shakily, "The day you agreed to court me I marked it with a red rose. It means I love you. Truly my heart belong only to you."

♡You felt a few tears slip at finally hearing those words. Sherlock leaned forward and wiped your tears before he took the last book from your hands and opened it.

♡Held between his fingers was a red flower, he handed it to you and you took it before staring at him. "A red salvia."

♡"What does it mean?" Your voice was so soft.

♡He chuckled, "It means forever mine. The day you agreed to marry me, you were forever mine. But the day you first spoke to me, I was forever yours. You held my heart before you even knew it. I know I am a hard man but my love,"

♡You watched as he got on he knees infront of you and stared up. You placed the flower on the side close to you, and put your hands on his face.

♡"I love you. I worship the ground you walk on. I am thankful to be near you. I adore you, and though I am terrible at showing it, I hope you know that I truly mean it."

♡You got on your knees and kisses Sherlock embracing the overwhelming amount of love that was in the room.

♡When you both pulled away, you placed your forehead against his and closed your eyes. You felt him take your small hand in his and you smiled.

♡"I love you too Sherlock Holmes so very much, all I ask is that you come home and spend time with me more."

♡"My dearest dove, I promise you I will. I will make sure you wake up drowning in my love. And then when your Mrs. Holmes you will carry our love." He chuckled and you blushed.

♡"You were quite attractive jealous though I must admit."

♡A laugh echoed around the room and he pulled you up against him and he dragged you to the bedroom. "Well then I must admit you're quite attractive covered in my marks."

#henry cavill x plus size reader #henry cavill x woc reader #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry!sherlock #enola holmes #henry holmes #henry!holmes x woc!reader #henry!holmes x black!reader #henry!sherlock x reader #henry!holmes x reader #henry!holmes #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock x you #sherlock x black!reader #sherlock x woc!reader #henry!sherlock x plussize!reader #henry!sherlock x woc!reader #henry!sherlock x black!reader

[problematic-weather]

The Game is Afoot (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

Sherlock Holmes x GN! Reader 

summary: you’re an old friend of sherlock’s and admire him so. as you gaze around, you can’t help but think about the past and the future.

word count: 1.1k+

this one is random, i wrote it because why not?

warnings: unedited, a tad bit dark because it involves a hint of stalking but it’s fineee, i still have not watched enola 2, GIF NOT MINE !!

     Fingers sweep against the bookshelf, filled with an assortment of books that could only be read by an intelligent individual. One who may have had too much time and devotion to uncovering the secrets of the world– secrets of people’s minds. Because what is life without a tinge of curiosity? Without the occasional adrenaline rush as the gears begin to turn, and the clock has finally chimed to a new day. 

     Comparing him to his older brother, they had nearly nothing in common. Sherlock had maintained his oddities and interest in chasing the mystery, meanwhile, Mycroft had subjected himself to mingling with society’s aristocrats. Perhaps too caught up in upholding the family’s image, his methods of displaying affection towards his family were unorthodox, and often showed more irritant than any other emotion. 

     Nevertheless, you had grown to know both– and it wasn’t a mystery to acknowledge Mycroft cares for the family. But through his perception of looking through a business and government lens, he’s often clouded by the idea of perfection, the idea of anything otherwise frustrating him to no end that leads to the most questionable decisions taken.

     Yet with all that past knowledge, they still managed to have their names constantly written within the papers. 

     Sherlock was London’s gossip. It seemed the country had gotten a rise out of investigation and justice within the corrupt system. Though some predicted it would fester and spoil the relationship between social classes. That didn’t matter, you knew, it was broken from the very beginning. However, those who weren’t in it for the mystery– were very much reading the papers for Sherlock.

     As you had moved to London, all that seemed to carry in the air were the thoughts of him. Whether it be his physique, intelligence, his most recent case, or all. 

     The thought did linger, how did he manage to look after all these years? 

     Hopefully, he was much better tending to himself than he cared to tend his flat. Scattered parchment in stacks all throughout the main room, books in heaps. Some were built on different levels, a variety of different candelabra spread out and notably used. Old wax still formed on the tray beneath. Most seemed to crowd a large map encompassing all of the city. Around, laid different colours of string strung around and held together with scribbled notes of ink and bright red thumbtacks. 

     The wall alone had bubbled your curiosity and overpoured. It seemed that Sherlock had already gotten his hands full, a case seemingly catching his eye. And by the looks of it, one that he’s followed for quite some time. Various clues and hypotheses were dispersed across the wall and tabletop, as well as a violin and cigar tray less than a foot away. He’s been observing. 

     Your own fingers trail along the string, eyes scanning through his clues. It was so easy like this, to read his mind. As more notes were piled on top of one another, his methods of uncovering the truth were fascinating. You could almost picture it– him staring at this board as you are, mind dizzying with the possibilities of the truth. 

     Sherlock had a temper of his own. His pace would quicken as he took a stroll around his furniture, fingertips feeling the materials around. Smoke would be filling up the room more than he’d like and eventually aggravate him, opening the window before returning to his routine. His eyes narrow as he stared along the seamless pattern of his wooden flooring, avoiding the known areas to creak in the slightest. As his patience thins, he would place himself on the sofa and stare absently at the wall again. Back leaning against the sofa as he finally uses his hand to remove the pipe from his lips, puffing out smoke as his eyes trail back to his wall. This action repeats again and again. 

More ideas would befall his inquisitive mind as he dissects them piece-by-piece, before ultimately discarding them as another wild possibility. A visitor  would then arrive moments and tear his attention from the master mystery before he could draw another conclusion and process it once more. 

     It was impressive to see his own line of work. 

     While he unveiled and sought to break the mystery, you yearned in forming them. Complicating them by various simplistic overlaps until even your own mind was left unsteady, and then add a bit more for the flare of being dramatic. France had been left in shambles at your mind games, ignoring the obvious signs while indulging in the fake clues a little too often to your dismay. They were the experiment used for the lesser plan– enough of a conundrum to set off the people working under the government. How easy it was, to frame the works of a powerful nobleman or a series of them. 

     It seemed Sherlock had caught traction of that. Already tying the relation to the foreign case solved suspiciously sudden to the most recent cases sparking among the busy streets of London. Words couldn’t express the adrenaline and excitement that engulfed you, not only by the chase but in the idea of playing with a dear friend. A memory. 

     Sherlock Holmes. Private detective and investigator, fuelled by his lifelong passion for mystery and unpicking the society of London lock by lock. It was an exciting thought. 

     To see if he could defend London before you shatter everything beneath your feet. To abolish the system of corruption– of aristocrats– of the Queen. 

     Heavy feet echoed outside of the flat and a final smile dawned on your face. Placing the parchment back into its messy display, you made way for your exit and paused. Watching as Sherlock entered his flat, unfastening the buttons on his coat as he made his rounds around and through inspection. After, he had placed himself on his desk and began occupying himself with ink and quill. 

     “Until another day, Sherlock. It’s my turn to advance.” And with that, you had gotten down and disappeared into the night. 

.

     A small smile left Sherlock’s face as his hand settled on the desk. With sharp eyes scanning the linked letters, reviewing the loops of his writing and grammar before a pleasant huff escaped him. Earlier that day, Mycroft had retained a gossip. One of an old friend that had recently moved to London he had recognized while conversing with a well-connected businessman. Mycroft, being himself, retrieved an address for his younger brother and tucked it into Sherlock’s gloved hand– ‘to distract him from obscene findings in the paper.’ 

     As he flipped over the letter and folded it properly, he wrote in the front the required information to have it sent tomorrow morning as well as a name. 

     Y/N L/N. 

     How great it would be to have your presence near him again, after so many years? 

—————————

hope you enjoyed !!! thanks for reading :))

#sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #henry sherlock holmes x reader #henry!sherlock #henry!holmes x reader #henry!sherlock holmes x reader #henry!sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #henry cavill x reader #enola holmes #problematic-weather