#henry!sherlock x reader

[delicate-moon-princess]

Hello, if it's alright to request stuff, may I ask for some soft smut with Sherlock? Like morning, sleepy makeout in bed or something along those lines? Thank you!! I really love all your work! Keep up the great work!!

Taste of Home

Summary: You wake up next to Sherlock in bed after months of being apart. It never felt like home when he was gone. And now finally, he’s there to fill the void in your heart.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, kissing, thigh fucking, unprotected p in v, sleepy sex, cock warming, a tad emotional?- Let me know if I forgot anything!

Word Count: 2k

Any typos are my own!

A/N: Of course, thank you so much for the request! Here’s a very soft and sleepy Sherlock for you, nonnie ❤️

Daylight flooded the room, waking you as it beamed onto your face. The curtains had not been closed, and you were facing the window. The brightness made your eyes ache and you pouted as you covered them.

It was far too early, you decided. You sighed as you tried to go back to sleep, burying your face in the pillows. When you shifted, confusion filled you when your bare skin rubbed against the soft sheets. You realized you were nude. It was not like you to sleep without clothes.

You lifted your head and looked around. A shuffling sound came from behind you on the bed, making you look back. A familiar sleeping face greeted you. Your husband. Sherlock. Who was also nude, judging by the way the blanket draped low on his hips. You had a perfect view of his chiseled torso and defined v-line.  

It all came rushing back to you when you looked at him. He came home from a very long work trip the night before. And after a quick dinner, he made love to you till the early hours of the morning. You remembered falling asleep in each other’s arms immediately afterwards.

It was no wonder he was exhausted. As were you. After the workout he put your body through, it was almost like you hadn’t slept at all.

Even now as you gazed at his dozing features, you felt like you could easily fall asleep. Nevertheless, you carefully rolled over so you could get a better look at him. You laid your head on the pillow next to his as he faced you, taking the time to admire how beautiful he was.

To say he was beautiful was an understatement. His curly brown locks tousled, which softened his appearance. His long lashes fluttered as he slept. He looked so peaceful.

Who were you to disturb him? He worked so hard all the time. This last particular case he was working on had been especially tough to solve. Of course Sherlock Holmes closed the case, but even the famous detective ran out of steam.

He deserved to sleep in for as long as he liked. His brows began to twitch as you admired the lines in his face. You tilted your head and watched him. At first, you thought he was dreaming, but then his eyes opened. He took in the sight of you, before he gave you an enamored smile.

“Mrs. Holmes…” Sherlock murmured groggily. “Good morning.”

You didn’t have time to say it back, because his lips were on yours the instant the words left his mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut, letting out a pleased hum. Good morning to you too, husband. He hummed back as you lifted a hand to his cheek, your tongue coming out to lick his bottom lip. When his taste hit your tastebuds, you shivered. 

That taste. You missed it so. Like wintergreen and tobacco. It was both bracing and earthy. A taste of him this early in the morning was a treat. 

Your mouth watered as you avidly drank down what you could from his lips. If you could bottle up his taste and drink it every morning, you would. He tasted like comfort, like home.

Then, the warmth of his lips was gone. You sluggishly opened your eyes, finding him looking at you as his fingers stroked your cheek.You tried to savor the residual of his saliva on your tongue.

“How long have you been awake, dear?” His question took a moment to register with you, given how exhausted you were. Based on Sherlock’s lazy caressing of your face, you could tell he was just as tired as you.

“Not long.” You muttered when your sense of understanding came back to you.

“Why didn’t you wake me sooner, darling?” He asked you, letting his hand rest on your cheek.

You melted, leaning into it. Bringing your hand up to cover his, you nuzzled your nose against the lines of his palm.

“You needed your rest.” You whispered, pressing a kiss to the crease of his thumb.

“After all the time we were apart, what I need more than anything is to spend time with my gorgeous wife. And I need to be awake and conscious to do so.” He pointed out to you, his voice still laced with sleep.

Sherlock moaned when you nibbled gently on the ball of his palm. His fingers flexed, and he lazily rested his forehead on your temple.

“Or at least lucid enough to admire how angelic you look in the morning.” He yawned softly, his face falling to your neck. “Though I am having trouble keeping my eyes open.” He mumbled against the flesh of your collarbone.

“Perhaps we should rest a little while longer.” You suggested, your fingers in his soft curls.

“Hmm… perhaps. Then again, we should get up and get ready for the day. My guess is we’ve already slept past breakfast. I fancy your idea much more, however. Staying in bed, with you.” He nudged his nose along your jaw, inhaling your sweet scent.

“Sleeping. Staying in bed, sleeping.” You corrected him, smiling softly.

“Hm? Oh, sleeping. Yes, of course.” He hummed innocently, his lips on your jaw. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I find it hard to fall asleep, though. You smell too good.” He moaned, tugging you closer.

You gasped when you felt his erect cock against your stomach. His manhood twitched when it touched your belly. 

“And so warm. I’ve missed your warmth.” He murmured, squeezing his length between you as it leaked onto your skin.

His seed was sticky as it oozed onto your flesh. You shivered, it was so warm and you were reminded of last night when he shot his fervid seed inside you. A large hand grabbed the back of your thigh, lifting it so your legs spread slightly.

“I’m willing to bet you're also wet for me.” He reached down to grab the base of his cock. 

You watched him guide his manhood towards the crease between your luscious thighs. It wasn’t until he slipped in with ease that you realized your inner thighs were covered in your fluids. Not only a result of his current actions, but also the very pleasant dreams you had of him last night.

A deep blush bloomed on your cheeks. Sherlock further situated his erection, nestling it between your wet folds. You jerked and gasped, your clit pressed against his solid length.

“So wet for me. Mmm…” He gave a sleepy smile and hum. Then he pulled away to look at you. “Tell me, my love, did you dream of me?”

There was no chance of hiding anything from him. His question was answered when you lowered your head bashfully. You took interest in where he buried himself in your thighs, watching as he shifted his hips. The top of his shaft nudged your delicate bundle of nerves. A heat rose in your belly, making you mewl as you rolled your hips.

“I dreamed of you. The entire time I was gone, I dreamed of you every night. It was the only thing that kept me going, the promise that I had you at home, waiting for me.” He sighed as your thighs squeezed him.

“I knew soon enough I would be back here, surrounded by your warmth. Your smell. Your taste. U-Ugh, your taste.” He groaned as he pulled out from between your legs. Your clit was rubbed the other way. You arched your spine with a breathless hiccup.

“Like the sweetest honeysuckle. I can't get enough.” He grabbed your cheeks, moaning as he brought you into a deep kiss. 

His tongue slipped into your mouth, lavishing yours in sensual licks. Your flavors paired beautifully together. Honeysuckle and wintergreen. Sweet and refreshing. It made your cunt pulsate as you swallowed.

“Sherlock.” You hiccuped, your hands falling to his chest and you weaved your fingers through his chest hair.

You squeezed your legs together, gripping his cock as he continued to buck between them. He panted against your mouth, hitching your leg up onto his hip. He reached down, rubbing the tip along your now exposed slit.

“I need to be inside you, darling. Need to feel you.” He exhaled into the kiss, and you greedily drank down his breath.

He lined up with your dripping hole, and slowly sank into you. Sherlock held your hips, squeezing when you sucked in a breath. Your body accepted him inside you easily. Like it was welcoming him home.

There was nothing better than this. Being wrapped in the arms of your beloved, being as close as two people can get. Yes. This was home.

You whimpered, pulling him closer with your leg. Pulling away from the kiss, you opened your eyes to stare into his. You cradled his face in your hands.

“I-I’ve missed this.” You admitted, your chest heaving in soft pants as he shallowly began to thrust. “I’ve missed you. I dreamed of you too, Sherlock. Every night-ah!”

You sighed in pleasure. The tip of his cock nudged your cervix and it felt like all your nerve endings sparked. He was so deep.

He cradled your bum, easing in and out you. Your words caused him to moan and press his head against yours. 

“Did you always wake up wet for me?” He groaned, licking his lips as he waited for your response.

“Yes. Yes, everyday.” You whined as you remembered the mornings where you woke alone in bed. “It always felt so… cold without you here. I dreamed of this every night. And each morning, I ached for you to fill me. I-I felt so empty.”

A whimper escaped you, your emotions jumbled from the mix of pleasure and fatigue. Sherlock shushed you, grinding his hips to remind you of how not empty you were at the moment. His pelvic bone grazed your clit. You melted, your face falling against his neck as you moaned.

“It’s alright now, my love. I’m here. I won’t ever leave you empty again.” He promised you, burying his face into your shoulder as he gained a little speed, though his pace was still slow and lazy.

His deep momentum had you to the edge in no time. It was all too much. You felt every inch of him and it was making your drowsy head swim. Sleep sounded so good right now, but cumming all over your husband’s cock sounded even better.

“I’ve got you, dove. You can let go. I’m here now.” He breathed into your ear, pulling your body impossibly close.

With one last jolt of his hips, you came with a soft cry. Sherlock quickly pressed his lips to yours, swallowing down all your sobs as he gave his own gasps. He pressed into you all the way, shaking as he shot his load deep inside your cunt. His hot, thick seed covering your cervix only prolonged your orgasm.

You felt his heart thudding in his chest as he pressed it to yours. He held onto you tightly, and you clung to him. As your climaxes subsided, both of you were left panting.

You never wanted this moment to end. Being one with your husband, it was euphoric. Why did it always have to end?

He shifted, and you whimpered. You tightened your leg around his side. He grunted when you clenched down on him in an attempt to trap him inside you. His hand squeezed your ass.

“Relax, darling. I told you, I’m not going anywhere. I promised not to leave you empty again, didn’t I? The both of us are going to get a bit more rest, as we stay just like this. And when you wake, my love, I will still be here. Inside you.” He hummed in content as he closed his eyes,  stroking your back to relax you.

You were able to unwind once you realized he wasn’t going to pull away. Closing your eyes, you burrowed into his chest. A soft sigh escaped you, blowing around some of the hair on his chest. Sherlock pressed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Rest now, sweetheart. I’ll keep warm. And full.” He murmured, his low and comforting voice made your eyes droop. 

The warmth of your husband helped lull you to sleep. Your dreams were once again filled with him. There was no need to worry about waking up aching and empty this time. Because Sherlock was back home, and everything was whole.

A/N: Look at me, finally getting another fic done😅 Sorry it’s been a bit, I’ve had a horrible case of writer’s block. I hope you enjoyed, love you all! ❤️ Taglist: @sunshine-with-daisy @leigh70 @islacharlotte @lysarria @kebabgirl67 @pandaxnienke @identity2212

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #henry!sherlock holmes x reader #henry!sherlock x reader #enola!sherlock holmes x reader #enola!sherlock x reader #sherlock fanfic #sherlock imagine #sherlock smut #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fic #anon request #masterlist

[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.

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[delicatenightfury]

Letters

2022 Month of Writing: Day 5

Pairing: Henry!Sherlock Holmes x reader

Prompt:

Word Count: 2,551

Author's Note: please don't steal my work! you can choose to respond to the prompt as well, but don't steal my work.

I just watched Enola Holmes 2 last night and felt inspired to write a Sherlock Holmes (Enola Holmes style) fic today.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Newman,” y/n said with a smile.

“Not a problem, dear!” the man said. “It’s always a pleasure to see you around. Feel free to stop by again soon!”

“I’ll do my best. Good day!”

She stepped out on the cobble street, still smiling. Mr. Newman was a pleasant man. He was old enough to be her father, and greeted every customer that walked into his shop with a smile. He sold a variety of items, but she primarily stopped in for art supplies. She would send him a telegram, detailing the items she wanted, and within a week, Mr. Newman would make sure to have them for her.

Painting was a hobby of hers, one she didn’t get to do often but greatly enjoyed. She had learned at a young age from her mother and had continued to enhance her skills as she grew older. However, painting now remained a thing to do in her spare time. 

She quickly ran the rest of her errands, making her last stop in the local market. She greeted the usual stall owners as she bought her groceries for the week. She knew that some people found it odd that she did her own shopping, but she enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the market. The people were pleasant for the most part and it gave her a chance to get out of the house.

Once she had all that she needed, she began making her way back home. She hummed lightly to herself and smiled at people as she passed by them. She always felt that it was right to smile at people, because you never knew if they needed a little bit of happiness. Not everyone responded to her smiles, but she was never offended by it. 

Just as she turned a corner, she heard someone shout her name.

“Miss l/n!”

y/n turned her head quickly to determine the source and smiled. Lilliana, a local florist, waved at her. y/n walked over to her, carefully crossing the street.

“Lilliana, it’s so good to see you!” y/n said. “How are you? Is your sister doing all right? Better I hope?”

“Much, thank you. Seemed to have just been a little cold. She’s back to causing chaos, that one.” Lilliana took in y/n’s bags. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

“I’m afraid so. Otherwise I would be more than happy to buy some flowers off of you today. They look absolutely lovely.”

Lilliana smiled at the compliment.

“Well at least take a look around,” she invited. “If you’re not in a rush, that is.”

“All right, I’ll take a look.”

The girl cheered and left y/n to attend to another guest. y/n slowly walked through the selection of flowers, admiring the colors and scents. She carefully knelt down next to a basket full of (favorite flower). They were beautiful. She felt a little silly buying flowers for herself, but she couldn’t resist.

She waved down Lilliana and requested a small bundle of flowers. She smiled as she watched Lilliana build a small bouquet for her. Lilliana always treated her too well, giving her more than she paid for. As Lilliana carefully picked flowers to put together, she glanced at y/n.

“You know, y/n,” she said, “you seem to have an admirer.”

y/n looked at her, puzzled.

“I’m sorry?”

“An admirer. Since you started browsing, there’s a gent across the street that’s had an eye on you.”

Now that she mentioned it, y/n could feel the gaze. She was used to the occasional glance, but this felt different. It was… more persistent, curious even. y/n glanced around, making sure not to make it obvious. She didn’t notice anyone terribly out of place, but the street was filled with people. However, she knew not to question Lilliana. The girl saw these people almost every day. She would know when someone breaks routine.

y/n simply smiled, playing it off. She carefully adjusted her bags so she could get out a bit of money to pay Lilliana. They exchanged the money for the bouquet and y/n smiled.

“It’s beautiful, Lilliana,” she said. “Excellent job as always.”

“You flatter me. Have a lovely day, y/n.”

“You too! I’ll see you soon.”

y/n started back down the street, ready to get home. Her shoulders were starting to hurt from the weight of her bags. Luckily her flat was only about a block away. She briefly wondered about her mysterious admirer, but chose to forget about him.

She made good time and got to her home in no time. She unlocked the door and stepped inside. It was moments like this when she disliked living on the third floor. She waved briefly to the landlord’s wife, slowly made her way up, and was soon back in her comfortable home. She laid her things out on the dining table, sorting them briefly before beginning to put things away.

The food went in their respective homes, organized in a way that would be easy for her to access later. She cut the bottoms of the stems of her flowers and placed them in a vase, which she left by the window.

She then went to her bedroom and shed her overcoat. It had been cold, so the coat had been welcome on her outing. Her gloves and hat were put away, and her purse stored. She proceeded to make herself comfortable. She changed into slightly more comfortable clothing, a skirt and shirt that allowed her more movement. She pulled the pins out of her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders. Finally comfortable again, she went back to the main room and stored her new paints and canvases. 

Suddenly, she heard a knock on her door. She paused for a moment before slowly making her way to the door. She rarely got visitors, so questions started filling her mind.

y/n undid the lock and pulled the door open a little. A rather tall man stood in the hall. He looked a little awkward due to his height and broad shoulders. He turned to look at her and offered a small smile.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted.

“Hello,” y/n said. She remained partly behind the door. “Can I help you?”

“Ah, yes. I, um, well…” He fiddled slightly with his cane and hat, something she wouldn’t typically expect. “You are y/n l/n, correct?”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yes?”

“You used to live near Ferndell Hall.”

He sounded more sure of his statement this time, meanwhile she became slightly more wary.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“I’m Sherlock Holmes. I used to live at Ferndell with my mother and siblings.”

Of course!

“Oh my word!” y/n exclaimed, opening the door a little more. She could see it now. Those bright, intense eyes so full of wonder and never missed a thing. “I didn’t recognize you, it’s been so long!”

“Indeed it has. Might I come in?”

“Yes, forgive me.” She opened the door wider and watched him step into her home. Once he was in, she shut the door. “Can I get you anything? Tea?”

“Thank you.”

She went to the kitchen and started a kettle of water to heat. When she went back to check on Sherlock, she found him wandering around her flat, looking at her belongings. She didn’t say anything and simply let him observe.

It had been so long.

Sure enough, they had been neighbors. The two of them were close in age, so they frequently played together as children, running through the fields and climbing trees. They would occasionally study together too. Sherlock’s older brother Mycroft had often thought of her actions as “unfit for a lady”, but their mother Eudora encouraged the behavior for many years. They had been the closest of friends for many years. y/n smiled slightly; those were some of the best years of her life.

He had changed so much from the boy she knew. They were once the same height, now he towered over her. His dark hair was still curly and his eyes were still the same, if not more intense now. He definitely filled out. It was hard to tell with his suit jacket on, but he looked like he had gained a lot of muscle. His features became more defined. He looked handsome. She almost blushed.

“I see you still paint,” Sherlock observed. He was looking at her new and old paints, then her recent painting. “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

He continued on, only briefly, and stopped at a collection of photographs. There weren’t many, but y/n loved them. One of her parents, one of her old home, one she had taken of London when she first arrived, then one of…

“Is this Alexander?”

y/n nodded sadly.

“Yes,” she said.

Alex had been her brother. He had died when she was early in her teen years. An accident. He had been on the road when his carriage was attacked. Those responsible had shot him and stolen most of his belongings. He hadn’t made it through the night. He had been only an hour from home when he was attacked.

“I am sorry,” Sherlock said, bringing her back once again. “He was a good man.”

She nodded, blinking to get rid of the tears that threatened to spill.

“Yes, he was.”

He had been her biggest supporter. He included her in all of his activities and lessons, never wanting her to feel excluded. He was the reason she knew the Holmes family. He would drag her out of the house and take her with him to visit Mycroft and Sherlock.

Just then, the kettle started to whistle. She went to the kitchen and started on the tea. She heard Sherlock’s footsteps continue to move around somewhere behind her.

“You receive letters from Enola?” he suddenly asked, loud enough for her to hear.

“Yes, I do,” she replied. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the youngest Holmes. “She is quite a character. I met her briefly when I returned from finishing school and spent many weeks with her and Eudora. We’ve kept in contact, so I’ve been up to date on her adventures.”

She joined him again and passed him his cup. He took it with a nod. y/n sat down in one of her chairs, reclining comfortably. She supposed she should be a little more polite with the way she sat, but she couldn’t really bring herself to care.

Sherlock cleared his throat.

“Do you remember when we used to write to one another?” he asked.

y/n smiled a little and nodded.

“Yes. We lived only a mile apart but we sent letters almost daily. I looked forward to those moments. Your stories were quite interesting.”

“As were yours. We could have written a novel.”

y/n laughed.

“What a story that would have been. The tales of two children and their imagination.”

Sherlock hummed.

“You know,” he continued slowly. He didn’t look at her and instead stared into his cup. He cleared his throat with a hum. “After Alex’s passing, and you went off to finishing school, I still tried to write to you.”

y/n froze, teacup lifted halfway to her lips. But Sherlock surprisingly didn’t seem to notice.

“I wrote to you, daily at first. I had hoped you were well for I knew you were still grieving when you left. I wanted to continue our stories, as a way to distract you or perhaps give you something other than your schooling to think about. When I didn’t receive a response at first, I thought it was just because you were busy. So I wrote weekly. Then monthly. Then…” He sighed. “I know I really have no right to ask you this, but why didn’t you answer any of my letters?”

He finally looked at her and his deduction skills kicked in almost against his will. 

Her grip was tight on her cup, yet her hands were shaking. Her eyes were wide. There were tears in them. She looked like a deer. Her expression was a little harder to read: shock, sadness, and puzzlement were the primary emotions. She gaped at him for another moment before swallowing.

“Sherlock,” she said, her voice thick. “You wrote me letters?”

Now it was his turn to be confused.

“What? Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

She shook her head slightly.

“I never received any letters, Sherlock.”

His eyes widened.

She blinked and the first tear fell. She quickly wiped it away.

“My going to finishing school was not by choice,” she said. “I was perfectly content to learn at home, like how your mother raised Enola. My parents were the ones who sent me away. Alex was the only thing keeping me home.” She paused to collect herself a little. “At finishing school, I would talk about you and our adventures, and I would get reprimanded by the headmistress. It’s apparently frowned upon to remain friends with a boy after a certain age.”

She looked at him and continued: “If you sent letters, Sherlock, I never saw them. I would presume the headmistress got rid of them..”

Sherlock set down his cup and moved to kneel in front of her. He gently grabbed her hand.

“I never wanted that. I wanted to keep in contact with you, to remain friends.” He paused for a moment. “Why didn’t you try to find me afterwards? You went back to Ferndell to see my mother and sister, and I was solving cases at the time. Surely…”

“I had thought you didn’t want to be friends any longer and never wanted to speak to me again. I became different after finishing school.”

He chuckled a little.

“I never wanted that. And I don’t think you’re much different now than you were then, y/n. As a detective, I can tell you are the same woman. Perhaps to an outsider you are one of society’s polite women, but here, deep down, you are the same spitfire girl I used to play with. Perhaps even more so now. If you’re friends with Enola, then I know that to be true.”

y/n laughed a little. She had to admit, he was right. Finishing school had taught her how to act in public, but had little effect on her interests and personality. She wiped away her tears and took a deep breath to calm herself. She looked back at him. He was still kneeling beside her, his large hand wrapped around hers.

“So what now?” she asked.

“Whatever you wish, I suppose. Personally, I want to get to know you again. I want to catch up on all we missed. And perhaps, make something new with it?”

y/n smiled and squeezed his hand.

“I would love that.”

She leaned forward a little and pressed her forehead to his, closing her eyes. He sighed and closed his own eyes, enjoying the new peace that settled around them.

“Just wait until Enola hears about this,” y/n then muttered. “She will lose her mind.”

“Let’s hold off on telling Mycroft then, yes?”

#month of writing #writing prompt #Henry!sherlock #Henry!sherlock x reader #sherlock x reader #Enola holmes #Enola Holmes 2 #angst #Cavill!sherlock #Henry!holmes

[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]

Oh what a fool you are..

It was one stormy night. The winds whispered through the dark night and the leaves shook it's leaves. You opened the window and inhaled the fresh air but that's not the smell you've been craving. You missed your lover, Sherlock, but he's been running around like a madman trying to solve cases. You were proud of him but you missed him. You couldn't remember the last time you two seemed to spend time with one another. "Y/n?.." You turned around to see Enola, Sherlock's younger sister. "You alright?" she asked. You sighed a looked at her softly "Not really..." Enola placed her hand on Y/n's shoulder and both of them took a seat.

"Whatever is the matter?.." Enola asked, "I thought you'd be quite pleased with the return of my older brother.." You bit your bottom lip, wondering if you should tell her. "Well...yes I am pleased it's just...I feel like he...he does not feel the same way I feel for him" Enola eyes widened, "I'm sure that's not true, dear sister...he's just-" You cut her off, "Busy!...I know that...but some of his clients are women and he sticks his nose in their business...he doesn't have time for me but he certainly does have time for others!" Silence....nothing but silence.. "I fear that...he has feeling for another.." Enola spoke up, "No...no he is not like that Y/n.." You scoffed and got up, making ur way to your dressing table. You had a letter in your hand "Then he would not mind explaining why he is writing to one, Ms Irene Adler" Enola smiled slightly, "Maybe another case?"

You dropped the letter. "Yes...maybe I'm going crazy...it's what everyone keeps telling me". You made your way to the door "Y/n wait!-" Enola cried out but she was cut off but the door opening. You froze. You eyes looked up as your gaze met with you lover's. "How dare you.. you've been listening to our conversation?!" You scolded Sherlock looked at you blankly for a whilw, then his gaze move to his younger sister.. "Enola, please leave the two of us be.." he said while returning his gaze to you. Enola nodded and quickly left. "What do you want. Shouldn't you be in bed-" "Shouldn't you?" Sherlock cut you off. You scoffed. "Is it true?" he asked again not daring to look away. "What?" "Is it true?....that you feel like I am having an affair?" You were silent for a while.. "Yes. But you shouldn't be the one asking questions." you sneered. "I see...then fire away, ask me whatever you wish" "Very well", You starightened your posture. "Do you even love me?' Sherlock stood still, he could feel the tension and yet said nothing. You couldn't believe it, you were a fool all along. "Just leave-" "Yes." Sherlock answered. You looked at him, eyes widened. "Yes I love you. I love you with all my heart." he admitted wrapping his arms around you. "Don't you dare ever doubt my feeling for you, dearest." He pecked your temple and you couldn't help but cry of relief on his chest. Sherlock smiled, circling your back, comforting you... "Oh what a fool you are.." The detective laughed...

@cupids-mf-arrow

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

[waternilly]

Sherlock Holmes Fluff Alphabet

A - Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Honestly, Sherlock's main passion are his cases. So if he wishes to spend time with you, he is most likely to take you along on a case or tell you about all the thoughts running through his mind.

It is, however, not the only thing he does in his life. In between cases, he likes to read or play music. You could thus those together, or you could do any activity you might like whilst he does one of those.

On occasion, you might have a drink together, but it is more likely to happen in the privacy of your own home.

B - Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Sherlock likes someone with wits; someone who likes to cultivate their intellect through any means they see fit. He does have a certain admiration for emotionally intelligent people too, who are empathetic and capable of understanding their feelings.

C - Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

When you first meet, Sherlock is at loss on how to comfort you. It first takes some observing from him and conversations with you for him to learn what to do. He is however a fast learner and will constantly try to improve upon what he already knows to work.

D - Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He may not be very likely to admit it, but Sherlock can no longer imagine the future without you being beside him. He has no specific plans regarding what he wishes, he only knows he wants you to be a part of it.

E - Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Sherlock has his habits and he cares about those being respected. He may also take some decisions regarding both of you without consulting you first when your relationship starts, often because he believes he knows better.

If it is something that bothers you, however, he will hear you out and make sure not to take any important decisions without talking them over with you first.

F - Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

I don't picture Sherlock as the shouting type, unlike Mycroft. He is, however, very stern and serious, and honestly quite intimidating.

He cannot stay mad at you very long though. He does not want to. Fights are fun for no one and he prefers to avoid them altogether by having a calm conversation.

G - Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Sherlock is very observing, so he is likely to notice small things you do for him. Some he might take more for granted than others though. What he would appreciate the most would probably be when you help him on a case, either because you let him ramble to you or because you actually engage and give your opinion.

H - Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

This man is far from being an open book, so yes, Sherlock has secrets. But they are usually not intentional. He is more likely to consider something is not worth sharing than actually try to hide it from you.

I - Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You definitely changed him in ways. I can picture Sherlock as being more open to his relatives after starting a relationship with you. He bothers trying to understand his feelings, instead of bottling them all up. Because now, cases are not the only thing that matter anymore, you are there too.

J - Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Once you are in a relationship, Sherlock is not very worried when it comes to your honesty or loyalty. He believes you to be a good partner, who would not do such a thing. He does remain a bit warier towards strangers or even acquaintances that could attempt to court you.

However, before your relationship was properly established, he was worried someone would court you and win your heart, although he would never have admitted it.

K - Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Sherlock has very little experience in this regard and he does not kiss you often. He is however very gentle whenever it happens, unless you initiate something more passionate. In which case, he will follow your lead and adapt to your pace.

Every once in a while, he might be the one to initiate a more passionate kiss however. Maybe after being absent for a prolonged amount of time or after either of you were in danger but you made it out safely.

L - Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

A confession from Sherlock can not be as simple as him just telling you he loves you. The first time he attempts it, it probably flies over your head, because it barely even sounds like a confession. "I appreciate your presence." or "I value your opinion." are sentences that take you aback, but there was no reason for you to read into them you thought.

He finally confesses clearly when he starts thinking his feelings aren't shared. That is when the puzzle pieces are finally able to click in your brain.

M - Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose?

Considering the era, you would be bound to marry. Not that Sherlock minds, however, since he likes to picture you growing old together.

He would talk about his proposal ideas with Enola before going through with it. No one wants a repeat of his confession not being clear.

N - Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

I don't picture Sherlock as a nickname man. He prefers to refer to you by your name directly but he occasional "dear" may slip out.

O - On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Sherlock definitely tries his very best to hide his feelings. And for most people, it works. They would not be able to tell if he was in love or not. Enola might be able to read through it, though, because Sherlock would let things slip. He would mention you by name, stop to greet you and actually speak, and sometimes even smile. Knowing her brother, she can tell something is different about you.

Despite hiding it relatively well, Sherlock's mind is racing. At first, he does not understand why his thoughts keep going back to you, but as time passes, he starts accepting it and lets his mind flow freely.

When it comes to you, Sherlock is quicker to compliment you than most people. He may even offer to walk you somewhere, which he would ordinarily never do.

P - PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Considering he does not kiss you a lot even when you are married, kissing you in public would be a big no-no. The only acceptable gesture would be for you to hold onto his arm, or to dance at a ball (if Sherlock agrees to that in the first place).

Boasting is not really his style either and would not be very acceptable anyway. At most he will compliment you in front of others.

Q - Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

It is Sherlock Holmes we are talking about, so of course his observational skills are an advantage. They can however be an inconvenience if you try to surprise him.

R - Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Not a big, grand gesture type of romantic, Sherlock would however accept to do small things to make you happy. Dancing in your living room, playing music for you, buying you flowers etc.

S - Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Of course he does. Sherlock would be your number 1 supporter, even if it's not always explicit. He would listen to you talk about your goals, dreams and plans for the future, and he would help you find ways to achieve them.

T - Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Like I said earlier, Sherlock likes to have a certain routine. I think it's especially the case in your relationship because the rest of his life is usually not like that. Every case is different, so every day is different. But having a constant, through your relationship, helps him ground himself.

U - Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Because he is so observational, Sherlock knows a lot about you. Or at least about all the physical things that regard you: your hobbies, your likes, your dislikes etc. He struggles more with knowing and understanding your thoughts, however. But with time, he learns and gets better at it.

V - Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Would Sherlock give up on being a detective for you? Probably not. But is your relationship important to him? Yes, definitely. Especially once you confessed to each other, it becomes one of his priorities to keep courting you properly until he can propose. After that, keeping your relationship steady and making sure you are happy remains at the top of his list.

W - Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Sherlock likes to hide little things for you, wondering if you will find them and realize how they winded up there. Things like dried flowers or small notes in books.

Besides that, even if he almost always manages to deduct that you are preparing a surprise for him, he will occasionally play along. Not every time, because he thinks he would be too obvious. But every once in a while, he will pretend you managed to trick him just because it clearly makes you happy.

X - XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Only ever in private and usually at night, when you are lying in bed together. Sherlock is not a big one for physical affection, hugs are rare and kisses even more so. But holding you close and pressing his lips against your forehead as you quietly talk to each other before falling asleep... that's a yes.

Y - Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Distraction, preferably a case, something that can keep his mind busy while you are away. Else he is likely to spiral like he sometimes does between cases.

Z - Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

The furthest I can picture him going would be to drop a case if your life is in danger. If it is his own, no. But you, yes. He cannot afford to loose you.

Original Post

I am a simp and I need more Henry!Sherlock content so please if you know any, hit me up.

For the rest, if you liked this, please do let me know by liking, commenting or reblogging. And don't hesitate to come drop a request :)

#henry!sherlock holmes #henry!sherlock holmes x reader #henry!sherlock x reader #enola holmes #enola holmes 2 #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes headcanons #alphabet headcanons #race neutral reader #gender neutral reader #nille writes #nille is soft #enola holmes headcanons #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill headcanons

[hobbit-historian]

Being attracted to Henry!Sherlock headcannons:

* of course, his face is very attractive, but his brain, oh Lordy his intellect - the first time time he threw out a deduction you about swooned.

* And of course, he notices what your reaction is, how his intelligence affects you, but he doesn’t really have the time or mindset to do anything about it.

* So you start scheming. You plant yourself outside everywhere you see him. You try and pipe up when you notice something, offer your input on cases.

* Sherlock notices and eventually starts to do something about it.

* It’s subtle at first, too subtle for you to notice.

* You think that he’s pushing you away, that he thinks you’re not smart enough for him, so you start pushing him away.

* He’s confused and steps up his game. Little gifts, notes, flowers, and then, he starts to complement you.

* That’s when you finally understand what he’s been doing.

* He apologizes, stating that he’s new at this, but you just kiss him and hope for the best.

* The best being, he kissing you back, which he does.

* It’s glorious and amazing and you’re seeing stars, but then Enola walks in and breaks you two apart.

* Which then broached the subject of a relationship between the two of you and having to explain it to Enola.

* She’s supportive and excited, having wished that you and her brother would’ve started courting ages ago.

#sherlock x you #sherlock imagine #henry!sherlock x reader #henry cavill #henry!sherlock #henry!holmes #sherlock x reader #headcanon

[doll-r-t]

#sherlock x reader #sherlock homes #sherlock x you #henry!sherlock x reader #henry!sherlock #henry!sherlock x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry!sherlock holmes

[zealouscanonindeer]

Chance Encounter

As I entered the small Strand restaurant where I had asked Watson to meet me, I saw at once that it was unusually crowded for that time of day. As I searched in vain for a table with two empty chairs together, I noticed a young woman sitting by herself at a table for two, reading a recent issue of the Strand. Her molasses-brown hair was up in a loose coif, though a few locks had come free. Her apparel was fashionable, but not extravagant, and her boots were of a style not frequently seen in London.

I stayed where I was, intending to wait until she had left before claiming the table, but presently she glanced up and caught my eye. She indicated that I should approach, though I did not recognise her and she gave no indication of recognising me. Out of curiosity, I walked over to the table.

"I will be leaving shortly," she remarked once I had arrived, "So you needn't worry that you or your friend will be left standing."

"What led you to believe that I was expecting someone?" I asked, my curiosity piqued by her comment.

"If you expected to remain alone," she replied, "you would have simply taken one of the solitary seats in the restaurant. As it was, you hesitated in the doorway and scanned the entire dining area, apparently looking for a table with two or more chairs together. It isn't usually this crowded at this time of day."

"I hadn't noticed you here before," I said as I sat across from her.

"I haven't been here before. You glanced at your pocket-watch as you came in, and you looked annoyed at the crowd. Hence, you were expecting it to be empty enough now for both of you to sit."

Not to be outdone, I observed, "You're very keen, for a left-handed, unmarried, secretary,recently returned from a travel to America who hadn't the foresight to take a cab here on such a windy day."

She arched an eyebrow at me. "How do you know all that?"

"The indentation of a pen is plain upon the second joint of the middle finger of your left hand, though even had I not observed that, one can see that you turn the pages of your magazine with your left hand rather than your right. You also do not wear a wedding band, nor is there the shadow of where one might otherwise be. The skin on both hands is overdry, as might be expected when one handles a lot of paper in their profession.

"Even before you spoke I noticed your boots, which are of a style manufactured chiefly in America, which told me that you had certainly been there when you purchased the boots. I could see you had walked here, as there is road-grime splashed on your boots, and the stiff wind has blown some of your hair free of its pins."

"Hum!" she said when I had finished, and she sat back. A slight smile played at her lips. "Well, even a left-handed, unmarried, secretary - whether or not she has the foresight not to walk in the wind - can easily spot someone who smokes tobacco, favoring the pipe when he is feeling meditative; who is a deep thinker on many puzzling issues and has a very keen eye for the minutest details; who is a lover of classical music and in fact plays the violin himself; who is a bachelor but takes a roommate; who takes a great interest in chemistry; who is a master in the art of theatrical makeup and disguise; who is a pugilist and fencer; who takes little interest in anything which he finds boring or irrelevant or which does not otherwise engage his intellect; and who is quite disinterested in romance or in fact in women as a gender outside of the necessities of his line of work."

She picked up the magazine and continued reading as I sat, slightly stunned. Finally my curiosity overcame my pride, and I said, "That is quite a detailed catalogue. Perhaps you might explain how you came to these conclusions."

"Well, there are two possible answers to that question," she said, "A long answer and a short answer."

"The long answer first, then."

"Certainly," she replied, "The smell of pipe tobacco is dreadfully difficult to get out of one's clothing, particularly if one smokes heavily at a stretch, so it has quite permeated your clothing, defying all efforts to remove it.

"Your powers of observation were quite clear from your own remarks about myself, but as they were quickly deduced it was clear that this process takes very little time at all. Nonetheless, there is a pronounced furrow between your eyebrows which naturally forms when one knits the brow in deep concentration.

"Your choice of musical instrument is evident by the broad callouses on the pads of the fingers on your left hand where they would touch the strings, and the narrower callouses on the fingers of your right hand where they would grasp the bow, and the slight indentation on the underside of your chin where it would rest on the body of the instrument. One who plays the violin could hardly be uninterested in classical music.

"The lack of a wedding band indicates that you are not married, but your clothing is well-worn, indicating that your income has not been substantial enough for you to afford new clothing for some time. The only way a gentleman in such a financial situation might afford reasonable living quarters is by going halves with a roommate.

"Your interest in chemistry is as plain as the chemical-stains and acid- burns on your hands, though I daresay a home laboratory would cause your roommate no little annoyance.

"Your lean frame is not indicative of a sedentary lifestyle. Furthermore, your upper body appears to be well-muscled, as would be necessary in boxing, and your right arm is slightly more developed than the left, which would occur in someone who practiced in fencing or played singlestick.

"Your interest in theater is evident by the slight smell of cold cream, used by professional thespians to clean off their greasepaint. All the same, there is a thin line of greasepaint at your hairline - hardly noticeable, mind you - which might result if you had washed it off your face in poor light.

"Your selective interest in most topics underlies most of these, particularly the fact that you have a keen interest in such diverse topics as chemistry and theater. It would be difficult and frustrating to cultivate such a level of expertise in all topics, so you pick and choose those which are most interesting and useful to you. The fact that this list does not include women was indicated by your bachelorhood, the lack of any indications - such as the use of cologne - that you are courting anyone, and your apparent reluctance to approach this table in the beginning and ask me if the seat you are now occupying is taken."

She thus concluded her explanation, and returned to her magazine. I sat silent for several minutes, digesting her essay on my personal habits, until I could no longer contain my curiosity.

"The long answer covers every detail," I said, "So what could be the short answer?"

She glanced up at me over the edge of her magazine, and silently folded back one half of it to reveal the full-colour title page of "The Adventure of the Speckled Band," which depicted me thrashing away at a rearing adder with my stick

"Occam's Razor," she said quietly, "How quickly you forget your own fame, Mr. Holmes!" With that she got up and left.

I was still laughing when Watson joined me and asked me if I was quite all right.

Head on to my sequel

the adventure of the trading trinkets

To find out more about her.

#sherlock x y/n #sherlock holmes #sherlock hound #sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x oc #sherlock x you #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes fic #sherlock holmes fandom #sherlock holmes fluff #henry!sherlock #henry!holmes #henry!sherlock x reader #henry sherlock #acd sherlock holmes #acd sherlock #victorian sherlock #ronald howard #ronald howard holmes #sherlock holmes 1954 #1954 Sherlock Holmes

[delicate-moon-princess]

Exactly What You Need

Exactly What You Need

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

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected p in v, rough sex, outdoor sex, size kink, breeding kink, slight ass worship? (Sherlock just has such a nice ass what can I say?), old timey views on sex, brief mention of body changing during and after pregancy- Let me know if I forgot anything!

Word Count: 3k

Any typos are my own.

A/N: This was a request from anon for some size kink with Sherlock. But I accidentally deleted the ask from my inbox.😭 I hope you see this, anon! Sorry it took a while, I just wanted to make this perfect for you.💖 Please let me know what you think.

Your favorite place to sit was on the lap of your newly wedded husband. His warmth enveloped you completely. You sat cradled in his lap like a doll, the back of your head rested on his chest. As he loomed behind you like a predator, you could feel his breath brush over the top of your hair.

Despite his intimidating statue, you knew Sherlock would never harm you. He had always been gentle and romantic when it came to you. Just like today, he planned a perfect picnic under the old oak tree that adorned the estate.

The two of you reclined against the tree’s strong trunk, taking in the beautiful summer day. Sherlock was reading a novel as you rested your eyes. His hands absentmindedly rubbed your arms and shoulders, occasionally taking a break to turn the page.

As always, his gentle caressing began to set your body ablaze. The heat from his palms caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. You knew he felt them as he hummed.

“Are you cold, darling?” He asked you softly, looking away from his novel to gaze at you.

You turned your head to look at him, smiling bashfully as you shook your head quickly. 

“N-No, I’m alright.”

“Hm. If you say so.” He nodded, not looking convinced as he turned his attention back to the book. You caught the corner of his lip twitching, almost smirking.

As he looked away, you bit your lip. He continued stroking your arm, making it even harder to relax. You tried to suppress your urges, letting out a soft sigh. 

You’d been wanting him all day. You couldn’t remember a time you had yearned so intensely. Lunch had taken your mind off your desire, but now that he was so close and touching you so tenderly, it was harder to ignore.

Your eyes rolled back when he squeezed your shoulder, having to stifle a moan. You couldn’t help but squirm. Moisture started to build between your legs, damping your bloomers. A grimace flashed on your face from the uncomfortable sensation.

Sherlock must have decided to ignore your wiggling. You braved a quick peek back at your husband. He was still not looking at you. So, you felt confident enough to let your hips roll once more. There was a vague pressure on your clit when you rubbed your legs together.

A shiver ran through you from the bottom of your spine. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, squirming unconsciously to chase the feeling. Images of Sherlock filled your mind. 

The sight of his nude body, shoulders spread wide and huge chest covered in soft hair. His biceps bulged. You could barely get your arms around the man because his abdomen was so thick and muscular. You fantasized about the feeling of his weight on top of you as he thrusted his big, thick cock in and out of you.

He was a giant in every way possible.

Another harsh tremble ripped through you. You tensed when you heard him close the book. The soft thud made your snap eyes open. You knew you were caught now.

“My, my. Aren’t you a wiggly little thing today?” He observed, lifting his eyes to you.

His smirk was evident when you hesitantly looked back at him. Those eyes you fall in love with were full of mischief. He dropped the novel to place both his hands on your shoulders. He gave them a squeeze, causing you to hiccup. He chuckled, knowing exactly what his actions were doing to you. 

“I… I’m sorry.” You whispered, ashamed of yourself. 

Your yearning was wanton. You should not be grinding against this man like a sinful whore, even if he is your husband. This sort of thing belongs in your shared bed, not out in the open where anyone can stumble along and see you.

Before you could lower your head in embarrassment, his fingers gripped your chin. Your eyes met again, and his hand left your chin to hold your cheek in his palm. His thumb stroked your bottom lip.

“Darling, what have I told you about being ashamed of your desire?” He could already read you like a book, despite the short time you’ve been married. After all, he was a detective.

“That I should never feel guilty about my desire.” You managed to whisper, knowing he expected an answer.

“And?” He pressed you to continue, slowly leaning down to press his lips against your shoulder. You gasped.

“A-And that all my urges are completely natural.” You breathed out as he peppered kisses all along your shoulder and neck.

“And who will always take care of these urges you have?” He murmured.

“You will.” You whispered, his curls tickling your cheek as he lathered your flesh with affection.

“Because?”

You gulped, “Because you are my husband.”

“Yes. And it is my husbandly duty to fulfill every need or want you might have.” He inhaled against your hair, taking in a big whiff of your scent.

“And I know exactly what you need right now.” He growled against your neck. The sound was almost menacing. It still ignited a fire deep in your gut.

You yelped loudly when you were suddenly flipped around and pinned to the blanket on which you had your picnic. He quickly hovered over you. Any sunlight beaming down on you from between the leaves on the tree was eclipsed by his enormous physique. 

How did a man of his size move so fast? More so, how did he toss you around like nothing but a sack of potatoes. And why did you love it so much?

Your heart began to beat faster in your chest. All you could do was stare up at him in a daze, his manhandling of you only made you that much more aroused. You laid under him as he grinned, his eyes dangerous as he began to lift your skirts.

Your eyes widened when you felt this, tensing up. You hiccuped as you lifted your hands to his chest to stop him.

“Sherlock!” You whispered frantically. “O-Out here?” 

You took a look around at the great outdoors that surrounded you and your husband. Never had you made love with him outside the comfort of your home. It was rare that you did it outside your bed. He did, however, manage to seduce you in other rooms a few times. His study, the kitchen, even once in the bath. Oh that was delightful. The memory caused you to leak into your underthings.

The detective watched as you bit your lip again. He grinned, nodding. You shivered when his fingers played with the hem of your dress and danced along the flesh of your ankles.

“Yes, here. What’s wrong, darling? Don’t you want me to make love to you?” He cocked his head, smirking playfully.

“I want you more than anything.” You whispered, blushing as you looked at his chest.

“Then we shall do it here. Though ‘making love’ would not be the best term for what I’m about to do to you.” He chuckled.

You shivered. Oh.

“My dear, we will rut like beasts. It’s really only fitting I take you while outdoors like this. It makes me feel that much more… animalistic.” He growled after pausing to think of the right word to use. You clenched your legs together, whining for him now.

Never had you seen him be so primal. You were thoroughly enjoying it, however. And you wanted even more.

“Please, Sherlock. I need it.” You finally admitted defeat with your desire. 

He grinned as he watched you submit to your passion, he continued in lifting your skirts. His tongue came out to lick his lips. As he sought to expose you, you studied his features. His expression was one of hunger. He was starving for your body.

He tugged off your bloomers after he bunched your dress up around your middle. You jumped and whimpered when you felt the cool breeze upon your warm cunt. A deep growl rumbled inside Sherlock’s chest as he looked down at the sight between your legs.

“Look at you...” He murmured under his breath as he gazed at your wet flower. He licked his lips, taking a look at the beauty before him. His gaze made you squirm.

You watched him quickly get to work undoing the buttons of his trousers. You licked your lips at the bulge in his pants, knowing soon you’d get to see your husband’s lovely cock. He pulled out his length, stroking it a few times as you stared at him intently. His thumb rubbed against his leaking tip. The sight made you whimper.  

Sherlock’s chuckle snapped you out of it. You turned red, caught ogling his magnificent manhood. He grinned, bending down to kiss you deeply. 

He kept his lips on yours as he spread your legs wider so he could fit between them. You felt him rub the tip of his cock up and down your slit, moaning at the sensation. 

“You are absolutely soaked, my darling. I wonder if I could just…” He trailed off, catching you off guard when he sank into you in one smooth thrust.

You gasped loudly, the delicious stretch of his length breaching your hole made your brain go haywire. There was always a little bit of a sting whenever he entered, but it mixed delightfully with the irresistible fullness you felt when he was completely inside you. Your eyes rolled back and you let out a moan.

“A-Ah…” That was all you could whimper as you tilted your head back, driving your nails into his clothed biceps.

“Shh, shh my sweet darling. It’s alright. This is what you’ve been begging for.” He shushed you softly, his hand coming up to touch your face.

Quickly, you turned your head to nuzzle his palm. His huge hand almost engulfed your entire face. With your eyes closed, you peppered heated little kisses along his skin. He hummed at the sweet affection, nuzzling your temple as he still rested inside you. You just needed a moment, that’s all.

“Your body was begging me to stretch it… to fill it with my cock. Oh, I know.” He cooed a little when you let out a soft hiccup. His vulgar language made your delicate walls pulsate around him, squeezing his cock even tighter. He grunted sharply.

“It’s a tight fit, isn’t it, love? An awfully big peg for such a tiny hole.” He snarled a little and straightened his spine so that he was fully stretched out above you.

With your height difference, your head only reached his chest. You leaned in quickly to bury your face in his vest. His handkerchief was still in his breast pocket. It smelled faintly of orange and clove from the cologne he dabbed on it earlier. Underneath the spicy sweet scent, a hint of tobacco lingered from the pipe he’d smoked before lunch.

When the smell of him entered your nose, you let out a groan and unconsciously clenched around him. It seemed like every little thing was making you ache for him. You were certain you had never been this needy in your life. He moaned when you squeezed him, tilting his head back for a moment.

“Oh yes, you’re ready for it…Prepare yourself, darling. Hold onto me.” He warned you, his voice deep.

Sherlock growled, bucking his hips. When the tip of his cock brushed against your sensitive cervix, you let out a soft cry. Wrapping your arms and legs around him, your mouth dropped open in a breathy moan. You clung to the enormous detective, knowing he was about to give you the plowing of a lifetime.

He propped himself up on his forearms and began thrusting at a brutal pace. You were sobbing into his chest with each piston of his hips, biting his vest to try and silence yourself. Even if your estate was a little ways outside town, your sounds were likely to attract anyone close by.

“Don’t you dare muffle yourself. I want anyone or anything lurking nearby to hear you scream as I take my beautiful wife.” He slowed his hips for a moment to murmur to you.

A snarl vibrated in his chest before he pushed back inside you and rested. A choked little whimper fell out of your mouth when he somehow managed to thrust deeper inside you. He grunted and panted like a beast. His trousers had slipped lower on his hips, exposing the top of his firm buttocks.

Your hands reached down to dig your nails into one of his cheeks, attempting to squeeze him closer. It wasn’t enough, you needed more of him. You needed all of him. Your second hand sank further into his trousers to hold his other cheek, allowing you to fully grasp his ass.

Sherlock moaned as your hands pressed into his bum, causing his muscles to spasm. You took the time to admire the plump cheeks that you always stole peeks at. Each time you caught a glimpse of his wonderful behind, you felt compelled to squeeze it. 

However, it never felt appropriate to do so. Until now, that is. This felt like a perfect time to hold your husband’s ass. You massaged the firm muscles he had, occasionally squeezing. You even raised your hips in an attempt to presuade him to keep fucking you.

A deep chuckle left his lips. Sherlock almost sounded predatory.

“You dirty little minx. Yes, I know exactly what you need.” He repeated his words from before, sucking in a breath before he resumed his previous aggressive thrusting.

Each time he rammed his cock inside you, he would somehow nuzzle himself farther into your poor cunt, elicating loud and needy sobs from your mouth. The wind was knocked out of you with each thrust of his hips. The both of you groaned in unison. 

It felt like he was in your guts by now, his manhood making itself known as it delved into your body roughly. Both the dull pain and overwhelming pleasure brought tears to your eyes. Your tears made a wet patch on his rustled shirt.

It hurt so good. But you needed more.

Sherlock bent back down to look into your eyes, your cheeks soaked. You had no idea what you wanted, you just knew that whatever it was- you needed it badly. The ache inside you had not been eased, and you knew one orgasm would not cut it.

Your desire ran deeper than a wonderful climax. You wanted to feel him inside you for as long  as you could after he was finished fucking you. Hopefully the weight of him rested comfortably in your womb for a very long time. 

“Please! I-I…” You hiccuped, cut off by his surprisingly soft hushing. You pleaded with him to take the ache away. If he knew what you needed, why wasn’t he helping?

Despite his gentle comforting, his hips never stopped slamming into you. You felt his hand cup your cheek as you wailed in pleasure, your eyes pinched shut. His thumb wiping a tear away made you open them, gazing up at your husband as he fucked you.

“I’m preparing you to take me, my love.” He grunted, his curls falling in his eyes. “To take me entirely. To take my seed. It’s what you’ve been begging for all along, darling. Your fertile womb is just pulsating with the desire to be bred by me.”

You hiccuped when he said that. Is that what you’ve been yearning for? To be bred by this man? By the way your cunt clenched down onto him, the answer was yes.

With his forehead pressed against yours, the detective let out a growl. It was becoming increasingly hard to concentrate as your body burned with desire. Desire to have your husband’s seed planted in your body. You were becoming impatient now that you understood what you wanted.

You squeezed his ass again, urging him to quicken his pace even more. The sooner you were swollen with his brood, the better. A raspy chuckle escaped him, giving you just what you wanted as he plowed you even harder.   

“Yes. I will give you exactly what you need. My seed will take root inside you, where my child will grow large and heavy in your womb. Each day that you carry my spawn will be a reminder of who you belong to.” He hissed in your ear, never ceasing his pounding.

You gripped him tighter, gasping as his deft fingers rubbed circles on your clit. A cry left you, clawing at his flesh as he groaned. It only made you wetter, his cock making a squelching noise as he rocked in and out of you.

“Then, after you give birth to my strong and healthy son, I will fill you up again. And again. U-Until your body cannot take anymore.” Sherlock’s voice began to shake, you knew he was close.

The constant pressure on your nub was making your vision fuzzy. His words made it too much to go on. With one more thrust, you tumbled over the edge. Your cunt clamped down onto his throbbing cock. Sobbing, you held onto him tightly.

Sherlock groaned loudly and tossed his head back. Buried all the way inside you, he released his thick seed against your cervix. It was hot, which only fuelled your orgasm even more. You gasped, his spunk never seeming to end as he pumped you completely full.

The two of you rutted against one another, chasing your highs before you floated down together. Sherlock’s breath hit your skin as he planted languid kisses along your neck, both of you panting.

“The feeling of my children will live on in your womb forever, my love. I will leave your body with my mark; my pups.” He growled softly, his voice still thick from desire.

You felt a shiver run through you. If his offspring were similar in size to him, you knew you would never forget what it felt like to carry and birth the next generation of Holmes. Giving him a strong legacy will undoubtedly take a toll on your body.

And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

A/N: Sorry if my breeding kink overpowered the size kink. 😅 Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed.

Taglist: @sunshine-with-daisy @leigh70 @islacharlotte @lysarria @kebabgirl67 @pandaxnienke Credits: Divider- @firefly-graphics

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #henry!sherlock holmes x reader #henry!sherlock x reader #sherlock fanfic #sherlock imagine #henry cavill fic #henry cavill characters #henry!sherlock

[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.

#Evelyn's Master Indexes #Henry!Holmes x Reader #Henry!Holmes x Y/N #Henry!Holmes x You #Henry!Sherlock x Reader #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #Sherlock Holmes x Y/N #Sherlock Holmes x You #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill x Y/N #Henry Cavil x You #Henry Cavill x You #Enola Holmes Fanfiction #Enola Holmes Fanfic #Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction #Sherlock Holmes Fanfic #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #Henry Cavill Fanfic

[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

[fic-finders]

FINALS WEEK!!!!!

Okay everyone the upcoming week is my last week of the semester. Im sorry I haven’t been active but just one more week and I will be back to posting regularly.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #sherlock x reader #henry!sherlock x reader #chris evans x reader #bucky barnes series #henry cavill series #geralt of rivia series #marvel

[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? 

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

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[maaarijaaa]

Hi I don’t know if you write RPF fics, but if you do how about Henry Cavill dating FBI reader? 

I can definitely try! Thanks for the idea🫶🏻

#henry cavill #sherlock holmes serie #sherlock x reader #henry!sherlock x reader #henry cavill superman