#john watson x fem!reader

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

I Am Moriarty (Sherlock Holmes X Reader) *PLATONIC

Characters: Sherlock Holmes X Reader, John Watson X Reader

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: Mention of murder and guns

Request: The reader is Moriarty but faked being Sherlock protége since 20. (age 25) The reader is arrested after getting arrested killing Sherlock assassin. The reader at first plays dumb but then admits that they are Moriarty. Saying "If there's one person who is going to harm THE GREAT DETECTIVE SHERLOCK IT'S ME MORIARTY." They then escape

The past 5 years of your life had been an adventure to say the least, and you couldn’t deny that you’d grown as a person. The change from the ages of 20 to 25 was vast, and a lot more than people really gave it credit for, especially when in those years you were doing more than the ordinary. 

5 years ago, you came face to face with the private detective Sherlock Holmes, him taking on your strange case of you being blackmailed and framed for a crime you didn’t commit. As you were being booked, Sherlock had been leaving, and had heard your cries that you were innocent, to please listen to you, and he did. He listened, and deduced you were telling the truth, and then worked hard to prove it wasn’t you, and when you were free, you worked with him closely to find the person who framed you. The process took weeks, and by the time the person who did it was behind bars, you had formed a friendship with Sherlock and John, and you were invited you be his assistant like John, and the duo became a trio. You fit right in perfectly. You were normal enough to understand it when John was frustrated with Sherlock’s shenanigans, but somehow also able to sort of see into Sherlock’s head and his mindset and explain it to others who couldn’t follow along, and the longer you worked with him, the better you got at it, until people referred to you as the translator. Even Sherlock acknowledged this, and if someone didn’t get his vague explanation for something, he’d simply call your name and you’d explain while he continued to work.

Sherlock considered you a friend. A good friend, on the same level as John, and John saw you as a close friend as well. They confided in you, even about each other, shared their deepest thoughts, and been vulnerable with you. You were always upbeat and there for them, though you had your own fairshare of heartfelt honesty with tears with them, and they’d returned the kindness.

Right now, your friendship with the pair was being put to the limit. Whenever you were allowed a call, John was the one on the other side, giving you reassurances that everything was gonna be alright, that Sherlock was going to fix this all, meanwhile you told him to try and get Sherlock to quit it before he got himself in more trouble and in more danger, but John hated to know you were behind bars, being interrogated for hours at a time, facing second-degree murder. It was undeniable that you did it- you had been holding the guns, not even seconds after you pulled the trigger, the police were in the room. However, you did it for a reason. The man you shot, was an assassin sent to kill Sherlock. You knew that, John knew it, and Sherlock did, but the man’s identity had been wiped clean, making you look like nothing more than a cold hearted killer, now facing a life sentence unless Sherlock could find the proof that you did it to save him. He couldn’t find that proof, and as you were deep in thought about what led you to where you were right now, sat next to a lawyer, in court, as the prosecution performed- funnily enough- an assassination of your character to the jury. Throughout it all, you kept your head low, looking at the desk and papers in front of you. You knew all eyes were on you, and you had to be careful with how you were perceived. Responding, becoming annoyed or angry would make you look volatile, looking around, moving too much would make you look bored. Looking people in the eye, especially the jury, may be seen as an intimidation tactic. Because of all this, you remained still as you could, kept your head low but viewable, making it clear you were listening, paying attention, and caring. It also showed you as meek and the opposite of what the persecution was claiming.

“Y/N L/N?” The Judge spoke your name, and you looked up at him immediately.

“Yes Judge?” You asked.

“Would you like to speak?” He asked. It wasn’t a kind action, just a mandatory one, though you weren’t forced to do it. You could deny it, but you had things you wanted to say. 

“Yes please, Judge.” You answered. Your lawyer glanced at you, before he stood, and you stood as well as security guided you to the booth. As we walked up the stairs, you looked at the few people in the booth above the court. A lot was the press, but you spotted some familiar faces. John. Sherlock. Lestrade, surprisingly. But you also saw some other friends on the other side of the room, there to support you. You immediately felt more comfortable, even if Sherlock looked exhausted, clearly not able to get his evidence in time. You entered the booth, you looked around for a moment, before focussing your attention on the judge. 

“I have a lot of things I want to say. Things I want known. Firstly, when I walked into that building with Mr Holmes and Mr Watson, we went there following a lead for another case I was assisting in, and while I understand I can’t go into the details of that case, we were simply trying to locate a witness, a witness that wasn’t the victim. When we arrived, we quickly realised something was up, that something was wrong. We’d split up to search the house for anything, and I was upstairs when I heard Sherlock and John talking to someone downstairs. I heard them asking someone to put a gun down.” You explained, retelling the story. You paused for a moment, glancing back to the booth. To Sherlock, John, and your other friends. “I met John and Sherlock through them taking on my own case, where I was framed, though this time I can’t deny I didn’t shoot that man. But I ask you to imagine my position in that moment. Those men have been my world for 5 years. Day in, day out. They’re quirky, a lot of people don’t understand Sherlock, but I do, and there are still things I’m learning about him, but I know one thing- if the roles were reversed, he would have done the same to keep me safe. So would John. I have no doubt in that. Imagine someone pointing a gun to your loved ones, to people who you care about, and you find your own weapon and are able to stop them being hurt. I shot that man. I killed that man. But if I didn’t, he would have killed one if not both of them.” You explained to them. 

“Thank you-” The Judge started, before you stood from your seat abruptly, making the Judge pause. You chuckled. 

“I’m not done.” You interrupted. You rested your hands on the wooden frame in front of you, keeping you locked in there. “I have to be honest- the police work in this case has been a load of crap. Hardly fair.” You commented. 

“I beg you’re-”

“Sherlock has been doing his digging to prove the man who I killed was either an assassin or was set up by a third party to attempt to kill Sherlock. He has a lot of enemies, it wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to kill him. However the prosecution don’t care enough to find the truth behind how this all happened, who that man really was, and possibly stop another attempt on Sherlock’s life. All they care about his locking away someone who tried and succeeded in protecting their friends. I’m not sure about you, but that sounds idiotic.” You laughed as you finished. There was a stunned silence in the room, before the Judge gathered himself. 

“May I advise that you watch your tongue- it may affect your sentencing.” 

“Oh I’m not being sentenced.” You laughed harder. “I’m not going to prison. Not. A. Day.” 

“L/N you have admitted to murder-”

“To protect Sherlock. Without me, he’d be dead, and as stated, there have been and will be other attempts on his life. Other attempts to hurt him, and well, I can’t stop that happening if I’m behind bars now, can I?” You questioned with a playful grin. You heard several people shuffling in their seats in discomfort. That included the Judge, who seemed to shrink in his seat as you continued to make eye contact with him. 

“What makes you think you’re exempt from your punishment?” He dared question you. “You are still in a court of law. You’re under oath.”

“That means I can’t tell lies, right?” You questioned back. He nodded. “Well then, let me tell you something that no one in this room is aware of. That victim of yours? Isn’t the only one with a secret life that he’s good at concealing.” You teased with a giggle, as if this was a little game for you. It was. A seeming horror crossed the faces of the Judge, the Jury, and the Lawyers. 

“...Who are you?” The Judge asked with hesitation. You let the air remain suffocating for a moment, making them silent beg for your response, before you finally gave it. 

“Moriarty.” 

You heard John and Sherlock stand up at your admission. They knew that name well, the name of the person who had been terrorizing them for years, being linked to flawless robberies of the most luxurious items, sold off without a trace months later, linked to perfect set ups. The one person Sherlock couldn’t read, couldn’t predict. It drove him mad, but he enjoyed the chase. It was something that he actually struggled with, and he loved it. So to find out you were right there the entire time? It wasn’t a slap to the face, you, right now, were taunting him in the very worst way. He questioned for a second why you’d admit this here of all places. But though he couldn’t read Moriarty, he knew one thing- Moriarty was always prepared, always had a plan that was fool proof. You had a plan. And as he thought that, your plan went into action. Your friends stood as well, unveiling their guns, several members of security, including the ones guarding your booth, turned and pointed their own weapons at the other people. All hands raised, several short cries of surprise before they silenced themselves in fear of being shot. A member of your security came and opened the booth door and you stepped out. You faced Sherlock and John. 

“Shame it had to end up like this. I genuinely did consider you my friends. But rest assured- the only person who is going to hurt Sherlock Holmes is me, and that’s a promise.” You told them, blowing them an exaggerated kiss, before you were escorted out swiftly.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS:  @hello-love-youre-pretty  @courtneychicken​  @graysonmalfoy​ @bellero​ @originalpottervengerlock​ @supernatural-pan​ @esoltis280​ @lady-of-lies​ @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980​ @cdwmtjb8​ @caswinchester2000​ @determinedpines​ @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe @holy-tea-cup-blog​ @sassy-specter​ @keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey

#Sherlock #Sherlock Holmes #john watson #lestrade #sherlock x reader #sherlock x male!reader #sherlock x fem!reader #john watson x reader #john watson x male!reader #john watson x fem!reader #x reader #x male reader #x fem!reader #reader #male!reader #fem!reader #oneshot #writing #story writing #question #request #ask questions #ask me anything #send me questions #send me asks #send me anything

[goldencherriess]

Sentiment.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem! Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Requested? Yes! And it was by @gaitwae (i hope you like it <;3)

Summary: Sherlock finds himself entranced by Lestrade's best friend and co-worker.

Warnings: kinda office romance, fluff

Masterlist

Sherlock Holmes was a man of pragmatism and cold truth. He could answer to any question, he could find a resolve in everything (science always played a part in this sense), but when his dear roommate and companion, John Watson, suggested that maybe the suspect was in love with the victim's wife, he felt repulsed by the idea.

"Absolutely not, John! Have you paid attention to the details, to the facts?"

John's eyebrows shot to the top of his head. "Have you?"

Scoffing, Sherlock put his hands in the coat's pockets. "Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side. No, we're dealing with a cold murderer this time, not some love sick puppy. If he were in love, his eyes pupils would have dilated when we asked about her, but they did not. And I-'' he trailed off when he saw a familiar mop of hair appearing behind John and talking to Lestrade, a notebook in her arms.

John turned around, eyebrows still raised and he crossed his arms, a smirk finding its way on his lips. His eyes met Sherlock's again. "You were saying?"

Sherlock licked his suddenly dry lips and blinked. "I, uh-"

"Cat got your tongue, Sherlock?"

It was as if Sherlock's brain short circuited, cutting all the ties to reality. He blinked and gulped thickly. ''When in love and looking at the object of all your desires and affection, your pupils get dilated. The pulse gets increased and you feel your breath leaving you. But that's not true, that's just an illusion, it's your body reacting to hormones. It's just pure science, really.'' he said, whispering the last part and never taking his eyes off of Y/N.

She was laughing now, touching Lestrade's arm and shaking her head in amusement. And Sherlock felt his stomach twisting into something he couldn't name. He tilted his head. ''I'm right, aren't I, John?''

''I don't know, Sherlock, but it doesn't seem so to me.''

Sherlock's gaze slowly left Y/N's figure and met John's eyes. His eyebrows pinched together. ''Why do you say that?''

John's smirk never left his lips. ''Your pupils dilated.''

Sherlock nodded, a realization dawning on him. And his eyes were again on her, just drinking her in. ''They did, didn't they?''

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Y/N L/N was a woman of soft love and indulging daydreams. A pure romantic at heart, she could find meaning in every glance and smile (she did learn best from Jane Austen). But when her best friend and co-worker, Greg Lestrade, inquired about her new crush, she mumbled an excuse, blushing furiously and averting his gaze.

"Oh come on! I know you, Y/N! Been knowing you for years now. So, who is it?"

Shaking her head, Y/N replied. "No one."

Lestrade furrowed. "Then why are you blushing?"

''Why are we talking about this now? We're at a crime scene.'' she almost snapped.

Lestrade pursed lips, nodding and putting his hands in his pockets, his gaze looking in the distance at nothing particularly. And for awhile, neither of them said anything, the bustling of the forensic pathologists filling the air. Y/N fumbled with the notebook in her arms, her gaze sliding towards a certain curly haired man. They rarely talked about anything other than work, but she always found herself enticed by what he was saying. His mind worked in mysterious and interesting ways and she only wished to understand it more, to be the one overtaking his thoughts. Just like he did hers.

He met her eyes across the room and she felt her face flush. He acknowledged her with a nod of his head and she smiled his way.

''It's Sherlock, isn't it?'' voiced Lestrade besides her.

She snapped her head towards him, almost getting a whiplash. ''What?''

He just laughed. ''I'll be sending you over to him with work more often, then.''

Her laugh matched his and she smacked his arm, while shaking her head. ''You're impossible.''

''But the best!''

''At annoying me, maybe.''

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Sherlock kept coming to crime scenes with John as he usually did. And things just went as they usually did. Anderson and Donovan were insufferable as ever, making wrong assumptions and awful comments. Graham (or was it Greg?) was useless as ever and John muttered praises under his breath, as always (''That's brilliant, Sherlock!'').

Except this time he was suddenly hyperaware of her presence. She always seemed to be there, in the corner of the room silently watching him work through the mystery and fog. It clouded his mind. He blinked, trying to get rid of the incorrigible thoughts and the tightness in his chest. He cleared his throat and risked a glance at John, who had his eyebrows raised. ''Right, well, uh, I have to think about this one, really mull it over.''

He straightened his back, popping the collar of his coat. But then, he looked at her and paused in his tracks. ''Unless, Y/N has anything to add to the case.''

She seemed lost in thought because once her name was spoken, by Sherlock no less, she snapped out of it, a blush adorning her cheeks. She visibly gulped and took a step forward, hugging her notebook closer to her chest. Her eyes met his and she had to inhale just so she could breath again. He was looking at her so intensely that she felt like she was being analyzed under the microscope, as if he could read through her. As if he could take her apart, soul by soul, layer by layer.

Y/N tore her eyes away from his and flipped through her notebook, only stopping when the date of today caught her attention. ''Well, uh, I believe the victim's wedding ring is missing.''

''There wasn't any wedding ring.'' interrupted Lestrade, frowning.

She nodded. ''Exactly. If you look at her left hand, you'd find the shadow of a wedding ring. She's very tanned, she must've returned from a vacation. Somewhere warm, as there isn't any sun in London. But she never did take off her wedding ring, the white line around her finger is the proof of that.''

''She could've just lost it.'' added John thoughtfully.

Sherlock remained quiet, his gaze pinned on Y/N, attention undivided by anything else but her. He was listening in, his mind screaming at the possibilities.

Y/N shook her head. ''No. The pictures of her husband in her wallet tell me otherwise. She cared. She wouldn't just let her ring get lost. There's something else there. Someone must've taken it. Maybe our killer.''

Sherlock's eyebrow arched and his eyes lit up. ''Impressive observation, darling.'' He started smiling and he grabbed her shoulders, leaning in to kiss her on both of her cheeks. ''Thank you!'' he said in a very excited voice, much like a kid would exclaim on a the Christmas morning at the sight of presents.

And he was off, the coat fluttering behind him in waves and leaving her flustered and red in the face. His kisses on her cheeks burned her like fireworks in the sky. She touched with shaking fingertips where his lips met her skin and she slightly smiled.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

221B was quiet, John gone God knew where. The rain was splattering against the windows in loud and almost thundering drops. Sherlock was sitting in his armchair, deep in thought, his hands lanced in a prayer position. He sighed and closed his eyes, his mind going off the rails.

The squeak of the front door pulled him to the reality. His eyes snapped open and his ears perked up. Light footsteps. Not John, as he walked harshly, his feet dragging behind him (he never actually left the war behind). Probably a woman, then. But not mrs. Hudson, as she always wore heels.

Sherlock slowly got up, his eyes never wavering from the door. The creeks of the stairs. Not a client, as the footsteps didn't sound urgent.

He was now in front of the door, touching the door knob and opening it like a storm cleaning everything in its path and he was met with the surprised eyes of Y/N L/N. She was drenching and panting, the rain really wearing her down. Her hair was soaking, raindrops falling from it and down onto the carpet with splashing sounds and the clothes were sticking to her skin and hugging her curves. Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek to not glance down her figure out of respect and dignity.

She sneezed, eyes closing and eyelashes shining with raindrops.

''Looks like you're catching a cold.'' Sherlock said in greeting.

She nodded before sneezing again.

''Bless you.''

She shivered and her arms hugged her waist in an attempt to find some warmth. Sherlock's eyes softened, but his voice remained impassible. ''Do come in, you're soaking my carpet.''

Flustered, the words came out of her mouth in a mess, closing in on each other and flying from the tip of her tongue. ''Uh, I'm sorry, didn't mean to- I just-''

''Save your energy and stop explaining yourself, you're obviously shivering and in dire need of a hot bath. Go do that, you're my guest. I'll prepare tea and get you some clothes to change in. Then we can talk.''

He gestured her towards the bathroom, before turning his back and leaving her with a red nose and a freezing face.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

He was stirring the tea when he heard her small footsteps padding on the floor. ''Do you take your tea with milk?'' he asked without looking up. ''I usually do and-'' Sherlock lifted his head and his words died in his throat. He finally understood the concept of your breath leaving you at the sight of something beautiful. Because Y/N was beautiful, a rare landscape. An oil portrait that deserved to be admired in a museum. Almost Mona Lisa like. She was wearing one of his old sweaters, back from his university days, and some worn out pants he found in the back of the wardrobe. She was wearing his clothes. Alas they were a bit too big on her, the sleeves of the sweater falling down her hands and swallowing them whole.

''No milk for me.'' she replied in a meek and already raspy voice. The cold was catching up to her.

He blinked the awe from his eyes and handed her a cup of tea. ''Careful, it's hot. And you should take some meds.''

She thanked him by nodding her head. ''Where's John?''

''With his new girlfriend, I presume.'' Sherlock scoffed, turning around and searching through the kitchen drawers. ''He's never out his late usually. He always goes to sleep early.''

''And you don't?''

''I don't sleep when I'm on a case.''

''But you need the sleep.''

Sherlock met her gaze and flipped towards her a bottle of medicine. ''And you need to take these.'' he replied with a sarcastic smile etched on his face. But his eyes betrayed his whole cold demeanor. They were soft, almost warm. And Y/N was afraid to maintain the eye contact for too long. His eyes haunted her. She felt vulnerable under his gaze. Exposed.

She thickly gulped. "Can you start the fire? I'm still a little bit cold."

"If you take the meds."

"I will."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I mean now."

She huffed, but complied anyways. The tea burned her throat, the aroma bursting in colors on her tongue and the sweet smell tickling her nostrils.

Sherlock nodded and then entered the living room, crouching down near the fireplace. "Why are you here?"

"Do you want me to leave?" she asked once she was seated in an armchair.

Sherlock glanced towards her. Y/N was sitting in his armchair, slowly sipping her tea and looking around curiously. No one actually sat on it, besides him. He never let anyone. He inhaled and tore his gaze from her and onto the split firewood in front of him. "Do you want to?"

"No." she replied, watching him.

He got up, the fire coming alive in reds and oranges, the wood cracking. "Then stay." His eyes didn't stray from her as he took a seat in John's chair. "Why are you really here, though? We're not actually friends, so you can't say you came to visit. You were panting, so you must have run all the way here. Unless, you missed the bus. But that can't be as you live on the other side of London. And you weren't planning it, either. If you did, you would have known they announced rain later today and you would have carried an umbrella. But you didn't, so I assume this was a spur of the moment idea. Am I correct so far?"

She blinked. "Yes, but-"

"And you didn't come on behalf of work, either. You would have carried some files and you would have been all business, no play, as you usually are." He leant forward on the seat, his arms coming to rest on his knees. "So, tell me, why are you here, Y/N?"

Her cheeks reddened and she shifted in her seat, her hands gripping the tea cup. "Did you just deduce me, mister Holmes?"

His eyebrow arched, hiding under a stray curl. "Why, was I wrong?"

Y/N shook her head. "Not a bit."

A smirk bloomed on his lips. "Of course I wasn't, darling. I never am."

"You're quite narcissistic." she replied, her eyes watching him over the rim of the cup.

"I believe the correct word would be modest."

She hummed, the corner of her eyes crickling in amusement. She gently put down her cup and looked him in the eye. The fire sprayed shadows on his face, the room in a low glow. "Did you solve the case, Sherlock?"

Confusion overtook his features. "Is this why you came all the way here?"

She shrugged inocently. "I was curious. Did you?"

He nodded, the fire reflecting in his eyes and ebony hair. "Yes. You helped me. When you told me about the wedding ring, a light went off in my head. I searched through her wallet. You were right, she cared too much to lose a wedding ring, it meant a lot to her. And I think someone got jealous."

Y/N arched an eyebrow. "An affair?"

"But not on her part, though. Love is a strong motive. It makes you do crazy things." Sherlock whispered.

His gaze burned her. He searched her eyes, as if he was hoping to find something in them, and then his gaze drifted off to her lips. "I know the signs." he said.

"What signs?" Y/N replied breathless.

"Your cheeks redden every time you look at me, your pupils dilate. You think I don't notice, but I do. Every time."

She swallowed. "Is that- Is that a bad thing?"

He got up to his feet and took slow steps, only stopping when he was close enough to take her wrist. A gentle touch. Her heart almost beat out of her chest and a lump formed in her throat when Sherlock leaned in to whisper into her ear, his breath warming her skin. "I took your pulse."

Y/N fluttered her eyes shut when she felt his lips skim over her jaw before he lightly kissed her cheek. "The feeling's mutual, by the way." he said in a low whisper, his lips caressing her afire skin.

And then he was up and away, smiling genuinely at her, a sparkle in his eyes. "You should get some rest. I'll be sleeping on the couch, you take the bed."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he beat her to it. "Please, you're my guest tonight. It would be my pleasure."

Y/N nodded, getting on her feet, her eyes meeting his chest. He was wearing the purple shirt he wore last week. His figure towered over her and he gently took her hand. "My room's that way. If you need anything, tell me. Good night, darling."

And he pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

John found the atmosphere weird that morning. His eyebrows were scrunching and he looked at Sherlock. "You're awfully quiet." he said while he spread butter on toast.

"Am I, really?" replied Sherlock, not taking his eyes off of the newspaper he was reading.

"Yes, you are. Don't you, usually, ramble about some newfound case?"

"Usually."

"Then, what's different this time?" replied John before he bit into the toast.

The clicking of a door and the sight of a just waken up Y/N made him choke on the food. "Careful, John, you'll die if you do that again. Good morning, darling. Tea?" said Sherlock in a sweet voice.

Y/N simply smiled at him, averting her gaze from John.

"I'm sorry, I feel like I'm missing something." laughed John.

"No, John, you're just delusional." said Sherlock, while he poured tea in a cup for Y/N, who was blushing furiously under all the attention.

"Wait 'till Greg hears about this!" replied John, still smiling in awe.

Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Who?"

"Lestrade." said Y/N from besides him.

"I thought his name was Gavin."

"It's Greg."

"When did this happen?" interrupted John, all sparkling eyes.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, picking up the newspaper once again. "Nothing happened, John."

"I'm not believing a word! This is too good-"

"Stick to blogging, John, gossiping doesn't suit you."

Offended, John gasped, turning to look at Y/N. She avoided his gaze, drinking her tea and looking at the walls around them. "Right... My bad, then." he said, sighing.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Sherlock Holmes started smiling at crime scenes. It was almost off putting, the way a genuine smile would break through at any moment. In front of a corpse, no less.

Lestrade noticed it. He also noticed the oh-so-not-subtle glances. Sherlock's eyes would slip over to Y/N and she would meet his gaze, almost shyly but smiling.

Then, the detective started asking her opinion on the cases more often and Lestrade knew. How could he not when it was all so obvious?

"You know, Sherlock, one day you're gonna steal my co-worker." he said as he approached him.

Sherlock's face remained impassible like stone. "That won't ever happen. She'll come willingly if you keep boring her. Send her on real cases, she's smart enough to solve them on her own."

Lestrade opened his mouth to reply but he was left in the dust after Sherlock spotted Y/N. "Yeah, okay..." he trailed off as he watched Y/N greet Sherlock with a blush and a shy smile.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"Let's have lunch." said Sherlock to Y/N, meeting her eyes and standing straight. He wore his blue navy coat and a white shirt this time.

"To talk about the case? I think I found a lead and-"

"No."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "No?"

He took a step closer to her. "No. Let's have lunch to talk about ourselves."

She felt her face flush. "Oh."

Sherlock's eyes held a look of amusement and adoration and he smiled. "I believe the correct word would be yes." He lightly took her hand, his thumb caressing her skin in slow circles. "Please, do me this honour and let me take you out on a date."

Y/N smiled up at him, before standing on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. "I'd love to."

Bonus:

"I kind of set them up." said Lestrade as he and John watched the interaction between Sherlock and Y/N from afar.

"How so?"

"I stole Y/N's umbrella and then set her off home, asking her to stop by 221B in order to ask Sherlock what progress he was making in solving that case."

"Oh, Greg! That was brilliant! She spent the night there."

"Did she?"

"Yeah."

"Interesting."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A/N: oh wow this somehow turned to be a long one. It was supposed to be around 2k words, more or less but I kinda got carried away.

I hope you enjoyed it! Every feedback is appreciated! If you'd like to be added to the tag list, just comment under this post or send me an ask!

Have a great day xx

Tag list: @bohemianrhapsody86 @andreead

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #Sherlock x fem! reader #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #greg lestrade #reader insert #x reader #writing #fanfic writing #my writing #masterlist #request #laura writes #fluff #office romance

[j-eryewrites]

The Blind Banker (III)

Part 12 of the Arbitrary Lives of the Occupants of 221B Baker Street

Series Masterlist | Main masterlist 

Previous | Next

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: Jealous Sherlock, Descriptions of strangling and breaking and entering, Sherlock is Sherlock, and if you squint some sherlock x reader stuff.

__________

Sherlock dragged Y/N along and practically shoved her onto the bus. All the seats were full, so the two of them were left standing in the aisle. Y/N’s jaw clenched as she harshly breathed in and out. Sherlock’s ever-looming figure stood over her. His hand still held hers. He hadn’t let it go and by the strength of his grip, he wasn’t going to any time soon. 

“You’re mad,” Sherlock said.

She turned around to glare at him. “Of course, I’m mad.”

“Why?” His blue eyes peered at her. He did her a favour, so why wasn’t she taking it? 

“You left John there, Sherlock. Your friend!” She rolled her eyes. “Every time, I think you're getting better. That you are opening up, then you go and do something like that.”

“I got you out of there,” he hissed into her ear. 

“I don’t care. You–we left John behind.” She exclaimed.

“John can take care of himself. Besides, the case is more important.”

She scoffed. “I don’t care if John can take care of himself. Don’t you get it, Sherlock?”

She looked up at him with pleading eyes. He only stared back with not a clue as to why she was mad. 

She lowered her gaze. “I’m done for the day. I can’t deal with you anymore.”

The bus came to a halt and their bodies swayed back and forth. Y/N lurched forward and ripped her hand out of Sherlock’s grasp. She pushed her way out of the bus and Sherlock stood there. His eyes followed Y/N as she stepped out onto the street. His growing gold from the missing warmth of her hand. Before Sherlock could chase after her, the bus kicked up and moved on. Sherlock could only watch her as her figure disappeared from view. 

_______

Sherlock pinched his nose. He needed to stop thinking about Y/N and her outburst. He was already feeling the beginnings of a migraine which began when she slammed the door shut after she finally returned to 221B. Just thirty minutes after he did. It took everything in him to stop himself from running down to her and apologizing. What for? He still didn’t know, but that wasn’t important. The case was. He removed his hand and examined the photos in front of him. The same hand that held hers. The sound of Y/N walking around in her flat downstairs echoed in his mind. 

Stop it, He told himself. 

There it is again. The slamming of a door, but it’s not Y/N. Heavy and angry steps proceed up the stairs and get closer and closer to Sherlock. 

“You’ve been a while,” Sherlock said. His eyes stuck to the pictures. 

Sherlock heard John pace around the room. John’s shoulders are rigid and his fists are clenched. He released them before closing them shut again. John’s face contorted as he strangled the air in front of him, hoping to release some of his pent-up fury.

“Yeah, well, you know how it is. Custody sergeants don’t really like to be hurried, do they?” His voice was tight. “Just formalities: fingerprints, charge sheet; and I’ve gotta be in Magistrates Court on Tuesday.”

“What?” Sherlock absently said. He did not hear a word that had left John’s mouth. 

“Me, Sherlock, in court on Tuesday,” John yelled. “They’re givin’ me an ASBO!”

“Good. Fine.” Sherlock hissed back. John’s voice bore the same tone as Y/N’s when she scolded him. 

“You wanna tell your little pal he’s welcome to go and own up any time,” said John.

“This symbol: I still can’t place it.” Sherlock brought his finger up to point at one of the images. Then he turned around and walked towards John. The man was shrugging off his jacket until Sherlock lifted it back onto his shoulders. 

“No, I need you to go to the police station …” Sherlock stated. 

“Oy, oy, oy!” John warned. “Why doesn’t Y/N go?”

“... ask about the journalist.” Sherlock continued. 

“Oh, Jesus!” John grumbled. “Why can’t Y/N go, Sherlock?” 

“She’s…” Sherlock paused. “Having a moment.” 

“She got mad at you, didn’t she?” John asked. 

Sherlock’s jaw clenched, “She’s having a moment.” His long arm reached out to grasp his coat from the coat hanger. As he swung it on, he instructed John, “His personal effects will have been impounded. Get hold of his diary or something that will tell us his movements.” 

Sherlock started to descend the stairs. John followed him with a smug look on his face. Y/N had gotten mad at Sherlock, and by the way, his friend was acting. She was really pissed. 

“Gonna go and see Van Coon’s P.A. If we retrace their steps, somewhere they’ll coincide.” Without another word, Sherlock opened the door to 221B and walked out onto the street. Sherlock did not even bother shutting the door. 

John watched the door swing on its hinges. Back and forth, just as his mind was going between his options. He could do as Sherlock has asked, or he could check up on Y/N, letting her know he was alright.  John gently closed the door shut. Then he turned around to face the door to Y/N’s flat. He looked up to the ceiling to contemplate the thought swirling around in his head. Raising a hand, he brought it to the door and knocked. The sound rang within the hollow material of the door. 

“Y/N? It’s John.”

The sound of the television buzzed off and light footsteps crept closer to the door. With a creak, the door swung open, and John caught sight of Y/N. She stepped back, welcoming him in. 

“Sorry about earlier,” she mumbled. “If I had known you weren’t able to run, I’d…” 

John stopped her. “Don’t. It wasn’t your fault.”

She sighed. “I know, but I can’t help but feel like I’m a part of it.” 

She looked toward the ground where Bjørn stood. He purred happily at the sight of John. The brown cat’s fluffy tail wagged as he stepped closer and closer to John. 

“Hello there, Bjørn.” John cooed. 

He reached down to pat the cat.  Bjørn’s meows grew louder, and John chuckled. 

“He must really like that.”

“I just think he likes you,” Y/N said. There was a short silence before Y/N blurted, “...want some chocolate?”

John looked at her wide-eyed. “Where’d that come from?” He laughed. 

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Chocolate always makes me feel better. Thought you might like some to cheer you up.” 

“I'm fine, thanks.” He replied. 

She nodded and walked into her kitchen. Y/N pulled open a drawer and picked up a bar of chocolate. She peeled the wrapper and began to bite into it. She closed her eyes and quietly moaned at the taste. 

John rolled his eyes and chuckled. 

“What?!” She said, “It’s good chocolate.”

“It must be really good if you practically moaned.” He chuckled.

“Oh, shut up,” she said in a teasing manner.

A silence fell over them as John pet Bjørn and Y/N munched away on her chocolate. John’s attention was soon drawn to the window. He saw cars and cabs drive by and he remembered what Sherlock had asked of him. He sighed. John didn’t want to help Sherlock at the moment, but he knew that it was important. However, John knew he didn’t have to do it alone. 

“Y/N?” John asked. “Mind coming with me to Scotland Yard?”

She shook her head. “No, John. I told Sherlock that I was done with him for the day.”

“Then you’d like to know, Sherlock won’t be there. Just me, you, and Dimmock.”

Y/N was quiet as she contemplated the offer. 

“We can stop at Speedy’s on the way,” John added.

Y/N groaned. “Fine, you got me.”

Then she left the kitchen and walked into her room. Soon she emerged with her coat and shoes in hand. She sat down at one of the counter chairs and slipped on her shoes. She jumped up and threw on her coat. 

“Be back Bjørn!” She waved. 

John opened the door for her and the two of them set off. As the two of them walked down the sidewalk, John noticed an older woman across the street. She was wearing a black tracksuit and sunglasses. He nudged Y/N’s shoulder and she turned to look. The woman across the street lifted her phone and it seemed as if she was taking a picture of them. Y/N narrowed her eyes, but a truck zoomed by blocking her view. By the time the car had passed her sight, the woman was gone. 

“Strange,” Y/N muttered. 

John shook his head in agreement. 

“Well,” She softly elbowed him. “You promised me Speedy’s.” 

John chuckled and nudged her back. The two sparked up a conversation as they strolled to Speedy’s. They took their time meandering along the way. Sherlock could wait, but their growing friendship couldn’t. 

____SHERLOCK’s POV_____

I’m back at the bank. It’s notoriously too loud here. How could anyone get any work done? I briskly walked through the rows of desks. Each person behind them repeated the same monotonous actions: The phone rings, they pick it up, they talk, the call ends, and they type away at the computer. As I looked around, I found at least fifteen people who were faking it. Their eyes scanned the same lines over and over, before looking down at their phones. 

My eyes catch sight of the woman’s blonde hair. Van Coon’s assistant. 

I leaned over her desk. She stared at me. 

“How can I help you?” She asked.

“Van Coon’s schedule from the past week,” I replied, flashing a fake smile. Smiling makes people more receptive to doing things for others. 

She nodded her head and began to type on her computer. I glanced down at her name tag: Amanda. 

“He flew back from Dalian on Friday last week,” she said. “Looks like he had back-to-back meetings with the sales team.” 

My eyes narrow. “Can you print me up a copy?”

“Sure,” she said. With a few clicks of a button, the printing machine next to her whirred to life. 

“What about the day he died?” I inquired. “Can you tell me where he was?”

Amanda’s eyes narrowed at the screen, and she shook her head. “Sorry. Bit of a gap.” 

The printer beeped and Amanda twirled around. She reached for the paper and handed it over to me. It was warm. Just like the papers Y/N printed out for me. I shook away the thoughts. Now was not the time nor the place. To distract my mind from the course it was set on, I examined the calendar in front of me. 

The calendar showed no entries for Monday the 22nd. I looked away, frustrated. A gasp escaped Amanda’s voice and peered down at her. 

“I have all his receipts,” she realized. “Would you like those printed out as well?” 

I nodded my head and waved her on. 

_____THIRD_____

Y/N and John took their time as they arrived at Scotland Yard. They finally had the time to catch up without Sherlock’s ever listening and condescending ears. Y/N chattered about Jim and all the dates he had taken her on. John mentioned something to her about wanting to meet him and she said she’d see if she could set something up. She also told John about a new trick she taught Bjørn. John’s eyes widened. He hadn’t realized someone could teach cats tricks like a dog, but then Y/N pulled out a video of Bjørn sitting and rolling around on command. 

As they walked through Scotland Yard, John could see the shoulders of officers tensed up. They peered behind the two of them. Afterwards, their shoulders relaxed upon seeing there was no consulting detective following behind. Dimmock was among those people. Dimmock stood up from his desk and moved towards the two of them. 

“What’s it now?” Dimmock asked. 

“We need the journalist’s diary,” John told him. Dimmock nodded and called one of the officers to bring him the box of Lukis’ things. 

The officer quickly retrieved the box and placed it on Dimmock’s desk. With a thwack, the lid was lifted up off the box and placed to the side. Dimmock reached his hands into the box and rummaged around. Y/N and John stood across from him watching as possession after possession was placed outside the box. Still no journal. 

“Your friend …,” Dimmock hesitantly said. He looked up at Y/N and John. 

John sighed. Whatever he was feeling, he wasn’t alone in the thought. “Listen: whatever you say, I’m behind you one hundred percent.”

Dimmock’s eyes flicked between the two of them. Y/N nodded her head urging him on. “... he’s an arrogant sod,” Dimmock finished. 

“Well, that was mild!” John laughed. “People say a lot worse than that.”

“I could say a lot worse than that,” grumbled Y/N. She crossed her arms over her torso. 

Dimmock triumphantly cheered as his hand emerged from the box with a brown journal. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The journalist’s diary?” 

John nodded and took the journal from Dimmock’s hand. The pages are thick and well-inked. Page after page filled to the brim with scribbles of the deceased Journalist. Y/N leaned over and pointed toward a page that had been dog tagged. John opened it up and came to find that it was a boarding pass from Da Lian DLC [DaLian Zhoushuizi International Airport] to London LHR [London Heathrow Airport] on Zhuang Airlines.

“Might want to snap a picture, Y/N,” John advised. 

She looked down at her pockets and pulled out her phone. There was a flash and a photo had been taken. Y/N placed the phone back into her pocket. She looked back up at John, who flipped through the pages again. 

Maybe there was something in here that would be of use to Sherlock, he thought. 

____SHERLOCK’s POV______

I had instructed Amanda to lay out Van Coon’s receipts on her desk. I leaned over them taking my time to pay close attention to the date and location on the receipts. Amanda sat next to me. Her leg bobbed up and down in the most annoying manner. 

“What kind of a boss was he, Amanda? Appreciative?” I said while I continued to look at the receipts. Amanda’s leg had stopped moving. I smiled. 

“Um, no. That’s not a word I’d use. The only things Eddie appreciated had a big price tag,” She replied. 

I sighed. The font on the receipts is too small for even my eyes to see clearly. I kneeled down on the floor to allow myself easier access to them. Then I took my leather gloves off. In the corner of my eye, I saw a luxury hand lotion at the back of the desk. My eyes narrowed. 

“He bought that for you, didn’t he?” I asked. 

Amanda stopped fiddling with a green pin in her hair. She looked at me and her face flushed. I rolled my eyes and continued to shuffle through the receipts. My hands hovered over a particular receipt. I hastily picked it up and held it close. It was a receipt from a licensed taxi. Dated the day he died. 

“Look at this one. Got a taxi from home on the day he died. Eighteen pounds fifty,” I said. 

Amanda’s eyes pursed in thought. “That would get him to the office,” She noted. 

“Not rush hour; check the time. Mid-morning. Eighteen would get him as far as …” I ran through the map of London in my mind. 

“The West End. I remember him saying,” Amanda blurted. 

“Underground. Printed at one in Piccadilly,” I specified holding out the receipt for her to see.

“So, he got a Tube back to the office. Why would he get a taxi into town and then the Tube back?” She pondered. 

I glanced back over the other receipts. “Because he was delivering something heavy. Didn’t want to lug a package up the escalator,” I mentioned. 

“Delivering?” 

“To somewhere near Piccadilly Station,” I clarified.  There was something here in the pile of receipts. My eyes widened and picked up another receipt. “Dropped the package, delivered it, and then stopped on his way. He got peckish.”

I quickly thanked Amanda as I pocketed the two receipts and made my exit from the bank. I hailed a cab and instructed it to take me to the restaurant Van Coon had stopped by. The cab was taking longer than it should have. Rush hour did not start for another…hour, I thought. I took in an impatient breath. My mind decided to take a liberty of its own, showing me, again, the last encounter I had with Y/N. My jaw clenched. Despite being the world’s only consulting detective, I could not find the source of her anger. The anger and the woman it came from remained a mystery in my mind. My eyes narrowed. I’d have to ask John. He’d know. 

“Here,” The cab driver said. He turned around in his seat and reached out his hand. I paid him and stepped out onto the street. I pulled out the receipt and examined it one more time. 

“So, you bought your lunch from here en route to the station, but where were you headed from? Where did the taxi drop you off...?”

I began to walk around in all different directions. My eyes cast above looking for something, some clue. I feel a thud against my back. I bounce off of the figure who just crashed into me, and I turn around to look at the culprit. It’s John. In his hands, he held the journal I had asked him to get. 

“Sherlock?” John said. 

I grunted in reply. A swish of fabric behind John caught my attention. Slowly, my eyes peered behind him and saw Y/N. Her eyes casted down, avoiding my gaze. 

____THIRD______

“Right. Of course, you’re here.” John mumbled. 

Sherlock tore his gaze away from Y/N. “Eddie Van Coon brought a package here the day he died – whatever was hidden inside that case. I’ve managed to piece together a picture using scraps of information …”

“Sherlock …,” John said, looking between Y/N and his friend. 

“… credit card bills, receipts. He flew back from China, then he came here,” Sherlock continued. 

“Sherlock …,” John warned. 

“Somewhere in this street; somewhere near. I don’t know where, but …”

“That shop over there,” pointed out Y/N. 

For a moment, Sherlock’s face showed signs of surprise before forcefully turning towards the shop across the street. 

“How can you tell?” He pondered. 

“Lukis’ diary,” John replied. He lifted up the journal for Sherlock to see. “He was here too. He wrote down the address.”

“Oh,” was all Sherlock could muster. 

The three of them stood on the busy street. Passerbys moved around them as if they were a fork in the road. John looked back and forth between his friends. Y/N’s gaze was off in the distance. She still refused to look at Sherlock. 

“Y/N,” Sherlock began but he was silenced when she pushed through the crowd to cross the street. John shrugged at Sherlock before following his friend. Sherlock lingered there for a moment before chasing after them. 

________

The ever-apparent colour of red. Red as far as the eye could see. Red lanterns above, red decorations in the doors and windows, red doors, and even some red markings on the ground below them. Amongst the red, Sherlock’s eyes could catch glimpses of gold. It shimmered in the sunlight. 

The smells of freshly steamed rice and pork buns wafted through the air. Y/N’s stomach began to grumble. She’d have to make a stop to get some. She’d also gladly use the excuse to avoid Sherlock. She was determined for him to come to her this time. 

Preferably not by being carried out her front door swung over Sherlock’s shoulders, She thought. 

The three of them had reached the stop that was mentioned in Lukis’ journal. The Lucky Cat it was called. Y/N was the first to enter the tourist trap of a shop. The colour red also made an appearance as several shelves were the same vibrant red that could be found along the streets of Chinatown. Besides the apparent colour of red, there were cats. The store was filled to the brim with decorative cats sitting on their hind legs. One of their paws was high in the air swinging up and down. Their smiles made John uneasy. The shopkeeper came out from the back room and smiled at Y/N. 

”你好,” Y/N greeted. 

The shopkeeper smiled and complimented her Chinese. Sherlock and John both peered over at Y/N as she struck up a friendly conversation with the shopkeeper. Sherlock and John looked at each other, amazed at the hidden ability Y/N had. Y/N waved to the woman and turned back to her friends. 

“What?” She asked. 

“Nothing,” John replied. He then looked over her shoulder and greeted the shopkeeper himself. “Hello.”

The shopkeeper’s smile faded. “You want a lucky cat?”

“No, thanks. No.” John replied. 

“Ten pounds. Ten pounds!” The shopkeeper insisted. 

“No,” John replied. He began to profusely shake his hands. Y/N giggled at the interaction. John looked at her with wide eyes. “Mind helping me out Y/N?”

The shopkeeper took one look between John and Y/N. ``I think your wife will like it!” The Shopkeeper winked. 

John’s face grew red. “No, thank you,” He replied. 

Sherlock tensed behind him. His long finger gripped the clay statue tighter. John quickly turned away from the shopkeeper and picked up the nearest thing he could find. It was a small white tea cup. Y/N had come up next to John. She was still giggling. 

John sighed and gave her a side-eye. 

“You can’t tell me that wasn’t funny,” She muttered to him. She leaned into him.  “Come on hubby,” she teased.  

John rolled his eyes. “Screw off, Y/N.” 

He picked up another tea cup and turned it around. Underneath was a bright red price tag. On it were the same symbols that were covering their mirror back at home. 

John’s eyes widened. “Sherlock.”

Sherlock’s ear twitched at his name and he placed the statue back where he found it. He approached John, coming up behind Y/N so that her back was against his chest. She tensed at the sudden sensation of Sherlock behind her. Then Sherlock reached over her shoulder to pick up a teacup. 

“The label there,” John pointed. 

“Yes, I see it,” Sherlock said.

“Exactly the same as the cypher,” John continued. He turned to Y/N and had to take a second glance. Sherlock stood so close, John could swear the two of them had merged into one person. When he finally differentiated the two, John saw that her jaw was squeezed tight and her lips were pressed into a thin line. A shadow fell over her figure. John could practically see the anger seething from her body. Her eyes looked as if they were plotting Sherlock’s murder in great detail. 

“Y/N,” John blurted. The woman turned to him. The darkness faded from her eyes as she looked at him. 

“What?” Y/N asked. She lifted her foot slightly before bringing it down onto Sherlock’s foot. Her heel grinding into Sherlock’s toes. John caught a wince in his friend’s face before he stepped back from Y/N. 

John awkwardly cleared his throat. “What do these symbols mean?” He lifted the cup to her and she peered at them. 

She took it from his hands and ran a finger over the price tag. “This is the number 15,” She said. “It’s from the Hangzhou number system.”

Sherlock lifted his head and began to smile. The case was finally starting to come together. 

“These days, only street traders use it. Those were numbers written on the wall at the bank and at the library,” Sherlock noted. He walked across the shop to pick up the statue he had been looking at earlier. Flipping it over he looked at the price tag. “Numbers are written in an ancient Chinese dialect.”

“What we thought was the artist’s tag – it’s the number fifteen,” John commented. 

Sherlock walked back over to John and Y/N, making sure to stay well without the woman’s comfort zone. “And the blindfold – the horizontal line?” He asked her. “That was a number as well.” 

Y/N thought back to the office and her original thoughts. “It’s the number one.” She blurted. 

“The Chinese number one,” Sherlock smiled. Y/N looked back down at the ground and his smile fell. 

“We’ve found it!” John cheered. His voice got quieter as he noticed the tension between Y/N and Sherlock had not been solved. 

Sherlock sighed in defeat before walking out of the store. John waited for Y/N, before walking out after Sherlock. The two of them step outside the door and see the same woman from before. She was still wearing the sunglasses from before. Slowly the woman raised her phone at them. Y/N stepped forward to get a better look but John pulled her back before a passerby knocked into her. 

“Careful there, Y/N,” John said. 

Y/N thanked him and looked back to where the woman stood. She was gone. Y/N frowned. John looked ahead at Sherlock who was pacing down the street. 

“Come on, Y/N.” He tugged at her jacket and the two of them set off after Sherlock. 

__________

The three of them were now sitting at the restaurant across from The Lucky Cat. John and Sherlock sat at a table together, and Y/N found an empty table which she took for herself. As far away as she could get from Sherlock, while still being able to see them and the shop. 

Sherlock glared at the empty seat between him and John before he yanked a napkin off the table. Pulling out a pen he wrote profusely on the surface. From what John could see, Sherlock was attempting to translate the number system. 

“What did you do? I’ve never seen her this furious with you,” John said. 

Sherlock scoffed before glancing over his shoulder to look at the woman of the hour. 

She sat in her seat and happily ate away at some dumplings. Occasionally, she’d chat with the waiter or a fellow restaurant guest. Most of which were fawning over her ability to commune in Mandarin. 

“Sherlock,” John grunted.

“I don’t know!” He yelled. A few of the guests around them turn their heads at Sherlock’s outbreak. 

“I don’t know. We were on the bus and she got mad at me for…” Sherlock’s eyes widened as he spoke. “I left you.” 

John rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “You just now realized that. Really, Sherlock?!” John began to laugh. It started light, then grew deeper and louder. “World’s only consulting detective and you just now noticed you left me behind?”

Sherlock stared blankly at John until his laughter died down. 

“Alright,” John said, regaining his composure. “Two men travel back from China. Both head straight for the Lucky Cat emporium. What did they see?” 

“It’s not what they saw; it’s what they both brought back in those suitcases,” Sherlock stated. 

“And you don’t mean duty-free,” John noted. 

A waitress appeared behind Sherlock, holding a steaming plate of dumplings. She carried it over to Y/N’s table. The woman was surprised and shook her hands. The waitress leaned down and whispered in her ear before pointing over to John. John refocused his gaze. The waitress was pointing at Sherlock. Y/N looked up. Her eyes landed on Sherlock, and then she spoke to the waitress.

It wasn’t long before that same waitress approached John’s table. She placed the plate of dumplings in front of Sherlock. 

“She doesn’t want them.” The waitress stated. She shook her head in disappointment and walked off. 

John gasped. He looked from the food to Sherlock. Then his eyes moved from Sherlock to Y/N. He laughed. “Good luck, Sherlock. Doubt she’ll forgive you anytime soon.” 

Sherlock’s grip on his pen tightened. “You try. I’m sure she’ll talk to you. You’re her husband after all,” he sneered. 

John leaned in close to Sherlock. “Are you…jealous?” The great Sherlock Holmes, jealous of John Watson? What a day this was turning out to be. 

“Of course not.” Sherlock spat a little too quickly. 

John’s eyes narrowed on his friend, looking him up and down. He chuckled lightly to himself. “She’ll forgive you. You just have to show her you mean it.” John replied. “Just don’t throw her over your shoulder again.” 

Sherlock nodded his head taking in John’s words. “Enough about Y/N. Think about what Sebastian told us; about Van Coon – about how he stayed afloat in the market.”

“Lost five million …” John began. 

“... made it back in a week.” Sherlock finished. “That’s how he made such easy money.”

“He was a smuggler!” John exclaimed.

The dumplings meant for Y/N were no longer steaming. John picks up his fork and sticks it in the golden exterior before plopping it in his mouth. 

“A guy like him – it would have been perfect. Businessman...making frequent trips to Asia. And Lukis was the same. A journalist writing about China. Both of them smuggled stuff out, and the Lucky Cat was their drop-off.” Sherlock said. 

“But why did they die? I mean, it doesn’t make sense. If they both turn up at the shop and deliver the goods, why would someone threaten them and kill them after the event, after they’d finished the job?” John questioned. 

Sherlock leaned back in his chair. His eyes pursed in thought as if he was a cat going into stalk mode. 

“What if one of them was light-fingered?” He mumbled.

“What d’you mean?” John asked mid-bite. 

“Stole something; something from the hoard.” 

John nodded his head following Sherlock's gist. “And the killer doesn’t know which of them took it, so he threatens them both. Right.”

Sherlock looked across the street. His gaze flew up and then back down. John watched as his blue eyes subtly darted in Y/N’s direction before returning to the table. 

“Remind me ...when was the last time that it rained?” Sherlock asked. Without waiting for John to reply, Sherlock stood up from his seat and excused himself from the restaurant. John sighed. He looked at the dumplings and Sherlock’s retreating figure. He looks at Y/N, who nods in understanding. Dutifully, the two of them leave the restaurant and follow after Sherlock. 

______

Y/N sighed as she trudged back over to The Lucky Cat. Sherlock sat crouched over a package in front of someone’s apartment to the right of the store. He was running his hands over the wet plastic surface and the exposed yellow pages. 

“Sherlock, what are you doing,” heaved Y/N. “John and I were enjoying a perfectly good dum…”

“It’s been here since Monday,” Sherlock stated, cutting Y/N off. 

He straightened up and stared at the woman. “You can go back to your dumplings. John and I have no use for you anymore.” 

Y/N scoffed. “Right, 'cause that’s why I couldn’t leave for a date with my boyfriend.” 

Sherlock grimaced. “You said you were done with me for the day. So am I.” 

“Fine. I’m leaving.” With a turn of her heel, she began to march away. Sherlock rolled his eyes and caught her wrist, pulling her back. 

“I thought you said you have no use for me.” She said glaring at his hand wrapped around her wrist. 

Y/N looked towards John. “Want to help me out here?”

He just shook his head. 

“Alright!” Sherlock was exasperated. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” She urged. 

“What?” 

“What are you sorry for?” 

“I…” Sherlock glanced at John for some help. “I don’t know.”

“Sherlock the great Holmes doesn’t know,” She exclaimed sarcastically. Sherlock just looked at her with pleading eyes. Y/N’s jaw clenched as she looked to the side. “Fine. You still owe me an actual apology, the same goes for John.” 

Sherlock reluctantly released her wrist, still scared she’d run the minute he’d let go. When she stood her ground, he smiled to himself before buzzing the doorbell to the apartment they stood at. 

Ring. There was no answer. Ring. Sherlock buzzed the bell again. There was no sound. No movement behind the door. Nothing. 

“No one’s been in that flat for at least three days,” confidently stated Sherlock.

“Could’ve gone on holiday,” John suggested. That was a normal thing people did, something Sherlock wasn’t particularly fond of. 

“D’you leave your windows open when you go on holiday?” Sherlock asked. Y/N shook her head. 

Then Sherlock darted to the side and entered an alleyway. He was approaching the back of the building. Trash and litter were scattered all over the street. Most of it was brushed to the sides, making it easier for the three of them to navigate through. 

Sherlock came to a halt and looked up. Above him was a silver-tinted metal fire escape. There were small signs of rust in the corners where the steps met the sides of the ladder. Sherlock looked behind him and backed up like a runner preparing for a head start. Then he dashed forward, jumped up, and reached the ladder, successfully yanking it down to the ground. He begins to climb the ladder, leaving John and Y/N behind, still amazed as to how he had the agility to pull off such an act. 

John stepped forward to grab onto the ladder as Sherlock stepped inside the apartment. The ladder shot out and sprang back up into place. It now towered over John and Y/N just out of reach. 

“Sherlock!” John yelled. He turned to Y/N, “I’m heading to the front, hopefully, this time he’ll let us in.”

Y/N nodded before looking back up at the ladder. She was sure she could reach it, however, she wasn’t as tall as Sherlock, so she’d really have to jump. 

“I’m going to see if I can get the ladder back down,” Y/N explained. “If not I’ll meet you at the front.” 

John looked at his friend and then at the ladder. “You can try,” He murmured before leaving Y/N in the alley. 

Like Sherlock, Y/N looked behind herself. She walked back and stood a few feet farther than where Sherlock began. She took a deep breath and glanced up at the ladder. There was a part of her determined to do anything Sherlock could do, and then there was another part that told her she’d fall flat on the ground. Y/N looked around one last time. If she did fall, at least there wouldn’t be any spectators. 

Then, she darted towards the latter, jumping at the last second. Her arms reached their full extent. Her hand came in contact with the bottom step of the ladder. Upon feeling the cold wet surface, she closed her hands and yanked down the ladder with as much force as she could muster. 

When the ladder hit the ground with a thud, she cheered aloud and called out to John, but he was too far away to hear her. Y/N shrugged and began to climb up the steps and into the apartment after Sherlock. 

_______

Sherlock successfully climbed through the window and plopped down into the kitchen. It was well-kept. Dishes were put away. As Sherlock stepped further into the room, his ears processed a thud, quickly shot his hand out to grasp the falling vase before it hit the floor. After carefully putting it back down, Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. There was a dark spot on the rug exactly where the vase would have fallen. His eyes widened. 

“Someone else has been here!” He called out the window. His eyes were still glued to the wet spot on the carpet. 

Then, Sherlock trod carefully around the room. His eyes bounced off the walls like a ball, as he muttered to himself. “Somebody else broke into the flat and knocked over the vase just like I did.”

His feet took him into the kitchen, where he found the washing machine. The door hung slightly ajar and was filled to the brim with clothing. Sherlock grabbed an article of clothing before giving it a sniff. He crinkled his nose and plopped the shirt back into the machine. 

There was a buzzing from downstairs. The doorbell, Sherlock noted. 

“D’you think maybe you could let me in this time?!’ John shouted from outside. His voice sounded muffled through the walls. 

Sherlock ignored his friend’s request as he tip-toed around the rest of the room. 

Outside the flat, John sighed. He took notice of Y/N’s absence. If she did find a way in, she’d let him in, John thought. However, until then, he’d keep yelling at Sherlock. John lowered his head to the letter slot in the door, creaked open the tiny entrance, and in his loudest voice called out to Sherlock. 

“Can you not keep doing this, please?” John pleaded.

Sherlock was now sifting through the fridge. His eyes land on a pint of milk. He took it out, gave it a sniff, and coughed from the pungent smell before slamming it back into the fridge. 

“I’m not the first!” He called out to John again. 

“What?” Y/N asked. 

Sherlock jumped out of his skin. Her voice so quietly sneaked up behind him. He whipped his head around to find her sitting on the window ledge. She was still trying to swing one of her legs into the room. Sherlock sighed in relief. 

“Somebody’s been in here before me.” He repeated. He watched as her face squinted in determination, finally entering the apartment. She was out of breath. Her face was red from the exercise. She stepped forward and Sherlock’s eyes darted to the vase. “Watch out for…” It was too late. The vase fell to the floor. “The vase.” 

Y/N winced at the noise. “Sorry.” She whispered to him. 

“What are you saying?!” John yelled again. The two of them couldn’t hear him. 

As Y/N placed the vase back onto the table, Sherlock retrieved a magnifier from his pocket examining a footprint he noticed on the floor. The intruder had left a scuff mark and from the size of it, Sherlock determined it belong to a size eight foot. 

Outside on the street, John groaned his head thudded against the door. With the noise of the street, he couldn’t make out anything Sherlock had said. John peaked around the corner of the building and found Y/N to be missing. She was inside, he thought. John, rejuvenated with energy began to push at the doorbell. 

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. 

“That’ll be John,” muttered Y/N. She pushed by Sherlock and walked through the beaded curtain. Sherlock followed her. 

“Where are the stairs?” She whispered to herself as she walked back through the apartment. 

Sherlock had occupied himself with other footprints he had found on the floor. His steps followed closely to where the intruder had stepped. 

“Small, but ... athletic,” Sherlock murmured. He passes by a table and sees a framed photo. He straightened up and peered down at the photo. 

There were two small children- a young boy and a girl. They sat next to each other, smiles as wide as their small faces would go. Sherlock turned the photo to the light and caught a glimpse of a handprint. It was placed over the young girl in the photo. 

“Small, strong hands,” Sherlock noted. 

“Sherlock,” Y/N called. “Where are the stairs? I going to go let John inside.”

“Just to the left of the bedroom,” he said. Y/N nodded and left to go and let John inside. 

Sherlock glanced around the room one last time. His eyes landed on the open window in which he came through. 

“Our acrobat,” Sherlock frowned. “But why didn’t he close the window when he left ...?” 

Sherlock stopped. He could hear Y/N’s steps retreating down the stairs. Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Oh, stupid. Stupid. Obvious. He’s still here!” He exclaimed.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a folding screen. It was ornately decorated and had a few stray clothing items hung over it. It stood next to the bed in the bedroom. Sherlock’s eyes never left the screen as he pocketed his magnifying glass and stalked toward the screen. He reached out his right hand bringing it closer and closer to the screen. His fingers met wood and he yanked it back. He pursed his lips at the sight of two stuffed animals. They stared directly into his eyes.

Suddenly, there was a flash of white and Sherlock could no longer breathe. The intruder had collided with a long white scarf around Sherlock’s neck, squeezing it tightly. Sherlock fumbled as he tried to fight his opponent. The two of them backed into the wall.  

____

Y/N had found the stairs with ease and was making her way down, step-by-step. She had heard Sherlock mutter something as she walked down but ignored it. John heard her steps down the stairs. 

“Any time you want to include me,” John said. 

“Coming,” She sang as she reached for the lock. 

“Y/N!” John cheered. He heard one lock release. 

As Y/N began to unlock the second lock on the door, she heard a thud from above. Then more sounds. 

Her eyes widened. 

“Sherlock!” Y/N squeaked. She only heard more muffled banging. 

“Y/N?” John questioned. “What’s wrong?”

Immediately she ran back up the stairs. John only heard her vacating footsteps and groaned again. 

“Perfect. Left again,” John grumbled to himself.  He waved his hands in a mocking manner, his voice impersonating Sherlock’s. “No, I’m Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone because no one else can compete with ...”

John stormed to the letterbox and flipped it open.  “... my MASSIVE INTELLECT!”

____

Sherlock’s vision was dimming as his lungs fought for air. His hands fell just short of the attacker behind him. His attacker swung him to the side, allowing Sherlock to see a glimpse of Y/N. Her eyes widened at the scene in front of her. 

Sherlock couldn’t voice any words, but he tried to tell her to stay back. He couldn’t let her get hurt. He had to protect her. He tried to hit his attacker, but he had no more strength. His eyes went dark, and he fell limp. 

The attacker released his hold on the scarf and took a step toward Y/N. Her back hit the wall behind her. Her body sank to the floor. Every inch of her skin trembled. In the distance, there was another buzz of the doorbell. The masked intruder stopped his approach and then darted towards the window. He leapt out and disappeared amongst the rooftops of Chinatown.

Y/N ran to the window and shut it with a slam. She tried to take in a deep breath but failed as soon as she remembered Sherlock. She ran over to Sherlock’s unconscious body and fell beside him. Her hands shook him awake. 

“Sherlock!” She cried. 

Sherlock’s lungs welcomed the air and his eyes regained focus and that’s when he saw her. Y/N now hovered over him. Her hands held his cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted and shaking. Her eyes held fear in them. She was afraid. 

His eyes softened at the sight of her. She’s okay, thought Sherlock. He tried to raise a hand to hold her but his body was too weak. His muscles now remembered what it was like to have a constant flow of oxygen. 

John buzzed the doorbell again. 

Suddenly, a tightness formed in the back of Sherlock’s throat. He quickly sat up and coughed. He tugged at the scarf from around his neck and cast it to the side. He tried to stand up but a wave of dizziness hit him. His arms clasped onto the nearest thing in order to steady himself. He felt a warmth cover his hand. He looked down and saw that he was holding onto Y/N. 

“Sherlock?” Y/N’s voice faltered. “Are you alright?”

He nodded his head. His voice still comes back to him. 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine,” Sherlock wheezed. He brought a hand to his chest. His blue eyes captured the sight of Y/N once again. “Don’t tell John.”

“But he’s a doctor, you should have him make sure you’re alright,” Y/N argued. 

“No. I don’t need John or anyone to worry over me. I’m fine.” 

___

Downstairs, John looked at his watch in annoyance. He shook his head and looked around. He very well considered leaving Sherlock and Y/N to their own devices. 

A few moments later, the front door swings open. John rolled his eyes in an exasperated expression. He glared at Sherlock. 

“The, uh, milk’s gone off and the washing’s starting to smell. Somebody left here in a hurry three days ago,” Sherlock croaked. 

John widened his eyes at his friend’s voice. It sounded like he was hit with a bad case of the flu and hung over from a night on the town. 

“Somebody?” John asked. He looked at Y/N who appeared behind Sherlock. His eyes made a motion as if he was asking what happened with Sherlock. 

Y/N acknowledged John but returned her gaze to Sherlock. 

John pursed his lips. Y/N was now looking at Sherlock. John looked closer at the two of them. He noticed how Y/N hovered close behind Sherlock. John concluded that the two of them made up in some way. His brown eyes trailed over Sherlock who was now adjusting the collar of his shirt. There were pink and red markings all over Sherlock’s neck.

“Soo Lin Yao. We have to find her,” Sherlock said. His hoarse voice broke John’s train of thought. 

Sherlock looked down at his feet and caught sight of something new. A white envelope. 

“But how, exactly?” John questioned. 

Sherlock picked up the envelope and turned it around. It read: 

___

SOO LIN, 

Please ring me and tell me you’re OK.

 Andy

NATIONAL ANTIQUITIES MUSEUM

____

Sherlock shoved the envelope in John’s hands. “Maybe we could start with this.” He coughed. 

“You’ve gone all croaky. Are you getting a cold?” John wondered. 

“I’m fine,” Sherlock muttered. 

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what the marks on your neck are telling me,” John mentioned.

Y/N's face went slack and Sherlock’s eyes pinched shut. John shot accusatory Y/N and Sherlock a look. 

Y/N blurted, “John, it’s not like that. Sherlock was st…”

“Y/N” Sherlock coughed. “Don’t.”

She lowered her eyes to the ground. 

“I’m fine, John,” Sherlock repeated. His voice slowly regained its composure. 

John looked between his friends one more time. There was something going on and he was determined to figure it out. John looked down at the envelope in his hands. He’d have to wait for answers, but until then, it appeared to John that the three of them would have to visit the Museum again. This time, John intended to not be left behind and caught red-handed.

____

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#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlock BBC #bbc!Sherlock #bbc sherlock #reader insert #x reader #sherlock reader insert #fem!reader x sherlock #john watson #Crime solving #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #sherlock holmes imagine #fanfic #the arbitrary lives of the occupants of 221b Baker Street #sherlock imagine #sherlock is sherlock #I AM SHERLOCKED #the blind banker #Sherlock x reader series #benedict!sherlock #bbc sherlock x you #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock x reader #john is suspicious #jealous sherlock

[pinkthick]

For the request fic:

4. repositioning the mistletoe because it annoys them

5. repositioning the mistletoe because they need MORE kisses

With BBC Sherlock Holmes x Reader

[Ngl, the #4 one made me laugh my ass off cuz it reminded me of Sherlock 🤣. Like he would canonly do this fr💀]

Hi. 🙃

I am aware that Christmas has long since passed, but I've had such a writer's block because of this request, and even now I'm not happy with how the fanfiction ended, but I hope you'll forgive me. I do, however, hope you enjoy it.🫶🏻🫶🏻

Where are the mistletoes?

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader

Sherlock Holmes & Mrs. Hudson & John Watson & Reader

Summary: Although your relationship with Sherlock is still relatively new and he still has a lot to learn about how people interact with one another, the two of you are beginning to understand each other better, even if Sherlock did believe that he should attach mistletoes so that he could kiss you whenever he wanted.

John began decorating the apartment an hour ago, but he didn't get much done. He wasn't sure how long the detective would be entertained by just trying to assist you in purchasing gifts for the others and items from Mrs. Hudson's shopping list that weren't really necessary for Christmas. Sherlock would soon understand what everyone was attempting, it was pretty obvious. Get him out of here so they can at least decorate this apartment for the holiday.

He abruptly halted what he was doing when he suddenly heard someone climbing the stairs. Mrs. Hudson opened the door while holding a little box and John abruptly let out a breath after realizing he had been holding it just moments earlier, feeling relieved that it wasn’t Sherlock.

“Oh dear, perhaps you should take a break. It is obvious that you won’t finish decorating anytime soon.” the elderly woman smiled somehow sadly at him.

“Well, if I had help from others, it would have been finished by now.” John spoke aloud in a harsh manner.

“Don’t hold that against me. I am the one doing all the cooking.” As Mrs. Hudson eventually set the box down on the couch and made her way outside, she stated in an irritated voice.

As he went to check what was in the package, John sighed. It was disappointing to decorate an apartment alone when it was supposed to be something you would do with your friends and family. However, he didn't have the right to snap at the poor woman because she had already accepted so many things Sherlock and he had done. But was it really that simple when you shared a home with Sherlock Holmes? But when it came to the detective, nothing was, in fact simple.

He was a little shocked by what Mrs. Hudson had brought him. But not in a bad way. The box was filled with mistletoes. Even though he had no idea how she could have obtained this, he knew better than to question her. He could take one or two, they wouldn’t hurt anybody hopefully.

He grabbed one and walked up to Sherlock's armchair, but before he hopped on it, John placed a newspaper over it since he didn't want Sherlock to become upset that he climbed on it while wearing his shoes. Only the great detective could do that since it was his chiar. He could be such a drama queen sometimes, but that’s just how the young Holmes is.

He took the tape from the small table and the doctor lifted the mistletoe over his head and eased it up to stick it on the ceiling. As he climbed down and took the newspaper in his hands, he wrinkled it as he threw it in one of the small trash cans. Might as well get rid of the evidence, right?

Perhaps he could hang one more right at the door? Even though it was a bad idea, nobody could have stopped him. He managed to climb on a small chair, but attaching it to the ceiling was a little bit more difficult. He did lose his balance once, but it undoubtedly didn't seem to stop him.

Although he was pleased with himself, John felt as though he would never be able to finish decorating this apartment as he once more glanced out the window and noticed that the Christmas tree was still slightly blank. He went to begin decorating it once more after retrieving the box of decorations.

The grocery store isn’t a place you would normally consider crowded. It's rather easy to get in and out of aisles without having to weave through threads of people, but Christmas was coming up and everyone was buying food like there was no tomorrow. It didn’t matter that they would have throw out half of the food when the holidays are over.

Sherlock worked very hard to keep himself entertained since he didn't want to be a burden to you. He scrutinized everyone who passed him, looking for even the smallest detail that wasn't even really significant in order to infer something about their life. The seconds were flying by, and he was beginning to grow increasingly bored and everyone knew that Sherlock Holmes should never grow bored. He was perplexed as to why fewer crimes occurred over the holidays. It didn't matter whether anyone died during them. A crime was a crime, as if the killers would receive acclaim if they avoided killing around orthodox holidays. The way regular people thought was so bizarre to him.

He watched you as you read the list Mrs. Hudson provided you while growing increasingly impatient as he struggled mightily to come up with something he ought to do. He snatched it from you against his better judgment since he didn't want to be here anymore, eliciting a startled gasp from you.

“Sherlock!” You said as you turned to follow the detective.

"I feel that if I stay here any longer, my brain will rot. You can attempt to keep me outside the building all you want; I don't care. The sooner we leave, the better.” He gave an explanation as he started to select the items Mrs. Hudson had written.

“Was it really that obvious?” You asked in a defeated tone while attempting to match his pace.

He slowed down and nodded briefly as he gave you a faraway "yes" while turning his head away from you and looking ahead. You weren't surprised, but you were a little let down. Well, you did know who you were dating.

As he started to make is way straight to the baking aisle, you were a little held back by other people. It’s not that it was that hard to pinpoint where the detective exactly was, thanks to his height, but somehow you couldn’t see him. Just then someone slipped his hands into yours and you glanced up, seeing Sherlock.

“If we want to get home sooner, it would be beneficial if you didn’t get lost. It would take some time to find you.” He said as you felt his fingers thighten around your hand.

As you allowed yourself to be dragged by him, you grinned a little. Maybe you should text John to let him know you'll be home sooner than expected.

While listening to Christmas music and halfway through decorating the tree, the doctor was unaware that the door had been opened.

Even if you did send him a text, it wasn't very effective because he didn't see it. In addition to the music playing through the entire apartment, John left his phone in the kitchen and set it to mute. He couldn't really do much at this point, especially since both of you had returned.

You initially went to Mrs. Hudson and left her the grocery bags, saying you would return to assist her as soon as you had left the gifts upstairs. Maybe, just maybe, you were interested in Sherlock's reaction as well, hoping that he wouldn't act out as he did the year before.

For a short while, the detective remained silent, and you were staring directly at him while he examined the entire apartment. You weren’t sure if he had any issues with the decorations or not.

"Why is this parasite hanging over my chair?" he asked at that same moment.

Yup, there it was.

Swiftly approaching it, Sherlock snatched it off the ceiling and dropped it into the trash. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed how you and John were looking at him.

"You and Y/N were just standing under the mistletoe moments ago," John said as he observed the detective's devastation. How could he fail to notice something that was right in front of him?

Your boyfriend wasn't even concerned about what it truly meant as you walked over to him; instead, he was only pondering on how he hadn't been able to notice the mistletoe at the entrance the first time. He was startled out of his reverie when you rose to your tiptoes and gave him a swift kiss, noticing a hint of pink brightening your cheeks.

“What was that for?” He asked bewildered

“You are familiar with the tradition, right?” You looked at him while chuckling slightly as he didn’t know what to say.

Given that Sherlock Holmes believed his brain to be similar to a hard drive, it only made sense to store useful information there. He didn't think the customs of Christmas would be useful after all.

“John, see if you can make him help you, I’ll go aid Mrs. Hudson.” You said while also leaving the flat.

As John began to assemble some candy canes on the tree, the doctor did not even make an attempt to persuade him to assist him. It appeared as though he was actually looking at the Grinch. He didn't understand why Sherlock was so opposed to anything that was Christmas-related.

John continued to embellish it with globs and some lights but the detective suddenly disturbed the comfortable silence. “Where are the mistletoes?”

Sherlock would occasionally come across you throughout the day, lead you somewhere where there was mistletoe, like outside the kitchen or the hall, and give you a short kiss before leaving you so he could clean the apartment. Even though you didn't understand what was going on with him, you would just resume helping Mrs. Hudson since you didn't want to question him.

He occasionally had you go where there was mistletoe hanging from the ceiling even after the guests arrived and the party started. This was the first time that the presence of other people didn't matter. Sherlock never kissed you in front of others, so you knew something was off. So, you began to ask yourself even more questions, even if you did know that you couldn't find your answers yet.

You didn't even have the courage to ask him what had actually happened today while you were lying in bed with him. Yes, Sherlock would typically behave strangely, but not in that way. And that kept you up.

You have a routine of rising late at night to get a glass of water. Really nothing out of the ordinary for anyone, but because you were having trouble falling asleep, Sherlock realized that something wasn't right.

You were being held by the detective in a soft yet firm manner. Unaware that he wasn't even sleeping, you made an effort to escape his grasp. Just then Sherlock Holmes' anxious voice suddenly reverberates through the empty space. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, don't worry. Just want a glass of water.” The detective eventually let go of his hold on you. He just realized how big of an impact you had already had on his life as he saw you discreetly stand up and leave the room. Now that he was accustomed to your touch, being alone didn't feel right. It's strange to consider that he reacted negatively when you originally suggested cuddling.

He began to wonder what was keeping you up at night and somehow came to certain conclusions without knowing if they were true. As he lifted his head to look at you, Sherlock must have been too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice when you entered the room.

“Is everything all right?” As you once more get onto the bed and sit next to him, you inquire.

“You have a question, don’t you?” He states bluntly as he wraps his hands around you again. “So let’s have it.”

“What was up with you today?” You asked as you tilted your head slightly.

“I am— not quite following Y/N.” He says unsure as he changes his position, allowing you to get closer to him.

“The mistletoes?” You ask as Sherlock becomes more rigid “They were everywhere today.”

“I should have asked you if I could kiss you, right? I’m sorry. I thought that I could do it without asking for consent if I used the mistletoes.” He says quietly.

“What?” You chuckle a little, which only confuses the great detective further. Despite his brilliance, it was obvious that he still had a lot to learn about emotions and interpersonal relationships.

"I don't—"

"Sherlock, you don't have to ask me every time you want to kiss me. We are a couple. We didn't snuggle like this before, but we do now because it's pleasant for both of us. You don’t need my consent for some things and that includes kissing for me.” You explain as Sherlock brings you closer to him.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.” You informed him as he nodded and silently uttered ‘oh’

For a while, neither of you said anything, but then Sherlock probes once more: "But are you really sure that you are fine with it?"

You stayed quiet beside him and the detective raised a hand to your nose. Of course, now was when you fell asleep.

His eyes rolled under his eyelides as he rolled over. “Goodnight, Y/N” he murmured, aligning his arm over the curve of your side. “And Merry Christmas..”

Tagging list: @rhasima @fictional-hooman @so-this-is-a-thing-noww @bumblebee0609 @vynrichtermybeloved @xx-sonofabitch-xx @realityisadamnlie @friendlydemon @sleutherclaw @k1mikoz @spadequeen22 @justanotheromen @kh-aii @paola-carter @alahmorah @quesowakanda @jyessaminereads @harukaaaaa172993 @whiteboycarlgallagher @couldntbedamned @marebare21 @scar-lett-mess @lokiethar @chorraich

#sherlock x fem!reader #sherlock fandom #sherlock x you #sherlock bbc #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #sherlock fanfic #bbc sherlock #john watson #mrs hudson #sherlock x y/n #sherlock reader insert #sherlockbbc

[a-cup-of-earl-grey-please]

Masterlist

I take requests in a lot of fandoms, but this is what I have so far!

Fluff - 💗

Angst - ⛈

Humor - 😎

Suggestive Themes - ❤️

Smut - ❤️‍🔥

Sherlock BBC

Sherlock x Fem!Reader

Beg For Forgiveness ⛈ ❤️

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

Mastermind (Songfic) 💗 😎

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

Sincerity 💗

(Could be read as a prequel to Beg For Forgiveness, but mostly a standalone.)

Your boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes realizes you are feeling insecure— how does he remedy it?

In Progress

(Titles and details may change. Listed in no particular order!)

Bookish Delights ❤️‍🔥 or ❤️ (Remus Lupin x Slytherin!Reader)

Library shenanigans. Inter-dorm dating feels awkward at Hogwarts, but Remus and you are determined to make it work. And it works maybe a bit too well.

Are You Kneeling? 😎 ❤️‍🔥 (Loki x Fem!Reader)

6-Chapter-Long Series: Five times Loki kneels before you and one time you kneel before him.

The Greatest Wingman 😎 💗 (BBC John Watson x Gender Neutral!Reader)

Sherlock is annoyed. Why don’t you two just talk to each other? He decides to make you two acknowledge your feelings once and for all — in an aggressive way.

#earl's cup of tea #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x fem!reader #bbc sherlock #masterlist #oneshot #fluff #reader #reader insert #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #john watson x reader #john watson fluff

[iamsherlocked1479]

Thats not how I'd do it: Chapter 5

Chapter 5

“Hoo hoo.” Mrs hudson knocked on the door, popping her head around the corner missing you pull your skirt down in frustration.

“Aunt Martha!” you exclaimed hugging her tightly 

“y/n you’re all sweaty are you okay?“ Mrs hudson asked wiping your brow with her hanky

“Yes i just came back to change, too warm for these clothes. Plus I had a noise complaint.” you look over to Sherlock who rolled his eyes and slumped into his seat.

“So somebody was complaining about my boredom?” he moaned

“No i think it was more of the gun and-

“My Wall!” Mrs hudson yelled “this will be coming out of your rent mister.” she wriggled her finger at Sherlock who smiled forcefully watching her mutter as she walked downstairs.

“Could have gone worse.” Sherlock smirked, you rolled your eyes and grabbed your bag ready to go back to university. “What? Now you're mad at me too. Get over it, its a wall.” he exclaimed

“I'm not mad at that.” you huffed 

“Then why?!” sherlock asked utterly oblivious

“Maybe because you-” you paused Bumping into Greg in the doorway.

“Please, continue. don't let me interrupt.” He held his arms up and looked over to Sherlock who held his fingers in a triangular shape pressed against his lips.

“You have a case for me.” Sherlock stated. “Sit, I'm bored out of my mind.” You rolled your eyes but held off on leaving, curious to know what the case was.

“Jim Moriarty” Greg sighed, throwing a letter addressed to Sherlock onto the coffee table. Sherlock shot out of his seat taking the letter to examine it. He held the paper above a light looking for anything that could be a danger. He tore into it like a child opening a Christmas present, reading it aloud.

“Dear Sherlock, as you can clearly see I'm back. I look forward to our toying. This time I think I’ll play one of my favourite games. It's going to be a blast.” Like clockwork a loud boom rumbled down the street shattering the windows Gregs protective policeman nature towered over you blocking the shards of glass from hitting you. 

“Well isn’t this exciting.” Sherlock coughed wafting the dust from the air. You and Greg turned to him scowling at the mess his words had created, the sounds of sirens echoed closer, from the sounds of it luckily no one had been harmed. 

“You need to find him so we can put him behind bars.” Greg shouted before rushing to the street to help the other officers. 

“I think its best if you return to your studies y/n that paper won't write itself, dust yourself before you go.” Sherlock smiled, patting you back before taking his coat and swiftly leaving. Your eyes scanned the room looking at the rubble before focusing on the upturned desk.

“No no no!” You rushed to the chair pushing it aside, your laptop lay crushed and cracked there was no saving it. You threw it aside angrily, all your work, all your writing. Gone, for fuck sake Sherlock better stop Moriarty before you find him yourself. You had nothing else to do but go back to university, you stepped over more rubble out on the street and got into a passing cab.

“Where to love?” The cab driver asked

“Westminster university please.” The traffic was bad, the firework display on Baker Street hadn’t helped, thanks jim. Your eyes got bored of watching the endless crowds of people pointing towards the explosion sight, so you fixated your view on the screen in the cab. It was playing the crappy shopping channels your aunt liked, not interesting at all.

“back to the windows I guess” you recognised every turn, the journey was the same every day 10 minutes, 20 on busy days. Right, left and right again. A simple task.

“Y/n” 

“What did someone say my name?” Probably not if you're a university student, sleep is not a friend.

“Y/n?!” 

“Okay that time I definitely heard something.” You eyes averted to the screen, 

“oh god is that? Moriarty?!” His face covered the whole screen, smiling and laughing at your shock.

“Good afternoon y/n, i hope you’re ready to play my favourite game.” His voice wormed through the cab.

“Can we pull over please, I want to get out.” You called the driver, he didn’t look back, it's like you didn’t even exist. Then it happened, right then left and then right. He took the wrong turn, panic flooded your body, this wasn’t the way and the most dangeman in the country, maybe even the world, had locked you in his cab.

“Don't mind Fabio over there, he’s just taking you to the first venue. I hope you're ready to be the star of my favourite game. See you there.” The screen turned to black and the cab pulled over to a rusted old warehouse.

“Out.” The driver opened the door and demanded your exit. You cowered in the cab frozen with fear, the driver sighed and pulled a gun tucked in his belt. “Now”

“Okay okay.” You weren’t stupid, scared but not stupid. You climbed out the cab hesitantly, scanning your surroundings. The driver pulled your bag from your hands “hey!” You called turning to him. 

His arm was fast, striking your head knocking you unconscious, the last thing you saw was a new figure standing over you. Everything faded to black.

…….......................................................

“John, I'm so glad you decided to finally join me.” Sherlock patted john on his back sarcastically.

“You barged into my office demanding it was an emergency, I couldn’t exactly ignore it.” John did his usual complaining 

“Don't use the, i was working excuse. This is you work and quite frankly I believe you missed it.” He chuckled walking into the Diogenes Club. 

“You’re right, why are we here?” He gestured to the posh men all sitting in armchairs in silence.

“Here to meet me I assume.” Mycroft appeared from a hallway gesturing for the men to follow him. 

“Brother.” Sherlock said irritatedly, slumping himself into an armchair. “I assume you know why we’re here.” Mycroft shuffled in his seat and cleared his throat. “What is it?” Sherlock asked curiously 

“It appears Moriarty has found your weaknesses brother.” He said turning his laptop towards Sherlock, John laughed out loud 

“You really think this man has a weakness, unless its questions on the earth orbiting the sun. I think we’re okay.” 

“Mycroft, unless you’re just wasting our time, I suggest you elaborate on my enemies' lies.” Sherlock complained, pulling his triangular fingers to his chin. Mycroft rolled his eyes and pressed play.

“Sherlock, Sherlock what a blast this really is going to be, ha ha did you enjoy my joke letter i know i did. Now lets begin Level one, damsel in distress. Recognise this beautiful girl. Of course you do” the screen cut to a recording of y/n pulling Sherlock into her room.

“What is this?” John asked

“Now I know what you’re thinking, John, if you’re there. what?! Sherlock popped his cherry ugh why couldn’t it have been me! Well sorry but it appears y/n hear stole the show. The camera zoomed in on an unconscious you, head slumped tied up in a chair. Sherlock exhaled angrily.

“Brother, this is what happens when you get caught up in human emotions.” Mycroft said smugly

“Shut up let him finish.” Sherlock shouted

“Stay tuned for episode one Sherlock, let the games begin.” The screen turned to black and Sherlock turned to John.

“Help me find her.”

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

A/N: Yay! finally posted another chapter, i can tell you now people are really gonna love what i have install for this or hate it, i know i love it and i think it will be good but i'll leave that up to the tumblr critics as always if u wanna be tagged coment, if you wanna suggest anything or want a fic writing comment and most of all enjoy :)

M xx

#sherlock x fem!reader #jim moriarty #mycroft holmes #dr john watson #bbc sherlock #Spotify

[fallingforunrealisticromance]

Hold me - Sherlock x fem!reader

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

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2156

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

Requests

Prompts

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sherlocks brow furrowed. “Why are you sorry?”

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

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

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

“Hmm?” He mumbled.

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

Sherlock stood up, brushing the dirt from his coat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You patted sherlocks shoulder.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah a bit.” He replied honestly.

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

“Y/n hi its Greg.”

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

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

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

“Well?” You prompted. “What’s wrong?”

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

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

Is john with you?” You asked.

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

“Hi y/n”

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

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

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

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

“My name?” You repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello.” He said gently.

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

“Hi.” You replied.

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

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

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

He smiled at you.

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

You were speechless.

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

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

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

“So can I-“ John’s voice interrupted.

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

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

Greg looked utterly baffled but didn’t question it.

“You do know I live here?” John said.

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

“Go.” He demanded.

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

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

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

“Are you sure-“

“Sherlock just kiss me.” You begged.

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

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

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

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

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

[inglourious-imagines]

practically begging for some george luz w/ enemies to lovers. everyone always writes amazing friends to lovers but there’s sm potential w e2l !!! love ur writing btw xx

Jokes on You (George Luz x Fem!Reader)

Requested by: anon

Summary: George Luz is a funny guy, there is absolutely no denying that. He likes making jokes, and he likes it even more when people laugh at them. So what happens when there comes a person who makes just as good jokes as George? Or maybe even better? Some enemies to lovers for y’all.

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @happyveday @order-of-river-phoenix @whoahersheybars @nixoninc

Warnings: like two swear words, angst in the form of Bastogne

A/N: I so suck at endings.

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Cracking jokes and making people laugh is George’s thing and his only, that’s how it’s always been. He is the funny guy in the group, that’s how he likes to define himself, the funny one. But to define is to limit and George has made the mistake of limiting himself to clinging to one particular personality trait, humour.

And then Y/N came along; about four months into the boot camp Y/N got reassigned from Dog Company to Easy Company for reasons no one knew, except for Lewis Nixon perhaps. George did not start hating her per say right from the moment he met her, but ever since she beat him to the joke when watching his favourite movie he’s strongly despised her. From then on, the feelings only got stronger; she’s always making the whole Company laugh, some of the jokes even on his account which George does not like one bit, hell she even managed to make Blithe chuckle that one day after D-Day.

Y/N had no idea what she triggered by her naturally jokester nature until she had to face a very pissed off George after she blabbed some joke about some actress and then a very pissed off George is the only kind of George she has had the privilege of meeting. The woman has pondered greatly about what she could have possibly done to anger the man so, but nothing came to mind and she soon gave up. George continued and stubbornly continues to be rude to her so she should only repay his “kindness”.

After Carentan, the word of Operation Market Garden is in the air and the Allies are particularly optimistic. Easy is in the pub, celebrating its successes in the war, while some reinforcements are trying to mingle. Y/N is watching it all from behind, the old breed not wanting to socialize with the newbies at all and sometimes the situations can get truly hilarious.

Somehow, in a few minutes, she finds herself behind a table with Luz, Malarkey, Muck and other three reinforcements who are just drinking up George’s story about his valour in Normandy. Her lips itch upwards from now and then, George’s drunkenness making it all the more amusing. Y/N can tell the new guys are impressed and somewhat terrified as well and one of them puts a pin on it when he asks Luz, “And what rank are you?”

The table sits in silence for a moment, for absolutely no one expected such question, not even the other reinforcements, then Malarkey and Muck burst out laughing, almost tipping over their beers.

Y/N chuckles, reaches over, and pats the guy’s arm. “Oh c’mon, it is Private!”

That absolutely finishes off Don and Skip, Skip eventually falls off his chair, the reinforcements are now laughing too; the mood slightly more friendly and at ease than before. Not for everyone though.

George is red to his ears, as he frowns. “The joke wasn’t that good. And it’s not even true.”

Donald is hiccupping now but manages to answer, “A- a bit c- corny, yes, but f-fucking b-brilliant.”

***

At this point the Company is divided into two parts only, one part bets on the two of them killing each other and the other parts bets on them fucking; which it will be is truly in the stars for George and Y/N are face to face again, both of them red in the cheeks from all the anger, both of them shouting some incoherent insults, and as Penkala has put it, “See? Honestly I can really see both happening. They will either kill each other or fuck, there is absolutely nothing in between.”

But then Market Garden happens, an underestimated operation, that leaves behind too many dead than it should and when all of Easy is boarded on trucks, retreating, the company is two people short.

Bull Randleman and Y/N Y/L/N.

The officers discuss what can be done, and despite all of the men wanting to go and save the two of the best soldiers in the company, they know they can’t. And exactly that is making George Luz lose his mind. He can’t really understand why he is so restless, anxious, and downright terrified throughout the whole night; he tosses and turns, he is not able to bring himself to close his eyes.

But then in the morning he sees Y/N on the jeep next to Bull and suddenly he feels like he could fly and go to Berlin and kill Hitler, just so he could see the carefree smile on her face.

It clicks in him just then, and Malarkey pats his shoulder. “So, you’ve finally figured it out, huh?”

George turns to him, confused. “What?”

Malarkey laughs, shaking his head, and says, “Don’t play dumb with me, you idiot, I saw it just now.”

As much as George would like to answer his friend, he truly has no idea what he is talking about, and when that dawns on Donald, he offers George a sympathetic smile.

“Okay, let me put your thoughts to words, ‘cause you’re such an oblivious idiot that you probably wouldn’t figure it out by the time this motherfucking war is over,” Malarkey continues, “you don’t hate her, do you, not really.”

It is not even a question, more of a statement, and George really wants to protest, more than anything, because it is ridiculous, right?

***

The plan to be home by Christmas isn’t really working out for the Allies but the soldiers of Easy Company have already forgotten about those false hopes, they aren’t the ones to be bothered with when you freeze your ass off in a foxhole in the middle of a forest where the trees blow up every now and then and the place becomes a tornado.

Y/N shares a foxhole with Muck and Penkala, the trio trying to lighten up their gloomy moods with laughter. But even Y/N is running out of jokes now, so when doc Roe runs up to them, asking for scissors, she’s more than happy to go look for them with him too, the need to stretch her stiff and frozen body overpowering her whole self.

She’s just a couple of meters away from her foxhole when another German artillery attack comes and the whole forest becomes a hurricane of explosions, splinters, and blood. The soldier throws herself to the ground, crawling her way, slowly, back to her foxhole, Muck and Penkala shouting something at her she can’t hear, encouraging her to hurry up.

Dirt is everywhere, she barely can see, she covers her ears and head with her hands as another hit comes; she continues right after the explosion, crawling, crawling, crawling.

Muck and Penkala are still shouting at her, she is getting closer; Y/N can hear another artillery attack coming but this time she doesn’t stop proceeding, she knows she has to get into the foxhole soon, so she keeps on pushing.

The explosion comes. Everything goes white for a moment. The pressure wave makes her stop moving, and she is forced to close her eyes and cover her head with her hands.

She opens her eyes. There is nothing.

Seconds ago, there were two people, now there is nothing, nothing left, not a single trace that there have ever human beings stood.

Y/N can’t bring herself to move, she stares blankly into the space before her, her limbs are stiff. But then some arms grab her body, she can hear someone shouting at her.

3 seconds. That’s all it takes her to get back. She holds on to George’s arms as they run together to another foxhole, jumping right in. He immediately brings her into his body, she wraps her arms around his torso instinctively, holding onto him so tight, her head resting on his chest. George shields her body from everything outside and when the bombing finally stops, they don’t let go of each other for another few moments.

It isn’t until a few years after the war and they are married to each other, when they finally talk about what happened that day in the forest of Bois Jacques, not a day sooner. Ever since then, their relationship has been changed, both very much aware of it, neither of them brave enough to bring it up just yet.

It is in Haguenau, where they finally share a conversation. George finds her on her own, behind some building, hiding behind some sacks, looking at the river. He throws a Hershey bar into her lap and when she looks up in confusion, he offers her a warm tired smile.

“What did I do to deserve the affection of the one and only George Luz?” she tries to crack up a joke and chuckles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. George knows Y/N is exhausted beyond words.

He sits down next to her, as he opens his mouth to say something, but he rethinks it in the last second and nothing comes out. They sit out there for a few minutes, sharing the silence and strangely enough, it feels nice. George finally does not feel the need to talk all the time, the need to prove himself funny or worthy of other people’s attention.

“Have you ever been to Rhode Island?” he suddenly blurts out, surprising himself and her at the choice of the question.

Y/N smiles, doesn’t ask why or what. “No, never.”

“Then come with me.”

This time she asks what.

“After the war I mean, come home after the war with me.”

“But- but, you-“ she stutters, her cheeks slightly red, “but you hate me.”

George chuckles at that and looks at her. She has bags under her eyes that are a bit bloodshot (she hasn’t slept much in the last few days), her hair is dirty from dirt and sweat, her face has several scratches and marks, his eyes finds the most visible one just below her left cheekbone (he recalls that day in Carentan when a piece of shrapnel hit her and the wound looked way worse then it actually was for she had blood all over her left side of face, freaking out silently has never been so hard – he hadn’t known at that time what will come). He has never seen anything to maddeningly and purely beautiful as her.

“I thought I did, a very long time ago,” he says, “but actually I never did. I don’t hate you. How could I?”

Y/N looks at him and through all the pain, horror, and grief, she feels peace. It surprises her.

And so she responds, “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I will come home with you. How could I not?”

#imagine #hbo war #fanfic #band of brothers #band of brothers imagines #george luz #band of brothers imagine #ronald speirs #eugene roe #lewis nixon #george luz x reader #george luz imagine #george luz oneshot

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

Burst of Color

Based on this request: Oh! Could we get a Mycroft Soulmate AU (fem!reader) but like Enemies-to-Lovers style? Soulmate Trope of first touch, world burst into color kind of thing?

Here you are! I apologize for the wait! *Familiar characters are NEVER mine!*

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Enemies-to-Lovers, Trapped Together, Angsty, slight fluff?

Pairings/Characters: Mycroft Holmes x fem!reader, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson.

Mycroft Holmes was cynical about quite a bit in life, but none so much as the idea of soulmates. The fact that one solitary touch could bind you to someone forever was utterly ridiculous. The idea of being so…enamored with someone simply because fate decided to put two people together was merely another waste of time by Mycroft's thinking. And what if that one person happens to be someone you cannot stand? Such as Mycroft and you.

          It wasn't that Mycroft hated you, exactly. He wouldn't waste time on such a thing. But the two of you often got on like oil and water. Two clashing personalities. You were merely another goldfish in a large school of them and Mycroft knew for a fact that you found him quite a "pompous arse". Those had been your exact words to him. If debating with you didn't thrill him so much, Mycroft would never interact with you at all. At least that's what he told himself until the day Sherlock requested his help with a case. And yours.

          "Why did I agree to this again?" you asked when Sherlock escorted both you and Mycroft to the crime scene. Or what he told you was a crime scene. "You agreed due to your insatiable curiosity, Y/N," Sherlock replied to your grumbled question. You rolled your eyes as Mycroft let you enter the room after Sherlock. "And because you didn't tell me your brother would be here," you muttered to Sherlock when you caught up to him. Sherlock didn't reply, instead choosing to head into another small room.

          Just outside the door, Sherlock stopped and gestured for you and Mycroft to enter first. "Sherlock, what is this?" Mycroft asked, testily. The older Holmes' answer came in the form of the door closing and locking behind you. You raced forward and tried the door. "Sherlock? Open the door!" you growled out. "I don't believe I will," came Sherlock's annoyingly smooth voice from the other side. You turned and gestured to Mycroft as if to say, "Will you do something about this?"

          "I'm afraid there is no reasoning with Sherlock once he's set his mind to something." You groaned a bit and mumbled something under your breath. Mycroft took notice of your body language. Contrary to how you were speaking, you weren't angry. Mycroft could tell. In fact, you seemed almost…nervous.

          "Any idea as to why your brother locked us in here?" you asked after a moment. Mycroft paused to think, only for another voice to float through the door. "We're tired of the two of you whingeing about one another! So you'll be locked until you can speak to each other without fighting or complaining."

          "Quite a brilliant idea from Watson, truly," Sherlock added to Watson's order. You took a deep breath and looked ready to ram the door down if necessary. "No need to be dramatic, Y/N," Mycroft said smoothly as he adjusted this tie.  You glared at him but opted to stay quiet this time. Instead, you took to pacing the room as your mind tried to work out a way to escape your current prison with the elder Holmes brother. Mycroft watched your grey form walk back and forth across the floor, your brows furrowed in concentration. It was actually quite adorable.

          "Do believe your incessant pacing will free us?" he asked, earning another glare from you. You stopped in front of him with your hands on your hips. "I don't see you doing anything to help," you retorted. Mycroft merely scoffed. "Sherlock and Doctor Watson will eventually grow tired of their game and will open the door. All we need to do is bide our time."

          For some reason, Mycroft's words seemed to anger you further. "Can you stop being so damn calm and calculated for once?! Show a little emotion, Mycroft. Your own brother is playing games with you. You can't tell me that doesn't annoy you at least a little." Mycroft let out a little laugh.

          "My dear, I am always annoyed with Sherlock in one way or another. You simply grow used to his antics and learn that it is best to let some things lie." You shook your head and turned to begin pacing yet again. "I just don't understand you Holmes men. I mean, really how-" Your sentence was cut short by you tripping over your own two feet. As if on instinct, Mycroft's arm shot out so he could grab you before your face could hit the floor. The moment his hand made contact, however, he nearly let you fall anyway.

          Where the world had been varying shades of grey before, it was now filled with colors so brilliant and vibrant, Mycroft almost needed to close his eyes against them. After a split second, he glanced down at you to find your eyes screwed shut like you were still anticipating your body landing on the floor.

          "Open your eyes," Mycroft ordered softly. You did and gasped when, Mycroft assumed, you saw your world was now in color too. Mycroft helped you to you to stand up straight. You let your eyes wander the room for a moment before they landed on Mycroft yet again. The two of you stared at one another for what felt like hours, just taking everything in.

          "This is…quite unexpected," Mycroft finally managed to say. You laughed softly. "That's a understatement. Of all the people, I never would have guessed you would be my soulmate. After all, I'm simply a goldfish, right?" Mycroft sighed, wishing he had cigarette right then and there.  "My dear Y/N…" You shook your head and stepped further away from him. "No. You hate me. I hate you. That dynamic works for us. It always has. This-This," you cut off with a sigh as tears formed in your eyes. "It's wrong," you managed to say after a moment.

          "And yet, it seems, it is true. You and I are soulmates," Mycroft finished your thought. You rolled your eyes. "You don't do attachment or sentiment, Mycroft. I crave it." You moved to try the door again. You needed to get out of there before you really did begin crying in front of Mycroft.

          "Y/N, have you ever taken a moment to consider that, perhaps, I have hidden the depths of my own emotions to shield myself from those around me that may hurt me? Contrary to your beliefs, I do in fact feel very deeply and while we do not often get along, I do not hate you. Knowing what I now do, I imagine it might well be impossible for me to do so."

          "But could you love me? Even platonically? I mean, really love me despite all my flaws?" you questioned intently. When Mycroft didn't answer, you nodded to yourself before approaching the door again. "Think about it, Mycroft. Take time and really think about what your heart is capable of when it comes to me. I'll do the same then we'll speak again."

          Mycroft watched as you knocked on the door again. "Sherlock. Please," you pleaded just loudly enough for the younger Holmes to hear. "I can." You froze at Mycroft's soft words, "I can love you. I am not an easy man to get along with, let alone to love, but you make me feel things I did not think possible. I fooled myself into believing that I didn’t want or need a soulmate. But I confess my life would be rather dull and lifeless without you in it."          

For a moment, you stayed silent. Then, a ghost of a smile appeared on your lips. "Thank you, Mycroft. I-I suppose there are worse people I could have as my soulmate. Sherlock comes to mind." Mycroft tried not to smile. Really he did, but he couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped his lips.

(a/n: I hope you like it! I'm a sucker for a Soulmate AU with as many tropes shoved in that makes sense as possible.)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @supernatural4life2022

Fandom Tags are OPEN!

Mycroft Holmes Tags: @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek

#bbc sherlock #soulmate au #mycroft holmes #mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft x reader #enemies to lovers

[ashthemadwriter-archived]

Characters reacting to their s/o squirting

Fandom:MultiFandom

Pairings: Various Characters x Fem!reader

Genre:Nsfw,smut,comedy

Format:idk what to call it =\

Warnings:NSFW Content

Word Count:163

A/n: since i love these dirty imagines so much,here you go :D

↬Planned it.wanna make you feel like a fucking queen who's his and only his.wants you to know that only he's able to give you this much pleasure,so when your legs start shaking and a huge amount of cum literally flies out of your wet pussy,they smirk and keep rubbing your clit until youre begging them to stop from overstimulation.

Haikyuu:Iwaizumi,Kuroo,Daichi,Sugawara,Tsukishima,Akaashi Bungou Stray Dogs:Dazai(ofc),Fyodor,Ranpo,Mori,Kouyou,Yosano,Nikolai,Jouno,Teccho The Case Study Of Vanitas:Vanitas,Roland Death Note:Light Yagami,Mello,L Lawliet Jujutsu Kaisen:Saturo Gojo,Suguru Geto Moriarty The Patriot:William Moriarty,Albert Moriarty,James Bonde,Sebastian Moran

↬Accidentally makes you squirt.it was unplanned,but you screaming from pleasure and your head falling back just makes them sooo proud of themselves.they wont tell you that tho,just make it look like they did it intentionally and they might even brag about to their friends lmao.

Haikyuu:Oikawa(this is literally him lol),Hinata(imagin him and his proud face),Nishinoya,Tanaka(the only reason these two are not in the next category is because they watch porn and knows what squirting is),Bokuto,Tendou,Kenma,Ushijima (the last two wont tell anyone but yeah) Bungou Stray Dogs:Atsushi(this bitch),Chuuya,Kunikida,Fukuzawa,Tachihara,Tanizaki,Gin,Higuchi,Kaji,Sigma Death Note:Near,Matsuda Jujutsu Kaisen:Yuji Itadori,Megumi Fushiguro Moriarty The Patriot:Louis Moriarty,Sherlock Holmes,John Watson

↬Freaking out.they think they broke you or something and now youre dying (lifes liquid is being sucked out of you lmfao) already on their way to call an ambulance when you tell em that youre fine,and explaine to them what had happened while trying to catch your breath.

Haikyuu:Kageyama(awww this clueless,hot guy),Asahi,Yamaguchi Bungou Stray Dogs:Akutagawa(my poor baby T^T) The Case Study Of Vanitas:Noe

I actually feel bad for myself cause i have to tag so many characters :')just dont freak out when you see the tags lmao-Ash

#bungou stray dogs headcanons #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd imagines #atsushi x reader #bsd aktugawa #bungou stray dogs #nakajima atsushi #atsushi headcanons #bungou stray dogs dazai #bungo stray dogs #bsd #atsushi nakajima #atsushi smut #chuuya x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #ryunosuke akutagawa imagines #akutagawa imagines #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa ryuunosuke #akutagawa ryunosuke #akutagawa #akutagawa ryuunosuke x you #akutagawa ryuunosuke x reader #akutagawa ryunosuke x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu angst

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

SHERLOCK MASTERLIST

*DISCLAIMER: SOME STORIES MAY BE TAGGED FOR WRONG DEMOGRAPHIC (ie, Not GN, male or fem) IF SO, PLEASE POLITELTY INFORM ME SO I CAN FIX IT

SHERLOCK HOLMES

Testing His Deductions (Sherlock X Fem!Reader)

High Pitched (Sherlock X Fem!Reader)

Saturn (Sherlock X Fem!Reader)

Why Not? (Sherlock X Fem!Reader) Pt 1/ Pt 2

Fell In Love (Sherlock X Fem!Reader) Pt1 Pt2

I'm Looking Right At Him (Sherlock X Fem!Reader) Pt 1/ Pt 2

My Own Personal Hero (Sherlock X Fem!Reader)

Deaf (Sherlock X Fem!Reader)

John's Little Sister (Sherlock X Fem!Reader)

We're Married (Sherlock X Wife!Reader)

Arms (Sherlock X Reader)

Low Risk (Sherlock X Teen!Reader)

Old Actions (Sherlock X Teen!Reader)

Bad Day (Sherlock X Teen!Fem!Reader)

Who's Getting Together (Greaser!Sherlock X Fem!Greaser!Reader)

Deducing A Deducer (Sherlock X Teen!Reader)

Past Resemblance (Sherlock X Teen!Reader) *TW

Uncle Locky (Sherlock X Niece!Reader)

Not Feeling Loved (Sherlock X Daughter!Reader)

Binder (Sherlock X Trans!Son!Reader)

Favourite Big Brother! (Sherlock X Baby!Brother!Reader)

MYCROFT HOLMES

A Friend In Need (Mycroft X Fem!Reader) *TW

Dirty Little Secret (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

Baby Sitter (Teen!Mycroft X Teen!Fem!Reader)

Falling In Love (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

You Love Me? (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

A Little Us (Mycroft X Wife!Reader)

Long Lasting Crush (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

Upstairs Neighbour (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

He Seems Nice (Moriarty X Fem!Reader)

Monsieur (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

You'll Be Alright (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

Secret Relationship (Mycroft X Moriarty!Fem!Reader)

Baby Holmes (Mycroft X Pregnant!Reader)

Personal Case (Mycroft X Reader)

I'll Be Your First (Mycroft X Reader)

Mycroft? (Mycroft X Reader)

Your First Time With Mycroft Holmes Would Include...

A Need For Attention (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader) Pt 1/ Pt 2

Honesty And Truth (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader)

Walk Away (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader)

Tattooed Skin (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader)

Still Proud (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader)

Tea Party (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader)

Affection (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader)

Babysitting (Child Mycroft X Baby!Reader)

JOHN WATSON

Mental Scars (John X Fem!Reader)

MORIARTY

Keep Her Safe (James Moriarty X Fem!Reader)

Unknowing Pawn (Moriarty X Holmes!Reader)

Based On Lies (Moriarty X Fem!Reader)

Expensive Flowers (Moriarty X Fem!Reader)

The Normal One (Moriarty X Holmes!Reader)

Sebby's Sister (Moriarty X Fem!Reader)

Excuse Me? (Moriarty X Fem!Reader)

Read You Like A Book (Moriarty X Reader)

Seven Nation Army (Mycroft X Reader)

View (Moriarty X Teen!Reader)

Moriarty Helping His Sister Through An Abusive Relationship Would -Include...

Moriarty Dating A Hobby Artist With Anger Issues Would Include...

Wanting Normalcy (Moriarty X Teen!Fem!Reader)

MULTIPLE

You Made Her Cry (John Watson X Sister Reader, Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

Her Revenge (Sherlock X Fem!Reader X Moriarty)

The Dress (Sherlock X Sister!Reader X Mycroft)

Like Her (Sherlock & Mycroft X Sister!Reader)

Newbie (Sherlock, John & Lestrade X Fem!Reader)

Fitting In With The Weirdos (Sherlock, Mycroft & John X Fem!Reader)

Drama Queens (Sherlock X Reader X Mycroft)

Not Part Of The Plan (Moriarty X Holmes!Sister!Reader X Moran)

Comparisons (Mycroft X Fem!Reader X Sherlock)

OTHER

Overprotective (Molly X Sister!Reader)

Happy Anniversary (Molly X Fem!Reader)

Spotting The Odd (Eurus Holmes X Teen!Fem!Reader)

Bonding Time (Eurus Holmes X Reader)

The Flirting Game (Lestrade X Fem!Reader)

#Sherlock #sherlock holmes #mycroft holmes #john watson

[softestqueeen]

✧*̥˚ masterlist *̥˚✧

most of my fics are x fem!reader (i subconsiusly have me in mind, makes sense) but you can request fics with different dynamics!

all of my fics can also be read on my ao3: @ softestqueeen

my masterlist for my specials! -> my specials are NOT on my regular masterlist!

please MDNI!! most of my content is for a mature audience only!

✧*̥˚ key *̥˚✧

❤️‍🔥 smut 🌸fluff ⛓️ hurt/comfort 🖤 dark ✍🏻 request

✧*̥˚ BBC Sherlock *̥˚✧

i can't do this anymore! ⛓️🌸

sherlock holmes x reader When Sherlock overhears you talking on the phone, he thinks you're going to leave him.

let the light in 🌸

sherlock holmes x reader After a particularly frustrating case, all the consulting detective needs, is closeness.

misty mornings 🌸

sherlock homles x reader feat. Mrs Hudson and John Watson When Sherlock Holmes awakes on his birthday, he doesn’t expect anyone to remember it. But of course, you do.

✧*̥˚ Marvel/mcu *̥˚✧

need to be closer ❤️‍🔥🌸

bruce banner x afab!reader You love your boyfriend Bruce Banner with all of your heart but sometimes you just don‘t feel close enough. So you decide to try something new...

when you come home to us, pretty boy... ❤️‍🔥

sub!steve rogers x dom/afab!reader x dom!buck barnes It was no secret that your relationship was kinky. Even though Steve has been pleasured by Bucky multiple times, he wants you to mark him. And who are you to turn such a good boy down?

i have an idea... ❤️‍🔥

sub!steve rogers x dom/afab!reader x dom!buck barnes On the first vacation with your boyfriends, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, you notice the shower with a glass wall into the bedroom and immediately know how to put it to good use…

let me teach you pt. 1 🌸

steve rogers x afab!reader x bucky barnes You are a literature professor at university and your boyfriends decide to pay you a visit and listen to one of your lectures.

let me teach you pt. 2 ❤️‍🔥🌸

steve rogers x afab!reader x bucky barnes You are a literature professor at university and your boyfriends decide to pay you a visit and listen to one of your lectures. When they join you at your office, things get a little out of hand…

slipping and gliding pt. 1 ❤️‍🔥🌸✍🏻

natasha romanoff x afab!reader When the Avengers spend a day at the local water park, you start to see a certain redhead in a different light. You’ve never had anything with a woman before, but Natasha doesn’t mind showing you what feels good.

slipping and gliding pt. 2 ❤️‍🔥

 natasha romanoff x afab!reader After what happened in the showers, you and Nat make a quick exit to move your fooling around to somewhere else…

natasha romanoff smut drabble

✧*̥˚ Call of Duty *̥˚✧

it's yours, princess ❤️‍🔥

simon “ghost” riley x reader x könig (cod) On a mission with König and Ghost you have to stay at a safe house. The only problem – there is only one bed.

my little flower pt. 1 ❤️‍🔥🖤🌸✍🏻

stalker!könig (cod) x reader You were just minding your business, planting some new flowers in your garden, when suddenly a (charming) man in a mask abducts you to use you for his pleasure. You are incredibly conflicted; the stranger seems to be kinda nice but also incredibly selfish at the same time.

my little flower pt. 2 ❤️‍🔥🖤✍🏻

stalker!könig (cod) x reader You were just minding your business, planting some new flowers in your garden, when suddenly a (charming) man in a mask abducts you to use you for his pleasure. You are incredibly conflicted; the stranger seems to be kinda nice but also incredibly selfish at the same time.

Slowly you’re getting used to living with the man that was slowly becoming more than just the man who abducted you. You’re also getting used to the different ways he’s using and abusing your body.

do you trust me, sweetheart? ❤️‍🔥🌸✍🏻

simon “ghost” riley x afab!reader After an unsuccessful mission, you notice how tense and stressed your colleague and friend Simon “Ghost” Riley is. When you ask him how you can help him relieve some stress, things take an unexpected turn…  

✧*̥˚ Haunting Adeline*̥˚✧

red roses and deadly promises ❤️‍🔥🖤🌸

zade meadows x fem!reader When your stalker, Zade Meadows, has to do some business out of town, someone new makes an unwelcome appearance. How will Zade react when someone tries to steal you away from him?

#ao3 #fluff #love #marvel #mcu #no y/n #reader insert #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #x reader #haunting adeline #stalker #possessive #good omens #gomens #good omens 2 #masterlist #drabble #one shot #series #cat/mouse duet #bruce banner #bucky barnes #steve rogers #zade meadows #z #call of duty #konig x reader #könig mw2 #könig x reader

[shiinata-library]

Not on the first date

Relationships: John Watson x Fem!Reader

Content: fluff, a little assault but John is here for you

Summary: “Imagine John Watson protecting you because you are the next target on a case they are working on, but then he falls in love with you” from here @thefandomimagine + fake dating

On AO3

Note: What am I doing in this fandom…? Sorry if I write inconsistencies. It's been a long time since I watched the series and maybe John will look a bit like Bilbo.

One rainy afternoon, you went to drink tea at 221b baker street with Mrs Hudson, a long friend of your mother. Apparently, she had forgotten her shawl the last time she came to your mother’s house, and you had to bring it back.

Expect that after the tea, Mrs Hudson asked you to follow her outside her home. Despite your curiosity, you preferred to remain quiet. She led you to the top of the stairs in the same building. 

At her first knock on the door, nobody replied. The second time, they heard someone moving, and when she was about to knock a third time, the door opened suddenly.

 “Good afternoon, Mrs Hudson,” said a tall man that you recognise as Sherlock Holmes according to Mrs Hudson’s descriptions she already said about him. “Now is not a good time.”

 “I’m sure you have a little time for me,” she said with a lot of hope in her voice.

The old woman seemed to know how Sherlock was working since he let her enter. She beckoned you to follow her into what looked like a living room despite the clutter. While you were observing the place, the man didn't hesitate to look at you from head to toe before turning back to Mrs Hudson.

 “Sherlock, my dear, this young lady received a lot of menacing letters for months and nobody helped her. I have known her since she was a baby and I don’t want her to be hurt, or worse. Can you do something about it?”

 “Not interested,” he said honestly, shrugging. “It’s the police's job. Surely her ex-boyfriend.”

At the end of Sherlock’s sentence, another man walked in the living room from a corridor at the back of the room. He smiled at the sight of the old woman.

 “Good afternoon, Mrs Hudson,” he said with a smile before noticing you and nodding. “Good afternoon.”

You replied in the same cold tone he used for you while he sounded warmly with Mrs Hudson. Then, the blonde man resumed as he walked next to Sherlock.

 “Do you want some tea?” he asked with a smile.

 “No, thank you John,” Mrs Hudson replied politely. “We are not here for tea. I came with a case for Sherlock.”

At her answer, John looked attentively at you. His eyes weren’t as piercing as Sherlock, but they troubled you even so; strangely more than Sherlock. When the old woman resumed, his attention left you.

 “Please Sherlock, the police won’t help her and you know it,” she said, starting to lose her patience.

 “She doesn’t want help.”

Sherlock’s voice was exaggeratedly tired. He quickly earned a frown look by John, making him understand he was rude. But Sherlock didn’t care about it. Then, maybe it was because of Mrs Hudson’s look or maybe it was the idea of making her upset, be that as it may, he went back on his answer.

 “Very well, please sit down on that chair and explain everything quickly to us.”

Sherlock elegantly sat on an armchair and showed you a chair. John also sat down, noticing that you stayed where you were, as he looked at the chair, then to Sherlock. A long sigh escaped your lips before you talk.

 “He is right. I don’t need help.”

Your voice was cold, more tired than upset. You knew Mrs Hudson was doing this for you, but you didn’t need it. The letters would end at some point or another. 

 “Did you wait for me to accept just to refuse? No. Forget it, I already know the answer,” Sherlock took offence. “Just sit down and talk.”

 “I’m sorry,” you said as you couldn’t help but smile before his attitude. “No need to waste your time with me. It’s just some death threat letter. I’m sure I’m not the only one to receive some of them. My mother panicked and told Mrs Hudson.”

 ”My dear,” the old woman started as she walked close to you, stroking your upper arm. “I have never received any. This is not normal. Let’s talk to them about it.”

The discussion was going nowhere. Sherlock was clearly seeing you didn’t want to be here, but now he accepted it for Mrs Hudson, he didn’t want to give up. As for the old woman, she wouldn’t let you leave without you talking to them.

 “What about some tea?” John said while nobody listened to him as he stood up and walked to the kitchen.

You followed him with your eyes, a light smile on your lips. This man seemed to be used to this kind of thing. When he came back with two cups of tea, he gave one to the now upset woman and Sherlock who were augmenting together. They took it as if it was absolutely normal and continued to speak, like you were here.

Then, John came back from the kitchen once again with two cups of tea, one for you and one for him. A smile lit up his face as you accepted the cup with a shy thank you. You would be lying if you said that this man didn't leave you indifferent, but you hadn't come for that, right? You had only come to return a shawl by the way…

 “So, menacing letters?” John tried with a timid smile, unable to hide that he wanted you to know more about them.

 “Yeah, nothing serious. I think,” you replied as you sipped your tea. “M. Holmes must be right. It's surely my ex.”

 ”Why don't you believe that?” Sherlock asked as he walked to you and John while Mrs Hudsbon only looked at you.

 ”Well, my ex is not a bad person. I know he wouldn’t do that.”

 ”Another ex?” John asked, raising an eyebrow.

 ”Come on, John. She only had one long relationship that ended a few months ago. So, what is written in the letters?”

John frowned but said nothing, leaving you to answer him. While you were looking at your tea, Mrs Hudson joined you and stroked your upper arm again to encourage you.

 ”Well, it’s just letters with simple sentences like ‘You shouldn’t talk to him with such a cute smile’, or ‘The friend you saw you yesterday doesn’t deserve you’, or hm, ‘Stop wearing that dress or I would have no choice but to make it disappear with you’.”

Then, the silence made your eyes raise to them. Sherlock seemed to think, abandoning you to walk in a circle in the middle of the living room. Mrs Hudson smiled at you, stroking your back. John was looking at you with a serious glare. It was almost scary. When he noticed you started to be troubled, he looked at Sherlock as if he was talking to him by telepathy.

 ”Do you keep smiling outside or at work?” Sherlock asked, not stopping his circle.

 ”Yes,” you chucked despite the situation, your eyes turning to Sherlock, then coming back to John as if something about him calmed you.

 ”Do you continue to see your friend mentioned in the letter?”

 ”Yes, sometimes. He was talking about a colleague with whom I just go for a drink when we need to relax after work.”

 ”Do you still wear that dress?” he asked, turning toward you as if he already knew the answer.

A few seconds of silence raised the tension in the room. Even Mrs Hudson stopped stroking your back. You nervously looked at him. He was too serious for this kind of case, right?

 ”No,” you eventually answered. “I didn't want to provoke him…”

 ”Oh, dear,” the old woman sighed in a compassionate voice. “You should tell me sooner.”

 ”It’ll pass,” you smiled, shrugging. “It’s just a dress.”

John was about to say something as he put his tea on the table but Sherlock spoke first.

 ”It won’t. Wear that dress, go on a date, and the harasser will show up in no time.”

 ”Absolutely not, Sherlock!” John said in such a hard tone that you jumped. “He sent her death threat letters. He could be anyone. It’s too dangerous and you know it! ”

 ”It’s the fastest way,” Sherlock affirmed.

 ”What if he tried to kill me?” you asked, surprising John with your nonchalant behaviour. “Can’t we just let him or her, I don’t even know, forget me?”

 ”Did he forget you after all those months? No,” Sherlock confirmed it as if he was the harasser himself. “So, wear that dress and go on a date with John, he will protect you if you need it.”

 ”Wait, what?” John could only say at first, freezing his eyes on Sherlock. 

 ”Take her out for dinner and wait for her harasser to appear. A Saturday night would be good. Are you free next Saturday?”

 ”I’m not–” John started before Sherlock cut him off.

 ”Not you.”

Sherlock was waiting for your answer while you were still trying to understand everything he had said. This man talked too fast! They all looked at you impatiently.

 ”Yes, I’m free but–”

 ”Perfect! John, take her wherever you want, then take her home. That's it. You don’t need me anymore. I need to go now.”

In a few seconds, he took his coat and left the flat, leaving John with a face of incomprehension until you laughed.

 ”Sorry, dear. He is always like that,” Mrs Hudson tried to comfort you. 

 ”It’s alright. He’s fun,” you continued to laugh before calming and turning to John. “Don’t worry about it. I will manage it on my own. Enjoy your Saturday night like you planned it.”

Despite your reassuring tone, John didn’t smile. He looked at you seriously, then took his phone from his trousers.

 ”No, we’ll do as Sherlock said, even if it’s dangerous. Can I have your phone number… And your name? Oh god, we didn’t even introduce each other. I’m Dr John Watson,” he said with an embarrassed cute smile, holding out his hand.

 ”Oh, hm, I’m just Y/n Y/l/n,” you said, unable to hide your surprise knowing he was a doctor, as you checked his hand. “Are you sure about Saturday, because I can–”

 ”I’m sure,” he confirmed, still smiling until he realised he hadn't let go of your hand yet. “I’m, hm. If Sherlock told us to do that, we should do it.”

 ”You seem to have a lot of trust in him,” you smiled. “Well, alright. Let's plan a fake date during the week. I hope I won’t bore you too much.”

Hearing him laughing at your joke reassured you. The first impression of him was cold, but he seemed more kind than you thought. After exchanging your numbers, you went back home, trying to convince yourself it will just be a fake date to find your harasser. But no one has forbidden you to enjoy it, right?

.

During the week, John sent you several messages. At first, it was just to choose a restaurant together, then you both planned a whole afternoon together with a temporary exhibition in a museum and maybe going to watch a film if you have time. 

 ”John? Are you listening to us?” Sherlock sighed as they were in a murder scene while Inspector Lestrade was explaining what he knew. 

 ”Yes. Hm, no. I’m listening now,” John said as he put his phone away with a smile.

 ”I called you for ten minutes.”

 ”Oh, sorry. I was, hm, busy.”

 ”You’ll see her in two days. I’m sure she can wait half an hour before you answer her.”

John didn’t need to tell him, it was so easy for Sherlock to understand who he was texting. John avoided his glaze still smiling as he tried to focus now on the case even though he was still thinking of you. 

..

You missed not wearing that dress. It was one of your favourites and it was very comfortable. With comfortable shoes since you will go to an exhibition, you left your flat to join John who was waiting for you outside. 

Before opening the front door of your building, you checked your letterbox and found a new threatening letter as you used to receive: “I don’t know who you’re texting every day but you should stop it. Don't even think about dating it.” 

When you left the building, you looked around. John joined you with a smile, but he quickly noticed something was wrong. It was too bad because his smile was the best thing to forget what you just read. After explaining the new letter, you tried to smile, hoping that fake date won’t be too dangerous for you or for John.

 ”It’s a lovely dress indeed,” he gently said, making you blush and laugh with his exaggerated tone. “When we’ll find who is behind all those letters, you can wear it more often.”

 ”I hope so,” you shyly started, tucking a strand behind your ear. “Ready for our fake date?”

 ”Absolutely!” he confirmed it with a nod, reminding himself it wasn’t a real date.

Dating Dr John Watson was fun and interesting. Between his anecdotes with Sherlock, his remarks during the exhibition and his casual conversations, you didn't have time to be bored. The afternoon passed more quickly than you realised, as the dinner in a simple and cosy restaurant.

Despite trying to convince yourself it was a fake date, you had a good time with him and when he walked you to your place, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Of course, you didn’t show it, continuing to smile and laugh until you arrived in front of your building. Forgetting everything about the letters, John brought you out of your waking dream.

 ”Finally, nobody showed up,” he said, trying to look discreetly around. “Maybe it’s not a stalker. Just someone who sends letters. In truth, I’m glad nothing happened.”

I don’t want to see you hurt, almost escaped from his lips as his eyes came back to you with a smile. Now, you were both thinking the same thing: What should we do now?

Sherlock didn’t tell you what to do after that, or what if the letters’ writer didn’t show. 

 ”I hope he won’t try to kill me tomorrow morning,” you said in a laugh, trying to lighten the mood despite John remaining serious.

 ”Maybe we could try…”

John avoided your gaze as if he was to say something horrible. You give him time to speak again but he seems lost in thought.

 ”Do you want to provoke the harasser?” you said after understanding what he thought. “A kiss?”

His eyes immediately came back to yours, making you blush by their intensity. If only he was kissing you for another reason…

As he looked up and down several times from your lips to your eyes, you decided to do it yourself. As you slipped your hand on his cold cheek, you stepped toward him and kissed him softly, savouring his lips when you could. They were cold but so soft.

It was impossible to hide your embarrassment after that, so you avoided his eyes with a chuckle as you stepped away.

 ”Usually, I don’t kiss on the first date,” you joked, making John laugh too.

 ”Too bad, because it was sweet.”

John’s thoughts went out on their own and his cheeks turned very red when your eyes widened toward him. If you both didn’t hear the steps next to you, he could have said something, but it was too late. A tall man stopped next to you, looking at you with a furious expression. 

 ”Alex?” you asked, recognising the man who was working at the same place as you. “What are you doing here?”

You barely ended your question that John stepped quickly between you and the man. Nevertheless, he didn't react quickly enough. 

The knife Alex was holding had already hit John before he could stop it. Then, in a few moves too quick for you, he made him drop the knife and tackle him to the ground. Once he was holding him firmly and sure he wasn’t trying anything, he asked you to call the police.

.

After the police’s intervention which you had to go to the police station and back, John wanted to walk you home again. It was now late, but he left you no choice. So once you were in front of your building again, you didn’t smile anymore.

 ”I’m so sorry for what happened,” you sighed as you were rummaging in your bag for your keys. “I was stupidly hoping this won’t happen but…”

 ”It’s absolutely not your fault,” John said with a smile, trying to comfort you even though he didn’t know how to do it.

 ”At least, we’re not injured. It could be worse,” you finally laughed as you looked at him.

Your eyes eventually arrived on his jacket, at his upper arm. There was an opening, and your hand moved faster than your mind. As you touched his jacket now opened with a big opening, you gasped.

 ”Oh no, I'm sorry. I didn't see that his knife had cut your jacket. I'll pay you back.”

 ”It’s nothing. My job was to protect you, so I prefer it was that rather than you.”

Why was he so nice? Alright, how could you stay in contact with this man? 

When you were trying to find a reason to see him again, you realised his jacket that you were still touching was strange. You looked better at it and John winced a little.

 ”Don’t tell me he also cut your arm with his knife?” you exclaimed, your voice echoing in the empty night street. “You should tell me! Oh, I can let you leave like that. Follow me home, we'll disinfect it.”

Maybe John should remind you he was a doctor, but the opportunity to spend more time with you was impossible to refuse. He followed you inside your small but cosy home and in a quick time, you were both sitting on your couch. After he removed his jacket, he also removed a side of his shirt, showing a not so deep cut. 

You silently cleaned his wound and took care of it while John was looking at you. If you weren’t as much focused on his arm as you were, you could notice how his eyes were already full of love for you while you both knew each other for just a week. It was unthinkable, but his heart was beating on his own every time you were doing something for him; smiling at him, looking at him, speaking to him, even sending a message to him. 

Then, his hand raised up as he tried to swallow his saliva with difficulty. As you finished your bandage on his arm, you felt his fingers slipping on your cheek, stroking it gently. As you raised your head, a smile eventually appeared on your lips, warming John’s heart even more.

 ”Do you want to kiss me for real this time?” you asked, hoping you correctly understood him.

 ”Yes, please!” he hurried to say as if you could come back to your proposal.

Leaning to you, his lips easily found yours. This time you had the time to taste them. They were so delicious, warm, and soft. You could stay like this for hours.

When John put his other hand on your waist and he felt your warmth, he wanted to deepen the kiss but his phone rang for a short time. Too curious to know who was texting him at this hour, he stopped the kiss, looked at you with an apologetic, cute smile and took his phone. After reading the message, he put his hand under his chin and read it again.

 ”Is there a problem?” you asked, worried.

 ”No, it’s, hm. It’s Sherlock,” he laughed, finally looking at you. “He told me to stop kissing you and go home because he has solved our current case.”

Now, John wasn’t the only one to laugh. You had quickly understood his friend was special but you also found him fun, especially when you saw all the faces John did when he talked about him.

 ”Now that I think about it, I was surprised that he proposed this fake date…” Jon sighed, still smiling, understanding only now Sherlock did it on purpose.

 ”How about doing the opposite of what he asks for a short while?” you asked with a mischievous smile. “And then, join him, of course.”

John didn’t hesitate to drop his phone and kissed again, pulling you against him. Something in him wanted to stay like this with you, but at the same time he knew Sherlock was waiting for him. Reluctantly, he slowly detached his lips from yours and pressed his forehead against yours with a smile.

 ”No kiss on the first date, hm?”

 ”It seems I can make an exception for you.”

John chucked before kissing you once again. Then, in a hurry, he got dressed back. He walked to your door while he promised you a new date when his case will be done. A real date, this time.

#sherlock bbc #john watson x reader #john watson #martin freeman #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff

[lokidokieokie]

Reunion Admist Illusions

Summary: John's sister, devastated by Sherlock's apparent death, struggles to comprehend his return and questions whether he is an illusion, until she tentatively allows herself to believe in his presence once more.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Watson!Reader

Warning(s): mentions of grief, mourning, emotional distress, Y/n is not okay, The Reichenbach Fall, lemme know if I forgot anything

It had been two long years since you had last seen Sherlock Holmes. Two agonising years since you watched him plummet from the rooftop, sacrificing himself to protect the ones he loved. The void he left behind was immeasurable, especially for you, his closest confidante and John's sister.

You had never quite recovered from the shock. The grief had consumed you, leaving you broken and questioning reality. The mere thought of Sherlock returning was too painful to entertain. You had seen John's devastation, witnessed the hurt etched deep into his eyes. It was evident that he had lost his best friend, but for you, it was so much more.

As time passed, you found solace in your brother's company, both of you trying to piece your lives together. But Sherlock's absence lingered like a ghost, an ever-present reminder of what had been lost.

Today, you sat alone in your small flat, the dim light casting shadows on the walls. You were engrossed in a book, though your mind was far from the words printed on the pages. Thoughts of Sherlock invaded your every waking moment, leaving you feeling haunted.

Suddenly, a sound interrupted the silence—a familiar sound of footsteps approaching your door. Your heart skipped a beat, and you dropped the book in your lap, your breath catching in your throat.

The door swung open, revealing the tall, slender figure of Sherlock Holmes. He stood there, his coat billowing around him, his piercing blue eyes locked onto yours. His face held a mixture of emotions, a silent apology etched upon his features.

You blinked, unable to trust your senses. "Sherlock?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

A small, almost imperceptible smile graced his lips. "Hello, Y/n."

Your eyes widened, your heart pounding in your chest. "No, it can't be," you muttered, rising from the chair.

Sherlock took a hesitant step forward. "I know this is difficult to believe, but I assure you, I am real."

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. The pain you had bottled up for years came flooding back, overwhelming you. "That's what they all say..."

Sherlock's features furrowed, "It is me, Y/n."

"But...how?" you managed to choke out. "How can you be here? You're...you're dead."

Sherlock's gaze softened, filled with empathy. "It was a ruse, Y/n. A necessary deception to ensure our safety."

You stumbled backward, your legs giving way beneath you. The world spun around you, and you clung to the edge of a nearby table to steady yourself. "But John... John was devastated. We were all devastated."

Sherlock approached you, his voice filled with remorse. "I didn't anticipate the extent of the pain my faked death would cause. It was never my intention to hurt any of you."

Anger bubbled up inside you, mingling with the anguish. "You should have thought about that before you jumped, before you left us all behind! Before you left me!"

Sherlock's face fell, his eyes filled with regret. "I'm sorry, Y/n. I truly am. But I had to ensure the safety of everyone involved--the safety of you. The danger was too great."

Your voice trembled as you glared at him through tear-filled eyes. "You selfish bastard. Do you have any idea what we went through? What I went through?"

He reached out, his hand hovering in the air between you. "I can never truly understand the pain I caused, but I want to make it right. I want to be here for you now, if you'll let me."

Your anger faltered, giving way to confusion. "How can I trust you? How can I trust that you won't disappear again?"

Sherlock's expression was filled with sincerity. "I can't promise you that I won't get caught up in my work, but I can promise you that I will always come back. You are important to me, Y/n. Your pain matters to me. You matter to me."

Tears streamed down your face as you took a shaky breath. Part of you wanted to pull away, to shield yourself from the pain Sherlock's absence had caused. But another part, a deeper part, longed for his presence, craved the connection you had lost.

With trembling hands, you reached out and took hold of Sherlock's outstretched hand. His touch was real, his hand warm against yours. And in that moment, you allowed yourself to believe.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Okay, Sherlock. Just don't disappear again."

He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes never leaving yours. "I promise, Y/n. I won't leave you behind."

As Sherlock stood there, his presence filling the room, you realised that maybe, just maybe, you could heal from the wounds his absence had left behind. And together, you would face whatever challenges the future held, side by side.

A/N I know I said I wasn't going to post for like a month but I couldn't help myself. This idea popped into my head and I had to make it a reality.

Placement so far has been great btw. I've had Yr 7s, 9s, 11s, and 12s. The year 7s are nuts, but yeah, everyone's a little crazy.

🏷 @thewaithfuckingannoyme @evelyn-kingsley @moonlight-ee @fall-myriad @otterlycanadian

#sherlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x reader #watson!reader #fem!reader #sherlock x watson!reader #the reichenbach fall #sherlock is alive #sherlock's back from the dead #little angsty #reader thinks Sherlock's an illusion #benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch character

[neontokyoo]

Heyyy. I just wanna say, I am absolutely obsessed with your writing and cannot get enough of it. The writing style is absolutely amazing! Do you think you could do a part two of your Sherlock x reader wedding fanfic where Sherlock comes home from the case and he and the reader are talking to John and Miss Hudson about their plans for the future? Thank you in advance, and I hope you have a wonderful day!

Thank you so much nonnie! It always makes me happy to know so many people enjoy my writing. I really wasn't expecting my blog to grow so quickly. Thank you so much for all the support. As always, likes, reblogs, and other interactions are very much appreciated. Enjoy!!

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff (I think. idk define fluff for me again because everything I write is fluff. . .)

Summary: After coming home from the case that almost ruined the end of your wedding reception, you're greeted by Mycroft, Mary, John, and Ms Hudson who came to congratulate you and make up silly stories about your future.

Warnings: None (please correct me if I'm wrong because I didn't proofread this one.)

You relax with Sherlock after his return from the case that interrupted your wedding reception. You both sit together in your living room, surrounded by friends and family who have come to congratulate you on your marriage. John and Mary Watson sit on the couch, while Mycroft lounges in a chair across the room. Ms. Hudson stands by the window, admiring the view.

As you settle into married life, a sense of contentment washes over you. You're finally married to the man you love, and it fills you with joy.

"So, what are your plans for the future?" John asks, breaking the comfortable silence that has settled over the room.

Sherlock turns to you, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well, we're just discussing the possibility of starting a family," he says.

Excitement rushes through you at the thought of having children with Sherlock. It's something you've always wanted, but you weren't sure if he felt the same way.

"Really?" Mary says, her eyes lighting up. "That's wonderful news!"

Mycroft looks up from his book, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I can't say I'm surprised. It's only a matter of time before the two of you decide to start a family."

Ms. Hudson nods her agreement. "Yes, I've always known you two were meant to be together. And I'm sure you'll make wonderful parents."

"Ah, yes," Mycroft begins. "I see it now. Mini Sherlock and the case of the missing cookie."

"That one would definitely make it into the paper," John laughs. "'Baby Holmes Burns House Down for the First Time."

"Looks like you'll have to figure out how to change a diaper, Sherlock," Ms. Hudson snickers.

Sherlock raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Rest assured, I am more than capable of handling any challenge, including diaper changing."

"And we expect you to come to visit us with the baby every once in a while," John adds.

"Just imagine all the mischief the little one would be making!" Ms. Hudson exclaims, trying not to laugh.

"They'd be conducting all sorts of experiments in your kitchen, Ms. Hudson," Mary laughs.

Laughter fills the room as everyone shares their imaginative and silly stories about Sherlock's future children. The atmosphere is lighthearted and joyous, painting vivid pictures of mischievous little ones wreaking havoc in 221B Baker Street.

John chuckles and leans back against the couch. "I can see it now, Sherlock Jr. conducting his own science experiments with miniature test tubes and a little magnifying glass."

Mary adds with a twinkle in her eye, "And of course, his first word is 'deduction.' Imagine a little toddler pointing at things and saying, 'Two plus two equals four!'"

Mycroft, usually composed, chuckles softly. "Yes, and Sherlock's offspring surely has a knack for puzzles and mysteries. Perhaps they solve crimes even before they learn to walk."

Mrs. Hudson chimes in, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "Oh, and the messes they make! Can you imagine little Sherlock Holmes, Jr., trying to reenact one of Sherlock's experiments and accidentally creating a miniature explosion in the living room?"

Sherlock, ever amused by the banter, joins in. "They undoubtedly have my affinity for observing details. Little detectives in the making, solving the mysteries of the lost stuffed animals and the case of the mysteriously disappearing cookies."

"Picture this," John suggests with a grin. "Sherlock Jr. and his classmates forming their own detective agency, solving cases and catching the city's missing pets. They're a force to be reckoned with!"

"Even the yard doesn't stand a chance against little Sherlock Jr. and his twenty classmate-assistants!" Mary declares.

"I can just picture him attacking his classmates, demanding them to give him any clues on who stole his favorite toy!" Mycroft laughs.

"Oh, imagine the stress he's causing for his teacher." Ms. Hudson says, wiping more tears from her eyes.

The room erupts in laughter once again, each person contributing their own comical ideas about Sherlock's future children.

"And what about their impeccable fashion sense?" John interjects. "Mini Sherlock, strutting around in a tiny fedora and a little trench coat. The trendiest detective in town!"

"No son of mine would be wearing that bloody hat," Sherlock retorts. "He obviously wears the deerstalker hat that John had described me wearing in his books."

Mary joins in, giggling. "And their obsession with disguises! Imagine little Sherlock Jr. sneaking around the house in different outfits, trying to fool us all. 'Elementary, my dear parents,' they say, revealing their true identity."

"Well, it is rather elementary," Sherlock adds, leaning back into his chair as he lights a cigarette.

"Picture this," Mycroft suggests, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "Little Sherlock Jr., complete with a miniature violin, practicing their musical talents at all hours of the day. I'm sure the neighbors are thrilled."

"No, they're waking their parents up at five AM every morning playing the most intense violin music they can find just to wake their mother up for breakfast," John adds.

"Ah, the next Mozart in the making," Mary chuckles. "I can already see them conducting their own symphony of chaos."

"We might have to lock the violin away, then, Sherlock," you joke.

Your husband looks at you with an amused look on his face. "That won't be a problem. How can he possibly be playing the violin if I'm already using it? Plus, it's in our room most of the time anyway. I think we should have him sing or get him a kazoo instead!"

The room erupts into laughter once again, the playful banter bringing everyone closer together. The thoughts of Sherlock's future children fill your heart with warmth and anticipation. Amidst the silliness, you can't help but feel a surge of love and gratitude for the family you have found in these dear friends.

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty anime #ynm #yuumori #mtp #moriarty the patriot x reader #mtp x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock imagine #sherlock fandom #sherlock x y/n #ynm sherlock #mtp sherlock

[iamsherlocked1479]

Chapter 8

The smell of gunpowder was sharp and sour, its scent filled your nostrils as you opened your tightened eyes to see you were still alive. Your shoes slipped in the gooey ruby red blood trailing ever so close to surrounding your chair, you followed the stream with your eyes eventually locking on the open cold eyes of your captor’s dead smile still gleaming at you. You took a moment before looking at Sherlock, his shoulders rising with every breath he took.

“Y/n it’s okay you're safe now.” John stepped over the body and began un-tying your wrists. You didn’t say anything, you were trying to make sense of what the hell just happened, he found you.

You watched him stare at the body, you hadn’t seen this side of Sherlock, he was confused and almost looked scared.

“I don’t understand, why would he kill himself?” he said, pushing the body with his foot.

“That doesn’t matter now, I called the police. They should be here to meet us any second, let's just focus on getter y/n out of here, she’s got a pretty nasty mark on her head.” John helped you out of your seat and the pair led you outside where Greg and an army of police and medics were waiting for you outside.

You were ushered to an ambulance and wrapped in a blanket, the medic spent time fussing over your head, but at this point you didn’t notice it.

“He didn’t save me.” you muttered to yourself. As strange as it was, the only person you should be thanking is Moriarty, he was the one who dealt the final blow.

“Can you give me a detailed description of what happened?” Sherlock stood over you, his eyes locked on your own. He needed answers, he needed them now.

“Leave her alone, she’s in shock.” Greg pulled Sherlock away but his lecture was interrupted by a cautiously approaching detective.

“Sir” he paused

“Go on, spit it out!” Sherlock interrupted, the detective looked at Greg confused.

“Ignore him, what's the problem?” he sighed

“It’s gone.”

“What's gone?” Greg stood perplexed

“The body sir, it's gone.”

“I don't understand, you said he shot himself?” Greg turned to Sherlock who lit up 

“Yes! I knew it, he wouldn’t just kill himself like that.” he clapped his hands together in delight

“So all that was for nothing, to confuse you for twenty minutes?” you added stopping Sherlocks celebration

“You’re mad at me?” 

“Of course I am, you could have just shot him. But you didn't, what the hell! Is everyone I know a psychopath?”

“Actually it's high functioning sociopath, but yes one way or another.”

“I don’t believe you. Can someone just take me home?” You stand up leaving the blanket on the pavement.

“Y/n wait, you’re in shock clearly.” Sherlock followed behind trying to place the blanket around your shoulders, you turn and stop him in his tracks with a harsh slap across his face. His hand covered the flaming area as he watched you walk away looking for a ride home. “Maybe I deserved that.” he muttered to himself.

……………………………………………………………

John helped you find a way home, accompanying you in a police car and making you a cup of tea while you listened to your aunt's cries on how much she missed you.

“He doesn’t mean to upset you.” John sat besides you refilling your cup.

“Doesn’t always seem that way.” you say rolling your eyes to Mary who sat across from you.

“What John is trying to say is, Sherlock doesn't understand the way he feels about you. And we all know how much he enjoys his cases.” 

“What do you mean the way he feels about me, he doesn't care about anyone.”

“Y/n we saw the video of you two, he has to have some form of emotion towards you, even Irene Adler couldn’t accomplish that.” John added

“Irene Adler had to flee the country, I'm sure she would have. And the video, that reminds me.” you got up dragging a chair behind you. You placed the chair down and used it to pull the camera down from the ceiling. 

“What a creep.” Mary stated

“Believe me it gets worse.” you went around the apartment removing all the cameras Moriarty managed to hide from you. It felt good finally doing something about the situation, his body was gone which meant he would absolutely come after you again, to flirt or to finish the job. You didn’t want either of those things.

 Finally you made it to your room, everything was the same apart from your laptop. “Shit shit shit!” your laptop was destroyed in the explosion, your writing, your work are all gone. Then you remembered university, the paper was due yesterday. Surely the fact that you were kidnapped was a good enough excuse and now it was the end of term,you had two weeks of waiting before you could find out if you were still somehow able to go. But after both drugs incidents you didn’t think the university board liked you very much. You stared at your room. It was exactly the same, Mycroft had left it for a change. You saw the tip of your bridesmaid dress poking through the gap of your closet, the wedding was in twelve days and you’d barely prepared yourself to put the outfit together, the dress was chosen for you but everything else? Well that was a mystery. Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Y/n can I come in?” Sherlocks deep voice rattled your ears, he knocked he never usually did.

“I don’t want to be around you right now, I don’t need the sarcasm.” you spat back

“What sarcasm?” he asked confused

“Go away sherlock.”

“Nevermind, I'm not going. If you wont open the door i’ll just say it” Sherlock stood behind the door his face close to the door ensuring every word could be heard, he shuffled at his feet clutching the portion of chips he bought close to his chest. He was nervous, he couldn’t explain the feeling it was new to him, his stomach was knotted and his brow was sweaty. “I don’t have girlfriends and I certainly don't have physical relationships with people. I think the very idea of committing to a person's mind, body and if it exists soul, i don’t like the fact someone is constantly relying on you or wanting to be around you, the very thought of it repulses me. But then I met you and I agree yes at first that opinion still stood. I failed to connect the logic of a relationship to the reason, until I met you. I would say this goes against all my morals but I have very few of them, but to me if I had a relationship with someone I’d consider it a crime almost. It was the one thing me and my gastly brother could agree on, but then I never thought about a relationship with you, it's a crime I know but it’s my favourite crime” his mouth was dry he gulped waiting for your reply but nothing, he bowed his head and sighed heavily “I’m sorry for what I did, maybe I- maybe I was wrong. I should’ve protected you when I had the chance too” The door handle clicked as it turned and opened slowly revealing your warm glossy eyes staring at his how, you were sure but you might have even seen tears beginning to form at the corners of his.

“Do you really mean it?” you smile

“Every word.” those words where all you needed to hear your eyes moved from his to his lips, you moved in closer but he just grabbed you and pulled you in for a desperate kiss. 

His hands ran through your hair, dropping the chips he had bought for you. It was at this moment you felt safe, you had imagined it so many times in your head but it never felt like this. And that's when it ended, his arms no longer felt safe, they felt dangerous, caring for him had already cost so much, your education, your future and nearly your life. You pulled away breaking his grasp,

“What's wrong?” he asked his pupils dilated at the sight of your fear

“I can’t do this.” you say gripping your arm

“Do what? What's wrong?” he came closer trying to hold you again but you stepped away

“Think logically Sherlock, this isn’t safe. Look at who you are and look at your enemies, people get hurt not just me but what if it was John or Mrs Hudson. Moriarty knows he can get into your head. I know it's selfish but us being together is dangerous for you and for the people we love.” Sherlock went quiet for a moment, he was deducing his options, he had to make human decisions,

“I can stop him, I’ll find him.” 

“You were looking for him for over a year, Moriarty can only be found when he wants to be. We both know that.”

“You’re right, this an irrational decision, Mycroft is right I can't deal with these kinds of emotions. I’m too smart, here.” he handed you the chips, brushing off his jacket and headed downstairs.

The rest of the night was quiet, only filled with the sounds of Sherlocks soft tune, he played for hours, thinking. Mycroft is right, ordinary people make stupid decisions and Sherlock wasn’t ordinary. He was a high functioning sociopath, and he liked it.

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A/N: horray fnally past the parts i was struggling with uploads should be a bit more frequant now! really hope you're enjoyng ths as much as i do! as always enjoy and luv you all <3

#bbc sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader masterlist #sherlock x fem!reader #dr john watson #benedict cumberbatch #y/n x sherlock #Spotify