Meera, hello!!!!
I saw the DM(?) you post, can I have one for Sherlock plz?
So....with a fem and chubby reader, she's Enola's friend, but she prefers live in Hermit style.
But when Enola want to do sth, she would try her best to help Enola. And when Enola fight with her brothers, she just hide in reader's house.
Sherlock found that r is good at hiding and observing the emotions, she is kind of the opposite of him but is tolerable.
Best friend's brother trope and may I add that reader has a habit that when she feel want to be clingy, she would rub her cheek on his shoulder or his chest with holding his hand?
The rest is by you, wish you have a good day🥰🥰
a/n: hi Nana, so i’ve tried to write something with Best Friend’s Brother AU with Sherlock and Chubby reader, hope you like it 💙
pairing: Sherlock x Chubby!Reader
You hear a knock on your door, a particular knock which you recognise very well.
And ‘tis indeed her, your closest friend Enola Holmes. You let her in your home, like you have before, several instances regarding arguments with her brother, especially Mycroft Holmes.
Enola was close to her other brother Sherlock, the man of mystery, she looked up to him.
“What is the matter this time?” You ask after offering Enola her favourite cake.
“Nothing new, only Mycroft being a pompous arse!” She huffs and takes the piece of cake from you. “The worst part, do you know? Sherlock didn’t object, didn’t say a word”
Enola was few years younger than you, but the bond you both had formed was very strong. You truly cared for her, and she for you.
Enola and you are engaged in a conversation when you hear another knock on the door.
“Sherlock!” you both utter at the same time.
“Oh I do not wish to go back” Enola looks at you with pleading eyes.
“How about you go to my room and I will speak to Sherlock?”
She nods and goes inside your bedroom as you make your way to the door, fixing your dress, you open the door.
“Mr. Holmes” You give a curt nod to Sherlock, and he quickly looks you up and down. It would a lie that his gaze didn’t affect you, didn’t make you want more.
“My sister…” Sherlock trails off as he makes his way inside your home. “She is in the bedroom.” Sherlock says matter of factly.
You open your mouth to say something but he looks back at you with a certain look on his that makes your whole body shiver. You clear your throat and walk up to him.
“Mr. Holmes, for a person who has extraordinary thinking abilities do you actually ever think?” Sherlock is taken aback
“Yes, your sister is in the bedroom, hiding from you, but do you care enough to ask why? to think why?”
It is at that moment you realise how close you are standing to him, how his shoulders are so broad, how you want to touch his chest, and how you want to run your finger through his hair.
Sherlock never looks at you with ridicule in his eyes, which other people do sometimes. He stares into your eyes, momentarily dropping to your body, then to your lips and again to your eyes. Sherlock didn’t quite understand what he felt towards you, he wasn’t good with feelings, all he knew is that when you touch him sometimes, be it keeping your head on his shoulder when you, him and Enola are out in a park, and you lean to him unknowingly. He is fond of that, he is fond of you.
“Enlighten me” His voice is low.
“Your sister, she looks up to you, it is not Mycroft she is angry at, it is you, because she cares about you. And I know you do too, but that is the issue with you Holmes siblings, you don’t express your feelings.”
“And you are excellent at it, aren’t you?” Sherlock asks sarcastically.
“Well at least better than you.” With that you leave him in the living room making your way to Enola, you have a hearty conversation with her about how Sherlock cares for her too, just does not know how to express it and she listens to you, all while her brother waits for the two of you.
“Right then Mr. Holmes, Enola will go back with you now.” You announce and smile at Enola, who gives you a tight hug and you hug her back.
“Thank you.” Enola smiles at you.
The Holmes siblings make their way back to their home after wishing you a good day.
“Sherlock?” Enola asks her brother.
“Hm?”
“You like her don’t you?” Sherlock smiles at that, a smile full of adoration, something that rarely appeared on his face
“She is tolerable.”
117 notes
·
View notes
Hi! I love your fics & ficlets. Idk if you take prompts. But I have one. Sherlock not gravely injured but getting two butt shots for said disease/injury (at his bottom) by Dr. John Watson. I think this may turn out to be a quite hilarious fic for us readers. I'd like to know what you think of this.
Hello! I'm so glad you like my writing. I usually don't take prompts, but this one sounded fun. So, here you are.
--
The Unconventional Solution
John was reading a book at night, sitting on his chair in the living room. Sherlock was lying on the sofa, covered in a thick blanket, and staring at the ceiling.
It was the fourth day of Sherlock suffering from a viral fever.
Sherlock had been susceptible to seasonal changes quite often, in the past.
John had made him go through a three-day medicinal course, but strangely, Sherlock's body was still weak, and the thermometer reading refused to drop from forty degrees.
Good that his runny nose and coughing had subsided. The frequency of his fever had also reduced, but not its intensity. It was once a day for an hour or two, but significantly high.
"John," he called out weakly. "I'm still burning."
John kept his book on the side table and got up to walk to Sherlock. He touched Sherlock's forehead with the back of his hand, and withdrew it immediately. It was indeed burning.
"That's odd. It should've become milder by now. Let me measure it," he said and went to the bathroom to get his medical kit from the shelf. When he came back, Sherlock was already trying to sit up.
"Wait," John said and walked across the room to help him up by his shoulders. John squeezed his shoulders, and placed his medical kit on the coffee table. He opened it to grab the thermometer, and gave it to Sherlock after turning it on.
Sherlock placed it inside his shirt, in his armpit and they waited for a minute.
"I'll take you to hospital tomorrow, if you don't get better by the morning."
"Not a chance."
"I'll drag you if I have to," said John and folded his arms.
"I'd like to see you try." Sherlock smirked.
Oh, how John was dying to kiss that smirk off that damned mouth!
They'd had to place two pillows between them on their bed since the past few nights, and John had been growing impatient now.
The thermometer beeped. Sherlock took it out. "Forty degrees, still. Are you sure it's working?" he asked, looking up at John through his lashes.
"Oh, it's working just fine!" John kept his thermometer back in his kit, placed his hands on his hips, and wondered. What was he supposed to do now? Surely, he couldn't let Sherlock sleep in that condition. It was half past eleven, so the pharmaceutical shops nearby must be closed by now.
Suddenly, one of the medicines caught John's eye. An ibuprofen vial - intramuscular. John knitted his brows, trying to remember why he had that with him. Ah, yes. A post-op patient had needed it when John was doing his rounds.
John had ordered some extra after having administered it to that patient - which he had paid for, afterwards. To be prepared for something like this.
John cleared his throat. "Lie down on your stomach."
"Why?"
"I'm gonna give this to you," said John, pointing at the vial as he began to sterilise his hands. He took out the vial to prepare the syringe.
"What the hell is that?"
"Ibuprofen."
"What about giving me a tablet of that, like a normal person?!" Sherlock was tapping his thighs with his fingers restlessly.
"We're out."
"We can obviously wait till the morning!"
"I could barely touch your forehead, Sherlock! We really can't. And you need to sleep."
"Boring," he said, trying to sound non-chalant, but grabbing his blanket sort of defensively at the same time.
"Are you scared?" John asked, unable to keep his disbelief out of his tone, as he flicked the syringe to check for any air-bubbles.
Even after being together with him for four months now, and being his flatmate for ages, there was still something new to learn about all the time when it came to Sherlock.
"Not at all," he said sternly but began to wrap himself with that blanket.
John bit his bottom lip to control his laugh, trying to maintain his best bedside manner. "Well, that blanket or any amount of layers isn't going to save you." John held up his syringe, which was now ready. "Get on your stomach."
"But -"
"Now," he ordered.
They locked eyes with each other. John was going to hold Sherlock's intense gaze forever, if he had to. John could see his pupils dilate, and his cheeks a bit flushed up - not necessarily because of the fever - as Sherlock looked away and cleared his throat.
Sherlock huffed and put his blanket away and lay down on his stomach.
Knew it would work, John thought as he walked closer to the sofa. "I'm going to take these off," he said, meaning the pyjama bottoms.
Sherlock nodded, but his body still looked a bit tense. John pulled down Sherlock's pyjamas and boxer briefs till his upper thighs.
He took out some methanol swab from his kit to rub at the upper, lateral quadrant of his left butt.
Sherlock hissed.
"Cold?"
Sherlock nodded and made an uncomfortable sound at the base of his throat. If John weren't in a professional mode, he would've paid attention to whatever unwanted thoughts that were intruding his mind at the moment. Sherlock always made him feel that way - couldn't be helped.
Especially with that arse on display. Stop it! John scolded himself as he palpated the area where he'd applied methanol to feel for Sherlock's gluteus maximus.
"Don't worry. Just keep breathing and you won't feel a thing."
"John, you know it doesn't work. Especially with a syringe that big-"
"Not really."
"It is!"
"Picture me in my old fatigues," said John and placed the syringe needle at a ninety-degree angle to the skin surface.
"Oh." Sherlock's body visibly relaxed at that.
With that, John began to administer the ibuprofen steadily. Sherlock gasped a bit in pain, but John soothed that area with his fingers. When he was done, he carefully took out the needle at the same angle and pressed a cotton ball against the tender surface to help Sherlock relax.
John pulled up Sherlock's pants and pyjamas and patted his butt as he got up to keep everything back in his medical kit. He noticed that Sherlock's eyes were still closed. "We're done," he said and cleared his throat. "Let's go to bed."
Sherlock opened his eyes and let out a relieved sigh. John gave him a hand to help him up, and they both walked slowly to the bedroom.
In the room, Sherlock began to grab extra pillows from the wardrobe.
"What are those for?" asked John.
"We've been placing them between us since I fell ill," Sherlock replied, with his brows furrowed in confusion.
John took them from his hands and placed them back in the wardrobe. He grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders to push him onto the bed. "Not today," he said and walked to the other side of the bed to get inside the duvet with Sherlock.
"But what if you catch it?"
John just wrapped his arms around Sherlock without replying and kissed him on his cheek. "Good night. Try to get some sleep," he said and yawned.
It didn't take either of them long to doze off.
*
John's eyes fluttered open in the morning, only to find Sherlock pinning him with his intense gaze, with his head propped up on his elbow.
"How long have you been awake?" asked John in a scratchy voice, with his eyes half open.
"Five minutes."
"How are you feeling?" John was wide awake now, remembering last night. "Were you able to sleep?" John reached out to touch Sherlock's forehead.
He did not have fever anymore, and he certainly looked better than he did last night.
"Yes. Quite well, in fact," he said and leaned in to kiss John's forehead. "Already feeling better."
"You sure about that?" John asked, looking at Sherlock properly, hoping he wasn't just saying that to avoid going to the hospital.
Sherlock hummed and nodded. Without warning, Sherlock climbed on top of John and planted a long, searing kiss on his mouth. John made a surprised sound but kissed him back, not caring about their morning breaths too much.
"Don't think this means you aren't still under observation," John murmured, as he moved his mouth to place kisses along Sherlock's jawline.
"I don't mind that at all," Sherlock said with a sigh as he moved his hands around John's chest, dropping them to his arse.
"Might give you another dose of ibuprofen if necessary."
"Maybe refrain from that," he said and they both began to laugh with their foreheads touching.
John was glad to see Sherlock back in his form. He couldn't possibly be more in love with this man, even if he tried.
--
AN - Just a quick medical realism here: Butt is usually not the first choice to administer IM medication in a lot of cases, but I just wanted to go with the flow of this prompt to fulfill it. I know ibuprofen is most commonly given orally or through IV, but... eh. I hope you liked this one, Anon!
Tags: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @a-victorian-girl @gaylilsherlock @lisbeth-kk @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes, etc.
41 notes
·
View notes
I would like to ask some of your headcanons (sandman, good omens, Sherlock, whatever you want you choose!) 🥰
Rogue, my dear hii! I hope you can get out of this terrible Tumblr jail soon! I appreciate you sending me these. Let's see I may do a few here and there as a treat. I hope you enjoy them (:
Sherlock
This man likes hugs, but it takes him a while to get used to affection as I think he is touch starved
Loves having his curls ruffled or tugged during a kiss (make that man melt haha, plus it's in a majority of my fics now so it's almost canon)
He likes to observe whatever you're doing and when he knows you're not in the mood for affection, will sit in the room with you as you study/read/ watch a movie
This usually ends up with you listening to one of his cases as he rambles along and you've gotten used to it by now it's one of the usual nightly occurrences in 221B
In autumn, he gets curious about the tie/knot fleece blankets which leads you to a weekend stint of creating some festive ones. John comes in to help as well and you make a blanket fort
Dream/Morpheus
I am a firm believer that Morpheus will sit down in a comfortable armchair and knit dreams/stories/nightmares out of his shadows and sand while you watched transfixed
He likes to take nightly strolls in the library when he can also to check up on Lucienne and Matthew as he knows they like to keep track of him in case something were to go wrong
When you're in the Dreaming with him, it's one of your favorite places to go and you love talking to Merv as well who trains you well with his shotgun
Pre capture Dream detests family gatherings and even moreso post capture as none of his family came to help him, so when you ask him to a gathering of your friends (Hob included) he's hesitant at first and you and Hob reassure him it will be alright
I also think Morpheus has an extensive art galley and all his awesome cloaks are the art pieces so he can swoop the canvases off to shift to his robes
The Corinthian
I feel like Corinthian would go to those classy swanky 1920s themed jazz bars and get a martini and just for kicks and giggles garnishes it with an eyeball instead of an olive
He likes being hand fed his eyeballs. It's almost akin to the feeding someone grapes as they recline on a lounger type scenario. Bonus points if it's you doing the feeding
Speaking of eating, he would like to take you out for little treats like ice cream
This nightmare has such a fancy for suits, he goes to the most hip places and is so picky and particular about his suits, the quality, the fabric. He goes the whole nine yards and does not skimp
This extends to the way he would treat someone he fancies and would spare no expense. It's not a good thing to piss him off as they'd likely be his next meal so it's good to stay on his nicer side
Sleepover Weekend
52 notes
·
View notes