#sherlock bbc imagine

[entitled-fangirl]

A deer in the headlights.

Jim Moriarty x reader

Summary: Jim comes home early and scares the reader, prompting a panic attack.

Words: 811

Warning: panic attack, but hey, comforting criminal Jim! Also... criminal Jim.

Author's note: I don't own the character Jim Moriarty! And you know I couldn't resist using a Fleabag gif. Andrew Scott has my <3

Masterlist

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She sat on the couch of their shared home, her legs pulled up to her chest. Her arms wrapped around her legs, holding her book out for her to read. It was a cute sight, seeing her so comfortable in their home. 

Jim opened the door, his hands immediately moving to loosen his tie. He shook off his blazer, hanging it over one of the dining room chairs. He was quiet, almost silent. It was one of his favorite attributes of himself, being practically silent when he moved.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, her gaze focused on the book in front of her. He decided to have a little fun with his darling deer. 

He stalked up behind her. Her long hair was hanging off the back of the couch. Even as the conspiring smirk showed on his face, he couldn’t help but admire her. He continued his plan, his steps careful and meticulously done. 

He got slightly distracted staring at her hair, the tile under him squeaking. He froze, as did she. Her head moved up, her eyes looking straight forward at the wall like a deer in the headlights. He knows her so well, he can practically see the look on her face, knowing that she is now contemplating her options. 

As if instinct, his little deer jumped up, her book falling to the ground as she sprinted to their shared room. Jim smiled. He loved a game like this. He ran behind her quickly. His longer legs catching up to her.

The stairs slowed her down, her shorter legs moving quickly. He followed quickly behind her, not caring to be quiet anymore. As his foot hit the top step, she was within his reach. 

His hands wrap around her waist, pulling her to him. She let out a small squeal in fear. He smiled, resting his face in the crook of her neck and shoulder. Her hair covered his face, but he didn’t mind. It gave him an extra opportunity to smell her sweet scent. 

Her body completely froze. Her fear was an aura surrounding her at this point. Jim finally noticed her quick breaths, and her hands that had his in a death grip around her waist. She was very scared.

His grip loosened immediately. He turned her around to let her see him. Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears and they carried an uncertain look to them. He had seen this look. She was having a panic attack.

Her eyes may be looking at him, but she didn’t see him. She was in her own little world. A world of fear.

His heart dropped. His hands naturally moved to her face, cupping both of her cheeks, and pulling her face to his. Her hands jump to his, her death grip continuing. 

“Shh… it’s alright…. Shh….shh…,” he said in a comforting tone.

It seemed to calm her slightly, her body recognizing his touch, even if her brain didn’t. The tears began to fall from her eyes, another sign of her body relaxing further.

He smiled gently at her, his voice low, “Little deer, it’s alright. You’re safe…. You’re safe.”

Her body lets out a soft sigh, shaky from the tears. Her voice came out broken from the hiccuping of her diaphragm, “J…James…?”

He laughed at this. His deer was so precious. The thumb on one of the hands resting on her face began to gently move back and forth, giving her a feeling of comfort. “Yes. I’m here.”

He hated seeing her this way, but he also loved it. How she always ran into his arms when she was scared. Like now.

She let out a sob, her arms moving around his neck, pulling her to him. She began to cry harder into his chest. His hands moved to her waist, wrapping around her.

“I’m sorry, deer. I didn’t know I would frighten you like this. I wouldn’t have done so, had I known. Shh… it’s alright...,” he continued.

As her tears began to settle down, she pulled away from him. She pulled one of her arms to her face to wipe the tears, but he stopped her, his hand wrapping around her wrist. The other hand moved to her face as he gently wiped the tears for her. 

She sniffles, “You’re home early.”

He let out a loud laugh at this, “You silly girl. Of course I am. I told you I would be.”

Her eyes met his, “I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize, little deer. You should know by now that I would never let anything happen to you."

She nods slightly, moving back into his embrace, to which he happily obliged. The feeling of her in his arms was his favorite.

One of his hands moved to the back of her head, playing with her hair. “I will call Seb, and tell him to consider me off for the rest of the day. It is you and I for tonight. No interruptions. No phone calls. Could you even begin to forgive me, angel?”

He could feel her smile against his shoulder. “Of course, James.”

He sighs, kissing the top of her head, “Thank you, little deer. Now, let’s go relax, huh?”

She lets him lead her the rest of the way to their room to make up for lost time.

.............................................................

#bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #jim moriarty #james moriarty #jim moriarty x reader #jim moriarty imagine #james moriarty x reader #james moriarty imagine #sherlock imagines #sherlock bbc imagine

[malereader-inserts]

Rewiring My Heart

Fandom: BBC Sherlock Pairing: Mycroft Holmes x Male!Reader Summary: There's a certain someone that's caught Mycroft's attention Word Count: 614 Request: @thisirishidiot Hi, so I would like to request a mycroft x male reader story where male reader is the head electrician and, for some reason, all of Parliament has to be rewired. And reader happens to be working in mycrofts area and so mycroft catches feelings. Maybe reader is tall and fit or maybe just good looking. You know I'm a sucker for a good flustered mycroft. Anyway I understand if you don't want to, hope have a nice day!

"Good morning, Mr Holmes."

Mycroft grimace to himself before turning around to the voice, "Good morning (Y/n), how many times have I told you that you can call me Mycroft."

You give him a smile, "I know."

Mycroft nods before slipping into his office and leaning back on his door, he sighed. It's not like he hated you, it was quite the opposite. He liked you, and he couldn't say much about other people. But, you, you were different and he couldn't figure it out. In fact, what he hated was the fact he saw you daily.

When he heard that his work base had to be completely rewired he was annoyed, after two years, the British Government had to rewire the whole building to prevent any hackers in the future. There were many men that were trusted to do the job, many had worked for the Government before so these men were to be trusted to Mycroft's knowledge.

But, you were someone else. You were the head of the operation, having worked with these men rewiring the building and with the Government. Hell, you were hand pick by MI5 for this job. You were smart, Mycroft knew this and it made his knees go weak.

There was a knock on his door, he looks up from his paperwork, "Come in!"

The door opens slightly as you popped your head through. Your eyes meet Mycroft as your eyes sparkle when you grinned at him. Mycroft cleared his throat, hastily looking back down at the paperwork. He's decided to ignore the thumping noise in his ears, if he ignores that then they don't exist, right?

"Sorry to bother you, Mycroft, I've been told that I'm working in your office today," You informed him, "Though, it shouldn't hinder you, after all, you're one of the few that does everything by hand."

"It's easier," Mycroft spoke icily, but that doesn't deter you as you slowly enter the office before shutting his door, "All that computer nonsense is too complicated."

"I could always teach ya," You say, offhandedly as you were setting up, "It's really not that complicated as you think."

Mycroft looks up to you, but he had noticed that you were focused on setting up today's agenda. He smiles to himself, feeling the burn of his cheek slowly going down to his neck, he hopes you don't look his way as he knows he's clearly blushing.

"Perhaps, I'll take you up on the offer," Mycroft said, eventually, you turned your head to him and Mycroft swears his heart stopped working for a second, "After all, you're the only one out of those men I'd trust."

"Yeah, I figured," You nodded, "It's why I offered to be rewiring in your office, I don't even trust those men."

"So, you know I trust you?"

"It's painfully obvious to know who you like and who you don't."

"Ah," Mycroft finished, cursing himself for being too obvious - he's usually better than this. And, he knows who is the cause of him not having his guard up.

"So, what day do you want to spend all day learning?"

"I thought it wasn't complicated? Why would it spend all day learning?"

"Oh, well, I was hoping to get dinner with you afterwards," You smile wolfishly at him before turning away.

"Oh," Mycroft stammers, "I'll give you a date when I am free."

"Grand, it's a date then."

And if Mycroft stopped breathing at the moment, his mind short-circuiting and his heart skipped a beat, no it didn't - he refused to admit that.

Mycroft looked back at you before looking back at his papers, what on earth has he gotten himself into?

#sherlock bbc imagine #bbc sherlock #mycroft x male reader #mycroft imagine #mycroft holmes imagine #x male reader

[readingbookelf]

A Threat on My Heart - Sherlock Holmes

Summary: During his latest case Sherlock gets a threat on his life. Instead of going to a safe house, Mycroft offers a couple of rooms in his home. Your anxiety gets the better of you so you go to Sherlock to put your mind at ease.

Pairing: reader x Sherlock Holmes

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When you’re almost home, you see half a dozen policemen in front of the home you share with Sherlock and John. None of the officers will let you through the barricade even though you told them you live there.

At first glance you don’t see Sherlock on the scene of whatever’s happening which is odd. Oh no did something happen to them? It’s always a possibility, but with Sherlock’s mind you never thought --  

Before your mind can go any further you hear his voice.

“There you are! Why aren’t you at work,” he asks exasperated.

Relief floods through you when you recognize Sherlock’s voice. You turn around, away from your home. Your eyes meet his blue ones and calm you down. John’s walking next to him. Relief takes over every part of your body because they’re safe.

You furrow your eyebrows at Sherlock’s question. He’s usually pleased when you get home earlier, it means he can share his theories on their latest case.

“They let me go early. It was a slow day,” you timidly answer the consulting detective.

“We were worried when we didn’t find you at work,” John explains.

“Why would you come and get me at work? What’s going on with the apartment?”

Sherlock sighs: “We’ve received a threat during our latest case. Lestrade is a pain in the arse and wanted to make sure there weren’t any bombs or whatever in the building.”

Your mouth falls open and before you can close it yourself, Sherlock closes it with his index finger.

“How long until we can go home?” You hear the whiny note in your own voice and it makes you wince.

Sherlock’s hand reaches out and pats your shoulder. John takes your arm and puts you between the both of them while you look back at the police running around.

A couple minutes later, Lestrade walks towards you and when he stops in front of you, he says: “I’m afraid I can’t let you in the apartment until this case is over. The threat is too severe. There were no explosives in your home right now, but who says they won’t come back later.”

Sherlock lets out a deep sigh. Where are you supposed to stay? 221b Bakerstreet is the only home you know. It’s clear the news completely deflates your spirits. Sherlock wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side. He isn’t one for physical contact, but he knows it helps you when you’re anxious. You lean into his side for comfort.

Lestrade continues: “We can put you in a safe house until the case is solved.”

“That won’t be necessary. They can stay with me.”

You back goes rigid when you hear Mycroft’s voice. That man gives you the chills. The way he demands things and everything has to be his way. You can feel Sherlock’s hand squeeze your side in an attempt to silence your nerves.

“That won’t be necessary, Mycroft,” Sherlock hurriedly answers his brother.

After a heated discussion, you’re told to get some necessities from the apartment and that you’ll be staying with Sherlock’s brother.

---

Sherlock’s still grumbling when you arrive at Mycroft’s home. You’re uttered into your respective rooms without a second glance. Your hands are shaking when you take in the room. You’re in a house you don’t know. You’re in a room you don’t know. There’s a threat on Sherlock’s life, by extension everyone he lives with. Oh, this is bad.

You can feel your anxiety rumble in your chest. You’re all about routine and familiarity. It took you a while to get used to the space above Sherlock’s apartment, but you fell in love with the space the second you looked at it, making the transition easier. But this situation, it screams at your nerves to go haywire. This cold house, the coldness of the relationship between the two brothers, being alone, the threat.

You get ready for bed, but stay seated on the edge of the gigantic bed. Anxiety swirls through your body. You don’t know what time it is when you go look for Sherlock, hoping he can silence your thoughts. He’s probably still awake, trying to figure out the case so you can go home.

Luckily for you, he was assigned the room across the hall from you. You knock on his door, but there’s no answer. Did he go out to research something? Did he leave you all by yourself in a home you’re not familiar with? Panic seizes your chest and you fire three rapid knocks.

After some shuffling, the door opens revealing Sherlock clad in pyjamas and his hair tousled.

“Oh no, I woke you didn’t I? I’m so sorry. Please go back to sleep. The one time you voluntarily rest, I wake you,” you ramble already turning around towards your room.

Before you can move away, Sherlock’s fingers wind around your wrist pulling you into his room.

“Having trouble containing your anxiety, love,” he asks, sleep still clear in his voice.

You sheepishly nod at him.

“That’s alright. Come on, crawl under the covers so we can get some sleep, alright,” he says gently.

He lets go of your wrist and opens the sheet on the side that hasn’t been slept in.

“Are you sure it’s alright? I know you like your space,” you whisper.

“Yes, I’m sure. Now get your butt in bed so we can get some sleep.”

He sends you a smile before moving to his side of the bed and crawling under the covers. You hesitantly take your place next to him and get comfortable. Sherlock’s presence eases your anxiety and pushes down the thoughts. He moves around a little before grabbing your hand. You let out a gasp. It’s true that touch grounds you and silences your thoughts. But you can’t believe he’s doing this too.

“Let’s squash those thoughts am I right,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, you are,” you laugh and then more serious, “Thank you for doing this.”

“It’s my fault we’re not in the apartment. The least I can do is set your mind at ease.”

You move a little closer to him, your sides are touching now. Your joined hands are laying on his chest. You move on your side and rest your head against his shoulder, basking in his warmth. A light kiss is pressed onto your forehead before sleep takes you. How you wish you could share your bed with Sherlock every night.

#sherlock bbc #sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock imagine #sherlock bbc x reader #sherlock bbc imagine #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x y/n

[letthewhumpbegin]

The Perks of a Broken Mind Palace

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC) Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Greg Lestrade Prompt: this was written for the prompt "Panic Attack" for @whumpril Day 1. Word count: 1103 Warnings: descriptions of panic / anxiety attack.

He opened every door of his Mind Palace and walked down every corridor of it, searching every inch, every nook and cranny, but kept coming back empty-handed.

Sherlock stood in the middle of Lestrade's office, pressing his fingertips hard against his temples. He closed his eyes and willed himself to think harder. Lestrade needed his help in this murder case, and Sherlock knew he had recently read something important about the victim. But what was it again? If only he could find it in his Mind Palace!

Sherlock growled softly in frustration. "Sherlock?" Lestrade sounded slightly worried. Even for Sherlock this current behavior was off. "Shut up," Sherlock snapped back. He could feel everyone in the room staring at him. Lestrade, Anderson, Donovan…

Again, Sherlock willed himself to go down deep into his Mind Palace. Again, he searched every inch of it, and again, he came back with nothing. This had never happened to him before. He had always been able to rely on his Mind Palace, but now it let him down. And that scared him beyond anything...

Sherlock felt his mind get foggy, and his breathing was getting faster. The trembling which had started in his fingertips rapidly spread to the rest of his body. Sherlock already knew what was coming. He was cruelly, vividly aware of it, but could do nothing to stop it anymore.

He quickly lost awareness of his surroundings now, as all he felt was the anxiety coursing through him. His breath caught high in his chest, making him feel short of breath, and his heart was nearly hammering itself out of his chest.

Lestrade watched the consulting detective visibly spiral out of control in front of him. He had no idea how to handle this, but what he did know was that they did not need an audience right now.

"Get out." Lestrade ordered Anderson and Donovan. They, too, had been staring at Sherlock in horror. "Why?!" Anderson immediately retorted. "Because this does not concern you!" Lestrade barked back, ushering his colleagues out of the office.

As soon as Anderson and Donovan had grudgingly retreated to the hallway, and the door had fallen shut behind them, Lestrade shifted his attention back to Sherlock. He had only once before seen the consulting detective have a panic attack, and that had ended with him crashing to the floor and knocked out for a short while. Lestrade would do everything in his power to prevent that from happening again today.

"Sherlock." Lestrade kept his voice as calm as possible in their current situation. "Sherlock, calm down." The consulting detective did not respond. He still stood in the middle of the office, with his eyes tightly shut, and his hands pressed firmly to his temples. He was shaking all over, and breathing as if he had just run a marathon.

"Sherlock." Lestrade tried again, taking a few tentative steps closer, and carefully reaching a hand out for the consulting detective's shoulder. "It's okay, calm down. I need you to look at me." Sherlock reacted as if he'd been burned. He staggered backwards, fleeing from Lestrade's well-meant hand on his shoulder, until his back hit the wall on the opposite side of the office.

"Don't..." Sherlock whimpered softly, sliding down the wall to the ground. He never opened his eyes and never took his hands from his temples. Sitting in a heap on the floor, Sherlock's wheezing, panicked breaths filled the office.

Lestrade stared helplessly at the dark-haired man. How the hell did one handle this? Where was John Watson when you needed him?! Because John would surely know what to do.

All Lestrade could think of was to distract Sherlock and hope that that would be enough to bring him back to his senses. He knelt down in front of Sherlock, and gently wrapped his hands around the consulting detective's wrists. He could feel the clamminess of Sherlock's skin and the pulse racing beneath his fingers. Sherlock sat like a child afraid of the monster under his bed: knees drawn up to his chest, head bowed low and eyes squeezed shut. His panic attack was still running high, and no matter what Lestrade did, he could not get through to him.

Lestrade began to realize it was time for more drastic measures. What he had in mind could go both ways, but the situation couldn't get much worse than this, so he would give it a try.

Lestrade tightened his grip around Sherlock's wrists, and yanked the consulting detective's hands away from his temples in one confident motion. Sherlock gasped softly at the sudden action, and slowly opened his eyes. "John?" He muttered wearily. "No, it's Greg," Lestrade answered, "or Graham, or Gill, or whatever you want to call me today." Sherlock chuckled softly, and Lestrade gladly realized he was finally getting through.

Sherlock's breathing slowly regained a more healthy rhythm, and his hands were no longer trembling. Still, Lestrade stayed where he was, kneeling down in front of the dark-haired man and making sure he truly was alright. Sherlock gently freed his wrists from Lestrade's grip and passed both hands over his face. "Take deep breaths," Lestrade spoke softly, "it will help you calm down." Sherlock only nodded wordlessly in reply, but did follow up on the advice.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock mumbled after a few more minutes of sitting on the ground. "I cannot seem to find the information you need." Lestrade waved the apology away. "Don't worry. Don't torture yourself about it." Sherlock shot him a glaring look in reply. "Okay, just saying..." Lestrade mumbled in defense, before standing up and moving over to sit on his desk chair. This surely looked like the usual Sherlock again.

Sherlock remained seated on the ground, gradually regaining the last bit of control over himself. It had been a while since he had last had a panic attack like this, and it had drained him of quite some energy. He needed a moment to recollect himself and get his thoughts straight again.

After about ten minutes Sherlock slowly rose to his feet, buttoned up his coat and put up his collar. Lestrade watched him silently, but closely. "I'll still find it," Sherlock announced determinedly. The detective inspector simply nodded in reply at that. Without another word, Sherlock turned around and left the office.

Lestrade watched as Sherlock exited and stared at the door long after the consulting detective had left. It was clarifying to him that Sherlock, too, could lose control like that. And that somewhere beneath all his flaws and peculiarities, Sherlock Holmes still was a human being…

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[lovecraftiancicada]

#hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #sherliam #sherlock holmes #william james moriarty #sheriarty #sherlock holmes bbc #jim moriarty #lawlight #l lawliet #light yagami #chishiya shuntaro x sunato banda #otp #uhh who else #i can't remember #it's like 1am and i have school tom #imagine your otp #i'll update the tags if i remember any more #feel free to add on

[lilmoonbunny]

Denial; Mycroft Holmes

Mycroft only seeked you out to deduce you (aka, how Mycroft realised he liked you).

John and Sherlock were, without a doubt, the loudest neighbours that Y/N had ever had.

Gunshots at God only knows what hour, constant stabbing, banging, and so on. Despite this, she still considered them dear friends and the best neighbours that she had ever had. Sure, they were weird and loud, but they were also kind and genuine, at least for the most part. Alongside this, they also appreciated her baking, especially after long cases.

A gentle knock sounded on the door the 221B catching the attention of three people.

“You can come in, Y/N,” Sherlock called from behind the door, greeting the woman with a nod before turning his attention back to Mycroft whilst John smiled at her.

“Hi, Sherly. Hi, John.” She smiled at the two friends before turning to the older Holmes brother. “Hi, Mr Holmes.” Y/N greeted him with a smile. Although she hadn’t met him before, it wasn’t difficult to deduce who he was; the expensive suit and the fact Sherlock was glaring at him gave it away.

“Sherly?” Mycroft spat, grimacing at the nickname given to his brother. “Who on Earth would you let call you that?” He asked.

“This is Y/N, our neighbour. What have you brought for us today? I’ve been looking forward to this all week.” The sweet smile Sherlock gave to the woman made Mycroft feel ill. He had no clue who this woman was and absolutely no idea why they seemed to be this close.

“Chocolate cake, sugar cookies, and love.” She joked, beginning to laugh at the way Mycroft audibly gagged. “I’m only kidding. No love.”

“I should certainly hope not,” came Mycroft’s response, one which simply made her laugh again.

“Are you jealous, Mycroft?”

“Because of the cake, he is.” Sherlock interrupted, waving Myrcoft off. “No, I won’t take the case. You can leave now.”

“This is an urgent matter, brother mine.”

“Don’t care.”

With a groan and a roll of his eyes, Mycroft lifted himself to his feet and prepared to leave.

“I’ll leave these with you, just in case you change your mind. Goodbye brother mine. John.” The hesitation was obvious on Mycroft’s face, despite how well he typically hid his emotions, as he faced Y/N.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr Holmes.” Y/N smiled sweetly, earning a simple nod from him before he left.

Sherlock, who had leaned to grab the tub of baked goods from the woman’s hands, rolled his eyes as Mycroft left and immediately began to eat.

It wasn’t long until Y/N’s entire life had been researched.

There wasn’t much there. No criminal record, a few jobs, occasional moves, but no sign of her posing any danger to Sherlock and, by association, John. However, the way Mycroft felt upon seeing her was unusual, so he decided to do his own investigation.

“Morning, Mr Holmes,” he was greeted before he reached the empty counter. “Welcome to my bakery! Would you like anything?”

“Just a coffee, please. Black.” Mycroft nodded, not returning the smile she had given, despite the odd feeling it gave him. She was evil and he would prove it to Sherlock.

“Coming right up! Take a seat wherever you’d like, and I’ll bring it over.”

As Mycroft occupied a seat, he took a moment to properly assess the woman making his drink.

She didn’t seem threatening: a content smile on her lips as she prepared his coffee, humming a quiet tune that he barely picked up on. In fact, she didn’t seem out of the ordinary at all, but the feeling when he first saw her – a feeling Mycroft couldn’t explain – had him needing to investigate her further.

“Here you go, Mr Holmes.” Y/N said, placing a hot coffee and chocolate cake on the table in front of him. “Sherlock mentioned that you like cake, so I grabbed you some. It’s all on the house.”

“Why?”

With a small laugh, she responded without hesitation. “You’re Sherlock’s brother.”

How odd, Mycroft thought to himself. She doesn’t even know me and she’s giving me things for free…

Despite his thoughts, Mycroft simply nodded, watching as she took a seat opposite him. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s quiet today so I figured I’d try and keep you company the best I can. I’m sure you have better company than me, though.”

“I don’t mind,” he replied before even thinking. It was safe to say that he didn’t enjoy the way his chest felt whilst he watched her smile.

Maybe she’s a witch? No, don’t be stupid, Mycroft. They don’t exist.

“So,” Y/N’s voice broke the man from his thoughts. “It’s a funny story how me, Sherlock, and John met. I was actually working and Sherlock bursts in demanding to talk to me. My baking stuff had been found at a crime scene and he thought it was me!”

“How interesting.” Came Mycroft’s blunt reply, even if he was intrigued.

“You listened to it, so you must care, even just a little bit. I think that’s a win for me!”

Mycroft couldn’t help the tiniest smile that crawled onto his lips, but he internally prayed that nobody noticed it, especially her. She, however, seemed oblivious to the movement, simply staring over his shoulder and out of the window.

“Anyway, what was he like growing up? Was he like he is now? Blunt and rude?” Y/N asked with a giggle.

“He wasn’t, actually. He was rather sweet. He liked playing pretend with his friend; he always wanted a dog too.” Came Mycroft’s reply. “His favourite thing was pirates.” He said with a fond look in his eyes. Sherlock wasn’t going to be happy when he found out that he had told her, but he couldn’t resist answering her question.

Mycroft watched closely as the woman in front of him grinned, the bright and happy smile a nice contrast to what he was used to whilst working with the government. He couldn’t help but smile back, noting how her smile widened further as he did so.

“That’s sweet. I couldn’t imagine that, to be honest,”

It was time to ask the question that was on his mind. “Are you attracted to Sherlock?”

“Sherlock?” Y/N said, bursting into laughter. “No, absolutely not. He’s more like an annoying older brother. Same with John. We’re just friends, and, well, neighbours too.”

Confusion spread over Mycroft as she felt the weight on his shoulders lift at her words; she was telling the truth.

“How is she?” Sherlock asked the moment he answered the phone.

“How is who?” Mycroft’s voice sounded through the device.

“Y/N,”

“Why do you assume that I know?”

“It’s obvious you were there earlier.”

“…”

“Well, that and Mrs Hudson told us.”

“Of course she did.” Mycroft said with an involuntary roll of his eyes.

“So, how was it?”

“It was fine.”

“You like her then?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, you went to see her. It’s quite obvious, Mycroft. Come on, I thought you were smarter than that.”

Mycroft simply put the phone down.

He did not like her.

The next time that Mycroft came across Y/N was when it was raining.

He hadn’t wanted to seem ‘creepy’ by seeking her out again for more investigations and deductions, so he simply waited. She was friends with his brother, it wasn’t like their paths wouldn’t cross at some point. Besides, he didn’t want Sherlock to think that he liked her.

“Raining real bad tonight, isn’t it?” The driver spoke to Mycroft. He was new, so Mycroft couldn’t exactly blame him for attempting some type of conversation with him; it was still annoying, though.

Anthea, looking up from her phone was what caught Mycroft’s attention. “I feel bad for her.” She said, nodding towards a soaked woman. It only took Mycroft a moment to realise who it was.

“Pull over,” he stated bluntly, grabbing his umbrella. He simply ignored the look he was receiving from his assistant.

It had been a long day filled with rude customers, and to make it worse, it was raining, and she had forgotten her coat. Today couldn’t be going any worse for Y/N.

Shivering wildly and soaked to the core, Y/N huffed, watching the way her breath instantly evaporated; it was clearly below freezing, but she held out hope that the rain would stop and she would be home soon.

Her hope seemed to pay off, though, since she could no longer feel the rain. As she looked up at the sky, she spotted a familiar face.

“Mycroft?”

“Y/N.”

“What are you-“

“Get in.” He said, pointing towards the car before wordlessly leading her towards it, still holding the umbrella above her, even if he was getting wet.

“You don’t have to, Mycroft.” She said as he ushered her in and shut the door behind them both. “I mean, I’m soaking your car!”

Mycroft, who could feel the heat on his cheeks from their proximity, simply shook his head. He was too focused on the way her leg was pressed against his as she sat between him and Anthea who stared at her phone with a small smirk.

The ride was void of conversation, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, the only noise was that of Y/N shivering.

After a moment of hesitation, Mycroft shrugged off his jacket and handed her it. “Here.”

There was no chance of refusal, Mycroft wouldn’t allow it, so with a quiet ‘thanks’, Y/N popped the jacket over her shoulders. He just found the chattering of her teeth annoying, was what he told himself.

As they arrived at the flats, Mycroft followed her out of the car.

“Thank you, Mr Holmes.” She said as they stood on the door of her flat.

“Mycroft is fine, Y/N.”

“Thank you… Mycroft.” She said with a small smile before bidding him a goodnight.

“I see you gave her your jacket,” Was all Sherlock said as Mycroft entered 221B.

It was hard. Very hard. Harder than anything Y/N had ever experienced. Having a crush was not easy as it was, but having feelings for Mycroft Holmes was the hardest thing in the world: he rarely showed emotion, he was blunt, he was rude, but most importantly to her, deep down, he was nice.

A small sigh left Y/N’s lips as she worked on her latest batch of cookies for the morning. He was on her mind… again. It was a common occurrence by now.

“We’re not open yet, sorry!” She called over her shoulder at the sound of the door opening. As she turned around to see who it was and apologise again, a blush rushed to her cheeks. “Mycroft! What are you doing here?”

Mycroft stood there, umbrella in hand, and gave a simple shrug. “I was on my way to work so thought I would ‘pop in’ as people say.” He explained, earning a laugh from the baker.

“Modern phrases don’t suit you, Mycroft.” She teased.

With an amused shake of his head, Mycroft took a seat at the table nearest her.

“Want some cookies? They’re fresh out of the oven!”

Mycroft nodded with a grateful smile, always glad to have sweet treats. He would never turn down anyone’s desserts, least of all Y/N’s; not because he liked her and didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but because she was a good baker.

The pair sat in a comfortable silence, Mycroft gladly eating his cookies with an appreciative look whilst Y/N worked on her next batch. There was nothing awkward between them, and there, surprisingly, never had been.

“Are you not at work today?” Y/N broke the silence with a question that was bugging her. She could have sworn Mycroft had always worked this time over the months that she had known him.

Mycroft hesitated for a moment. He was supposed to be there right now but had decided to visit you before. It wasn’t like anyone could fire him for it, he was basically the British government, after all.

“Not yet,” he lied, and he was glad that he was a good liar.

“Oh, okay! I’m happy you came then. I don’t want to bother you.”

“You could never be a bother,” the words fell from his lips before he even registered what his thoughts, and he noticed the blush race up her cheeks, as did she with his.

“Thank you, Mycroft.”

As he stared at her and her rosy cheeks, a million thoughts went through his mind, but they were all related to one thing: her. It was in that moment that he realised the truth, he did like Y/N, and he had been attracted to her since the beginning; that was what he was feeling.

Oh dear…

#sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock imagine #sherlock imagines #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fanfiction #bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock imagines #bbc sherlock fanfiction #bbc sherlock fanfic #bbc sherlock mycroft #bbc sherlock mycroft x reader #bbc sherlock mycroft imagine #bbc sherlock mycroft imagines #mycroft holmes #mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft holmes imagine #mycroft holmes imagines #mycroft holmes fanfiction #mycroft holmes fanfic

[strangesthirdeye]

Sherlock:*opens the body bag*

John: *shocked because he saw Y/n in a body bag with airpods in her ears*

also John: uhm.. Sherlock, shouldn't the clothes or items related to the corpse be separated?

Sherlock: *groan in frust* Y/n! How many times have I told you not to sleep in a body bag!

Y/n: *gets up and yawns while stretching her hands and cracking her spine* nice bed ever

John:...

#benedict cumberbatch x reader #bbc shows #benedict cumberbatch #bbc sherlock x reader #the abominable bride #bbc sherlock imagine #incorrect sherlock quotes #martin freeman #dr john watson #johnlock #sherlock reader insert #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock holmes x reader

[fandom-oneshots-etc]

✨ Dropping by to request literally anything sherlock x reader - would love something with awkward idiots in love ✨

🍄 Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

🍄 Genre: Fluff

🍄 Summary: When Sherlock goes off on a frantic tangent, John knows exactly who to call, the idiot in love with him...

🍄 Word Count: 2084

🍄 Abbreviations: N/A

🍄 Warnings: N/A

🍄 Note: I hope this is what you were looking for Anon! :)

“What’s he doing this time?” you answered the phone as John’s name appeared. You had become so accustomed to the calls at all odd hours of the day, usually all pertaining to your high-functioning sociopath of a friend, Sherlock. Odd hours like the one now.

You had just sat down in your cloud chair, kindle in hand ready to read the next chapter of your gripping (b/g) when the phone had pinged, angrily vibrating against the coffee table-top. A puff of air had moved the stray hairs touching your face as you instantly recognized the personalized ring tone you had installed. You knew that John wouldn’t call you unless it was at least a code blue, blue-in-the-face blue. A colour code the two of you had created to describe the different moods of Sherlock Holmes.

“I’m so sorry-” You rolled your eyes with a little smile. “He’s just off on one. He solved the case, you know the one with the woman and the suitcases? He’s been off the walls since then. Can’t get him to settle, he’s talking about renovating the flat, knocking walls down for more ‘thinking space’. I think Mrs Hudson’s threatened to evict him already,” You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped your lips at the thought of the sweet old woman threatening your tall friend, knowing very well that she’d mean every word. You could already picture the offended horror on Sherlock’s face at her threats.

“I’m on my way,” you reassured before hanging up the phone and pushing yourself out of the comfortable chair. Slipping your kindle into your bag, you grabbed your keys from the hook and turned off the lights. You didn’t bother changing out of your night clothes,, instead your threw a long coat over your pajamas and slipped on your trainers before heading out of the flat. You weren’t exactly keen on the idea of getting a cab this late at night, but you preferred that over walking the streets alone in the dark.

Thankfully, Baker Street was only a few roads away and the journey was nice and short with the lack of traffic at this time of night. Looking up at 221B you could see tat it was one of the only lights on in the street. You slipped the spare key out of your bag and unlocked the door to 221B.

Mrs Hudson reached the bottom of the stairs in an angry flurry huffing as she passed, a few rushed ‘oh dear’s escaping her lips as she passed you, only briefly making eye contact as she scurried back into her flat, red-faced. Taking that as your cue, you started up the stairs to the flat, fully expecting to see the flat in complete disarray, and you weren’t disappointed.

The papers from the now-closed case were still strewn across the flat, stuck to the walls, laid out on the desk, tucked under the tea cups on the small side table. The tea cups, several sat on the desk untouched and probably growing a few types of fungus that Sherlock could happily describe for you. The pillows from the sofa were thrown about the flat as Sherlock stood on the sofa, feet buried in the sofa cushions and tape measure I hand as he stretched it across the wall in front of him, a HB pencil clenched between his teeth.

“Thank God you’re here!” John poked his head out of the kitchen as if weary of the man in the living room. He gestured for you to step into the kitchen, with a final glance at the tall consulting detective, you slipped into the kitchen.

“How long has he been like this?” you asked, setting your bag down on the cluttered kitchen table. Piles and piles of old experiments were stacked tall, filling up almost the entire surface of the table and from the darkening black patch by one of the chairs you had no doubt that Sherlock had blown something up today, yet another thing to add to the list of problems for you and John.

“A couple of hours now, I stupidly thought that solving the case would change his mood, but it only seemed to make him more antsy for another one-” He sighed. “Sorry it’s so late, I know you usually sit down and read about now. I didn’t want to bother you but with Mrs Hudson threatening eviction I thought it best not to wait.” You smiled at your friend and shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s been a while since he’s been like this so it was expected sooner or later. Better sort him out before Mrs Hudson really does chuck him out.” The two of you chuckle at the thought of a homeless Sherlock, it’s not really a sight either of you can imagine fully. But you had no doubt that his homeless network would really find him the best spots in London to squat.

“You don’t mind if I take a quick walk do you? I’ve been cooped up in here for a few hours trying to sort him out, just need bit of fresh air.” You shook your head and hurried John out of the kitchen door and down the stairwell. You knew it would be easier to deal with Sherlock without John around anyway. Not that John was a problem, but with Sherlock like this and his habit of making unsavory comments without fully thinking of the consequences, it would be easier than having a row start between the two flat mates.

You paused for a moment and brushed your finger against the black mark on the table top and inspected the pad of your finger. That’ll come off with some polish, you decided. Stepping back out of the kitchen and into the living room, your eyes zeroed in on the consulting detective who had now abandoned the tape measure and was gently knocking against the wall looking for a hollow sounding area.

“No.” You spoke clearly, catching the attention of the detective who had yet to notice you. Spinning on his heels, his eyes flashed at you wide and adorable. It kind of reminded you of a child who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. His mouth started to open but you shut him down quickly. “No,” You gave him a stern look. “That wall has all of the major electricity lines and one of the main water pipes. No.”

“There’s no way you could possibly know that just from looking at the wall-” Sherlock argued.

“No I couldn’t. I know because I had to get the schematics for the flat after you started shooting the walls because you were banned from in-person cases and blew the power out in this side of London,” You reminded. “An event that Mycroft still calls ‘The Great COVID Blackout’.” Sherlock’s nose scrunched at the mention of his brother. “Now, are you going to sit down or am I going to have to use that self-defense training program you insisted I go on to incapacitate you?” You could almost see the cogs turning in his head as his eyes narrowed at you, trying to deduce if you were serious or not. Your unwavering stance must have given him his answer as he slowly stepped down from the sofa and settled his feet back on the floor calmly.

“Why are you here?” You were very rarely offended by Sherlock’s blunt words, it just wasn’t worth the energy when you also knew that he rarely meant it to come across in that way. “No, don’t answer that. You’re here in your night clothes, your kindle is tucked in your bag and your hair is done up which means it’s late- John called you. Why?”

“Probably because his roommate was threatened with eviction after planning to renovate their rented flat and set the landlady off.” “Mrs Hudson wouldn’t evict me. She still owes me for getting her husband executed.”

“Favours do expire Sherlock. They have their limits.” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Really?” You nod. “Oh. Well John wouldn’t let her evict me.” “Have you been experimenting today?” You think back to the two mugs settled on the kitchen counter, one sporting a brownish green sludge at the bottom.

“Yes, why- Oh.”

“Right come on,” You clapped your hands, moving towards him and grabbing one of his hands to pull him over to his chair. You ignored the sounds of protest from Sherlock as you settled on the chair and tugged on his arm. “Sit down,” you instructed. Sherlock sighed and complied, dropping onto the floor and crossing his legs underneath him. You grabbed the TV remote and switched it on. “What should we watch? Bones or Criminal Minds?” you pondered.

“Why do we have to watch a crime show? They’re always so inaccurate-” You flick the TV onto an episode of Criminal Minds. “Look, the killer’s using tape- what about finger prints? They don’t need to study his behaviour, just find the prints-” You smiled softly, fiddling with a few strands of Sherlock’s curly hair in your lap as he rattled on about the mistakes of the Unsub and the BAU team.

It was around an hour later that John returned to the flat. Pushing open the front door of 221, he was relieved to hear nothing. The light under Mrs Hudson’s door was now off, meaning she had slipped into bed, no longer tormented by her tenant’s renovation plans. The light on the landing let off a soft glow as John started up to the flat. A heavy wave of relief swept through him as he noticed the lack of banging, drilling, sawing or any construction noises at all. You had managed to talk him out of it for now. He reached the top of the stairs and could hear the muffled sounds of the TV in the flat. Stepping into the kitchen he could see that the place was still a pig sty but at least there wasn’t any knocked down walls or partially constructed extensions. The mess could be dealt with in the morning.

As he turned the corner and peeked - still a little cautiously into the living room - a soft smile graced his face. Your back was pressed against one of the arms of Sherlock’s chair, your legs swung over the opposite side. Sherlock’s was still perched on the floor with his legs crossed, his head dropped back against your stomach, with your right hand resting on top. Your fingers rhythmically threading through his curly brown locks, soothingly. John flicked his eyes up to the TV screen to see an episode of Criminal Minds playing, Sherlock’s face scrunched in distaste as he watched the team profile the murderer. Your other hand held your kindle tightly, your fingers set comfortably around the flower pop socket on the back as you occasionally flicked the pages with your thumb.

John couldn’t help but watch in awe for a moment. No one he knew had ever been able to soothe Sherlock in the way that you could. Not him, not Mrs Hudson and certainly not his brother, not even his parents had this calming effect that you had. He wondered if Sherlock would ever confess to the effect you had on him, or explain why you had such an effect on him. John knew the reason, Mrs Hudson knew the reason… did Sherlock? Did you?

You were always just as oblivious as Sherlock. John had mentioned to you once or twice about how you effected the consulting detective, but you couldn’t see it. You wouldn’t admit to the effect you so clearly had on him nor would you confess to the butterflies that whirled in your stomach whenever you were this close to him.

You caught John’s eye and must’ve made an educated guess of what he was thinking as you rolled your eyes and shook your heads. Deciding that now was probably not the time to bring up the obvious pink elephant that shared the living room with the three of you, John mouthed a ‘thank you’ to you and you nodded, letting out a quiet yawn. He bidded a quick farewell to the pair of you before shuffling out of the kitchen and upstairs to his room. On his way up the stairs, he couldn’t help but wonder how long the two of you would remain oblivious.

As he reached the top of the staircase he paused and chuckled. Lovesick idiots.

#sherlock x reader #sherlock oneshot #sherlock imagine #sherlock holmes #sherlock #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes oneshot #bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock oneshot #bbc sherlock imagine #request #reqs open #requests open #anon ask

[starks-hero]

brother dearest

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: Mycroft had never considered himself to be overprotective. However, he isn't overly pleased with how smitten his little brother is with you...

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: John is the only one with any emotional intelligence and Mycroft is faced with the horrifying ordeal of realising his younger sibling is dating, so they're all idiots really

Mycroft Holmes could practically feel his blood pressure rising. Confidential documents had been stolen from the very hands of the British government, putting the democratic well-being of an entire nation in jeopardy. And his little brother wouldn't answer the phone.

The moment word of the breach had gotten to Mycroft his first plan of action was to call Sherlock. Of course, he could have hypothetically dealt with the issue himself had it not required leg work. But to his dismay, contacting the youngest Holmes seemed to be as unlikely as winning the lottery.

Tossing dignity to the wind in the name of restoring balance to the western world, Mycroft stooped to the, in his opinion, ever embarrassing low of visiting Baker Street himself. He ascended the stairs, his displeasure evident in the weight of his steps, and refused to practice the common courtesy of knocking before entering the flat. Sherlock had lost that privilege when he refused to pick up the bloody phone.

Mycroft tutted with annoyance when he found both the living room and kitchen empty. Sherlock's coat, with whom he refused to go anywhere without, still hung idle on the clothes rack. He was in the flat and Mycroft was going to find him if he had to tear away every brick.

With all the begrudgement of a man who'd had his morning routine seriously uprooted, Mycroft marched towards Sherlock's bedroom and swung open the door.

He almost immediately wished he hadn't.

Sherlock lay sprawled out on the bed, white sheets twisting over alabaster skin. His eyes were shut, his hair a tangled mess of curls and you lay by his side.

Mycroft's jaw fell so quickly he expected it to unhinge and clatter against the floor with all the comedic effect of a nineties cartoon.

Sherlock's head rested against your shoulder whilst the lower half of your face was largely hidden by his curls. Your lips brushed his forehead in a prolonged kiss and Sherlock's arm was thrown over you almost possessively. Your own hand curled softly around the nape of his neck.

Disbelief, embarrassment and anger chased each other across Mycroft's expression before he settled with complete mortification. He couldn't explain it, not really, but seeing his little brother in bed with someone made him feel ridiculously nauseous.

Sherlock shifted, stretching out his limbs like a content cat before nuzzling closer to you.

Having no idea what else to do, the eldest Holmes shut the door. After a quick and failed attempt to purge the last few moments from his memory, he made his way back towards the living room.

He was met by John.

The doctor quickly did away with his fresh bag of groceries in order to make small talk, much to Mycroft's disdain. When John got around to the reason for his visit, and therefore Sherlock's current whereabouts, Mycroft shifted awkwardly.

“He seems to be occupied.”

A look of confusion clouded John's expression. He glanced down the hallway, jutting his thumb in the direction of Sherlock's room.

“I'm fairly certain he's just–” John's words were dissolved by the bitter look that was thrown his way by the eldest Holmes. “–oh, he didn't tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Mycroft asked with a painfully fake smile.

John swallowed thickly, suddenly very unhappy with the fact that he was the one that had to break the news to possibly the most powerful man in Britain that his little brother was seeing someone.

“He uh– he didn't tell you about himself and Y/N?”

Mycroft blinked. “It would appear he left out that minor detail.”

The silence that followed was awkward at best and utterly painful at worst. John, who wanted nothing more for the interaction to end but had no idea how to make that happen, nodded. Mycroft cleared his throat and readjusted his hold on his umbrella.

He glanced back towards his brother's room and John didn't miss the subtle glare he was trying to hide. Ah, so that's what this was about. John may not have shared Sherlock's observational skills but he did have a sister. He knew what overprotectiveness looked like.

“Mycroft, you do realise that Sherlock is an adult.”

“If that's what you would like to call him.”

“Right,” John dismissed quickly. “But he and Y/N are together. They have feelings–”

What was very much beginning to sound like a new rendition of ‘the birds and the bees’ was shortened by a scoff on Mycroft's behalf.

"My brother is barely capable of understanding his own feelings, you think he can handle someone else's?"

“You'd be surprised.”

Surprised was certainly one word for it. Mycroft simply couldn't imagine his brother being emotionally involved with anyone, regardless of how much imagination he tried to employ. He failed to imagine Sherlock in any situation that involved intimacy or vulnerability, let alone with you.

As if the very thought of you had doubled as a summoning spell, you entered the kitchen, steps lazy and eyes tired. If you were surprised to see the eldest Holmes you hid it well.

“Mycroft,” you greeted with a tight-lipped smile.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes moved between him and John, trying to piece together what exactly you'd walked into. John cleared his throat. You fought the urge to just go back to bed.

“Can I get you anything?” You motioned to the kitchen.

“My brother, if it's no trouble.”

“Showering,” you yawned. You decided not to add the bit where Sherlock had mentioned needing to ‘cool off before facing the devil so early in the morning’ upon realising his brother was in the living room. “He won't be long.”

“I see. I hate to show up unannounced. But I tried to call this morning and it seemed he was unavailable.”

You smirked despite yourself. Mycroft's grasp on his umbrella tightened.

After a few agonising moments that consisted of you cluelessly making yourself a morning cup of tea, Mycroft glaring holes into your back and John all but hiding behind his newspaper, Sherlock joined you.

His hair was damp, curls frizzed up due to the warm water. Mycroft hadn't seen it in such a state since Sherlock was a child. The unruly nature of his hair, as well as its tendency to make him look far less intimidating and far more endearing, often led to embarrassment. Which is why Mycroft was so surprised to see him so at ease.

Sherlock didn't so much as acknowledge his brother's existence as he made a beeline towards you, accepting the tea you offered and leaving a lazy kiss against the side of your head. He was smiling fondly all the while.

Said smile immediately fell when he spotted Mycroft. Sherlock muttered something about god under his breath and took a long, almost purposefully so, sip from his mug before speaking.

“Terrorist attack or security breach?”

Mycroft raised an unamused brow.

“It's ten o'clock on a Sunday morning, from my understanding you should be having tea with the prime minister or something–” Sherlock waved his free hand around dismissively. “You wouldn't be here if it wasn't of national importance. So which is it? Suspected terrorist attack or a security breach?”

“That, brother mine, is something you would have already been clued in on if you'd learned how to answer my calls.” Mycroft intended for his words to be somewhat scolding but judging by how Sherlock reclined in his chair and crossed his legs he figured his attempt at exerting some sort of authority over his younger brother had failed. “Now, it's not as threatening as initially believed but still relevant enough to warrant some sort of investigation. Which is why I need you to–”

His words fizzled out at the sight of you moving to stand behind Sherlock's chair. Your stance was relaxed, comfortable, as if you felt you belonged where you stood, as some sort of watchful protector. Mycroft glowered.

You seemed unfazed and Mycroft couldn't tell which he hated more, your hand now on Sherlock's shoulder or the fact that his brother was smirking because of it.

By some miracle, he managed to make it through the rest of the briefing without giving away just how much he wanted the floorboards to open up and swallow him.

He didn't know why the sight of you both together irritated him so much but by god was it getting under his skin. The glances you shared that Mycroft knew had hidden meanings behind them. How his brother, who needed a week's recovery in his room after any social interaction, preened under your touch. The youthful look in his eyes, the boyish smile. It was somehow painful to look at.

Mycroft could still recall when he was the only one that could placate his brother. When they were children, spending hours in their garden estate, finding insects and frogs and recalling their Latin names. Anything to keep their brilliant young minds entertained. He remembered how Sherlock would light up with each new nugget of information Mycroft gave him. Even into their teenage years, he was the one Sherlock trusted, the one he looked to for help and guidance. It had always been him.

But now, now there was you.

He had you to confide in. To talk to. To irritate with a tirade of useless facts that anyone else would think irrelevant. He had you to look out for him and comfort him and Mycroft couldn't understand why this was angering him so–

Oh.

The notion that his little brother had, in fact, grown up and didn't need him anymore came as a very unwelcome realisation. Mycroft had the sudden desire to leave the flat as promptly as he could.

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “I should be getting on. I trust you'll fill me in on your findings?”

Sherlock groaned, in agreement or dismissal it was hard to tell.

Mycroft, who now wanted nothing more than to leave, turned to make his way to the door. “Good day, doctor Watson.”

John nodded, not failing to notice the change in Mycroft's stance.

‘He's copped on then.’

Partially because of your closeness to the door and partially in an attempt to rectify whatever you'd done to wrong Mycroft, you moved to show him out.

He passed you silently but as you stepped back to close the door, he stopped you.

He seemed uneasy, an emotion that looked unnatural and foreign on him. His nerves were infectious and you quickly found yourself growing anxious, expecting him to gift you with some horrific piece of information to pass on to Sherlock to save him from dealing with the mess of telling his brother himself.

His actual request was something much softer.

“Take care of him, will you?”

It took a few moments for you to blink away your surprise. As confused as you were, you nodded all the same.

“Of course.”

Mycroft responded with a nod of his own, offered a surprisingly genuine smile and then turned to leave. He'd descended the stairs entirely by the time you finally closed the flat door.

“What was that about?” Sherlock asked nonchalantly.

You shook your head. “Absolutely no idea.”

John took a sudden interest in his newspaper in an attempt to ignore just how hard he was biting his tongue.

thank you for reading!

Sherlock tag list: @miraclesoflove @ilovefanfictions @mylovelysnowflake @quentawewe @bakerstreethound @andreasworlsboring101 @doozywoozy @xxinvisiblexx @the-worst-critic @the-queer-dungeoneer @jellyfishbeansontoast @starrykitn @starryeddie @ladymercury8 @themorningsunshine @evelynrosestuff @mywellspringoflife @simp-for-scammanders @Xhz17x @allieberries @kealohilani-tepise

#finally starting to clear out my drafts to help me get back in the writing groove #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #bbc sherlock x reader #sherlock imagine #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes x you #bbc sherlock x you #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock #1k

[entitled-fangirl]

#fanfiction #twilight #the marauders fandom #hannibal lecter #sherlock bbc imagine #din djarin fanfiction #good omens x reader #supernatural fanfiction

[malereader-inserts]

P.S I Love You

Fandom: Sherlock BBC Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Male!Reader Summary: The story of you and Sherlock changing feelings. Word Count: 1,204

You hated him.

He hated you back.

That's life, you weren't expecting things to change. He found you snarky, full of shit and annoying. You found him aggravating, his stupid face makes you want to gag. You two couldn't even stay in the same room without a screaming match waiting to happen.

Sherlock hated you.

You were fine with that, honestly, you were. In fact, you were relieved with the information. But, it doesn't change the fact that you live in the flat above him. Sometimes, you both wished you never had met.

He was arrogant, an insufferable know-it-all, and all you wanted to do was scream in his face. He would taunt you and you would play back in his taunts by being smug.

You'd never thought that you would stoop so low, but you hated the man so much and he hated you too.

He would play his violin loudly and in the middle of the night when you're trying to sleep so you make sure to walk heavier than you do. Stop about and make sure to ruin his day, forcing him to leave his flat.

Sherlock hated to admit that he found you interesting when you first met, you were harder to deduce and you didn't let him in your safe space, you were harder to know. Sherlock takes pride in his things, he does not like the fact that you were one of the very few people he cannot crack.

"Watch it, Holmes, other people live here too."

"Oh, I'm painfully aware (Y/n)," Sherlock replied back, with the same bitter tone you spoke.

John merely rolls his eyes, he doesn't know why he hasn't left the flat for a different place of living. Though, Sherlock knows John finds your bickering entertaining, much more than his bickering with his brother.

"Shut up, Watson."

"I didn't even say anything."

John looked offended as you lean against the doorway, your arm crossed over your chest with your eyebrow raised. You looked at Sherlock in disgust before turning to the detective's best friend.

"I can't believe you can live with this insufferable git, John, I do send you my condolence."

And there it is, there was another argument in the flat.

Sherlock liked you.

He hates to admit it, but he likes you.

He hates that he can't figure out if you like him back.

You like Sherlock.

You don't know why it changed, but it did. Perhaps it was the fact that you were entertaining yourself in Sherlock's misery, that one day it just felt wrong. You're not that much of a hateful person, and you did pity Sherlock at times.

You often think back to when you hated his gut and you cringe to yourself, why did you stoop so low?

Your bickering and arguments were purely out of enjoyment rather than misery, you never miss the smirk on Sherlock's face, and Sherlock always noticed the playful look in your eyes.

You don't want to rip each other's throat out anymore, Sherlock no longer plays the violin in the middle of the night and your stomping seems to cease to exist.

There was like an unspoken bond that had formed, John had started to give the two of you weird stares and Mrs Hudson was convinced that the world was ending when her day wasn't ruined by shouting.

Somehow, both you and Sherlock grew up on such short notice.

Perhaps, Sherlock doesn't want to admit to himself that he finds you so interesting that he's craving to know you more. Every day, you always surprise him, and he enjoys being excited to see your smiling face as you run down to the great outdoors, passing his open door.

He enjoyed seeing you return from the outside looking like a wet rat, you give him the middle finger - whilst John was expecting another row to happen, he was shocked to hear Sherlock chuckle to himself and shake his head. When John looks at you, he's even more surprised to see you sending Sherlock a toothy grin.

He doesn't bring you along to the cases, you think you're above that, but he always wants to hear your input. He doesn't realise he wants your feedback until it's too late, he's smiling to himself as he watches you examine the pictures.

Sherlock likes you.

You like Sherlock.

It changed at some point, and the pair of you can't agree when it did.

You love Sherlock.

It makes you gag because a few months ago you hated the bastard. A few months ago, you wished you never met the guy. You wanted to punch his stupid smug face.

Despite that, you love him and you're content with it.

Sherlock loves you.

He's never felt love before, but one day, he found himself longing for you when you went away for a week. He has a place in his mind palace just reserved for you, he's kept the memory of you. Your smile, your stupid little smile - he found himself smiling to himself. He remembers every little detail about you, what your favourite stuff and what you absolutely hate.

Sherlock found himself doing stuff for you to be comfortable.

You found yourself enjoying each other's company, to the point you two would let yourself into each other's apartment. Sherlock would sit in your apartment, reading one of your books as you do your work. At times, you would be in his apartment to stop looking at your laptop and just talk to him.

You enjoy each other's company and even John thinks it weird that the arguments were rare. It was more bickering as if you were an old married couple, but the explosive arguments didn't happen.

Sherlock loves you.

You love Sherlock.

You didn't expect it to happen.

Sherlock adores you.

He brushes a piece of stray hair away from your sleeping face. He's content, he feels happier. You're next to him, asleep, and Sherlock can't imagine it happening - but, here you were. And, he feels like he's the luckiest man alive.

He has the most handsome boyfriend and no one could compare.

Sherlock remembers almost a year ago, how you two hated each other. Refusing to make eye contact, the snarky replies and petty actions. Now, you two are dating and happy with the outcome of your relationship, you'd bend backwards for Sherlock and Sherlock would do the same.

"Sherlock," you mumbled, half awake, blinking slowly as Sherlock can't help but smile lovingly, "Go to sleep."

You smack his arm before falling asleep again, shuffling to turn your back on him. He hates feelings, Sherlock doesn't understand them. But, when you're around, everything seems to fall in place. As if you hold the answers to all his questions, you must be one hell of a man to make Sherlock feel like that.

You adore Sherlock.

He was a completely different person to you and everyone else. You felt special, and yeah, you missed the old days where you were mocking each other - but, where you are at right now, you wouldn't change it for the world.

"I love you," You hear Sherlock mumble behind you.

You smile to yourself, "I love you too."

#sherlock bbc imagine #sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes x male reader #x male reader

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It is finally Y/N's turn to walk down the aisle. Sherlock can't keep his eyes off of her. She is certain that the man waiting at the alter is the one she will spend the rest of her life with. Is he?

wedding fluff and angst

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

Sherlock stood at the alter, hands clasped behind his back. To the wedding guests, his sharp stance would suggest ease. In truth, each deep breath he chased was laboured and unsure.

She was a vision in white. Precious in deep sheets of ivory.

Sherlock had never seen such perfection.

Y/N took measured steps down the aisle in time to the music's pace. A few steps further and the bride would become somebody's wife.

Sherlock promised himself he would not cry today. Not one tear, he swore. He was better than that. Still, as Y/N drew closer, step by step, he wasn't certain he could keep a dry eye.

He considered turning away or focusing on the flower arrangements set behind her shoulder. Anything to keep the strain in his chest at bay.

It was in that moment of deliberation that Y/N chose to wink at him. A small gesture, hardly visible behind her veil but even so, he caught it.

Propping his shoulders back, he chose to keep looking. Better to face the music than miss a flutter of her lashes or the quiver of her lip when she smiled.

Though his throat felt constricted and his chest heaved for breath, Sherlock Holmes could not turn away from the bride.

He registered John shoot him a grin from the left. He wasn't sure that he returned it.

"She's beautiful," John said in a hushed tone.

"She's beautiful," Sherlock repeated.

Three years earlier, Sherlock had met Y/N for the first time. Since then, she had stumbled through the flat each day, always with a shy smile and a soft spoken, "hello".

He loved her from the start.

Their highs and lows, they would experience together. When she threw her head back in laugher, teeth gleaming at something her lover said, Sherlock would see it. He often revealed his experiments to her, if only to see the wonder shine in her eyes.

Even after every lover's spat, Sherlock would wrap his arms around her and swear that things would look brighter in time.

He was right. By God, he was right. He had to be, for now, she stood just steps away from him, at the alter, incandescently happy in her wedding gown.

A slow tear trailed down Sherlock's cheek.

Y/N finally reached him and there was silence in the cathedral when the music at last, had died. 

"You're crying," she said.

Sherlock choked out a laugh that hurt his head. "I'm not," he replied. He tightened his lips together to ease the line of worry that had suddenly appeared on Y/N's brow.

"You're beautiful," he whispered. Closing his eyes, Sherlock shifted her veil aside. His hand trembled as he pushed it just far enough to kiss her cheek.

Though he gave her the softest of kisses, he felt a sharp stab in his heart, as arduous as the touch of his lips on her skin was brief.

He dropped her veil again and opened his eyes. "Every happiness," he said to her. His gaze steeled into her own. He hoped she wouldn't understand but she did.

Y/N nodded and her veil rustled. "Every happiness," she said back to him.

Sherlock clenched his jaw and feigned a smile for the wedding guests that stared from the pews. Then, he took Y/N's hand in his own and walked with her for three final steps.

John waited beside the priest.

Sherlock presented the groom with his bride and took his position as best man.

He was good at that, after all; standing on the outside, looking in. It's how he captured so many of his friends' most private moments in the small space of 221B.

Throughout the ceremony, the words, "every happiness" rang in Sherlock's mind.

When John and Y/N shared their first kiss as man and wife, Sherlock clapped along with the others but still, "every happiness" lingered at the tip of his tongue.

He simply couldn't manage to add the words, "I wish you..." at the start.

Things would be brighter in time, he told himself.

He knew it was a lie but for now, he clapped.

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

I'm crying. I have reposted this thing like, 10 times. Last time, I swear. omg. please work. If you'd like to be tagged, let me know.

Thank you for your patience, literally everybody I'm tagging: @twisted-monster @starryeddie @the-chaotic-cow @turkisherlockian @aephereal ​ @andthevillainshallrises ​ @baby-bloos ​ @cookiemumster1 ​​ @eternal-silvertongued-prince ​ @bogginsreadings ​ @lumosouls @spencerrxids @serenity-lattes @msseijii @classickook @starstruck-loner @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson ​ @lucywrites02  @danzalladaggers @mrs-holmes @pytharuw @antsn @kabubsmagga @newtsniffles  @cemak​ @liv-olive-oliver @iamtrash-withrespect @asgards-princess-of-mischief

#sherlock #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock #reader x sherlock #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock x you #sherlock fluff #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #reader x sherlock holmes #you x sherlock #benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock imagine #sherlock self insert #sherlock fic #sherlock holmes fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #sherlock holmes fluff #bbc sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock comfort fic #y/n x sherlock #sherlock holmes x you #you x sherlock holmes #sherlock fanfic #sherlock bbc

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Sherlock constantly barging into your apartment…

The key turned in the door as the locked clicked to allow you passage into your apartment. Pulling the groceries into the room, you were busy thinking of which bags held the frozen items when you looked up and saw the calamity being conducted inside by the detective downstairs.

You had told him repeatedly not to enter your home without your consent and most certainly, not to touch anything!

“It’s like you get a kick out of pressing my buttons.” You asked, setting the bags down at your feet.

Your favourite clock had been taken off the wall and dismantled. The books were scattered along the tables and floors and Sherlock appeared to have taken creative liberty with your mantelpiece decor.

Shaking your head, you had had enough. “I can’t do it anymore - you win. I’m moving out.”

Sherlock, not expecting that to be the response, frowned. “What?”

“Moving out.” You repeated. “It’s clear that you hate having me around. I thought that staying here would be nice - that it would be easier to consult with you on cases but obviously not.”

You grabbed your coat from the back of the chair and moved in the direction of the door.

“I don’t come here because I don’t like you. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.” Sherlock said.

Stopping what you were doing, you turned around. Sherlock was now looking at you. His face harbouring a light smile.

“I enjoy spending time with you and yes, sometimes I irritate you and disrupt your life but it’s because I don’t know how to ask for your company.”

~ More imagines here ~

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #sherlock imagine #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock holmes imagine #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #bbc sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes imagine

[spooksicl-e]

small comic for a thing i’m very deviously constructing with a friend (nemesis)

#like imagine sherlock (bbc) but rewritten by two people on the internet #who are deprived of sleep #and unwell about characters played by benedict cumberbatch. #yeah anywho you’re not getting context for this but there is SOOO much context #happy theorizing !! #my art #no @ bc i forgot #so just don’t use or steal ig #fanart #fanartist #art #sherlock holmes #sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #martin freeman #bbc sherlock #johnlock #john watson #sherlock fanart #trf #teh #the reichenbach fall #the empty hearse #comic

[specialagentlokitty]

Sherlock x reader - my type

Hello, how are you mate, could you do a fic where reader is a pretty young lady with lots of male admirers and Sherlock thinks she’s out of his league. But he didn’t knew she was actually into him. Thanks! - Anon💜

Walking into flat with you looked around for your older brother but you couldn’t find him anywhere, but you did find his flatmate.

“Hey Sherlock, have you seen my brother?”

Sherlock looked up from the laptop.

“John isn’t here?”

You smiled a little, shaking your head at him and you walked over to him, leaning over the back of Sherlocks chair, you looked at what he was doing.

Sherlock glanced at your arm next to him but he said nothing about it.

“Why are you looking for John?” He asked.

“He was supposed to come to the shopping centre with me.”

Sherlock nodded his head and carried on scrolling through whatever webpage he was looking through.

It was silent for a moment.

“Come with me.” You said.

“Why?”

You smiled a little and walked back around the chair, placing your hands on your hips as you looked at him.

“Because I want you to come, it’ll be fun!”

“I’m busy.”

“No you’re not don’t lie to me Sherlock Holmes. Come on! Do you really want to leave a lady walking around the city alone?”

Sherlock went back to looking at the laptop and you huffed a little.

“Please Sherlock? I don’t wanna go alone.”

Sherlock sighed, closing the laptop.

He stood up and grabbed his coat and you beamed brightly at him as your an down the stairs.

“Thank you Sherlock!”

He complained the whole way to the shopping centre, but he went wherever you went even if he didn’t want to.

You were in a store looking for new tops and jackets, and Sherlock stood looking around.

He noticed how a lot of men would stop and look at you and he furrowed his brows slightly.

Sherlock looked at you.

You didn’t even seem to pay the other men any attention, you simply went about your business shopping for what you wanted.

“Hey beautiful, wanna grab a drink later?”

You looked up at the unknown man and blinked.

“Not interested.”

You walked away, grabbing Sherlocks arm so he would follow you.

“This is why you didn’t want to come alone.” He said.

“Yeah, John usually scares them away.”

Sherlock nodded his head and looked at the red shirt you were looking at.

“That’s not your colour. Here.”

He reached out and handed you a light blue version of the top and you smiled slightly.

“Thanks.”

You happily went to pay for everything, and started wondering again.

Sherlock noticed more and more men trying to hit on you, some offering to get you lunch, pay for your things, take you out.

You declined them all, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt him slightly.

Sherlock wasn’t one for human emotions.

But you were beautiful, even he had to admit that. You seemed to have a sort of glow about you thay no matter where you were he could easily pick you out in a crowd.

You were absolutely stunning, he was sure if you wanted too you could’ve been a model.

And even though you declined the advances of other men it hurt him they had the courage to hit on you when he didn’t.

He didn’t know how.

But not just that, he was certain that there was no way you would date someone like him. He was sure of that.

He sighed softly, and glanced at you, seeing you stopping by a small bakery.

“Are you hungry?” He asked.

“A little. I just want to look.”

Sherlock nodded and gestured for you to go in, and he followed you, watching as you showed interest in different things.

“I’ll be out in a moment.”

“Okay!” You beamed.

Sherlock went back around and gathered a few of each thing you seemed to like or he knew you liked and brought them.

Walking outside, Sherlock held the bag out to you.

“Sherlock?”

“Well take it then, it’s for you.”

You took the bag and looked inside.

“Aw Sherlock you didn’t have to!”

“You wanted them and couldn’t make up your mind, so I got them all. Are we done shopping?”

You looked up at him and you smiled softly, nodding your head.

“Yeah, we can go home now.”

You got a cab back to the flat with him and happily skipped up the stairs, and you sat on the arm of his chair.

Sherlock walked over and sat next to you, and you held out the bag of baked goods.

He looked up.

“They’re yours.”

“And I want to share with you.”

“Thank you.”

Sherlock took one and you smiled, leaning against him and he couldn’t help the fact his heart skipped a beat a little.

“So, why did you turn down all of those men?”

You hummed a little.

“They’re not my type.”

“You have a type?”

You nodded.

“Oh yeah. Tall, brown messy hair, blue eyes, really smart but kinda oblivious to normal emotions, lives with my older brother and he buys me food from the bakery.”

You jumped up and beamed brightly at him, giving him a wink you grabbed your stuff and ran away while he sat there processing what you said

#bbc Sherlock #bbc sherlock x you #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc Sherlock imagine #Sherlock Holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #Sherlock Holmes x you #sherlock holmes imagine

[lilmoonbunny]

First Kisses; BBC Sherlock

Includes: Sherlock, John, Mycroft, Lestrade, and Moriarty.

Sherlock:

It wasn’t rare for Sherlock to come out with the strangest things, but there were times when his requests were so unexpected that one would choke.

“I need to test out a theory,” Sherlock broke the silence between himself and Y/N one day.

“…Okay?” Y/N replied simply, preparing to tell Sherlock that he can’t put a head in the microwave again.

“I require your help.”

That was odd, he rarely ever trusted someone else to help him with an experiment, not even John.

With a raised eyebrow, she responded. “How so?”

“You need to kiss me.” Whilst his words were as blunt as always, Y/N couldn’t help the way that she choked in surprise, all whilst he rolled his eyes. “It is not that serious, Y/N. I simply need to see if it solves these thoughts.”

“These thoughts?” Came her confused response, watching him as he walked towards her seat on the chair opposite him.

“That is what I said, yes. Do keep up.”

Rolling her own eyes, she stared up at the detective who had an impatient look on his face.

“I mean, okay? If that’s what you want.” He smirked slightly at her attempt to seem nonchalant at his request; he didn’t expect her to actually do it.

“I just need to see if t-“He began speaking, only to have his sentence cut short by her lips pressing against his own.

Sherlock’s eyes widened as her hand gently gripped his cheek as kissed him. He was frozen in place, heart racing, and chest heaving once she pulled away.

“Did that help?” She asked, looking up at the startled and silent man as she seated herself back where she was previously. She waited for a few more moments to see if he would respond before giving up. “Anyway, I need to get going. Tell John I said hello whenever he returns.” Y/N said as she reached the door, Sherlock still frozen in place, at least, until the door clicked, and he snapped out of his haze.

“Hey, Y/N, wait!”

John:

Despite his initial dislike for the youngest Holmes sibling, John couldn’t deny the feelings that he had grown for Y/N Holmes over the past few months. It was obvious to everyone besides the woman herself who was, unlike her brothers, oblivious to any and every sign of affection towards her.

It was just the two of them in 221B going through the latest case files whilst Sherlock attended a crime scene. He had originally asked John to accompany him, but the man refused after realising that Y/N was remaining at the flat, something at which Sherlock simply rolled his eyes, having already deduced his friends crush on his sister long before he even knew himself.

It was a trickier case than usual, hence why Sherlock had to return to the crime scene, leaving John and Y/N to search through mountains of files looking for one specific word.

“This would be so much easier if these files were all on a computer.” Y/N yawned, flipping the page over to the other side, John doing the same.

“Agreed.”

“Wait, this might be what we’re looking for!” The woman shot up onto her feet in excitement, turning the paper towards John and pointing at what she was looking at with a smile which was soon returned as he agreed.

In excitement, Y/N’s arms wrapped around John, and she pulled him in for a hug, only to pull away once she realised what she had done.

“I’m so sor-“ she began, only to be silenced by John wrapping his hand around the back of her neck and pulling her into him for a moment, lips pressed against each other.

“Finally,” a deep voice sounded from the doorway, making the pair pull back away from each other in both shock and embarrassment. “Now if you two lovebirds are quite finished, what have you found?”

Lestrade:

It was odd for Greg to enjoy working with Sherlock.

Whilst he didn’t mind John’s company, Sherlock was an absolute nightmare, but their friend on the other hand, Y/N, she was wonderful and Lestrade could not get enough of her.

She was everything that Sherlock wasn’t. Kind, sweet, funny, genuine, and it came as no shock to him, or anyone else for that matter, when he began developing feelings for her. However, despite how obviously reciprocated his feelings were, the man refused to believe that she could ever like him back, even after Sherlock himself told him that she likes him too.

The two had become fast friends, having clicked as soon as they met, and a friendship with Lestrade meant coffee. All the time. Coffee was his favourite time of the day, especially if there were doughnuts involved.

“Your coffee is in the kitchen.” Y/N called as Greg let himself into her apartment, a common occurrence amongst the two, and he shot her a thumbs-up as he passed her to grab his drink.

“Thank you very much.” He grinned, taking a seat beside her on the sofa and turning his attention to the football for a moment. He knew she had no interest in the game, so why she had agreed to watch it with him, he didn’t know.

“It’s no problem, Greggy.” She teased him with the new nickname, one that always earned a blush from the older man.

“Do you have to call me that?” He muttered, both his cheeks and ears tinted red in embarrassment.

“Yep!” She smiled, pinching his cheek as he continued to stare at her, or, more specifically, her lips as she licked them.

He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but he couldn’t resist. He leaned over, his hand resting on top of hers, and pressed his lips against hers, something which she gladly reciprocated.

In his panic, he abruptly pulled back before registering that she had returned his kiss and began rushing out apologies.

“I’m so so sorry, oh my God, I should definitely not have done that. I am so sorry!” He rambled, previous blush darkening as she pushed himself to the other side of the sofa, disgusted with himself.

“Greg.”

“If you don’t ever want to talk to me again, I get i-“

“Greg.” Y/N repeated his name to try and catch his attention.

“I’m just so-“

Sick of his unnecessary apologies, the woman reached out to grasp the fabric of Lestrade’s shirt, pulling his lips back onto hers, her other hand landing on his shoulder.

“There’s no need to apologise.” She whispered against his lips as she pulled back. “I wanted that.”

Greg, too confused and happy to even register what she was saying, just listened to his brain go oh!

Mycroft:

Mycroft Holmes had two soft spots, his brother and Y/N, the latter being one that he was unwilling to admit to himself, let alone anybody else.

“Morning, Mycroft,” Y/N greeted him as he entered the café, one which he was a regular at; only for her, of course, but she could never know that.

“Good morning, Y/N,” came his simple response as she brought him his usually coffee, having already anticipated his arrival; he was nothing if not punctual, after all.

Neither of you knew how your friendship had evolved into him driving you home once you finished work, but there was never a single complaint heard about it. The moment you ended up at his home, however, that was when something shifted.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, just… odd. Having never been this close to someone besides his younger brother, Mycroft wasn’t entirely sure how to act, especially when the tension in the room reached its peak and your lips ended up pressed up against the others.

It was awkward, as to be expected considering that the older Holmes had never kissed anybody before. However, the awkwardness had its own charm about it, especially when he pulled away with flushed cheeks and immediately changed the subject, ignoring what had just happened for his own peace of mind.

“Should we like, I don’t know, talk about it?” You asked him the next time he entered the café, watching him closely for any sort of reaction.

“Talk about what? Nothing weird has happened recently, nothing at all. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Mycroft rushed out, desperately praying that you were oblivious to the shade of pink that now covered his cheeks.

He had no idea how it even happened, it just… did. Myrcroft was never one for affection, or even friendships, so he didn’t know why he kissed you and even worse for him, he didn’t know why he wanted to do it again.

“If you say so,” you chuckled at his embarrassed demeanour. “Either way, I finish in an hour if you like, wanted to go for dinner or something.”

Maybe he would wait around an hour, not for any specific reason. After all, nothing weird had happened.

Moriarty:

For as long as they had worked together, Y/N and Jim had always flirted with each other.

It started off small, almost unrecognisable, but gradually grew into full-blown flirtations with invitations that were never accepted. Co-workers turned into friends, and a friendship turned into longing, it was just how the cookie crumbled.

The two stared across at one another, Y/N pushing a plate of food in front of the criminal. “Eat it, or I’ll shove it down your throat, do not test me.” She warned, although there no malice in her voice; she just wanted him to eat something for the first time in a few days.

“Do I have to?” He pouted like a young child, earning a giggle from Y/N.

“Yes!” She laughed, leaning in closer. “Or I’ll force feed you it.”

“With your mouth, I hope.”

A blush dusted the woman’s cheeks as an idea formed in her mind, one which would solve many problems, including his refusal to eat.

As she leaned in closer, Moriarty couldn’t resist the joke falling from his lips. “Ohh, are we about to kiss right now?” His words were teasing, he didn’t actually expect her to do so, but as she leaned in and pressed her lips against his, he couldn’t stop his eyes from widening.

Despite his initial shock, he was quick to respond to the kiss, his hands moving to cup her cheeks and pull her closer into him, deepening the kiss whilst one of Y/N’s hands moved to his shoulder and the other to his neck.

“I suppose we are,” were the only words spoken with a cheeky smile before she pulled him back in for a kiss to shut him up.

#sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock imagine #sherlock imagines #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fanfiction #mycroft #mycroft x reader #mycroft imagine #mycroft imagines #mycroft fanfic #mycroft fanfiction #bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock imagines #bbc sherlock fanfic #bbc sherlock fanfiction #lestrade #lestrade x reader #lestrade imagine #lestrade imagines #moriarty #moriarty x reader #moriarty imagine #moriarty imagines #john watson #john watson x reader #john watson imagine #john watson imagines