Engage My Services (Sherlock Holmes x Reader) [Request]
Oooohhhh I have an idea for you: Arranged Marriage and Sherlock Holmes. He doesn’t have to be the one in the match 😉—Requested by @inlovewithhisblueeyes
Gif Source: henrycavilledits
Horror. Absolute horror.
It curdled your stomach and turned everything sour from your guts to the taste on your dry tongue. Nevermind that it had been nearly forty-eight hours since you had been given the devastating news.
Marriage. Without your consent, no less.
It had taken you two days to determine what to do. No amount of putting your foot down had prevented your parents from changing their stubborn minds.
Which is how you found yourself in Sherlock’s chaotic sitting room.
His landlady should have been present, it being a bit inappropriate for you to be in his flat alone, but you were a slight exception. After all, you had known Sherlock and his brother for years thanks to your father’s insistence on attending social engagements. Mycroft had dragged his brother to several of them, and given that you both were of the same mindset when it came to the frivolous festivities, you both had come to an easy familiarity.
It was, however, the first time you had been to his flat.
The chaos had a method, you were sure, but looking at it, you couldn’t quite discern it. Sherlock, unaccustomed to visitors, swept broadsheets off a dusty chair and gestured for you to sit.
“What can I do for you?” he asked, perplexed. As much as the man was a detective, when it came to emotional matters, he was rather dense. As far as he could tell, you were agitated. But no matter what his deductive faculties told him—that you had arrived in a hansom rather than your family’s cab without rushing despite some urgency in your bearing—he couldn’t determine what it was that had you so upset.
“My progenitors”—you only bandied that term around when you were displeased with them—“have decided to wed me off to an unspeakable suitor.”
Sherlock stilled in his seat, but you took no notice. Wringing your gloves in your hands, you struggled to collect yourself. You were doing a poor job of it, feeling an enraged flush combating your shocked pallor.
“They refuse to allow me to reject the proposal,” you continued, visibly shaking. “But Lord Worthington is a brute, and they refuse to see it. They would rather marry me off to a devil for the social station.”
Gripping your gloves with renewed vehemence, you glanced up at Sherlock. He stared at you curiously, a furrow in his normally smooth brow. The muscle in his jaw twitched.
“You want me to find proof,” he finally said, his voice low and quiet.
“Yes. Proof that shows them he is unsuitable.”
Sherlock lapsed into silence. Fidgeting under his heavy gaze, you frowned, trying to read him.
“I know this isn’t your usual milieu—it isn’t stimulating, I know—but you are the one person who could find proof.” You glanced down at your poorly abused gloves. “You’re the only person who would ever help me.”
Jerking your head up, you met his suddenly averted gaze in surprise. “Thank you, Sherlock.”
“You should go so I may begin my work.” The words came out clipped, curt.
Perplexed by his strange manner, you acquiesced, afraid he might change his mind if you lingered. You left his flat with cautiously raised spirits.
“We have no choice but to reject the proposal,” your mother whispered. “This is…”
“Damning,” your father finished. “Absolutely damning. Why have we not heard of this before?”
You did, you thought savagely from your position on the stairs, but you didn’t heed me.
Sherlock had arrived some ten minutes before to deliver to your parents the proof of Lord Worthington’s damned nature. You had snuck downstairs to eavesdrop on the conversation. Sherlock hadn’t had much to say except that when he had heard of the engagement, he had been appalled that so disreputable a man had been given even a modicum of courtesy. Then he had left.
As your parents panicked over their near-mistake, you hastened back up the stairs and took the narrow servants’ stairs down to the kitchen. You could possibly catch up to Sherlock before he hailed a cab. You stepped through the door leading to the outside.
Sherlock waited by it, startling you with his unexpected presence.
“Thank you!” you cried when your composure returned. “I am blessedly unfettered now.”
He shifted on his feet, his hands in his pockets. “You deserve better than a bastard like Worthington.”
You laughed despite being surprised by his language. “A bastard indeed.”
He blinked, equally shocked to hear the same word pass your lips. Smiling broadly, you nearly enveloped him in a crushing hug. Your joy radiated from you in palpable waves as you beamed at him.
Adjusting his collar, Sherlock smiled back for a moment. It passed as quickly as it had arrived.
“What is it?” you asked, feeling your happiness slip a fraction.
“I take it that your joy is only being relieved of Lord Worthington.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Not…not being unwed.”
You frowned. “I am happy to be free at this moment, but that is not to say that I am loathe to marry, if that is what you mean.”
He nodded, the somber look on his face lightening a fraction. “That is good.”
Before you could ask why, he ducked his head in a slight bow.
“I am happy to have been of service. Please do not hesitate to engage my services again.”
You struggled to hold onto your joy as he left, wondering why the exchange felt so strange and why you felt curiously disappointed he hadn’t lingered longer.
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Your Syverson dirty alphabet got me thinking, which of Henrys characters would like/let themselves be pegged?
Interesting question my dear. Allow me to elaborate!
Warning: well… pegging, anal play. 18+
Napoleon - definitely into it, might even bring it up first, asking you if you want to expand his horizons! But if you don’t mind, later he wants to expend yours ;)
Yes, he’s into it, but only with Yennifer. No one else is allowed anywhere close to his chocolate starfish. That includes you, Jaskier…
He is open to it… if you can actually get anything inside him.
Sy is more into giving than receiving though, he will never ever admit it, he loves it when your massage him over there with your finger and draw dangerously near.
Ah hell no, princess, anyone getting her ass fucked is you.
Nope. Not really his thing, a slight intimidated by it, though now that you are asking he is a little bit intrigued by you bringing it up and begins researching.
Tried it once, because it’s only fair that if he wants to fuck you up the ass he should know what it feels like himself. And honestly? He is not afraid to admit he enjoyed it.
He is curious about it but a little bit squeamish… so he never tried it before, but with the right woman, he is willing to try everything once.
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