#sherlock holmes fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellethespaceunicorn · 10 months

Text

Sometimes The Silence Guides A Mind

Title: Sometimes The Silence Guides A Mind

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Fandom: Enola Holmes series

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: As you were getting close to Sherlock, he stops visiting. You pop over to Baker Street and share an eye-opening moment.

Warnings: age gap(reader is about 20 in this, Sherlock is mid-30s), slight voyeurism, masturbation (male), handjob, unprotected p-in-v sex (wrap it up y’all), creampie

A/N: I’ve been throwing around this idea about Sherlock for quite some time. I hope you enjoy it. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

You’ve been friends with Enola for a short time, only since the beginning of the year. She’s led you on a few fun adventures, but more often than not, she’s led you on wild goose chases. She has helped you come out of your shell and you are grateful for that. On days that you weren’t exploring the countryside or causing a ruckus in the city, you would lounge around her large house.

Spending time with her in her large house had its benefits. One of which was 6’1 with a head of unruly curls. The famous Sherlock Holmes was your best friend’s big brother. He lived in the city but came to visit Enola every week.

You always made sure to be available on those days. If only for the chance to say hello to Sherlock. You wanted more but, truth be told, he made you a bit nervous.

You tried your best to keep calm when he would arrive, but Enola noticed your demeanor change every time. She teased you endlessly about your little crush and you would always bring up Tewkesbury. That would usually shut her up.

In truth, she did not care that you liked her brother, she just didn’t want you to waste your time. The man was not exactly sociable unless he found value in the opinions of others. One opinion he respected was that of his sister. You could sit and watch them talk for hours. She would get him to laugh with her jokes, and he would bring her to annoyance with his riddles.

You would interject a thought here and there and when Sherlock would give his attention to you, you froze. Something about the look in his eyes, it was more than attention. It was intense as if the two of you were the only ones in the world let alone the room.

More than once, Enola had cleared her throat loudly to get you and Sherlock’s attention back on her. But sometimes, she would just listen to you ramble on while Sherlock seemed enthralled in your thoughts. You mused about music and how interesting you thought his cases were. The more you spoke with him, the more comfortable you felt around him.

Sherlock would show up now and then with little trinkets from his cases. At first, it was just things for Enola, but soon he would start bringing you little gifts as well. He started small with a single flower or a tasty treat from his favorite bakery. But soon, his gifts grew oddly specific. He bought you a brooch you had mentioned seeing at a store in the city. He would learn pieces of music from a composer you talked about and play it for you, much to the chagrin of Enola who wasn’t a fan of the violin.

It was when he didn’t visit for two weeks that you started to realize you were developing feelings for the older detective. You’d come to enjoy his presence and not because of his gifts. You just enjoyed seeing his face light up when he saw you. You relished the power you felt when the normally unflappable and distant man would sit enthralled when you gave voice to your thoughts.

So, why did it stop so suddenly? Had you done something to offend him?

You wracked your brain and Enola’s brain for that matter. She gave you his address so you could go and talk to him and she could finally be free of your fretting.

You arrive at 221 Baker Street, your hands trembling as you knock on the main door. A sweet woman opens the door and introduces herself as Ms. Hudson. When you ask to speak to Sherlock, she sends you up the steps to 221B.

As you’re about to knock, a man opens the door and almost collides with you.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. May I help you, Miss?”

“Ehm, I’m here to see Mr. Holmes…but I can come back if that’s–” You are cut off when he speaks again.

“You wouldn’t happen to be friends with Enola, would you?” You nod, giving your name, “Of course, Sherlock mentioned you. I’m Dr. John Watson, and I have to be going but you are more than welcome to come in. Sherlock is just in his room down the hall.” He points around the corner from the door and walks past you before waving goodbye.

So, that’s how you end up in Sherlock’s apartment. It is eerily quiet and you think he might be asleep. That is until you hear soft moans coming from down the hall. Your first thought is it must have been the floorboards creaking under your feet.

What you hear next is the unmistakable sound of your name followed by a whimper. It sounded like Sherlock was calling to you, but how would he know you were here already? You walk down the hallway quietly and see that his bedroom door is slightly ajar.

Peeking in, you are blessed with a sight! Sherlock is laid out on his bed with his shirt and waistcoat open, his hairy chest on full display as it rises and falls quickly. His beautiful face constricted in pain one second, solemn and peaceful in the next. His curls are a sweaty mess on his forehead. One hand is fisting the sheets at his side and the other hand is wrapped around his thick veiny dick. You’re mesmerized watching him stroke himself until you hear him moan your name again.

In a moment of bravery, you step into the room. Your bosom heaves in your bodice as you breathe shallowly, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

His hand stops its ministrations and he looks to you as you walk towards him. He’s frozen on the spot and can only watch you as you climb atop the bed and lay next to him. You replace his hand with yours and continue to pump his dick. Your hand barely fits around him and you enjoy the feel of his soft uncut length in your hand.

His hands come up to caress your face and pull you down for a kiss. When his tongue begs for entry, you allow it in. Heatedly, you mold your mouth to his, letting your moans and whimpers be consumed by him. Breaking the kiss, he looks into your eyes and you can tell he is close.

You remove your hand from him and stand up from the bed. It is only when you remove your undergarments does Sherlock understand why you stopped. Climbing back on the bed, you settle yourself with your cunt dripping onto him.

“I want you to be certain that you–” You cut him off as you slink down, his velvety smoothness sliding inside your wet heat. You take a moment to get used to the sheer size of him. He stretches you almost painfully. Leaning down, you whisper into his ear.

“Do I seem certain, Mr. Holmes?”

Instead of an answer, Sherlock groans and twitches inside you. His hands travel under your skirt and rest on your hips. You take that as a sign and sit up. With your hands on his chest, you begin to ride him slowly, agonizingly to the point where his hands start to guide you to a quicker pace.

Using you like a ragdoll, he flips you so he is atop you while you are on your back. He slams into you repeatedly and you are no longer in control. He savors the sounds coming from you as he fucks into you. He urges you on as he kisses and licks and nips at your neck, careful not to leave any marks.

Pulling out, he moves you to your hands and knees before inserting himself again. The angle allows him to go deeper and you thank the Gods for it. As he holds onto you, he hammers into you. The filthy utterances that come from his mouth only serve to solidify the notion that he missed you too.

“I knew you would feel like Heaven, my sweet angel…”

“This pretty pussy belongs to me now…”

“You would look so perfect with my cum dripping out of you…”

“I could fuck you all day and night and still never get enough of you…”

“Be my good angel and come all over my cock,” He reaches down and rubs your clit between two fingers as he plows into you. You never stood a chance, your walls quivering around him within moments, “That’s my good girl. So good…for me. Fuck, so close!”

“Sherlock, please! Need you to fill me with all you have to give!” You surprise yourself and your lover with those words.

Sherlock’s answering grunts as he makes mincemeat of your pussy are music to your ears. His punishing thrusts falter and he pulls you flush to him. He’s deep enough to kiss your cervix with the tip of his dick. You feel him swell inside you and it’s enough to make you climax again, milking him through his release.

And the noises he makes when he comes are more intricate than the 24 Caprices. You’re sure that Sherlock would disagree but you don’t even care. You revel in the melody of his moans and surrender to its hold on you.

Sherlock’s hands roam over your back, your hips, your ass, and your thighs. As if he can’t get enough of you. He doesn’t pull out until you wiggle your hips, a sign that your legs are tired. Extricating himself from your sensitive folds allows his spend to escape. He catches what slips free and pushes it all back in before helping you lay down on your front.

He lays down next to you, pulling you close to him with one arm while the other rests behind his head. He looks so peaceful as he closes his eyes and hums. The feminine urge for pillow talk is high, but so is the need to just bask in this moment.

You’re in the arms of the man you care for, who also adores you. You rest your cheek on his shoulder and tangle your fingers in his chest hair. You breathe in his smell, his pheromones are surely on high alert from your activity. When he rests his head against yours, you feel at peace.

You do plan on talking to Sherlock later about everything. But, for now, you can take pleasure in the simplicity of the harmonization of your heartbeats.

A/N: The title of this fic is taken from The Neighborhood’s Sweater Weather. There is an amazing violin version of this song by Joel Sunny. And anything violin makes me think of Sherlock.

A/N: Also, I know Ms. Hudson wasn't featured in Enola Holmes, but I love her as a character and I wanted to use her.

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

#sherlock holmes henry cavill #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #enola holmes fanfiction #enola holmes #enola holmes 2 #henry!holmes x reader #henry!holmes #henry!sherlock #henry cavill sherlock holmes #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #henry cavill fan fiction #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction

563 notes · View notes

bakerstreethound · 3 months

Text

A Single Touch

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ Smut, hints of soft (sub) husband Sherlock/dom Sherlock, gentle teasing, mentions of marking, tenderness, and feelings

Summary: A peaceful afternoon in 221B takes a turn when you become insistent on needing Sherlock's attention and he indulges.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 1.1k+

A/N: Hello my lovelies, I hope you are all well. I hope you enjoy this little treat for I adore Sherlock so and he deserves the love and attention even when he can be annoying. Special thank you to @strangelockd for beta reading and loving this story from its conception. She is now the official aunt of this fanfic. As always, comments and reblogs are most appreciated! Graphic by @firefly-graphics

You smile to yourself as you look around 221B, enjoying the rare peaceful afternoon on the couch, your favorite book discarded on the coffee table. Sherlock’s features are calm and relaxed and you grin despite yourself, knowing how much he hated to admit he liked this…whatever this supposed routine had become.

Your fingers ruffled gently through his curls, his breath coming steady, occasionally shuddering when you tugged harder on them to tease him. You gaze upon him fondly, watching his cheek quiver, lips pursing while he flips a page of his novel.

So that’s how it was going to be, then. You smile to yourself, for you do so love a challenge.

Carefully you tug his curls once more, earning a raised brow in return, until you reach for the book, pulling it from his grasp, not before inserting the bookmark into place; you don't have the heart to dog ear the page like a heathen.

“I was reading that,” he huffs, feigning annoyance, yet his eyes shimmer in mischief and mirth.

“Yeah? What are you going to do about it? Surely you can think of something.”

He shifts, sitting upright on the couch, watching you intently, dark fierceness flashing for a moment in his eyes. “I’ve considered no less than five options.”

You smirk at his practicality and calculating mind, and shake your head in amusement, before you climb over onto his lap, swinging a leg over to straddle a thigh. Ever so slowly, you lean into him, pressing your lips to his forehead, relishing in the faint sigh he releases.

His grip on your waist tightens as you settle yourself fully, tracing a thumb along his lower lip. You relish in the widening of his eyes, the faint twitch of his cheek, mind, and body fighting to take over whatever impulses have him in a frenzy.

You adore the push and pull and could fall into it for eons. With him, every touch, every instinct of yours screams yes for it all is right, almost too good to be true.

“Damn you.”

“Whatever for, dear boy?” You murmur not a care in the world, nuzzling his neck before grazing your tongue over a sensitive spot, relishing in the way his shoulders tense as he fights off a shiver.

He says nothing else as you continue on your merry way, smirking to yourself at his reactions, the way he gripes your waist tighter, fighting off the anticipation of your lips latching on to his neck for what feels like the hundredth time.

Even if it is the hundredth time, he wouldn’t tire of it for a moment, for it is you, and that’s all he wants.

You in every moment.

It’s what you want as well, want to show him how much you love and adore him, how you can never get enough of him. How you deserved him you wouldn't know for he is everything to you and more.

You press another kiss to his waiting lips which accept you eagerly, your hands running down his torso, and you sigh.

How was this your husband?

He softly pressed a kiss to your lips and you gracefully fell into the feel of him, wanting to adore him. Your heart ached in kind, a mixture of melancholy and longing, desperation and want. It is your form of love, all because of him.

Through the years you count him as one of your greatest blessings, but the words catch in your throat when you try to speak them aloud.

You hope he knows, surely, he does for he’s the only one who braved your tumultuous shores, the depths of your heart, and still he stayed.

He stayed unwavering and you as well through it all. Thoughts of these flood his mind, for he’s all too enraptured with your form, the way you melt into him, the way his nails dig deep into your waist. He jolts slightly at the praises that pull from your lips, a slight blush creeping along his cheeks at your words.

“You don’t….that’s not…” he struggles to voice and you offer him a smile, kissing him once more, whispering your pleas in tandem.

“Let me help you…” you sigh into him, tugging his lower lip, earning a low groan before shifting on his lap, his hands reading to your back, gripping you impossibly tighter.

“Then I should help you, darling.”

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice, the teasing tone sending shivers down your spine in a delightful manner and you welcome it. You both require a reprieve and it starts with a single touch.

One of love.

One of need.

One of desire.

One of desperation.

That’s how you find yourself an hour later on your shared bed, engulfed by sheets and the delicious heat of his lips on your own, tongue trailing along your body, his deep sonorous baritone edging you on.

“I said every inch, my dear,” his voice rumbles from his throat igniting your body from the inside out, “Isn’t that right?” Your shirt slides higher up your body as inch by inch your upper body is revealed to him and Sherlock smirks, delighting in the situation.

You roll your eyes, shuddering as his hands grip you tighter, before pulling the rest of your shirt off, promptly discarding it on the floor, not a care in the world. His gaze bores into your back and you fight off a shiver to no avail.

You can feel his smirk searing to your back before he presses the gentlest kisses along your spine and you melt in kind before he sucks a mark, making you squirm.

“Not…fair…”

“Nothing about you is fair,” he growls.

You groan in kind, letting him do as he pleases, pulling you impossibly closer to him, heat radiating between you, sending you aflame. It was only a shift of the hand, a brush against his wrist, and the tension filled him to the brim like lightning before it struck.

You shudder when his finger brushes back along your body, melting, completely undone by him and his embrace. He traces the marks he made along your spine, and you bite back another whimper, causing him to whisper in your ear.

“I want to hear you make those pretty noises for me, alright?”

You swallow, knowing he’s not asking and when he kisses you heatedly, you let yourself fall into the abyss and infinite as you’re made one, relishing in the warmth, and eternal bliss you fall into every time you’re here safe in his arms.

All it takes is a single burning, aching touch.

And you fall together.

Down in the abyss where love and pleasure combine, something else you can’t quite fathom or remember, but it’s enough. All you could ever want and more; the gasped pleas from parted lips, hand entangled in those sinful curls, your bodies forever intertwined.

******

#sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes fanfic #bbc sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock tv #my writing #my alleyway

163 notes · View notes

french-vanilla-in-the-clouds · 4 months

Text

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

178 notes · View notes

dyns33 · 2 years

Text

Flufftober 18 - Enola Holmes

Sherlock Holmes x Reader

It was a game between them, even if they had never talked about it.

Ever since he'd met her during an investigation that she'd helped him solve, impressing him with her intelligence and thinking skills, Sherlock Holmes and Y/N Y/L/N were seeing each other regularly.

There had been some rumours about their relation, since it was not proper for a young lady to find herself so often alone in a man's house, to walk down the street with him and accompany him on dangerous adventures, but none of them were paying attention, too busy having fun together.

For his part, Sherlock liked to test the intellectual capacities of his young friend. Y/N did her best to surprise him. To say or do something that he did not know or that he could not guess thanks to his science of deduction.

Until now, if they had counted the points, which they were not doing, Sherlock won largely, because despite all her goodwill, Y/N did not always find the solution to the questions, riddles and investigations he gave to her, and she absolutely never managed to take him by surprise.

"You'll never guess who I saw this morning."

"My sister." he answered without looking up from his newspaper.

"... Possible. But you'll never guess what happened."

"You had a chat, she offered you to work with her on a case, you followed your prime suspect to find out it couldn't be him as he was going to his mistress, only to find out the culprit was obviously the butler."

"... You are not funny." she mumbled, sulking as she sat across from him. "Anyway. Anything new ?"

"Can't you guess ?"

"I repeat, you are not funny."

Trying to hide his smirk, Sherlock told her about his new investigation, eager to get her opinion. Of course, he already had an idea of who had committed the crime, why and how, he wanted to see her think. Unlike most people, she knew how to use her brain, although she still needed a little practice. It was pleasant to see her face light up and her eyes sparkle when she found the solution.

It had nothing to do with romantic feelings though.

Not at all.

Sherlock often repeated it to himself when he took her arm not to lose her in the crowd, when he was composing a fiddle tune for her, or when he was worried that she was not arriving on time at a meeting.

A simple meeting between friends and work colleagues, of course.

Sometimes he suspected that Y/N loved him more than just a friend. But it embarrassed her and he didn't want to embarrass her.

After all, even though he came from a rather noble family and with money, he was not the eldest son, and he had a very particular way of life. Not really the ideal husband. She had seen him in many situations that would have scared off intelligent men and women.

If Y/N hadn't left yet, it was because he offered her a freedom that she didn't have as a woman in this society.

Sherlock understood this matter quite well thanks to his sister and his mother, and although he unfortunately did not have the solution to this problem yet, he was happy to help Y/N flourish as she deserved.

"I'm sure you already know who stole that diamond." she sighed, rolling her eyes. "I don't even see why you need an assistant."

"I never said I needed an assistant."

"You said I was very useful for your investigations !"

"Not exactly. I said you help me stay focused and eliminate leads faster. You're also good at following people, acting as a witness when Lestrade isn't listening, and responding to reporters who ask too many questions."

"... So I'm here... To be a secretary ?"

"... Again, that's not what I said."

"What you just said is more or less the definition of a secretary, or an idiot who spends her time with a man who uses her."

Despite all his intelligence, Sherlock Holmes was not very good at talking with his peers, even those he cared about.

Especially those he cared about.

He knew all the same that he had just hurt Y/N, her grimace and wet eyes not leaving too much room for doubt, and he stood up quickly to prevent her from leaving, grabbing her hand.

"That's really not what I meant." he repeated apologetically.

"You don't have to talk, I get it. I'm really stupid. I thought we had fun together, that we were equals, that we... I was stupid."

"What ? That we what ?"

"Oh please, Sherlock, you know that very well !"

"No I do not know."

"That I love you !" she exclaimed, looking at him in the eyes, beautiful and furious. "We have been working together for months, having dinner together, spending several hours in your apartment, by the fireplace, and I know very well that the great Sherlock Holmes has long guessed that it was not simply because I love adventure !"

This, he could not deny.

However, Sherlock remained silent, because not for a single second had he imagined that she loved him so much, and especially he would never have thought that she would confess her feelings to him.

It was a real surprise.

And Y/N read the shock on his face perfectly.

"... You did not know ?"

"I... Of course I did. Well, I was hoping. I mean, I was suspecting. I didn't have all the...."

"You were hoping ?" she repeated, slowly approaching him, her eyes becoming sparkling again. "Sherlock ?"

He could have said nothing, lied, run away, but that would have hurt her again, even more, and he didn't want that, so Sherlock didn't move, staring at her for a long time, before biting his lip.

"I think wedding is a totally useless and absurd thing. But if it was necessary, I'm not against it."

"... Should I see this as a marriage proposal ?"

"What do you think ?"

"I think you are panicking about the situation, that you are unable to tell me that you love me too, at least not right now and not in these terms, but you want to make me understand that my feelings are shared, that I don't have to be ashamed of my confession, and that if one day my father comes screaming to your house, you will take a ring out of your pocket and get on your knees."

"Wrong ."

"... Wrong ?"

"Or rather, almost wrong. The majority of your deduction is correct, proving your great quick-wittedness, and that's why I love you."

It didn't make her laugh, but Y/N smiled all the same, gently hitting on the shoulder.

They didn't talk about it again after, for many months, because it was unnecessary.

#enola holmes #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #flufftober 2022

1K notes · View notes

frost-queen · 5 months

Text

It takes two (Reader x Sherlock Holmes)

Requested by: Anon; Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

Summary: Sherlock and you have been rival detectives for as long as you can remember. Competing and despising each other. When Sherlock and you are forced to work together, it doesn't go smoothly. Till you get hurt and see how truly worried Sherlock is for your life.

You stared at the officer at the precinct. For five minutes now had he been silent. Not wanting to tell why he had asked you over. You had hoped staring at him would make him uncomfortable enough to start chatting. You sighed loud looking away at the old clock. – “I must say officer my time is of value.” – you said hoping it would let him speak. Instead he looked at his pocket watch, clicking it shut again. – “Just a moment Miss Y/n.” – he replied, the first thing he had spoken since you had entered. The door creaked open as the officer straightened his posture. – “Ah finally.” – he spoke.

You turned around in your chair to see who had entered. Expression filled with disgust at the sight of Sherlock. – “Wonderful.” – he mumbled to himself, plastering a faked smile on his lips. – “You’ve asked for me.” – Sherlock spoke ignoring you. You got up joining his side. – “He asked for me so why don’t you run along Sherly.” – you stated waving him off. Sherlock turned his posture to you. His eyes full of annoyance to you. – “I actually called for both of you.” – the officer spoke making Sherlock and you stare shocked at him.

The officer reached down his pocket, revealing a folded note. – “I have a case.” – he outed. It took Sherlock and you one second to look at each other. Eyes full of mischief. You pushed Sherlock aside as he took a hold of your clothing. Pulling you back to him as he wanted to cut in front of you. You took a hold of his arm, grunting when he swayed his arm around to free it from your grip. The officer watched with wide eyes, slowly backing away to the wall. – “Let go!” – Sherlock groaned giving you a push. – “Never!” – you shouted clamping onto his arm.

You tried to tackle him as he wrapped an arm around your waist. Threw you over his knee and guided you down to the floor. He took exactly one step before you grabbed him by the ankle, pulling at it. He lost his sudden balance smacking with his chest against the desk. He groaned in pain, rubbing his chest. You had gotten back up wanting to run at the officer. Sherlock clenched his arms around you, keeping you close to his chest. – “Give it to me!” – Sherlock begged holding a hand out. – “No!” – you shouted squirming to break free. – “Give it to me!” – you called out ushering him to give it.

“Don’t listen to her.” – Sherlock breathed out trying to keep you in place. – “He’s an idiot.” – you said stepping on his foot. The officer blinked confused. He thought two great detectives would be more mature. Yet here you were fighting over a piece of paper. – “It’s… it’s… actually a case for the both of you.” – he told you. Sherlock and you stopped fighting, looking at each other. – “I don’t work with her.” – he said, arms still around you. – “We’re not partners.” – you said at the same time, looking back at the officer.

“Well that is too bad, cause we need the both of you.” – The officer placed the note on his desk. Sherlock and you sharing a brief glance. Both of you rushed to the desk, slamming your hands down on it. Yours was underneath as his were on top of yours. He grabbed a side pulling it from under your hand. You kept your hand pressed down.

Sherlock kept tugging at the note. – “Y/n let go.” – he grunted out. – “You let go.” – you answered forcefully. Sherlock stumbled back when a force released him from you. Confused he looked down at his hand. Holding up half a note. You lifted your hands up seeing the other half underneath it. – “Excellent, just brilliant Sherlock.” – you accused holding the ripped note up. – “If you hadn’t been so eager.” – he replied hash. – “Eager! This is my case Sherlock!” – you answered right back.

“My case!” – Sherlock called out. The officer cleared his throat. – “Both your cases. You are working together.” – Sherlock and you glared at the man. – “I’m not working with her!” – he said pointing accusingly at you. – “I work better alone.” – you reminded him. The officer pinched his nose. – “Either you work together or it is jail.” – he offered. Sherlock and you looked at each other in silence.

Bars shut hard as Sherlock sighed deep. His arms sticking out between the bars. You sat down on the bench inside the cell with him. Who knew the officer meant his threat. You looked down at half the note in your hand. Sherlock still possessing the other half. You opened it, as it didn’t make any sense. Half a sentence. Sherlock sighed again looking up. There was absolutely no way he was going to work together with you.

He couldn’t possibly work with you. Not when the two of you had such a history of competing with each other. Wanting to have the last laugh at overdoing the other one’s though cases. The two of you would take on any job just to brag about it. Brag about the amount or the difficulty of it. Now he wasn’t sure what to do.

One thing was sure that he didn’t want to stay in this cell. After half an hour and not having changed position returned the officer. – “Have you made up your mind?” – he asked. The two of you remained silent, not wanting to be the first to give in. – “Alright suit yourself. I suggest you get cosy then.” – he already turned half back to the door as Sherlock spoke. – “Wait.”

The officer paused. You got up shocked by how he would give in. – “I’ll do it.” – he sighed out. The officer looked over at you. – “I need your answer as well.” – he spoke. You looked over at Sherlock who had his back towards you. – “I agree.” – you replied seeing Sherlock look over his shoulder to you. – “Now that wasn’t so hard to say right.” – the officer joked coming closer with the jingling keys.

He opened the cell door letting Sherlock and you out. Not a moment later were you on the streets. It had gone dark. Gaslighted streetlights lighting the way. A few carriages riding over the cobble stone. You took a deep breath, looking away as you held the note up to Sherlock. Expecting him to snatch it from your hands you heard him search his pocket.

Fumble the note open and hold it against yours. You looked reading the sentence. “To die is an art.” It read. Your eyes widened turning to Sherlock as he did the same. – “Moriarty.” – you said at the same time. That is why the officer wanted both of you on this case. Moriarty had been a though man to catch. Having messed with both Sherlock and you. Teasing and taunting you with the impossible catch.

The clouds rumbled. Rain falling down with an unbearable amount. Sherlock and you getting out of the carriage. – “This should be his hide-out. All the hints lead here.” – Sherlock spoke over the rain. Up in the sky it rumbled once more. A thundering as the clouds flashed with a bright light. – “Then let’s catch him once and for all.” – you replied, the rain staining your face with droplets.

Sherlock nodded taking the lead. You followed him inside the building. A shammy old building squeezed between the other buildings. An apartment way. Inside there was only a staircase leading up and a narrow way just beside the staircase. The building dark and barely lighted. The first step creaked when Sherlock set his foot down. Looking over his shoulder to you, he hinted at the creaking stairway.

You nodded. He went up the stairs, carefully. Sometimes a creak would slip and make itself hearable. Sherlock and you went up meeting up with a door and some stairs that continued to go up in the turn. Sherlock knocked on the door as it opened creakingly. He walked inside carefully. He coughed loud at the smell of death.

You coughed as well, holding the back of your hand up to your nose. The windows were stained with dust. From the sink flew a dozen flies. Sherlock opened a cabinet with the use of a filthy spoon. He nearly gagged at the stench coming from the cabinet. You wanted to look as Sherlock quickly shut the cabinet once more. – “What is it?” – you questioned in a hushed voice. – “Our missing politician’s head.” – he answered making you shudder at the thought.

For days now you had been searching for the politician who got somehow entangled up in Moriarty’s schemes. – “Where is the rest of him?” – you wondered. Sherlock was about to reply when. Clash. A bucket clattered to the ground. Sherlock’s eyes flashed up to where the sound came from. In the blink of an eye he saw a figure run across.

“Sherlock!” – you shouted as he went in pursuit. You went after him through the house. You neared the window sticking your head out. – “Sherlock!” – you yelled looking up as the rain fell hard on your face and in your eyes. Above you saw Sherlock climb a stairs leading up to the rooftop. The faint silhouette of another figure climbing in front of him.

You couldn’t let him deal with this alone. If this was truly Moriarty, he couldn’t take him alone. You assisted yourself out of the window, grabbing onto the stairs. Thunder rumbled as you fought against the rain to keep your balance. – “Sherlock!” – you shouted again wanting him to slow down. He was nearly at the top as you could barely follow.

The bars wet and slippery. Your foot slipped as you felt yourself nearly fall. Having clutched onto the bars quick enough so your weight hadn’t pulled you down. Catching your breath, you set your foot back, continuing the climb up to the roof. With shaky hands and drenched you came at the rooftop. Sherlock looking panicked and desperately around.

“Sherlock!” – you called out over the sound of the rain. He turned around to you and made his way over. – “He was right here… he’s gone!” – Sherlock panicked. You neared him as he grabbed your arms. – “He was right here… He couldn’t be gone…” – Sherlock breathed out, turning his head to keep looking.

“Sherlock. Sherlock.” – you said trying to calm him down. – “He’s here! Taunting me!” – Sherlock called out. Your eyes widened when thunder struck, lighting the dark sky up. Seeing a figure stand behind Sherlock, arms raised up in the air. You called it out pushing Sherlock aside. A heavy object clashed against your head as it send you down. Sherlock’s eyes widened seeing you lay lifeless on the ground. – “Y/n!” – he shouted scrambling to get up.

He rushed over to you, picking your body up to place on his lap. – “Y/n… Y/n wake up.” – he begged touching your cheek. Seeing the blood on your head. He pressed you against his chest, screaming loud to the sky. A scream raw with emotions. – “Moriarty!” – he called out. – “I’ll kill you!” – he made clear looking around for any sign of him. There was none. None neared him or showed himself.

Sherlock looked down at you, brushing his palm against your wet cheek. – “Please… wake up.” – he asked. You groaned soft, squinting your eyes. Sherlock noticed the sudden change in you, widening his eyes. – “Sher…” – you mumbled out, slowly opening your eyes. Sherlock looked up to the sky, relieved you were still breathing.

“Where… where is Moriarty?” – you asked numbly. Sherlock let his fingers brush against your cheek, placing a kiss on your forehead. It made you blink confused at his sudden affection. – “Sher… Sherlock what are you doing?” – you questioned as he retrieved his lips from your forehead. – “I thought I had lost you.” – he confessed. – “I felt my heart rip at the loss of you.”

You stared bewildered up to him. Where was this sudden sweetness coming from. – “Sherlock… I am alright.” – you told him. He looked at your head, touching the area just below your headwound. – “I am not.” – he breathed out. You noticed how much he worried for you.

Something you didn’t think he was capable with the history you had with him. The sorrow and sadness reflecting clear in his eyes. Feeling a bit emotional yourself, you wrapped your arms around him, wanting to have him close to you. Sherlock hugged you back with a deep exhale. You were alright.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

255 notes · View notes

sillyrabbit81 · 2 years

Note

When your brother takes you to visit an old friend of his and Sherlock spots you

You completely ruined my day with this. So here! I hope I ruin yours!

Pairing: Sherlock x Female Reader

Word Count: 370

Warnings: breeding kink, cream-pie kink, p in v sex.

Totally off the cuff and unedited.

below the cut

When his housekeeper introduced your brother, Sherlock looked up from his book with a smile, and opened his mouth to greet his old friend. Then he spotted you behind him, and quickly rose to his feet.

He blinked several times. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Sherlock,” your brother repeated, “May I introduce, my sister.”

You stepped out from behind your brother, eyes lowered, shy and unsure. Sherlock walked slowly towards you, and a feeling grew in his gut that he was not altogether familiar with. You raised your eyes, and his steps faltered while his heart began a rapid tattoo that he could feel all through his body, most noticeably in the thickening length between his legs.

“How do you do?” you said and raised your hand.

Sherlock took it, silently cursing the silk glove that stopped his hand from feeling yours. His long fingers slid over your covered palm until his pads felt the soft warmth of the skin of your inner wrist and he closed his eyes.

The groan he barely managed to stifle was extremely uncouth as were the images that flooded his mind from the brief illicit touch.

The urge to pull you towards him and taste your mouth was almost too much to overcome. His nose flared like a bull as he indulged in his fantasies. He wanted his lips on yours as he lifted your skirts and ran his fingers up the supple flesh of your thighs until they reached your cunt. He’d find it hot and honeyed, ready and eager to take him and you’d put up no resistance. Your core would be desperate for him, your satin smooth walls would yield to the invasion of his weeping cock as he plucked your maidenhood, stole your purity and planted his progeny deep with your pristine womb.

“Mr. Holmes?” you asked, the note of concern in your voice was touching. “Are you quite alright?”

“Yes,” he said, pulling himself out of his lurid thoughts.

You were the one, the one he would take to his bed each night, fill with his seed and he’d watch as it spilled onto the sheets before he’d scoop it back into your ruined hole and do it all over again.

#ask sillyrabbit81 #blavikennbutcher #sherlock holmes #sherlock hol #sherlock holmes smut #henry holmes #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill sherlock holmes #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #sherlock holmes fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

classickook · 2 years

Text

the game is on | sherlock holmes

pairing: sherlock holmes x fem!reader

summary: you have a little surprise for sherlock that turns out differently than you had originally planned.

warnings: smut (18+), kissing, lots of teasing and foreplay, oral (fem receiving), cocky!sherlock

word count: 2.2k

a/n: a few anons requested some sherlock smut so i hope this does the trick! <3

“sherlock? can you come here for a second?” you called from inside the bedroom.

an unintelligible noise rang out followed by the clanging of what you could only assume was some tools from his countless experiments, before his approaching footsteps sounded in the hallway and his head of curls popped into the crack you left open in the door.

“you’re wearing my shirt,” he said simply. his blue eyes drank you in from head to toe: at the bare legs leading up to his deep purple shirt—your favorite—that cut off at mid-thigh with nothing else beneath; hair a loose mess around your shoulders and lips slightly swollen from where you had been biting them during his perusal.

“excellent observation skills, detective,” you replied smoothly. “and what might you deduce from this situation?”

sherlock took a step further into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. you watched in anticipation as he slowly crossed the room to stand in front of you, peering down at the lashes fluttering across the apples of your cheeks and the teasing grin pulling at your pretty pink lips. “you are… doing laundry,” he said quietly, the deep baritone of his voice like crushed velvet sliding over your skin, causing goosebumps to prick at your arms and bare legs. “and ran out of shirts,” he continued, “so you resorted to wearing mine in the meantime?” there was a mischievous pull to his lips at the silly response, playing along with your little game.

you tapped a finger to your chin in mock contemplation. “hmm… not quite. take another guess.”

he reached for your arms then, his hands sliding down your shoulders, cupping your elbows, playing with your fingers until he finally draped them around the back of his neck, a silent request that you hold on to him, that you touch him in some way. “are you trying to seduce me, my dear?” he whispered into your ear, lips just barely brushing against your earlobe and you shivered at the contact.

“maybe i am… is it working?” your fingers teased beneath the collar of his button-down shirt—the one that he was wearing—and felt a demanding heat take up residence between your legs. it was almost painful, the ache inside you that was just begging to be touched, to be filled by him. you wished he would just touch you already, really touch you, to release the buttons of your (his) shirt and slide the material down your shoulders for his lips to quickly follow after. you wanted his mouth and teeth and tongue on every inch of skin. “touch me,” you whispered as you neared him, breath mingling with his where the distance between your mouths gradually lessened.

the cool skin of his hand was a stark contrast against the warmth of your neck as he touched you softly, slender fingers wrapping around the base of your throat and applying the slightest amount of pressure. his thumb was positioned just under your earlobe, soaking in the incessant thrumming of your pulse where it jumped up to greet him. “it seems that it might be working for the both of us,” he answered lowly. his free hand then moved to slide along your side, rubbing at the curves hidden beneath his shirt and aching to slip inside to feel the welcoming heat of you; he ached to cup your breast in his hand and feel the pebbling of your nipple against his palm, to slide his fingers under the hem of his shirt until he met the wet heat at the apex of your smooth thighs.

“do you have any idea what i want to do to you right now?” his tone was low, barely audible, and you felt it more than heard it.

“why don’t you show me, mr. holmes,” you whispered up at him, eyes blinking demurely as you placed a kiss to the base of his throat, which just so happened to be the only place your lips could reach from your current angle.

he moved forward—and you, backward—until the backs of your knees hit the bed frame and you sat down, your eyes dragging up his tall form to meet his piercing blue gaze. you slowly reached for the buckle of his belt, loosening it and then moving to unzip his trousers until a triangle of his black underwear was visible, before his hands jumped down to cease your movements.

you wet your bottom lip with the tip of your tongue and watched in satisfaction as his eyes followed the action. “are you going to kiss me, mr. holmes?”

“where would you like me to kiss you?”

“surprise me.”

the only warning you received was a quick curl of his lips before he leaned over you, bending at the waist to reach your height on the bed, and placed an open-mouthed kiss beneath your ear, his tongue flicking out to lick a stripe down your throat to the space between your collarbones.

sherlock slowly moved down to his knees to get a better angle and then nipped lightly at your chest, lips wet and warm and making you ache everywhere for him. his hands slid up your calves to your knees, then to the insides of your thighs until they were dangerously close to the place you wanted him the most. you rubbed your legs together in an effort to soothe the ache that was building the more he ghosted his fingers over you, but never really made contact.

“please, sherlock.” your request was embarrassingly desperate, but you didn’t care at this point.

you felt the curve of his lips against your skin where they trailed down your chest, rustling the collar of his shirt that you wore until more skin became available to him. “please what, darling?”

“please,” you begged. when did this planned attempt at seduction turn on you? you were supposed to be seducing him and you were failing miserably. “kiss me, touch me, anything.”

“i am kissing you and touching you.”

you peered down at him disapprovingly, then reached up to grab a handful of curls and forced his head back to look up at you. the glorious pale flesh of his throat was fully exposed to you now, practically glowing in the morning sunlight that peeked through the blinds, and begged to be devoured by you. “i want more,” you said lowly, “can you give me more, mr. holmes? should i show you how it’s supposed to be done?”

a shaky exhale passed his lips and mingled with your breath as you pressed a kiss to his chin, to the corner of his mouth, to his upper lip and then to the bottom, swiping your tongue there until he opened up to you and you slid inside, licking into his warm mouth and tasting cigarettes on his breath. you pulled back a fraction. “i thought you said you quit.”

his blue eyes were mostly black now, pupils blown wide as he tried to focus on you. “i did,” he said. you narrowed your eyes at him. “okay, fine. i did for a week, but you know how i get. i need a distraction, some sort of stimulus.”

“what about me?”

“what about you?”

your lips ghosted over his sharp jawline until you reached the shell of his ear. “why don’t you use me as a distraction instead, hmm?”

“i think you’re worth more than that.”

“maybe so,” you replied. “but i’d rather you use me than those things.”

sherlock gripped your chin between his thumb and index finger, his way of regaining control in your current position, and pulled you in close to slot his mouth against yours, before whispering, “then so be it.” he kissed you furiously then, and you were shocked into silence by the force with which he devoured your mouth, his palms cupping your cheeks to hold you steady with each swipe of his tongue against yours.

the ache between your legs was throbbing now and you felt wetness coating the inside of your thighs now, thanks to your lack of underwear. “sherlock,” you breathed helplessly. “sherlock, i—”

the good detective understood your silent request as his nimble fingers flicked the buttons loose until the fabric of his shirt was now pooling at your waist. your nipples pebbled in the cool air but sherlock took care of that too, his mouth quick to latch onto one nipple as his hand toyed with the other. he flicked and sucked and nibbled lightly at your breasts, and a moan bubbled its way up your throat and slipped passed your lips where sherlock moved up to capture the sound. the elegant speed with which he maneuvered between your lips and breasts, taking his time with each yet ensuring he didn’t miss your body’s not-so-silent call for more attention was impressive, fascinating, but not at all surprising. the great sherlock holmes knew how to work your body just as he knew the ins and outs of each of his cases.

his large hands moved down to your ribcage, clutching you there as his lips descended down your chest to nip lightly at your hipbones and then at the sensitive flesh just beneath your navel. you could practically feel the various hues of purple and pink blossom there as he bit and sucked and licked along your lower half.

he still hadn’t kissed you or touched you where you really wanted him, and it was driving you crazy, this game of his he was playing with your body. little did the public eye know that the famous consulting detective was cruel in his teasing, submitting you to foreplay that could go on for hours with barely any thought given to his own pleasure. you could feel the obvious bulge pressing against your inner thigh where he was positioned between your legs, and you experimentally kneed at it, feeling him jolt slightly before a firm “mm-mm” was pressed into your skin, the man nonverbally scolding you for attempting to return the favor, to play with him for a bit.

“sherlock,” you said again. it seemed that was all you had been able to say; the man had rendered you practically speechless, with only the pathetic two-syllabled name passing through your bitten lips.

you were panting now, feeling his lips moving even lower until they were just barely ghosting over your throbbing clit, but then he shifted focus again before he could make contact, instead, mouthing at the crease of your inner thigh. a helpless whimper escaped you and you honestly felt like you could cry in that moment, being teased and toyed with as sherlock offered you only a glimpse of what was to come. “this isn’t fair,” you whined.

“what isn’t fair,” sherlock said tightly, digging his fingers into the fleshy part of your outer thighs, “is that you had me come in here…” he tugged you to the very edge of the bed then and slowly lowered his mouth just above your aching core, “to find you…” a kiss to your clit, “wearing nothing…” his eyes flicked up to yours just as his tongue delved inside, “but my shirt.”

a scream jumped up your throat as he licked at your cunt, sucking and nipping and groaning as he went, taking his time with you but knowing that you were close to coming after all his teasing. “sherlock,” you sobbed, “you arsehole.”

he laughed against you, and the vibration of it shot straight through your core until you felt it everywhere and nearly blacked out by the sensation. he slid his tongue in and out, in and out, licking and tasting you until the familiar knot in your lower belly intensified—doubling, tripling, quadrupling in ways you had never experienced before—until it finally unraveled and your climax came crashing over you as sherlock captured your arousal on his tongue and swallowed every drop that slid from between your thighs.

your eyes were squeezed shut as your arousal washed over you from head to toe, feeling the warmth of it in every corner of your body. you vaguely felt sherlock’s lips press a tender kiss to your belly before footsteps echoed out of the bedroom door and returned a few moments later.

once he had finished cleaning you up, with both his tongue and a warm cloth from the bathroom, sherlock rested on top of you, comfortably nestling his clothed form along your naked one and pressing soft kisses between your breasts as you twirled your fingers in his thick curls. “well,” you said hoarsely, “that’s not how i had planned this to go.”

a velvety-smooth laugh rumbled against your chest as sherlock soaked in the aftereffects of your pleasure. “it was for me.”

you leaned back slightly, the angle uncomfortable given your current positions, and peered down at him with furrowed brows. “what?”

his lips curled up in self-satisfaction, his cheeks dimpling adorably yet infuriatingly due to his little scheme.

“are you meaning to tell me that you knew this was going to happen? did you plan this somehow?”

“you think you’re so clever, darling, but i think you forgot who you married.” he raised up on his hands and knees so he could lean over you, and whispered in your ear, “i always win, mrs. holmes.”

tags: @nicoletk

2K notes · View notes

littlefreya · 1 year

Text

Danse Macabre

Summary: She cannot tell who she is anymore, nor where she is. All that she knows is that Sherlock is not the man he pretends to be and that every night he comes to her bedroom to feast on the delights of her body...

Pairing: Vampire!Sherlock Holmes x Virgin OFC (no mentions of body type or ethnicity)

Word count: 2.2K

Warnings: 18+, Dark, horror, dubious consent, sex, supernatural themes, I guess we can say monster sex? Mentions of blood, hinted Stockholm Syndrome, loss of virginity, metaphors, obsession, hinted hypnosis, bites, vampire sex, mind manipulation.

A/N: I don't own Sherlock Holmes or Enola Holmes. Many thanks to my angels: @agniavateira for beta'ing my work and supporting me, and to @notabronte for giving me feedback and encouraging me to post. Please reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed it. 🖤

Danse Macabre 🕯️

How long has it been; a month? A year? An eternity?

Time swayed differently in Mister Holmes’ mansion — if it moved at all.

The nights seemed endless, and the days… she couldn’t remember the last time she was awake during daytime. Perhaps this was a nightmare, or maybe it was the cold tentacles of death that pulled her into an abyss; but then, if the dead couldn’t feel pain then why did his kisses hurt?

It was in the bawls of midnight when Sherlock stalked into her bedroom— his jaw stern, cheekbones sharp and strikingly distinguished by the flame of a single candle held in his hand. Hunger filled his careless face, and his eyes flickered brightly like glowing orbs of ice.

Unable to scream or move, she watched him behind the ghostly veils of her bed. Hot wax dribbled down his fingers—little white tears of sorrow that she wished she herself could cry, but Sherlock had not only drained her of such force but by some enchantment, coaxed her to submit to his sacrilegious desire

“Undress,” he demanded from the doorway where he stood, shrouded by the crimson haze of the poorly lit corridor. Whatever was behind him, she could never see, the width of his bulky figure blocked the path like a monster from a children’s tale.

‘Monsters are real, Momma. They look like men in tailored vests and shiny leather shoes.’

Her fingers trembled, hands stiff and heavy. Yet she did what she was told without question, allowing the straps of her nightdress to fall down her shoulders the way a dying leaf falls from a branch.

Eyes a shade colder than ice, his glare fell to her breasts, and his chest puffed with a rumbling growl. Slowly he stalked forward, treading like a spider on its web. The tips of his fingers turned black as if dipped in poison whilst his nails grew long and sharp at every step.

“The duvet. Set it aside.”

His voice was the rumble of an inching thunder, an echo inside her head that made her bones rattle. Whenever he spoke, it felt as if invisible strings wrapped around her wrists and persuaded her limbs to do as he commanded. Even when her soul begged her to give a sliver of resistance, her hands still lifted to obey this dark ventriloquist and pushed the blanket away.

The stem of Sherlock’s throat clenched at the delicious splendour: bare, youthful skin, so tight and so supple. A thing that should have never been touched, should have never been spoiled and yet he yearned for nothing but to leave his marks at the depth of her soul.

The scent that emanated from the flesh between her thighs elicited a guttural groan from his chapped lips. In his throat pulled the ghastly hunger. Setting the candle on the wardrobe, he stalked toward the bed, his shadow metastasizing and devouring every shred of light that dared enter the chamber.

Both the mattress and her heart sank once he placed a knee on the bed and began to crawl between her parted legs, slowly and predatorily, dragging himself closer to her heat. Black, sharpened nails graze their way up her inner thighs, admiring the pureness of the forever-young flesh.

Encased in a glass coffin, his young ward would forever be protected from famine, disease, and time; and what was Sherlock if not a warden fulfilling his duty?

‘A monster! God, please! There is a monster in my bed!’

If only she could scream, if only God hadn’t abandoned her. Instead, all she could do was shiver, her heart giving no sound as Sherlock forced himself between her thighs. One razor-sharp fingernail traced the plumpness of her breast, tenderly circling and caressing the nipple.

“Mine,” he growled and slipped his nail down the valley of her torso, casually tugging the remains of her gown to expose her pure mound. Red glinted on those piercing shards that replaced his eyes—red like a flicker of fire from a match. “Look at me,” he demanded, though there was no need for him to ask.

That same gaze that possessed her had sliced through the tendrils of her mind.

Nodding, she lifted her gaze to meet his, her lips parting in a quiet plea as the ghastly, pointed talon made careful strokes amidst the swollen petals to collect the honeyed dew that gathered at the seams of her untouched cunt.

“My poor little dove, it’s so lonely in there…” he keened, attempting to slide his long monstrous finger inside of her. But her maidenhood, still obstinate to protect her from the vile urges of men, forbade him access.

Foolish.

What strength did her flesh have against such a sinister entity if even iron locks and carved religious figures couldn’t keep him away? Huffing with scorn, he drew an icy fingertip around the outlines of her slit, further spreading the sinful wetness across the seams of her cunt.

She mewled, despite herself, her waist moving in a smooth tidal sway.

Sherlock could never tire of this, not of the terror in her eyes whenever she saw him at her bedroom door nor the moans she emitted as he traced her engorged flesh with a finger or his tongue. But what he favoured above all was the sensation of his cock as it tore through her seal and those heavenly pained cries that eventually turned into the moans of a whore.

What a great fortune it was that they had an eternity of this dance.

Hovering above his prey, he propped his knees between her legs, the fabric of his trousers brushing against her inner thighs as he lowered his weight upon her. If there was any air in her lungs, she would have let out a shuddering breath; but what came instead was a silent gasp, and only her lips quivered as she prepared herself for the familiar twinge of his invasion.

Reaching for his groin, he freed his hardened cock and stroked a hand across its length before nudging the heart-shaped crown at the gates of her purity. Not yet pushing in, he teased himself up and down her narrow slit, treating her the way a lover treats his delicate mistress— the way a cat toys with a mouse.

Lips swollen and tingling, she whimpered, her yet-empty hole twitching as if heeding a primal call. How could she fear and need him at the same time? Did she loathe herself so much that she wanted him to defile her? Tears began to rim her eyes, and from quivering lips, she whispered, “please…”

Letting out a low rumbling chuckle, he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead before whispering in her ear, “You, my ward, are such a mystery…”

Her mouth opened to speak but a scream followed instead. One unceremonious thrust and he sunk into her lush depth, his girthy cock devouring the sweetness of virginal flesh. Indifferent to her pain, he pushed further and deeper past her folds until every inch of him was buried within.

Cries and squeals sputtered from her mouth—the monster had tore her innocence, the pain had seared, and in pathetic pleas for mercy, she slapped against his bare chest and tried to shove him away. But Sherlock knew no mercy, for truly he was a beast, not just by the breadth of his shoulders and untypically muscular figure, but by his blunt absence of elegance and heartless mien. Giving her no moment to adjust, he had already began to pump himself inside of her now-defiled cunt.

Such a mask of virtue did her warden wear; to the world, a perfect, eloquent gentleman. But behind closed doors, lurked a sick, sinister man who only wished to desecrate this tender maiden in this dark sacrament.

Over and over, he pulled away only to plunge into her again, each thrust harder than the last, each thrust ending with the slap of his sack against her cunt. And the moans that came from him - had the most debauched resonance, as if she was a long anticipated feast to a voracious man.

Unable to meet his vigour, her walls whined a protest and squeezed around him in a futile battle to drive him out; yet for Sherlock, this tightness was nothing less than an aphrodisiac. If any, her insubordination did nothing but provoke the ungodly creature within him. Reaching a clawed hand to her chin, his fingers pressed into the hollow of her cheeks, forcing her to stare directly into his bright-red eyes as he began to fuck her in a punishing pace.

“I am already inside you, little dove. There is nothing that can be done,” he rasped while his hips continuously snapped into hers, every second rut bringing her closer to surrender as friction drew that which she so religiously wanted to resist.

“Give in to me, and I will give you pleasure like no other.”

His words were but a spell. Briefly, unbidden, a spark inside her womb ignited, giving life to ecstatic flames that cascaded through her canal. While a part of her wanted to stay pure and deny this vicious man, an unbearable ache for his return struck her every time he pulled out from her slit. In mindless despair to hold him close, she had finally caved in and wrapped her legs around his waist to hold him near.

Triumphant grunts rumbled in his throat. Appeased by her surrender to his whims, he lifted his upper torso, his taut abs flexing as he rose to hover above her. With his hand still around her jaw, he pressed her deeper into the mattress while pummeling her cunt.

“Make us whole…” he begged, his voice a husky—almost pitiful—groan.

“Make us whole again.”

Depraved as an animal, he ravaged her with the selfish degenerate intent of a man yearning to impregnate his mate. Though this union could result in nothing of that sort, still she thrashed against him in an archaic frenzy, her screams unfurling into the night as her body became enslaved to the same foolish wanton. Soon her trenches began to tighten around him in demand of his seed, and the whispering embers that smouldered in her womb had suddenly imploded into a wave of molten fire that scorched through her completely.

It was in that moment when her cunt devoured him completely, when he felt her heat gush and hug around his shaft so longingly that his eyes glowed bright red, and his fangs flashed sharply before her dazed eyes. Even though she had seen this play out numerous, endless times, she couldn’t help but gasp as he lowered his mouth to her neck and drank her pleasure-tainted blood.

Eyes staring into the ceiling with shock, she trembled like a thing that was about to be shattered. The waves of her ecstasy ebbed away as Sherlock stole from whatever maw of force she had left. Black mists began to waft around her, blurring her sight and pulling her down below. And suddenly, she was limp and heavy at the same time while a cold, strange tingle jittered through her veins.

‘Death…’ she smiled with her eyes half-shut, ‘Oh, finally… Release me!’

Just then, a secondary implosion spasmed through her core and caused her entire body to jitter with delight as the sensation elicited from his bite was an unlikely aphrodisiac. Mouth agape in a silent cry, she threw her head back and stared through the open window while the monster inside her continued to feast on her throat.

The moon—it was covered in blood, painting the room in a crimson shade.

Lost in this trance, Sherlock hummed; the blood of a newly deflowered virgin was sweeter than ambrosia; after decades and aeons of searching, he could sense the wind on his skin, feel the thrum in his veins and abruptly… in a moment passing, he felt a rumble in his chest as his heart pumped once again.

‘Make us whole.’

‘Make me whole.’

‘Make me feel alive again.’

Losing his control entirely, he thrusted into her with a few last powerful strokes and then finally lifted his head with a savage-like shout while his thick elixir overflowed her womb. Cum seeped around his cock at the same manner of the blood that trickled down his square chin.

He licked the corner of his lip, eyes red and sated, peering down at his prey.

“Oh, my sweet little flower,” he murmured and carefully lowered his head to kiss her. She returned the kiss, uncertain if by choice, little did she care now. Her body still tingled and the taste of her own blood had an odd sweetness to it that had made her thirsty. Once he broke from her lips, she suckled them dry.

Like petals plucked from a rose, she laid raw beneath him. Not dead. Not yet. Not ever. She no longer remembered her life before him, no longer remembered who she was. All she knew was that when she would wake the next day, it would be night again.

And he would return to claim her, again.

His fellow companions warned him of such abomination; it was dangerous to drink from his own kind, or so they claimed. It poisoned the mind and the body according to the myths, but whether it was true or not, Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to care.

No matter the fashion, he came every night, drank from her veins, deflowered her and left.

And every night, she woke up a virgin again, clueless as to who and what she was.

But Sherlock knew the one and only true answer.

She was his.

For all eternity.

#henry cavill #enola holmes #enola holmes 2 #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill x reader #sherlock holmes x ofc #henry cavill fanfiction

935 notes · View notes

kahuunknown · 8 months

Text

The "Normal" one - BBC Sherlock sibling fanfic

!NOTE!: Non-specified reader/insert, inspiration from SHERLOCK TV Show

~~~

The normal one

(Y/n) Holmes.

That was your name. Of course you loved your family, you held them all dear and close to your heart, but that name came with a lot of baggage and responsibility. You’d often wonder what living life normally would be like, being born under a different name. These were just thoughts however, you knew in the end, you wouldn’t change a thing.

You were smart; there was no doubt in that fact, being born a Holmes provides such natural intelligence with ease. However, you would argue that you were anything but. You were a humble, gentle and modest soul, you were adamant in arguing that both your brother’s surpassed your measly intelligence without effort. Of course, the IQ tests would prove otherwise, but they were rid from the world quickly after there creation.

Living a normal life wasn’t something you detested, rather you grew rather fond of the mundane routines people lived day-to-day, it was funny watching them fuss over little mistakes, or creating the emotion of happiness with simple gifts and pleasures. You worked as a psychologist funnily enough. You could deduce much like the rest of your siblings, and decided to apply that skill toward something complimentary.

You were a young prodigy with a psychology major at only 26 years old; you lived a very financially stable life with your own private at-home psychology firm. You were comfortable with you life within London, you enjoyed being close to your family, and so it was never an option to live anywhere else. Often as a well respected personal to the community and the police, you were requested to provide psychoanalysis on victims, suspects or even the criminals themselves. You’d get paid of course, but your real motivation was helping you middle brother with his detective cases. Sometimes even the eldest would request your help, those were rare favours however.

Your brother’s wouldn’t admit it, but they absolutely adored you, you were the baby of the family and the most normal of them all. Your parents didn’t like to pick favourites but you were always the exception. Mycroft and Sherlock treated you like a child most often, they couldn’t wrap their heads around the thought of you growing up and maturing, when they looked at you, all they could see were those innocent orbs staring right back at them. This admittedly made them overprotective, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it was restricting.

You proved your intelligence and maturity every now-and-again, but you honestly didn’t mind their dotting. It showed the world that Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes were human too.

So when the two were on the way to your house, they were honestly surprised and both mortified when the Consulting Criminal Jim Moriarty of all people stepped outside of your house with a laugh and bid you farewell, hopping into a awaiting sleek black car and driving off smoothly. Sherlock and Mycroft had hidden themselves upon the sight, they weren’t stupid, but they were terrified for your safety. Did you even know the true identity of the criminal you’d invited inside?

Neither brother remembered if they’d disclosed that information to you or not, they tried they upmost hardest to give you the privacy you desired, as hard as that was. They weren’t very good at it, but they did try their best to shield you from their enemies. You were untrained in any sort of defensive arts like they were; you were utterly defenceless if someone attacked you.

Nodding to each other, once they were satisfied with the distance Moriarty’s car had driven away; they quickly made their way to your doorstep and hurriedly rang your doorbell. You needed to be warned straight away, you needed to cut your ties with the villain immediately. Your safety was compromised.

You greeted them with a kind smile as always, both brothers nearly forgot the urgency and softened upon your sweetness, but reality was quick to return to them. They ushered you to let them inside, which you calmly did so, asking if they wanted any snacks or tea. Mycroft paused and politely requested some sweets and both brothers of course agreed to some tea. You chuckled at them, reminding them to make themselves at home; they were family of course, no matter how dysfunctional. The two elder Holmes watched you like hawks as you waddled around the kitchen. It was cute that you inherited their mother’s much shorter height, leaving you struggling and whining about reaching items on the top shelf. Though your brothers were more than willing to help, they teased you often about this fact.

Returning to the living room, you gently placed down the tray with balanced drinks and sweets situated on top.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Theo chimed, cradling his own cup of tea close and bringing his legs to his chest, curling into his usual ball-like position on his single seated couch.

Sherlock was first to speak, “Well, originally we both decided to check-in on you, we hadn’t seen you in a while.”

You chuckle, “Yes, well I was having a fantastic time in New Zealand. You should visit if you have the chance, it’s beautiful country.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes, completely disinterested in the idea. But he admired your simplicity.

“Like Sherlock said, that was ‘originally’.” Mycroft pressed, narrowing his eyes at the detective.

“Who was that man that left your house moments before we arrived?” Sherlock questioned, though he already knew, he wanted to see if you were aware.

You rolled your eyes at the two overbearing brothers, “That was one of my clients, of course.”

“He’s dangerous, (Y/n-“

“Jim Moriarty.” You finished, “A charming man, to say the least. The infamous consulting criminal.”

Mycroft and Sherlock frowned, this couldn’t be good.

“You know who he is.” Sherlock stated.

“Of course, I do.” You retorted, “But that’s not my business, is it? I’m a psychiatrist and psychologist; my client’s background means nothing to me. That is my work.”

“Yes, but it’s also a hazard-“

You interrupted Mycroft, “Without Moriarty confessing to future crimes in the motion, I have no legal standing. Past crimes are useless.”

“A scientific priest.” Sherlock grumbles.

“In some ways.” You agreed absentmindedly. “I’m bound by my word.”

“Then I suppose there is no use asking you to share some details.” Mycroft sighs.

“None at all.” You chirped, “Now, if you two are free this afternoon, would you care for some fish ‘n chips? It’s been a long while since we’ve talked like this.”

Mycroft pursed his lips, it was his favourite food. A Holmes delicacy in some ways, as even Sherlock was fond of the food as well. Mycroft frowned, a defeated expression forming on his face, “I suppose, I have time.” He admitted.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at your happy face, you were sweet and innocent, but boy did you now how to use that to your advantage. Those damn puppy eyes.

“Fine.” Sherlock sighed.

Suddenly a knock sounded at the polished wood of your door, you furrowed your brows in confusion, not expecting any clients or guests over at this time. Standing, you gestured for your brothers to stay put while you answered the door.

Sherlock and Mycroft tensed as Moriarty waltzed into the house, smirking at the two of them confidently. He looked more than comfortable in your home, and both the protective brothers felt their instincts flare in that instant.

“Sorry to intrude, I believe I forgot my jacket.” Jim swooned, slinging his arm over your shoulder as you rolled your eyes and led him away from your siblings and into the office/ library room, where all your clients reveals their deepest secrets and feelings. Sure enough, Moriarty returned to the front door with his suit jacket under one arm.

He seemed to be talking normally to you, joking and laughing as if he were just a mundane human male, like all the rest. It was obvious to the brothers, that you and Moriarty knew each other quite well, they didn’t like that one bit.

Jumping to his feet, Sherlock decided he’d had enough of seeing that smug face and those evil beady little eyes looking at his youngest sibling.

“Leave.” Sherlock simply ordered, holding open the door for the mastermind to exit. Jim raised an accusing eyebrow at the new emotions Sherlock provided him with, but decided to play nice and do as he was told, for now at least. He left quietly, ignoring the slam of the wooden door after him; he was far too satisfied with this new discovery to care about rude behaviour.

He was originally just curious about you, intrigued and fascinated. He didn’t even know you existed; it wasn’t until Eurus cooed about you during his visit. She was smitten by you, couldn’t stop remembering all those memories as young children, when you’d follow her around, listen to her every tale with admiration and love. She talked about you as if perhaps you were a god, a higher being that she prayed to- or a rare exotic creature like most thought fantasy. You seemed too good to be true.

Yet here he was, obsessed with it all. Obsessed with you.

The expression of your brother’s were both the same, stern beyond belief. And you sighed, anticipating the emerging argument to take place.

“This is my job.” You stated, smile vanishing with the seriousness of your tone.

Mycroft and Sherlock almost didn’t recognise you, you looked different without the aura of sweetness drifting around you like a halo. They’d never seen this side of you.

Mycroft clears his throat, “He is dangerous, (Y/n). We would be fools to-“

“Then be fools.” You hissed, “This is my job. The career I’ve strived for, and Jim Moriarty is a normal client. You will not drag me around under the guise of your ‘safety’.”

Sherlock watched you carefully, scanning your expression and body language, trying to deduce you. Yet he came up with nothing. Normally you were so open to him and Mycroft, usually it was so easy to pull you apart, dissect every emotion and activity you’d been up to for the past week or so. But you’d shut down that gate, preventing any clue to find.

But then your shoulders slumped, and suddenly everything came flooding back, he could read you like an open book once more.

Sighing you looked them both in the eye, “I propose this.” Instantly you had your brothers intrigued, “I’ll install a camera within my office. You may have access to its feed at any time, and I’ll send you both my schedule, if you so desire as well. However, due to patient-confidentiality, the audio will be wiped, you will hear nothing.”

Sherlock scowls at the idea, obviously wanting to hear the conversations you and Moriarty had, he wanted to know everything. Mycroft on the other hand was more open to the idea; he eventually gave a slow nod.

“Deal.”

“Great.” You clapped your hands together, smiling once more and instantly relieving the tenseness in your brother’s posture, “Now, how about that fish ‘n chips, eh?

In the end, perhaps you were not as normal as everyone believed.

228 notes · View notes

i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end · 1 month

Text

🔎🐝 This is a master post of my Sherlock Holmes fanfiction which you can also find on Ao3! 🐝🔎

For details and warnings, follow the links to AO3, it's included in tags there.

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

The Absolute Truth of the Matter

On the way to Rosenlaui, Holmes falls behind to face Moriarty alone. When it is instead Watson who encounters the Professor at the Reichenbach Falls, events take an unexpected turn.

Or: Watson does a few ridiculously courageous things and there is a crack in Holmes's lens.

The Case of the Lost Cat

Annie hesitated, nervously turning the apple in her hands, lowering her gaze. “I must tell you first,” she mumbled, “that I can’t pay your fee, Mr Holmes, b-but I can help in the garden, or –“ „Oh, but lost animal cases are always free of charge,” Holmes said casually, folding the newspaper and throwing it onto the floor next to his armchair. He is, as I have often stated, really a rather brilliant man.

After the Great War, Holmes and Watson are living a quiet life somewhere in Sussex. The days of great detective work lie in the past, but when a distressed young client asks them for help with finding her lost cat, Holmes and Watson have to solve a case that might turn out to be just beyond their limits.

Flowery Prose

Holmes rarely read to me, and never like this.

The Return of Dr Watson

I think of myself as a practical woman. I am proud to say that I have always been able to manage my household in the most efficient manner, purchasing only what is of good quality without requiring any unnecessary expenses. I have one possession, however, that is an exception to that rule. This is the story of how not only one but two of my tenants returned to Baker Street, and how I came to own one of London’s finest tea services as a result.

Mr Holmes returns. Dr Watson leaves. Mrs Hudson realises that London’s greatest detective might require a little assistance with winning the good doctor back.

#sherlock holmes #john watson #dr watson #acd canon #granada holmes #sherlock holmes fanfiction #masterpost #my writing #jeremy brett #edward hardwicke #david burke #sherlock holmes fanfic #pinned post

56 notes · View notes

annesthaeticc · 3 months

Text

lovers rock | sherlock x fem!reader

| Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader

| one shot , song fic

| 961 words

| 'because love can burn like a cigarette, and leave you alone with nothing...' What Sherlock and Y/N had was beautiful, but it crashed and burned.

A/N okay bear with me it's short, but hey it's something, right? testing the waters asi hopefully hopefully come back into writing. let me know what you think!

————————————————————————————————

“Such a small world,” you quietly said and watched as the air escaped your lungs, echoing your words. The party inside was loud, but not loud enough for the silence outside was piercing yet calming. And so, he heard you. Slowly, he turned to see who spoke and found your silhouette, your shape outlined amongst the trees and the pillars.

Slowly, he walked towards you. Yet another mistake he was about to make. For all the choices he made that involved you, it led to one.

One. Big. Mistake.

Sherlock heard his heart thudding. Crashing and breaking in every step he made towards you. You sat there frozen, your eyes unblinking, or at least trying not to blink for you feared that if you do so, he might disappear.

Just like he did back then.

Sherlock sometimes wished he never pursued you, but here he was, about to do the very same thing. He never learned.

“Indeed it is.” he replied, his very perfect presence now crowding over you. His shadow embraced you and your eyes finally blinked only to find he was still there, standing in front of you.

He was taller. His face is more defined. His curls, curled to perfection. His perfume was the same, or is it? His lips fuller, more inviting than ever.

Sherlock noticed this, and cannot help himself but do the very same. You were perfect in every shape and form, as the day he met you. He committed crimes before, but his favorite might be the one he is about to make; to kiss you.

Silence passed by the small distance between you and him and it was almost deafening. You were waiting for him to say something. Something along the lines of “I’m sorry I left you…” And he was doing just the same, waiting for the words like “I’m sorry I couldn't wait for you…”

“Best man leaving early?” you finally said, shyly asking. He nodded and looked away.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, cutting you off before you could even say anything.

“I was invited, well not just me really, Ian and I were…” your voice trailed off as your husband's name left your lips. Again, he nodded.

Ah yes, Ian. Sherlock knew more than you. He is decent enough, this Sherlock could guarantee. But not decent enough to leave you on your own for days, even weeks or months on end while he was traveling the world on some sort of opera tour. Sherlock didn't care enough to dig for more details.

All he knew was deep seated anger and sadness.

And this resonated through the walls of the second floor of 221B Baker Street for months. Your wedding invitation sent for him lay hopeless on his desk, waiting to be written on to confirm his invitation. He was about to decline after finally making a decision that went on for weeks, only to find out it was pointless to respond because your wedding was already done.

And so, he threw the invitation in the fire. He watched as the intricate paper got swallowed by the flames, melting into ashes, into nothing. He was mesmerized by it. How something could be nothing because of the burning flames.

He was shaken from his thoughts when he saw your hand, holding a packet of cigarettes. You were offering him one and Sherlock accepted. You sat down again on the bench and he followed, allowing a few inches between you.

Quietly, the two of you smoked. Avoiding glancing or talking. You were caught up in a trance and were shaken out of it when you felt movement. Sherlock stood up and stepped on the cigarette. His shoe dug into the grass as the last of the embers glowed.

“Going somewhere?” you asked.

“Home.” he replied, his voice deep.

“I could drive you.” you offered.

“No thank you. I’ll catch a cab.” he replied, slowly walking away.

“Sherlock, wait, please—” you caught up with him and offered to drive him once more. He declined and you almost gave up.

His figure faded into the darkness when you cried out, “Sherlock, I'm sorry.”

Tears flooded your eyes and you couldn't help. It fell from your eyes, flowing down your face. Everything was blurry and you felt your hands shaking from the nicotine and from the adrenaline of your apology.

“It's been 12 years, Y/N,” he replied. “Why are you saying sorry now?”

“Because…”

“You will not tempt me to play one of your games, Y/N. Not this time. Not ever again.”

“Sherlock, please,”

“I'm sorry? Is that all you could think? You left me, Y/N,” he cried. And now you see his face. Anger, despair, and longing painted his face,

“You left me first!” you accused him. He really did.

“And yet you couldn't wait for me, couldn't you? All the promises I made—”

“Were gone as soon as you disappeared, Sherlock.”

“Oh ye of little faith!” he said, his voice booming.

“Sherlock,” you breathlessly begged. “I'm sorry.”

Sherlock heard you, and saw your eyes. He hated you for marrying someone else, but what he hated most is seeing you cry. He pulled out his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed your face, wiping away the tears. He pulled you into his embrace, just like he did back then. When your cries died down, he pulled away then planted a kiss on your temple.

“We would never work out. You're happier with him.” Sherlock said.

“I realized that what he had, was all that it was. Nothing more, nothing less. We burned too fast until we became nothing, Y/N.” he continued.

“I loved you,” you whispered.

“And I did too. So much.” he said, his voice breaking.

————— • ————— • ————— • ————— • ————— • ——

TAGLIST:

@migurin @damiensoda @inas-thing @peachywoong @ruevz @sammiisnthere @srapalestina @winchestersgirl222 @taramaria @alexag-barnes @sleutherclaw @will0wfairy @vexedvalerie @lovecleastrange @evelynrosestuff @azu21 @getlostsquidward @bubu890 @strangefilms @ice-ksk @my-beel @doctorswitch @tuitiononlivings @windchaser1990 @swds @andrewgarfieldsloml @spencerreidslittleslut @sherlockstrangewolf @littlebadariell @whosgwyneth @cumberbitch @lostfleurs @strangeobsessed @slvtforstr4nge @jyessaminereads @dancerpanda04 @stephenstrangeaddictions @starryeddie @cemak @valoa3s @paola-carter @runningnannie @siredlust @stupidthoughtsinwriting

63 notes · View notes

lainiespicewrites · 7 months

Text

Someone to take her home

Hey guys so I wrote this a while ago! This is a Henry one shot it an OFC because I'll die on the self insert hill! LOL it gives me so much comfort. Is that weird IDK. Anyway this story is kind of heavy. I wrote this to get out some feelings about an SA that I had experienced. I've always been someone that if I'm stressed I rewrite the situation with a comforting outcome or a better outcome to release the stress or make myself feel better. I wanted to sort of write myself a way to get some comfort from the trauma. And I hope having a character like this sweet soft version of Henry may help some of you too. I never reached out for myself for help and maybe I should have but if you experienced something please talk to someone. If you need someone to talk to or just want a place to let it out my DM's are a safe space <3 Just as disclaimer this doesn't mention any of the actual situation that happened to me. Just a filler to get out the emotion. Still this is a fluff with lots of love and sweet gentle young Henry bc I just know in my soul this was and is how he is as a person!

Warnings: Light Cursing, Trauma, Mentions of sexual assault. (Please reach out for help even if it's just talking to someone about your situation. My DM's are open if y'all wanna talk after this <3)

Description: OFC goes to college party and meets Henry and they become fast friends. and he helps her when things turn bad with a guy he warned her about.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stared at myself in the mirror one more time. I needed to leave soon. If I looked any longer I would find something I hated and talk myself out of going. So I grabbed my bag and turned off my bedroom light. Nervous didn’t begin to describe how I was feeling. I’d never been to a party like this before. Sure I’d been out a few times in high school. But it was usually theater cast parties. And one time my friend and I stole some captain morgan from her parents liquor cabinet. But this was on an entirely different scale.

Most of my drinking was a night in with the girls with wine or movie night drinking games. God I sound so boring. It’s not that I don’t enjoy partying. I was genuinely excited to be invited out tonight. Lilly and I had worked together for a few assignments in class. And we would say hi when we ran into each other in the dorms. But, I never expected to get a text this afternoon inviting me to her boyfriend's party. Purdue was an incredibly large campus. Upwards of 40,000 plus students. Yet somehow Lilly’s boyfriend Riley Hardesty seemed to know everyone. He was known for throwing huge parties all year. They weren’t exclusive. You could just be driving through the neighborhood and stop in. But she told me a friend of Riley’s had asked her about me.

Matt Parker. I know of him. He’s in my English 204 lecture. But we’ve never talked. But he is really attractive. So maybe something good would come from all of this! I decided just to walk as my dorm wasn’t far from the house Riley and his roommates lived in. It was a cool night in mid october and I was definitely regretting the little black denim skirt I was wearing. I was smart enough to wear a cardigan but it was still cold. Thank God it's only 2 blocks down. I bit my lip nervously. Am I even going to know anyone here? Anyone I actually talk to? It’s too late now. I already got dressed and ready. I walked here. I have to go through with this.

I took a deep breath and walked inside. Things were already full swing. I could hear the music outside before I even opened the door. No one seemed to notice me and honestly I was okay with that. I looked around scanning the room. Almost everyone had a drink in hand, standing around in groups talking. The smell of pot hit me immediately as I started to walk through the house. I wasn’t the least bit surprised. I made my way to the kitchen where I found multiple drinks, alcohol and mixers available. I kept it simple and grabbed a wine cooler. Something fruity. I was definitely going to need a buzz if I was going to be here longer than 5 minutes.

I pushed my way out of the kitchen and found a quiet corner to drink and observe for a while. I was busy listening to some guys talk about last weekend's football game when I heard someone’s voice. And I realized they were talking to me. I shifted my eyes seeing a guy standing next to me. He was maybe 6’1, blue eyes, and brown hair with soft curls. I gave him a gentle smile,

“I’m sorry, what was that?” I asked. He smiled and chuckled softly. His smile was beautiful.

“I uh, Just noticed your shirt. Are you a Def Leppard fan?” He asked. I looked down. I completely forgot that was the shirt I was wearing. I just thought a band t-shirt would look cute with the skirt. But

“Yeah! Well I know a few of their songs! My Mom was in her 20’s in the 80’s and she loved them!” I said.

“She has good taste! They’re awesome! Are you here by yourself? Not trying to be creepy I just noticed you were by yourself over here and I wanted to make sure you were alright,” He rambled. I nodded.

“I look that out of place huh? Yeah, I um. I’m friends with Riley’s girlfriend. Well not friends necessarily. But I know her. Anyway she invited me because of some friend of Riley’s but I don’t know this isn’t normally my scene. Wow that was a lot,” I blushed. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

“For?” He smiled, raising an eyebrow. “We’re talking. I like getting to know people! And I totally get it. This can kind of be a lot sometimes. I actually came with some friends but I needed to step away from all the crazy for a second. I’m Henry by the way.” He smiled, extending his hand. I took it and He squeezed mine softly.

“Alayna!” I said.

“It’s nice to meet you!” He smiled. “Which one of Riley’s friends? If you don't mind me asking,” He raised an eyebrow.

“Matt Parker,” I said bluntly. “You know him,” Henry took a sip of his beer and nodded.

“I do, He’s alright. We’re sort of friends I suppose. He may have good intentions. Listen, I know you don’t need my advice, but just be careful around him. I don’t know what you were expecting with him or hoping for. But he can be a little, well, if I had a daughter I wouldn’t trust him with her. But I could be wrong. I’m sorry, that was a bit much. I don't want to ruin your evening,” He said.

“For?” I smirked copying his face from earlier. “You seem to have pure intentions. Just looking out for someone. That’s really kind of you actually. I honestly don't know what I was expecting. But I can handle myself. I didn’t really come out tonight for him. I wanted to actually let loose and have fun for once. I’ve been trying to have more adventures, meet new people, make new friends.” I smiled looking him in the eyes on that last part. He gave me a big smile and held out his beer bottle to cheers me.

“To new friends,” He spoke and we clinked our bottles together. “I like you, I mean talking to you.” He said.

“I like talking to you too! I was honestly super anxious about coming tonight. I was worried I’d be too anxious and awkward to have fun or it would be too much. Because this is a lot. I’m 100% sure I saw someone do coke off the kitchen counter. But I’m actually enjoying myself. Right now anyway.” I laughed. Henry chuckled.

“Good! Well, I’m going to go find my friends but, what's your number? I’ll send you a text real quick and if you get overwhelmed or uncomfortable or need to escape all of this for a bit come find me! Or text me. I’d be happy to be there for you. And we can just chill out for a while.” I smiled and gave him my phone number. It was nice to meet someone as kind as Henry. You don’t meet a lot of people that… genuine and gentlemanly in places like this. He gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before he walked off to find his friends. I wandered off to get another drink while I was standing in the kitchen waiting to grab another wine cooler. I felt someone lay their arm across my shoulder.

“Hey gorgeous,” I recognized Matt’s voice. I gave him a soft smile.

“Hi,” I spoke.

“I’m glad you came tonight, You having a good time,” He asked, clearly buzzed.

“Yeah,” I said tentatively “One hell of a party!” I laughed.

“For sure!” He smiled and moved to the side of me taking his arm off my shoulder. “What are you drinking babe?” He asked.

“Just Mike's lemonade.” I chuckled awkwardly.

“Aw come on girl you can do something stronger than that huh?” He joked. I shook my head.

“I probably could but I’d rather not get sick.” I said.

“Aw well come on at least do a shot with me?” He asked, giving me a puppy dog face and pouting. “Just tequila, we got training wheels!” He added.

“I don’t know… I don’t wanna get too crazy,” I said.

“Nah, it’ll be alright, it’ll just loosen you up a bit!” He spoke already pouring the shots. He slid one over to me. And a piece of lime. “Ready?” I picked up the shot and stared at it questioningly.

“Alright,” He smiled. We clicked the glasses and hit them against the table before taking the shot. It was super bitter. I immediately followed it with the lime. But it didn’t help much. When I looked up again Matt had gotten me another Mike’s from the cooler.

“Atta girl!” He smirked. He took a step closer and I took the drink from him. Then I heard someone call his name from across the house. They were starting another game of beer pong. “That’s my que babe, but wait for me yeah? I’ll come back to you after this game!” He smirked and left a wet kiss on my cheek before running off to join the boys.

Charming is certainly not a word I would use to describe him. But he’s nice. And he’s just trying to make sure I have fun. There’s no harm in that. I wandered around the party again. I opened up my new bottle and tossed the cap on a nearby coffee table. I thought about watching the beer pong game but I honestly wasn’t interested. I found the door leading to the backyard and saw there was a bonfire going. I stepped outside and found an empty seat by the fire. I watched it crackle for a bit and took a long sip of my drink. I felt a warmth inside me and knew it was coming from the alcohol. I started to relax as I listened to the fire and the white noise of the people chatting around me. It was a gorgeous night.

“Hey!” I heard a voice from behind me. “Funny meeting you out here!” Henry spoke, pulling up a chair next to me.

“Hey!” I said excitedly. “It’s calm out here. I like it!” I said. Henry smiled.

“I do too, I love a good fire. Fuels the soul.” He half joked.

“ I love the smell! Is that weird?” I laughed.

“No,” He chuckled softly “Not at all! So, besides the band on that very cool shirt, What other music do you like?” Henry asked, leaning back in his chair and taking a long swig of his beer.

“Oh all kinds. I’m a big lover of the stuff from the 70s though! Elton John, Heart, the Beatles, I guess they’re technically 60’s. I know it’s kind of old school but. I feel like they just don’t make music like that anymore.” I explained.

“Classic! I like it,” He smiled.

“What about you?” I asked.

“Oh I’m all over the place too. I’m actually a big country fan!” He smirked.

“I wouldn’t have expected that from you but I respect it. It’s not my favorite genre but there are definitely some good ones there!” I smiled. Henry and I chatted for a while. We talked about our majors. He's a history major. Where we’re from, he has an accent but I didn’t want to ask and be weird about it. He told me he’s from the UK. We talked about books, history and our friends. It was nice. A little while later I felt an arm around my shoulder again. I knew it was Matt.

“There she is! Did you think I forgot about you babe?” He asked.

“No,” I smiled blushing softly. He smiled.

“Hey Henry! Are you having a good time, man?” He asked. Henry nodded and finished his beer.

“Yeah! Actually I should go get another one. It was nice talking to you Alayna!” He smiled at me before he got up and left. I don’t know why but I could tell Henry wasn’t the biggest fan of Matt. He said they were friends earlier but I think he was just trying to be nice

I was shaken from the thought when I heard Matt’s voice again.

“Hey, follow me!” He said enthusiastically.

“Okay,” I smiled. I got up and followed him back inside. He led us upstairs and down the hall to what I assume was his room.

“Too many people out there, I wanted to be alone with you,” He smiled.

“That’s really sweet! It is pretty crowded.” I said.

“Yeah,” He said blankly. “Are you enjoying the party?” He asked.

“I am,” I said half telling the truth. I enjoyed talking to Henry.

“God you’re so gorgeous,” He said. “I always want to talk to you in class but you always leave so quickly I never get the chance.” He said.

“Thank you,” I blushed.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked. I don’t know if I wanted it or if it was the alcohol but I nodded. He smirked and leaned in kissing me on the lips. It was gentle at first but then he quickly started using tongue. I felt kind of awkward. So I backed away. “Oh sorry, you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I lied. He just nodded and went back to kissing me. I kissed him back a bit but then I felt him start to feel me up. I froze. I really didn’t want that. He moved his hand under my shirt and I stopped him.

“Uh Matt, I really don’t know about this.” I said nervously. He pulled back

“It’s fine, nobody's gonna come in, don't worry about it.” He said and started kissing my neck. Oh god this sucks.

“No I mean. I don’t… want to do this.” I stuttered.

“Come on, it’ll be fun babe, it’ll be alright.” He kept feeling me up and continued kissing me. I felt stuck. He pushed himself against me, grinding into me. He moaned. I swallowed hard. Fuck, I really didn’t want this.

“No, Matt, I really don’t want to.” I said again.

“Shhh just go with it.” he said, shushing me. “You’ll enjoy it, I promise.” He said, sliding his hand under my skirt and rubbing his fingers against me.

“No, stop Matt,” I said again, my voice quivering. He was definitely stronger than me. He used his other hand to take himself out of his shorts and he grabbed my hand putting it on him while he kept touching me, forcing his fingers inside. It hurt. I don’t know how but finally I found the strength to push him away from me. He stumbled back and fell against the bed and I ran out of the room. I could feel the tears stinging in my eyes already but I had to get out of this house. I quickly ran down the stairs and out the front door. Matt was pretty drunk so I don’t even think he tried to follow me. I walked a little way down the street and stopped letting out a sob. What the hell just happened. How did I let that happen? How could I have been stupid enough to trust him or follow him? I didn’t know what to do. I probably should have headed back to the dorm but I didn’t want to be alone right now. I took to my phone trying to think of who to talk to.

I saw I had a text. It was Henry. “Hey it’s me! Henry I mean lol feel free to text me anytime.” I sent him a quick text taking a deep breath and trying to pull myself together. I didn’t want him to see me like this. I was so stupid. He tried to warn me.

“Hey, it’s Alayna, where are you?” I sent it. To my surprise he responded almost immediately.

“By the fire, You okay?” it read.

“Would you wanna go on a walk with me?” I asked. There’s no way I could go back there.

“Sure :) where are you?”

“On the front sidewalk like 3 houses down toward campus.”

“Be right there!” true to his word about 2 minutes later I saw him walking down the sidewalk toward me.

“How are you?” He asked.

“Good,” I nodded absentmindedly.

“Were you leaving?” He asked.

I um,” I stuttered “Yeah, it was just… too much. I was gonna head home. I feel stupid I was just gonna walk home. I'll be fine, I’ll let you have fun. I don’t wanna interrupt your night.” I rambled.

“No! Please do! I’d be happy to walk you home. Talking with you was the most fun I had tonight actually.” He stated simply. I smiled weakly.

“I’m glad.” I said.

“Are you alright?” He asked me. I sighed trying not to get emotional.

“Yeah, just a little overwhelmed and tired.” I lied. We walked in silence for a bit. I couldn’t believe how kind he was. The fact that he would leave his friends to walk me home. He was genuinely concerned about me. That feeling made me even more overwhelmed and finally after everything I could help but start crying. I felt like I had no control over my body as I started to sob. I felt my shoulders start to shake. Henry stopped and put his hands on my shoulders.

“Alayna what's wrong?” He asked me. I tried so hard to speak.

“He wouldn’t.. And I said… no, but he kept…” it all came out in broken sobs. Henry didn’t say anything. He just pulled me into him and hugged me tightly. After a few seconds. I started to calm down and tried to steady my breathing.

“Shh it’s alright, just breathe.” I heard him say. I slowed my breathing. “Did he touch you?” He asked gently, trying not to upset me again. I couldn’t speak, I just nodded. Henry went stiff. I looked up and saw his jaw was clenched. “Mother fucker,” He mumbled quietly under his breath. Then he spoke louder “Do you want to go talk to someone? Like report it?” He asked. Again his voice was gentle. I shook my head.

“I can’t, I know I should but I really can’t, not now.” I said. He nodded.

“Okay, well let's get you home.” He said. I started to walk again. Henry kept an arm around me as we walked. We were quiet the whole way there. He walked me all the way to the door. Wanting to make sure I got in okay.

“Thank you,” I said. But just as he turned to leave I grabbed his hand. “Wait, please don’t go.” I said, trying not to sound desperate. Not that I had the energy to care.

“You want me to stay?” he asked. I nodded.

“Yeah, no, I .. I don’t .. You don’t have to, I’ll be okay.” I said.

“Hey,” He paused, grabbing my hand. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” So I took off my shoes and slipped into the bathroom to change into some shorts. I laid in my bed and Henry sat next to me. “Do you want to watch something?” He asked. I nodded. And turned on my TV scrolling aimlessly. I stopped on some old 90’s sitcom.

“Thank you, for staying,” I said.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now. And I meant what I said. I had more fun talking to you tonight than with anyone else.” He smiled sympathetically.

“I did too,” I said. I sat up going to kiss him but he stopped me.

“Not tonight, darling. Believe me I would love to kiss you. But I think you’ll regret it later if you do this now. I like you. I’m not going anywhere. Let's take this slow. You’ve been through a lot tonight. I’ll still be here when you’re ready. But I think tonight you need to rest.” he said. The universe gave me Henry tonight. If I hadn’t ran into him. I’d have been alone after being sexually assaulted by a guy I barely know. Any other guy wouldn’t have treated me like him. He was so gentle and respectful. He was genuinely looking out for my best interest when he could’ve taken advantage of my vulnerability. I just nodded.

“I’m sorry that was stupid.” I sighed.

“No, it wasn’t” he put his arm around me pulling me into his side and I naturally rested my head on his chest. “You don’t need to apologize. Try to get some rest.” He spoke gently. I could hear his heartbeat and my breath slowed to match the rhythm. Eventually so did he. I looked up to find him asleep with his arm still around me. I settled in snuggling into his side. All the noise around me slowly faded away and I finally got to rest, falling asleep in Henry’s arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That’s it you guys please let me know what you think. I love you all so much! You’ve shown my writing so much love 🥰

136 notes · View notes

bakerstreethound · 4 months

Text

To Another Year

Relationship: Sherlock x lestrade!sibling reader

Warnings: mentions of fireworks, alcohol, Molly makes the briefest appearance, slight hints of jealousy, and Sherlock is a little grumpy

Summary: When the party for the new year begins at 221B, you reflect upon your year and the many blessings it's given you - that one of a new family, both blood and chosen.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT copy, repost, claim, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 1.09k+

A/N: Happy 2024 everyone! Let's hope it's a good one. University has had me in a whirlwind this past semester and up to this winter course I'm on the tail end of. I hope to continue writing and posting more stories about our beloved detective. I know this is a few days, almost a week short of the new year, but it is Sherlock's birthday, so this works as a two-for-one gift. I sincerely hope you enjoy it. As always comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated. Huge shoutout to @strangelockd for beta reading and helping with the title! Graphic by @firefly-graphics

Mrs. Hudson rushed into the room, a bottle of champagne in one hand, the other holding a tray of sweets balanced precariously on the platter. You smiled, making your way over to help before John shoved you aside, taking the platter from her in stride.

“Let me get that for you, Mrs. Hudson, ah yes these look swell!” John grinned, and you rolled your eyes, joining him as he popped a brownie in his mouth.

You chuckled, biting into one as well, letting the warmth coat your tongue and suddenly you felt like a child again. “Oh, Mrs. Hudson you’ve outdone yourself truly. These are fantastic!”

She chuckled while pulling out the glasses, clearing the table in the kitchen from the remnants of Sherlock’s experiments you’d cleared away, but somehow mysteriously popped up again.

You groaned in exasperation. You couldn’t remember the last time the kitchen, or the table for that matter had been clear of experiments or Sherlock’s current fixations.

“Say, where is Sherlock?” John asked, taking another brownie from the tray.

You shrugged, taking a sip from the champagne Mrs. Hudson handed you. “I haven’t the faintest idea. If he had any plans he didn't tell me.”

“Since when does he ever have plans other than dragging us along on cases?” John nudged you playfully and you sighed.

“Sherlock always likes to go off and run around without regard to us,” Mrs. Hudson pipped in, taking a sip from her glass.” But that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun without him. Surely he’s bound to show up.”

“Oh, I’m sure he will, he’s been on a few holiday cases up in Cardiff, from what Greg has told me,” you smiled. Speaking of the devil your phone buzzed and you moved with John and Mrs. Hudson to the living room where you promptly seated yourself in Sherlock’s chair, John following suit in his own while Mrs. Hudson sat on the couch you’d pulled closer to the chairs.

You pulled open the text from your brother, your smile widening. Greg’s message was a selfie of him hauling a grocery bag, likely offerings for the party accompanied by an “on my way!” and a profuse apology for being late as Scotland Yard refused to close at a decent hour.

Well, a decent hour for Greg would be five, so he could sleep earlier and be to work at an even earlier time. Between the both of you, you’re more the night owl.

You take another sip of your drink, watching as John set up festive music on the telly, and opening the curtains where you were met with a rich dark sky littered with stars, the moon glowing softly. You admire the sight and you can’t imagine anything better than this or anywhere you’d rather be.

Your phone buzzed again, met with another text from Greg. Make sure to keep Sherlock in line.

Thanks, Greg, you think. If you had any idea where he was you would be sure to do so as he was your significant other. Yet communication on large cases tended to hinder his whereabouts.

Pretty sure John will do a fine job once we find out where the hell Sherlock went, you shot back.

“What’s this Grantham wants?” Sherlock burst through the door in all his glory, his beautiful Belstaff billowing around him as he fiddled with his phone. Joh chuckled, rolling his eyes at the absurdity and you huffed in amusement.

“Wonderful to see you too my dear. Welcome home!” You rise to greet Sherlock but he’s over next to you in an instant pulling you in for a hug.

You fall into him, sure that Mrs. Hudson is giggling in a corner sending a meaningful look to John. You don’t care in the slightest, not anymore. Sherlock was always yours and you are his, despite the doubts you had from time to time through the years.

“Oi, come on you two lovebirds is this a party or what?” Greg beamed, patting John on the shoulder, raising a glass to Mrs. Hudson. It didn’t take him long to find the drinks, you chuckled to yourself, pecking Sherlock’s cheek. “Also, my brother's name is not Grantham. You should know this by now.”

“Smart girl that one is,” Greg said, “yet she gets herself involved with the likes of Sherlock. I’ll never understand it. The Lestrades like danger over stability it seems.”

“Oh knock it off you all,” Mrs. Hudson admonished. “At least take a few more drinks and at least eat. I bet you all haven’t eaten since lunch, and likely skipped breakfast as well.”

You cast her a look, for she knew you all too well. “Of course, Mrs. Hudson,” you pulled yourself from Sherlock’s embrace even though it was agony to do so, your mind screaming for you to pull yourself up against him and drown in his kisses and warmth.

You quickly give your brother a hug and Greg grinned good-naturedly as you squeezed him tight. It’d been weeks since you’d seen him given the business of the holidays.

It was nice to finally settle down without the impeding stress of work and other responsibilities, relinquishing yourself to the relaxation amongst friends and family. It was why you cherished moments such as these and when you hugged Sherlock again, ruffling his curls, as he grumped, but you knew deep down he enjoyed it.

******

Soon enough you’re all full of champagne, a filling meal, and in generally good spirits. Molly made a chance to stop by, too, and you pulled her into a warm embrace. She blushed in the dim light, not expecting it from you. You couldn’t blame her for having a crush on Sherlock all those years, but your mutual jealousy between you had faded with time and you’d come to enjoy her company.

You hand her a glass, eyes shining in mirth and at that moment you know you’ll be alright. With your found family and kin in the room, all felt right.

Perhaps the year would be a good one after all.

You found Sherlock in his chair observing the quieter atmosphere as everyone settled, talking quietly. You noted the way his fingers tapped on the chair impatiently and you carefully situated yourself in his lap, setting your half-empty glass on the side table.

From the window, fireworks light the sky in all their glory and soft cheers ring through 221B. You brush your lips against Sherlock’s, and he welcomes you into the dawn of what hopefully will be one of the best years in your memory.

******

#sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes fanfiction #happy new year 2024 #bbc sherlock #benedict cuimberbatch #my writing #my alleyway

102 notes · View notes

french-vanilla-in-the-clouds · 2 years

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When Sherlock comes home high off the thrill of case solving, he proceeds to drive Y/N insane (in the best way, of course). Though he refuses to wind down and take a break, Y/N must use her wits to CALM. HIM. DOWN.

Sleepy Sherlock + fluff! ♡

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

The drone of Mrs Hudon's vacuum thrummed below the flat. It was a lazy day on Baker Street, and Y/N could feel it's droll effects.

She stood by the kitchen table, steeping a cup of tea. It's colour drained out in ribbons as she watched with unenthused interest. Sherlock hadn’t made it home that night, so the flat was painfully quiet.

Y/N prodded at her teabag. She squeezed the last of its flavouring out with a spoon and sighed. "So this is what he means when he's bored," she muttered.

She was about to dump the tea for the sake of steeping another batch, when a familiar voice boomed from the front door.

"I AM BRILLIANT! Oh darling, I know my mind is first-rate, but there are moments where even I'm impressed by its rampant luminosity!"

Y/N gave a jolt at the sudden intrusion. The door crashed against its frame and she nearly lost grip of her teacup. The drink sloshed and burned the back of her hand.

"SHERLOCK!" she cried out. "You startled me!"

Sherlock ignored the reprimand and followed the sound of his partner's voice. His steps were quick, nearly giddy.

Y/N frowned when he creeped into the kitchen. "Three cases solved within a twelve hour span!" he hissed, excited. "I am on FIRE!"

Sherlock's hair was mussed and his eyes gleamed wildly. He sounded breathless when he spoke, as though he had raced across the city.

Y/N bit back a smile and tried to remember her annoyance. "What are you going on about?" she demanded.

Sherlock grinned, nearly buzzing. "A magnificent performance on my part! A tri-movement concerto where I cracked the cases in an eloquent sequence of acuity and guile!"

"Good day, I take it?"

Sherlock dragged his hand along the edge of the countertop until he reached Y/N. His rushed strides were clumsy as he stumbled towards her. He squeezed her shoulders and planted a fervent kiss on her cheek. "Oh, you have no idea!"

"Sherlock, maybe you should take a breather now. You've been out since yesterday. Don't you think a bit of rest is in order?"

He looked down and noticed the steaming teacup still in her hands. "No time for that," he chided. "Come hear about the investigations!" Sherlock tossed the drink to the sink, making the porcelain clatter. Before Y/N could object, he gripped her hand tight and led her to the living room.

Sherlock drew open the curtains with great zeal, his open arms casting shaded silhouettes against the room. "Let's set the scene," he said with a dark smile. He turned back to his partner and stalked around her, building up his narrative.

"A robbery, six missing persons, and a murder. All distinct at first glance, wouldn't you say?"

Y/N perched on the edge of an armchair and crossed her arms. She was amused by his dramatization but worried about his lack of rest. In the moments where Sherlock Holmes was still high off the thrill of case solving, he was nonstop.

"Yes, I suppose so. But maybe you can finish your story in the morning? A good night's rest will---"

Sherlock bent down and kissed the tip of her nose. His eyes were bright. "That can wait, dove. As I was saying, Lestrade believed the three events to be mere coincidences as well. But I soon discovered that---"

"--- that everything was interconnected? Yes Sherlock, that's very impressive."

Sherlock glanced at Y/N and quirked a brow. "I'm sensing disinterest," he noted.

Y/N sighed. She stood up and took his hands in her own. "Not at all," she assured. "I'd love to hear of your triumphs, but I'm more concerned with your wellbeing at the moment."

"I don't understand. I'm perfectly fine!"

Y/N quirked a brow. She studied the dark shadows beneath his eyes and the slight tremble in his hands. His scarf was done up in a knot, and he seemed pale.

"Take a quick look in the mirror and tell me again that you're fine."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "A look at the mirror won't prove anything other than the fact that you worry too much."

"Then it won't hurt to look, now will it?"

Sherlock scoffed and glanced at the mirror hanging from the back wall. He studied his reflection in silence.

"Clever girl," he murmured, finally. "I've seen better days, haven't I?"

Y/N dipped forwards and kissed his jaw. "I would say so. You're not invincible, you know."

Sherlock sighed and pulled her against his chest. "True as that may be, there are certainly moments where I feel invincible."

Y/N felt his deft fingers trail through her hair. She leaned against him and listened to the steady beating of his heart. "Do you mean when you're out case solving?"

Sherlock pulled back until his eyes locked with hers. He tapped a finger to the tip of her nose and grinned. "Not quite. I mean to say that invincibility lies in the moments I stand by your side."

Y/N giggled. "You've gone soft from your sleepless nights," she hummed. "Let's get to bed." Before Sherlock could protest, she gripped the end of his scarf and pulled him away.

"But the sun is still shining! London won't sleep until nightfall, and I'm sure I can hold up another few hours!" His last words were muffled by a yawn that he tried and failed to suppress.

"Somehow, I'm not convinced!" Y/N laughed. "You're exhausted. Come on, I'll fetch you a pillow."

Sherlock smiled. There was no use countering her. Secretly, he didn't really mind. He felt a profound sense of comfort in Y/N's care.

He squeezed her shoulder from behind. "I'm in your hands," he whispered.

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

Give Fixation a shot!

I haven't written anything in a while, so I'm just glad to have finished this!!! 😭

tagging: @twisted-monster @starryeddie @high-functioning-lokipath @the-chaotic-cow @turkisherlockian @kabubsmagga @aephereal @andthevillainshallrises @baby-bloos @cookiemumster1 @eternal-silvertongued-prince @bogginsreadings @lumosouls @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @lucywrites02 @danzalladaggers @mrs-holmes @pytharuw @msseijii @serenity-lattes @spencerrxids

2K notes · View notes

myveryownfanfiction · 2 months

Text

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery

warnings: swearing, argument, menstruation

Sherlock paced the flat, occasionally tapping away on his phone. I sat in John’s chair, curled up around myself as tightly as I could.

“Sherlock.” I said. He continued to ignore me. “Sherlock.” There was a raise of the eyebrow but he still continued to ignore me. “Sherlock Holmes!” He jolted and frowned as he turned to look at me.

“What? What could you possibly want that is more important than this case?” He asked, venom dripping from his voice.

“and what about that case is more important than your partner being in pain?” I shot back. Sherlock looked me over.

“I see nothing wrong with you.” Sherlock scoffed.

“of course you don’t.” I muttered, getting up and grabbing my coat. “You’re such a fucking machine that you can’t even tell when your partner is in the middle of their period.” I shrugged my coat on and opened the door. “When you get your shit together Sherlock, call me. Until then…” I shook my head and left. I could hear him calling for me but I ignored him. Mrs. Hudson came out of her flat and looked up as I came down the stairs.

“what’s all that yelling about?” She asked.

“Sherlock being a dumbass as usual.” I muttered as I paused in front of her. “He thinks the case is more important than whatever I have doing on right now so I’m going to leave him to his own devices until he can get his shit together.”

“John will be back soon. Maybe if you wait…” I shook my head and sighed.

“I can’t wait for John to come back. I’ll rip his head off while we wait.” I admitted. “And as pissed as I am at him, he doesn’t deserve it.” Mrs. Hudson rubbed my arm.

“be safe luv.” She said before letting me leave. I wandered the streets of London, grabbing fish and chips from queensway before taking the London eye. I watched a couple take a picture in front of the parliament building, kissing before giggling at each other. I smiled softly to myself, pulling my phone out of my pocket as it buzzed.

‘The case can wait. You’re more important to me than anything. Please come home -SH’

biting my lip, I texted Sherlock back. I explained that I was still pissed off at him and I would be back later. I didn’t receive a response so I pocketed my phone and continued to walk around the city. When I had reached whitechapel, I started to head down towards the Jack the Ripper museum. I paused when I saw Sherlock leaning against the building.

“Sherlock…” I said, looking around before stopping in front of him. “What…”

“I’ve been an idiot.” He said, reaching out to touch my arm. “You always come here when you’re pissed at me. Or life. You’re looking for something to help solve it. Why I don’t know but it’s admirable. The unsolvable case.” He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re admirable. Everything about you. And you are more important to me than any damn case.”

“glad you finally noticed.” I said, chuckling as I shook my head. “John knock some sense into you?”

“Mrs. Hudson.” Sherlock admitted. “And you. I didn’t realize that you were feeling like shit. For all my deduction and reasoning…I failed you.” Sherlock wrapped his arms around me. “I’m sorry. Really. How does going home sound?” I nodded, wrapping an arm around his waist as he turned to lead me back to baker street.

“strange to hear you apologize.” I mused as I laid my head on his shoulder. Sherlock hummed in agreement.

“Someone must have really knocked some sense into me then.” He teased. I smiled at him. Sherlock leaned down and pressed a kiss to my head. “If you ever need help solving that case…I’d be happy to help.”

“I think I’ve got this one.” I said, pausing and turning in his hold. “But thank you.” I leaned in and kissed Sherlock with the sun setting behind parliament.

#Sherlock holmes #sherlock Holmes x reader #sherlock Holmes fanfic #Sherlock Holmes fanfiction #Sherlock Holmes imagine #Sherlock x reader #sherlock fanfic #Sherlock fanfiction #sherlock imagine #benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch x reader #Benedict cumberbatch fanfic #Benedict cumberbatch fanfiction #Benedict cumberbatch imagine #Monthly series

47 notes · View notes