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teigo-the-explorer · 1 month

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Stressed Out

MAIN MASTER LIST

Word Count: 1.k <

Warnings: Not really any, kind of ooc Sherlock (but who cares)

Author's Note: Finally feeling like I have time to write and that the writing gods have been in my favor. This was a fun little one-shot to write. While I'm still trying to get back into my writing groove, this one shot definitely helped get some of the dust off my creative writing brain. So, thank you @my-dear-sweet-melody for requesting this one. I hope you enjoy it!

You weren’t sure how you’d been doing it: managing the day-to-day lives of two people who also happened to be good friends of yours, assisting Sherlock with cases, seeing things you’d never thought you’d see in your lifetime (both good and bad), juggling relationships, your own well-being and health, and time to relax. Although it seemed like you had less and less time to do the things concerning yourself. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but when you were thrust into the world of Sherlock Holmes, more important things came into play.

Sherlock was the first to notice how the stress was weighing on you. It was a total shock when he casually announced your current state to John. The moment the words of concern were uttered from Sherlock’s lips, the puzzle in John’s mind had been completed. With the help of Mrs. Hudson, the two men began to conspire to make life easier for their dear friend.

At first, Sherlock’s conscious decision to wash his dishes and put them away in the correct cabinets struck you as odd. Sherlock’s mind was usually too busy for such arbitrary tasks, and such magnificent brain power couldn’t be wasted on such a thing. Then came the tidiness of his experiments. You could swear you hadn’t seen a stray finger or eyeball dissolving in vinegar for quite some time.

When you had asked Sherlock about his new behavior, he shrugged it off with some wildly strange research idea he had come up with. You tried to follow along, but your brain began to hurt after a moment, so you opted to believe him instead.

Meanwhile, John took extra care to charge his and Sherlock’s devices. He knew no matter how brilliant Sherlock was, the man seemingly ceased to forget that computers, phones, and the lot needed to be charged via a charging cord and port. On the other hand, Mrs. Hudson made the note to prepare extra tea and biscuits to save yourself the trouble of doing that for Sherlock and John.

Now, you felt no need to question John and Mrs.Hudson’s new behavior. It was in character for them to do small things like that. However, you continued to question Sherlock; he grew tired of it. Why couldn’t you see that he cared for you, too? That maybe he cared a bit more for you than he should. He was growing weary of the excuses he made to your insistent questions when all he wanted to do was throw them up and tell you the truth. Truthfully, the truth was something he insisted upon. Sherlock always found it one way or another. Yet, he could only fib when you had a new query about his altered behavior. Was it hard for you to understand that Sherlock could care? That he, too, could be human?

“Sherlock,” you called as you sat on the couch, pouring over the current case. It was usually your job to organize each thing into its Sherlockian category to save Sherlock his brain power. However, when you opened the file, it had already been done. “Did I happen to organize this in my sleep?” You raised the file and peered at him. Sherlock felt his mind conjure up the latest lie. Just before it left his mouth, he paused. He got up and marched to the window, where he began to gaze out onto the street below. He couldn’t lie anymore. He had to tell you the truth.

“I organized it,” Sherlock said.

You froze. Something was seriously wrong with the man if he was now organizing his own cases. “Sherlock, you never orga–”

“Why can’t I?” Sherlock’s voice grew tense. His eyes clenched shut, all while his back was still towards you. He wouldn’t dare look at you. He knew if he saw your eyes, he’d crumble and tell you everything, but everything was what you needed to hear. Everything was what he needed to say.

“I never said you couldn’t. It’s just,” you faltered, “…strange.”

Within a moment, Sherlock whirled around. His icy blue eyes began to thaw under your gaze. “I observed you have stressed: Your trousers falling to your hips instead of hanging snuggly on your waist, the dark circles under your eyes that only grew prominent by the day, the growing urge to sleep instead of join Mrs. Hudson for the weekly watch party of the latest soap opera,” Sherlock shut his mouth. He had said too much already; he shouldn’t say more, but his lips moved again. “I wasn’t the only one who noticed, John and Mrs. Hudson, too. We devised a plan to lessen the blow of our–my constant mess.”

As Sherlock spoke, you realized his words were only the truth. You had noticed you suddenly had more time to eat a meal, spend time with your favorite landlady, who was more like a mother, go on walks in the park with John, listen to Sherlock compose his latest piece, sleep, and live life as it should be lived. Amidst Sherlock’s rambling, you whispered, “Why?”

“Because we–because I care you for,” Sherlock choked.

Slowly, you remove yourself from the comfort of the couch cushions and find a place in front of Sherlock. You watch as Sherlock shudders from the touch of your hand on his cheek. “Thank you,” you said as a smile grew. “Thank you for caring when I forgot to take care of myself. Although…”

Sherlock frowned.

“…while I appreciate the sentiment of you organizing your own cases, John charging the computers, and Mrs. Hudson always preparing tea, I’d still like to be able to do my job. After all, the great Sherlock Holmes still needs to use his brain power to solve cases and save the day.”

Sherlock could only smile at that response for he'd give you anything you'd ask. "Of course. Of course, Y/N."

____

Comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list! Please comment or reblog if you can; I want to hear from you.

Tag list:

@bartokthealbinobat

@astudyinlaura

@sherlockstrangewolf

@yourleastfavoriteguyinthechair

@biggerthancalli13

@themartiansdaughter

@sunsumonner

@silversword7000

@starlightaurorab

@my-dear-sweet-melody

@neroarrow83

@khaleesihavilliard

@agentxx92

@myszur-blog

@halestorm0707

_____

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softestqueeen · 3 months

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misty mornings

pairing: sherlock holmes x reader feat. john watson and mrs. hudson

summary: When Sherlock Holmes awakes on his birthday, he doesn’t expect anyone to remember it. But of course, you do.

warnings: none, just some birthday fluff

wordcount: 968 words

a/n: Happy Birthday Sherlock Holmes! I think his birthday calls for some well deserved fluff and I had the idea for this while listening to the song "misty mornings" by travis bretzer, which is where the name for this fic comes from! This is also the first time I scheduled a post, so I hope this works and uploads properly, but we'll see! I'll stopp rambling now: Enjoy <3

It was one of the rare nights where Sherlock Holmes could actually get some sleep. He didn’t dream, which made awaking a lot more pleasurable, knowing his mind had actually gotten some rest. The only strange thing: when he awoke, you weren’t in his arms.

That was weird, normally you’re the one dragging him to bed and practically forcing him to sleep. He rolled over, but your side was cold to the touch, you must have been gone for some time. He looked at the digital alarm clock and it’s red shinning numbers illuminated the room with the time just behind the light. 7:30 a.m.

Mhmm.. strange. Normally you would be still fast asleep next to him. Slowly, he was getting worried. Did you go to work early? No, that’s impossible, it’s Saturday. You never worked on Saturdays, did you?

He spent a few more moments debating with himself on what to do now, when he suddenly heard noises and the fridge opening and closing again. At first he could only hear his old flatmate John (what the hell was he doing here?), but then he could hear you whisper yelling, probably at John. What were you discussing?

He looked at the alarm clock again, this time not for the time but for the date. Did he forget something?

Oh. It was his birthday! How could he forget?

The detective dreaded his birthday every year. He would get calls from his parents and random fans sent him letters, sometimes even flowers. He didn’t see the importance of his birthday. And even when John lived with him, he never celebrated his birthday.

But now that he was in a relationship with you, he thought things might change. You probably didn’t know when his birthday was, so he could maybe casually drop it in a conversation today. Maybe even take you out to celebrate, but more to use it as an excuse to spend more time with you.

But he would have more time to think about that later. For now, he would get up, see what you and John were up to (hopefully a new case) then do some thinking and maybe afterwards take you out. Sounds like a plan, doesn’t it?

He got up, put on a pair of plait pyjama trousers and his signature morning gown and opened the door that led to the rest of the flat.

But the sight that awaited him, was nothing he could have ever imagined.

There you were standing, still in your pyjamas, holding one of Sherlocks lighters. Next to you, John who was just putting a small cake on the table. Neither of you had noticed Sherlock yet, but it didn’t take long.

Once you did notice Sherlock standing in the doorway, a smile broke out on your face. You turned to John for a second to whisper something into his ear, whereupon John approached the detective, blocking his view of you for a second.

“How are you feeling today, Sherlock?”, John asked him with a smile on his face.

“What are you two up to?”, Sherlock shot back, visible confusion on his face.

“You’ll see in a sec.”, John answered, his smile now accompanied from a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Sherlock couldn’t react as quickly as John put the party hat on him. After his assault on Sherlock, he put one on himself. The consulting detective was still shocked and confused at what was happening.

John let him be and went back to his initial place next to you. Now Sherlock could see it all. You were wearing a hat as well and the cake was now adorned with three burning candles. You’re smile was brighter than the candles though and he got lost in your eyes for a moment.

He didn’t even know you knew when his birthday was, even though Sherlock had yours marked in his calendar.

Because of the short distraction, he didn’t realise that Mrs Hudson had come up to join the party as well and of course she also wore one of the colourful hats.

“Good, I came just in time.”, she said, beaming into the room. Apparently the group was now complete. At least he hoped it was, he couldn’t handle his brother or parents right now.

Now that everyone was here, you start to intone “Happy Birthday”. After the short serenade, Sherlock applauded the three of you, a smile forming on his lips. You walked up to him and pecked his lips. “Happy Birthday, Sherlock”, you whispered against them, before walking back to the cake.

“And now, blow out the candles and make a wish!”, you seemed more excited than him, but as long as it made you happy he’d do anything for you.

He made eye contact with everybody in the room, hoping he could tell them without words how grateful he was for this little surprise, before he went to the cake.

He thought about what to wish, but soon realized that he had everything he could ever need. He had you, a loving partner who always cared for him and waited for him when he came home, no matter what time. He had John, his best friend who always helped him and with whom he could talk about everything. He couldn’t forget about Mrs Hudson of course, who always had some advice for him and was almost like a mother for him. He had his brother, who was exactly how a big brother should be: annoying and unbearable. He even had Gevin? Gerald? Lestrade. He had Lestrade who was slowly becoming more than a colleague, a friend.

He had everything he could have ever imagined. So, he just closed his eyes and when he blew out the candles, he just wished for this to never end.

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @softestqueeen

taglist: @silvermagnolias @milywatermelon @BigBananaa

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confused-book-noises · 6 months

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I cant believe I haven’t seen this before

youtube

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sherlock-holmes-through-the-ages · 11 months

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Mrs. Hudson: Dear, I only ever see you awake, do you ever shut down or stop running? Sherlock: Oh, I’m always running John: The question is from what

#bbc sherlock #incorrect quotes #sherlock holmes #john watson #incorrect sherlock quotes #johnlock #johnlock incorrect quotes #john h watson #john x sherlock #dr watson #granada holmes #acd canon #acd holmes #acd watson #acd johnlock #acd sherlock #mrs hudson

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tenthcrowley · 1 year

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[JOHN]: So, are you two...?

[SHERLOCK, Y/N]: No.

[JOHN]: (Looks at the clothes all over the floor) You sure?

[SHERLOCK, Y/N]: Yeah.

[JOHN]: O-okay, if you say so.

#bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes x male reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #john watson #mrs hudson #sherlock holmes #dr john watson #x reader #gn reader #imagine #jim moriarty #mycroft holmes #benedict cumberbatch #x male reader

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sherlock-holmes-art · 2 months

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Morning Mood^^

Sherlock just showing off his chest!

#bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes fanart #john watson #johnlock #digital illustration #clip studio paint #artwork #didigitalart #mrs hudson #benedict cumberbatch #martin freeman #john x sherlock #bbc

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reineyday · 2 years

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hc that when rosa and marius start dating, luke starts calling marius "mary" and when people ask why (is it short for marius? thats so cute!) luke is like, "nah it's cuz watson's wife is named mary." marius unironically loves this, and takes his role as rosa's wife very seriously.

#rei rambles #tears of themis #tot #marius von hagen #luke pearce #marius x rosa #i dont think luke would ever be able to call vyn or artem 'mary' which is why i specified marius LOL #also love the implication that luke x rosa means sherlock x watson #mihiyo ships johnlock pass it on #hoyoverse #when i say he takes his role v seriously i mean when the three of them are on detective-ing adventures #he cheers rosa on just as much as he helps out LOL #theyre all v proud of each other #this could also be an ot3 thing 👍👍👍#lmao omg what if this makes artem lestrade and vyn mycroft #or mb vyn is mycroft; darius morgan is lestrade (bc police chief); and artem is mrs hudson 😂😂

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myrealnameisnotthisbyfalloutboy · 2 years

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The way Mrs Hudson goes "My husband was a running around type too" gets me every time. Like the way she, immediately upon meeting John, decides 'this man is clearly Sherlock's partner' and just runs with it even when John denies it at every turn.

Mrs Hudson. The Original JohnLock shipper.

#john watson #mrs hudson #sherlock holmes #Sherlock #bbc sherlock #johnlock #sherlock x john

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pinkthick · 1 year

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For the request fic:

4. repositioning the mistletoe because it annoys them

5. repositioning the mistletoe because they need MORE kisses

With BBC Sherlock Holmes x Reader

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

Hi. 🙃

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

Where are the mistletoes?

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader

Sherlock Holmes & Mrs. Hudson & John Watson & Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yup, there it was.

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

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

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

“What was that for?” He asked bewildered

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't—"

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

“Are you certain?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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topsyturvy-turtely · 1 year

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(Rosie's) Elephant in the Room

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Words: 4491 (on ao3)

Summary: John Watson loves Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes loves John Watson. John Watson’s daughter loves her giant elephant plushie.

This is the story how the two men finally jump over their shadows and confess their feelings. All because of an elephant plushie.

---

Rosamund Mary Watson owned one thing she was incredibly proud of: her gigantic elephant plushie.

Name: Ellie Phant Astic

Gender: female

Age: 1 year 24 weeks and 5 days

Material: very soft fabric

Strengths: very good at hugging and listening. The best plushie in the whole wide world.

Weaknesses: shy, not talkative (only talks to Rosie Watson).

“Hi, Rosie, sweetie. What are you writing down?”, her dad (John Watson) asked, as he dropped his bag to the floor after he came home from work.

“Key data of Ellie Phant Astic. Look!”, proudly the girl showed off her scrawly handwriting to her dad, who squated down to kiss his daughter’s top of the head and review her professional plush toy data. Seven years old, exceedingly smart and good at social interactions as long as it only includes herself, her way too big elephant plushie and family, Rosie reminded John more of Sherlock than of himself. Writing down key data of a plush toy? Definitely a thing Sherlock did as a kid!

“Wow, that’s truly elephant-astic”, John joked and winked. Rosie giggled.

“I believe you call that a dad-joke, John”, Sherlock said leaning in the door frame, dressing gown over his sweatpants and a white T-shirt and a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Well,” John stood up and his spine made a clicking noise. “I am a dad, so I am allowed to make those.” John smiles. “How was your day with the little one?”

“Oh, it was quite ‘elephant-astic’, wouldn’t you agree, Watson?”, he said, making air-quotes when saying the really not that funny word.

Enthusiastically Rosie nodded her head. “Yessss! Phantie and Lock and me went to the pond in the park and fed the ducks and then we came home and played Cluedo and then I had to go down to Granny, because Lock was angry, because he wasn’t playing according to the rules but that’s okay because Phantie, Granny and I made cookies and they were delicious and I ate soooo much!”

“That sounds like quite a busy day, Rosie. But, I suggest you don’t play Cluedo with Lock anymore, he is extremely bad at it.”, the doctor said with a smirk directed at his flatmate.

Rosie laughed, looked at the tall detective, then at the 3 foot stuffed animal and finally whispered into John’s ear, “Phantie agrees.”

Knowing full well his Watsons were whispering and giggling over him, Sherlock countered, “I am not bad at Cluedo. This game is simply illogical.”

“Yeah, sure it is, Sherlock.”, John said and Rosie fell into a giggling fit. With a pout, Sherlock turned around and walked back into the kitchen.

Still smiling, John turned to Rosie. “I’ll be taking a shower and be right down. Will you be alright with Mr. Pouty-Face over there?”

Giggling, Rosie nodded and pointed at the giant elephant next to her, “Phantie and I can handle him.”

“Probably even better than I can, sweetheart.”, John said, gave Rosie another kiss and left to take a shower.

Upstairs John was overwhelmed by the chaotic mess of a room screaming at him. He used to have a very tidy room, apart from the occasional pants or jumper laying one day too long on the floor. That had changed when Rosie came and Mary had died. John had moved back in with Sherlock and was since then sharing his room with a little girl: Plushies everywhere, pirate costumes over his bed, a magnifying glass with a bunch of sheets with a kid’s colourful handwriting, on and around the desk. The closet door wide open, half of the clothes falling out.

This room was getting definitely too small for a little girl living her wildest dreams. Let alone a little girl and her father. Said girl wasn’t even that little anymore. They had two small singles now, instead of the queen sized bed, because Rosie was kicking like crazy in her sleep. John’s nightmares had gotten better with her close to him, but on bad nights he had to sleep on the couch downstairs, as to not disturb her. Or blankly stare onto the ceiling hoping sleep would make John its slave at some point. Thankfully Rosie slept like a stone most days.

And as much as it pained him and would for sure pain his daughter: John would have to move out soon, if he ever wanted to live like a grown man again. If he ever wanted Rosie to become not dependent on her father. They both needed their own space. For their own sakes.

John sighed, grabbed some fresh clothes and left the messy room to take a shower. Tomorrow. He would tell Sherlock they’d move out tomorrow.

Continue on Ao3 ;)

#turtely writes #(rosie's) elephant in the room #parentlock #lots of fluff #a tiny bit of angst but nothing severe i promise #idiots in love #love confessions #johnlock #johnlock ficlet #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock x john #john watson #sherlock holmes #rosie watson #mrs. hudson #johnlock fic on ao3 #happy about reblogs 🥰#*throws badly cut out paper hearts at you*

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teigo-the-explorer · 4 months

Text

All of You

MAIN MASTER LIST

ANON Request: Okay I can't have enough Sherlock angst so maybe just some feels or kidnapping or something like that. Thanks for your great work <3🙇🏼‍♀️

ANON REQUEST 2: I love your fics 💕💕 if requests are open, could you do one with BBC Sherlock in which the reader is kidnapped? (but they both have not confessed their love for each other yet, and the kidnapping perhaps prompts Sherlock to confess. idk up to you!) i just l o v e your Sherlock one shots!!

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Haunted house, drugging, weapons, canon typical violence, kind of OOC Sherlock, cursing (Let me know if I have missed anything)

Author's Note: So, I got two requests A WHILE AGO and they were so similar I just decided to combine the two of them. (Requests are still not open, I’m just getting to the ones I never got around to writing to.) As for requests, I will be opening them back up once Arbitrary Lives and A Sinner's Redemption have concluded, so start thinking of some request ideas!!

The irony of the situation did not evade you. Sherlock’s latest case involved a serial killer. A serial killer who they were looking for at an abandoned haunted house attraction. The home wasn’t actually haunted, it was just a place years ago that would host a scary Halloween amusement park. However, that information did little to ease your nerves. What made things worse was that Sherlock suggested to split up. You, John, and he would all go separate ways to search for the killer.

Immediately, you had declined. You've seen too many horror movies with John to know that splitting up was the worst thing you could do. Not to mention the experiences you’ve had working with the consulting detective for years. Never split up, that’s what you told yourself, yet here you were, by yourself, walking down the dimly lit halls of the gigantic house. Your mind ran a-wire with the thought of how many hidden rooms and passageways that could be kept in the walls. That image alone terrified you.

With each step you took the house creaked and groaned. If that wasn’t a big neon sign blaring to the killer that you were there, you didn’t know what it was. You couldn’t but wince as the whole house squeaked with your latest step and at that point, you weren’t sure why you were trying to be quiet.

Muttering curses under your breath you lowered your torch and turned around. You wanted to find Sherlock or John. Their presence made you feel safer and all you wanted to be right now was safe. Your body shivered as a chill crept up your legs to the back of your neck. The waves of nerves tickled the minuscule hairs on your body and if this was a horror movie eerie music would be playing.

“Why did the killer have to be in a haunted house,” you whined as you approached the stairs to the bottom floor of the home where you last saw your tall consulting detective.

Looking down the wooden steps you searched for the bright light of Sherlock’s torch. There was no light to be found. You sighed and pulled out your phone trying to be smart about this. The bright screen of your phone illuminated your view darkening everything behind and in front of you. Your fingers danced across the screen as you pulled up Sherlock’s contact. You pressed a button. The screen flashed with Sherlock’s name and your phone buzzed. But before you could speak or before Sherlock could answer, everything went black.

There was something so insightful about being knocked out: the darkness of everything, the pain you felt in the back of your head like a soundtrack, and the erasure of all feelings. It was almost impossible to feel terrified about the haunted house when you weren’t even conscious in the first place. It was oddly peaceful and quiet, something you haven’t known in a long time since working for Sherlock. You weren’t sure how you became unconscious in the first place. As you lay in the darkness, there was one thought floating around in your mind. Shit.

____

“You’re finally awake,” a hoarse voice cooed.

A harsh light crept into your view causing you to wince. You longed for the darkness that you were encased in moments before. Soon your eyes adjusted to the bright light and began to take in your surroundings.

First things first, you were strapped down to a table. The straps were extremely tight leaving you with barely any room to breathe. You gulped and began to twist underneath the straps. If you could move in the first place.

The voice tsked before laughing. “It’ll be a while before you can move. The paralytic works fast.” Your eyes widened and you began to whimper. “Don’t worry, you can still scream.”

That when you saw them, your captor and the killer. Dauning a medical mask and surgical wear they leaned in close and sniffed you. You closed your eyes at the proximity, wishing that they wouldn't be real if you couldn’t see them. “I can smell the fear coming off of you. It’s intoxicating,” your captor chuckled.

“No…” you whimpered. Your voice was barely audible.

The killer pulled back away from you. “No?”

In your mind, you could go two ways. The first option, go with the idea that your “no” was terrified and try and plead with the killer. It was dignified and kind of cowardly but it was what you wanted to go with. Second, you could play it off cool. Well, as cool as you could while being strapped to a table with the killer’s face hovering over you. You could fight back. Taunt him and maybe provide Sherlock and John with enough time to try and find you. God, you hoped that they’d find you and that your brilliant consulting detective could solve the case. Now that you thought about it the second option seemed more plausible.

“No, he’s going to find me. He’ll beat you. That’s what he does,” you muttered. Your voice still trembled as you delivered this line, but your eyes conveyed your determination and belief in what you said.

All enjoyment from the killer’s face vanished and a darker expression replaced it. The look they were giving you would have paralyzed you if you weren’t already drugged. Their breath was scalding hot as they breathed into your ear. “He’ll never figure it out.”

You scoffed. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I? He hasn’t even figured out that you’re gone.” They pulled down their medical mask to flash you a wicked grin. “This house has so many rooms. Twist and turns. You’ll be dead before he finds this room.

You paled. All hope of playing it cool dissipated. You were terrified: Breath evaded you, your heart beat faster than it ever had before, your blood ran cold, and tiny beads of sweat encased your body.

“I’m right. You can even see him here,” the killer pulls up video footage of the house. In the middle of all the split screens, you can see Sherlock and John searching. A tight pain in your chest formed at the sight. “You know that your dear detective is too enamored with the case to remember that others exist. It’s a game and he wants to win, even if it means some of his teammates get left behind.” You can’t help the tears that pool in your eyes causing them to laugh. “It’ll be too late when he realizes it and the closest thing he’ll have to you again are the organs that will be in the bodies of others. You’ll be de–”

“Wrong.”

You sobbed upon hearing that voice. It was Sherlock. He was here. He had come. The killer whirled around to find Sherlock standing with a gun in his hand aimed at them.

“How…” the killer said.

“Should’ve checked your cameras, then you would have realized they were on a loop,” the comforting voice of John spoke.

The killer’s jaw clenched.

“John,” Sherlock said. “ Get Y/N.”

John snuck out behind Sherlock and carefully moved over to you. His eyes scanned over your distressed figure as his hands began to fiddle with the straps.

“It’s alright, Y/N,’ John whispered as he untied the woman.

“I can’t,” you shook your head. “...I can’t move.”

John’s eyes filled with worry as the killer chuckled. “She’s paralyzed. I wouldn’t move her if I were you.” The killer turned around to look back down at you.

“If you move one more centimeter there will be a bullet lodged in your head,” Sherlock growled.

“You wouldn’t,” the killer hissed.

“On the contrary. I like to win my games, even if it means that the rules are bent.” Sherlock’s eyes were glaring at the killer.

Suddenly a muffled voice came from above. It was Lestrade. “Sherlock?”

“Down here, Gary!”

Time seemed to move superficially fast as the police entered the basement. However, time stilled the moment Sherlock retrieved you. John tried his best to pick you up but with the combination of his size and your apparent unmoving state, he found himself useless. Instead, Sherlock stepped up. With limp limbs and a stiff body, Sherlock lifted you off the cold and hard metal table. His gentle hand cradled your head as your body curled into him. He carried you as if you were the most precious and fragile things in the world. His secure and stable arms wrapped around you, pulling you immensely too close to his body, but you did not mind. He was warm and you were cold. He was safe and you were scared. Sherlock was exactly what you needed, and he was there. He was always there for you.

Soon the blaring lights of the police cars filled your vision, concealing the ambulance waiting for you. You hated you couldn’t cling to Sherlock as he passed you over to the EMTs. They scanned your body checking for injuries and asking you questions while they did so. With each response and your insistence on your perfectly fine well-being, the EMTs grew more and more concerned. They wanted to take you to the hospital, but that was the last place you wanted to be: being strapped down to a table, with an IV in your arm, the medical masks, and scrubs. It was all too much too soon. The fear in your eyes was apparent at their conclusion, but before you could open your mouth to display your concerns, Sherlock spoke.

“She’ll be coming home with me.”

“But sir, she’s still drugged and paral–,” the EMT began.

“If you just used your eyes, you would see that the hospital is the last place she wants to be,” Sherlock interjected.

The EMT briefly gazed over at you before recognizing the truth in Sherlock’s words.

“She still needs to be checked on after th–”

“I’m a doctor, I can make sure everything is alright,” John chimed in.

You looked at John and gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you,” your hoarse voice whispered.

John smiled back. The EMT looked between the three of you and sighed placing her hands on her hips. “Alright, I’ll sign off on the paperwork and she’s free to go.”

The moment the paperwork was signed, you were whisked back to Baker Street. Sherlock never left your side as he carried you into his and John’s shared flat and placed you down on their sofa. Mrs.Hudson had brought up tea and snacks in an attempt to get something into your stomach. However, the idea of shifting your body to raise your arms and extend your hand to retrieve the cup of tea and biscuits seemed too big of an ordeal. You were exhausted. Instead, you found the weight of your head too much to bear and collapsed onto Sherlock’s shoulder. With one look, John and Mrs. Hudson ushered themselves out of the flat.

Your body was still trembling as the mental scars still flashed vividly in your mind.

“You’re safe,” Sherlock hummed in a soothing voice. His gentle arms came up to wrap around your torse encouraging a wave of stillness to course through your body. You weren’t sure of what to say. So many ifs running through your head, so you settled for a thank you.

Sherlock responded by pulling you closer. “I’ll always find you.”

A watery smile appeared on your face. It was a smile that you forced as tears crept into the corner of your eyes. “Well, if you hadn’t made it in time, I would have given you my skull. That way you’d always have me on your mantel.” You tried to laugh. It was a poor attempt at a joke and you weren’t really sure why you were making it. You just did.

Sherlock pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. You tried to look away, but his firm hand cupped your chin directing your gaze at him. “No. I don’t want your skull. I want you alive and safe. Anything less and I’ll never be satisfied.”

His eyes seemed to glow as you stared into them. The gorgeous blue lulled you in like a siren at sea. You couldn’t turn away as he brought your face closer to wipe away the tears that had fallen from your face.

“Okay,” you said in a hushed tone.

Sherlock seemed content with that answer and pulled you in to brush his lips against your forehead. He wanted to do more but now wasn’t the time. He wanted to whisper his heart and soul’s greatest secret into your ears and breathe it into your skin. He wanted you, all of you, but for now, holding you close, your heart thumping against each other, and the peaceful melody of your breath against his neck was all he needed.

____

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