#sherlock x reader

[that1geek06]

"English isn't my-"

Hush now my friend, and let me read the absolute beauty of a fic that you have bestowed this world and humiliated the first English speakers with

[asherloki]

Sherlock Holmes, SFW alphabets!

Inspired by @starks-hero !

A-Affection (how affectionate are they?) :-

Honestly, he'd be sitting on his couch for hours and solve cases, even go out with reader still thinking about the case but he's attentive. He'd hold reader's hand if it's needed to cross the road carefully, for example. He'd come home and hug while placing a kiss on her forehead. So he can be affectionate in his own way.

B-Beauty ( what's the part of reader's he likes the most):-

Now he might say he thinks mind is very important but to me he's 'eyes' kinda person. It has always fascinated me that he might get lost into solving the mysteries that a pair of eyes hold. He stares at reader's eyes and compliments it, also observes the story, the joy, the tears behind those pretty eyes.

C-Cuddle (do they likes the idea of cuddling?) :-

He won't admit to others but to reader, yes. But I think the first cuddle has to be from reader, maybe snuggling close on a cold evening and since then he's liked the idea and now after work he comes home and snuggles like a baby or something... being cheesy af ik.

D-Domestic (how domestic they are):-

Now personally I adore domestic Sherlock, or the idea of it. He's not a very social person, so he'd stay inside if he doesn't have cases. He'd either be sitting in his couch or doing experiments on the kitchen table. Reader might get frustrated with the mess, but if I'm the reader then I must say I find him doing his experiments while wearing his dressing gown too domestic and appealing so I'd like that view.

E-Emotional (how are they showing emotions?) :-

He'd know how reader is feeling but he's never showing his true emotions. It's either reader figuring it out or once in a blue moon if he feels like conversing about it he says so. Yet that doesn't mean he doesn't have emotions, he does, just prefers not to be vulnerable by showing it.

F-Flirt (how good are they at flirting?) :-

He's great at flirting when it comes to the sake of a case, but in real, he's either searching for a proper word, or the proper way to say it. Yet his smooth flirting may come out when reader feels lowest, when reader can't see good in herself, that time one smooth flirty line he says to lit up reader's mood.

G-Gentle (how gentle are they?):-

He's cold and tough when it comes to work but at home he's gentle. He'd stroke reader's hair gently and cup reader's face softly and admires the sight. In home he's the most gentle person.

H-Hugs (do they like hugs?) :-

Not from others but his friends and reader. To me he gives readers a hug everyday when he comes home accompanied by a forehead kiss.

I-I love you (how fast do they say the L word):-

He didn't, he kept on taking care of reader secretly developing feelings for reader, he kept on loving without letting the reader know. Because he believes he's not someone to be loved. But the first time he kinda comfesses when he says that he'd die saving reader's life instead of I love you and then when reader confesses he says the same.

J-Jealousy (are they jealous kinda person?):-

Yes! yes he is very jealous. He'd be very jealous if reader pays attention to a male friend of her, especially if he has a crush on her.

K-Kisses ( how's their kisses):-

He kisses mostly on reader's forehead. Also he loves kissing on the cheeks and on the tip of the nose and then on the lips. He's a good, soft, affectionate kisser no doubt.

L-Love (how do they show their love?):-

Absolutely non verbally. One will understand by his actions. And it's nothing extreme like buying big Teddy with loads of roses and all. He'd just see a pretty showpiece and that'd remind him of reader and he'll buy that little thing. He'd ask reader to relax after a hard day and make reader's favourite dish. And eat it together.

M-Morning (how are they in the morning):-

It's either he has work and get's up early, places a kiss on reader's cheek to let her know he's going out. Or he'd be in bed till noon, because of working hard at night. And maybe some rarest days reader gets to cuddle him.

N-Nights (how are they at night):-

Well he's often up late working, but when he gets to bed he puts his arm around reader and brings her closer, like reader is his pillow which he hugs to sleep. And reader doesn't mind it.

O-Open (how do they open up):-

He doesn't actually, he's rather interested in reader opening up to him and state her problems but it's just one gloomy day when he's trying to comfort reader, he starts to open up about himself too and later he discovers this wasn't that bad.

P-Pet names (what pet names do they use):-

He mostly uses 'darling' and 'my dear' while I imagine reader calls him 'honey'. In front of public he either uses reader's name or my dear. With close circle he uses darling but in private he uses something more cute, something like 'cupcake' or 'my sweet'.

Q-Quizzes (how much they knows about reader):-

you kidding me right? he's Sherlock Holmes, he knows everything beforehand anyway. So he remembers every likes and dislikes, secret wishes, dreams everything. that's it!

R-Recall (his favourite memory together):-

This one is a tricky one but maybe the time he first laid eyes on reader, when he first kissed and hugged reader, when reader cooked for him for the first time, you know he likes these small gestures of love and will cherish them all his life.

S-Security (how protective they are?):-

Very protective, even if he saw a small scratch on reader he can get frustrated and worried. Even if a guy checks reader out he immediately get behind her in order to protect her.

T-Try (how much effort they put in):-

He doesn't like lavish dates and stuffs. He puts efforts into making reader happy in his own way, by giving reader gifts, sometimes taking out some time from cases and taking reader to picnic with him, john and Rosie, sometimes he'd even accompany reader while watching a Disney movie. He'd say he didn't like it but he was quite invested into watching it.

U-Upset (how they're like when they're upset):-

He doesn't show he's upset, but it can be understood with a little observation, he'd play violin sadly by the window, he'd be gloomy all the time, I even think he'll snuggle with reader asking for comfort silently and will feel much better after reader strokes his hair.

V-Vaunt (do they like to show off?):-

Ofcourse, especially to every men out there who has a crush on reader, he'd stand by reader smirking at them indicating, "look she's mine, loosers".

W-Whole (how incomplete they're without reader):-

Sherlock is very self sufficient kinda person. He doesn't need anyone to complete him rather I think reader contents him. In his life of solving mysteries reader is a fresh air.

X-X-ray (how well they can read the reader):-

Um hello, he's Sherlock Holmes! he can read anyone like an open book. So it's even out of question.

Y-Yearning (how well do they cope when reader isn't with them?) :-

He copes pretty well, being drowned in work and not getting out of his mind palace. But when he does get out of there he needs reader's full attention on him.

Z- Zzzz (how do they sleep):-

There's no typical type. He can go straight two days without sleeping, he also sleeps late at night if he has too much work. He can even work for whole night and take small nap in any time of the day and he's a light sleeper. I believe his intense work even gives him nightmares so he cuddles close with the reader after waking up from his nightmares.

Should I do the NSFW one too for Sherlock?

[strangesthirdeye]

Sherlock: *yelling to Y/n from the kitchen* Y/n can you give me a hand?

Y/n: *comes up to Sherlock with the corpse's hand* here

Sherlock: ...

Y/n: ....

Sherlock: where did you get this corpse hand?

Y/n: .... Mor.. Morgue?

[billiereid]

Spell It Out: Sherlock x Reader

Warnings: Rated R. This content is intended for readers ages 18 years and older. Minors, do not interact.

Contains: Established relationship. GN!Reader.

Summary: You and Sherlock had been dating for a while, and you both thought that your affections for each other were fairly obvious. However, when John found you slipping out of Sherlock's bedroom one morning, you realized there were several people he neglected to inform.

Sherlock is your boyfriend. This is a fact that you know. And you’re pretty sure that he knows it, too. 

What you never realized before was that you two were the only people in Sherlock’s life who knew. You always thought it was fairly obvious to those around you. You were at Sherlock’s flat constantly. He always had you near him, even if he was never one for public displays of affection. And besides, John was Sherlock’s flatmate and best friend. Surely Sherlock had at least explained it to him, right?

Now, though, you found yourself trapped between Sherlock’s bedroom door and the washroom in your pajamas with John, of all people, staring at you as if he’d never seen you in his life. 

You stood there, frozen, wearing only the most comfortable oversized t-shirt you own and a pair of shorts that were much too short for anyone but Sherlock to see you in. It felt like several minutes passed, though it was only a few seconds. 

“Y/N?” John asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What–what are you doing here?” he asks, not exactly sure how else to respond to the situation. 

“I stayed over,” you answered, as if it should have been obvious. But the wayJohn was looking at you felt like he was trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle. “I’m sorry, what are you confused about?” you asked, gently tugging your shirt down to try and cover a little more of yourself.

John didn’t answer. He only shook his head, as if to try and clear the thoughts from his brain. “Nothing,” he said, realizing that everything about the situation is pretty much obvious. You had stayed the night, of course, but the part that he couldn’t get over was the fact that you obviously slept with Sherlock.

You blinked again to try and refocus yourself, and you slipped into the washroom, locking yourself inside and leaning against the closed door for some kind of support. Why was John looking at you as if you’d sprouted an extra head? Was he angry that you’d stayed over? Did Sherlock not tell him you were staying over? You didn’t think it mattered that much, but you supposed it was a likely explanation. 

After taking care of your business in the bathroom, you quickly slipped back into Sherlock’s bedroom to try and work out what had just happened in the kitchen. 

“Does John not know about me and you?” you asked after shutting yourself in the bedroom with Sherlock. 

Sherlock, in the midst of dressing himself, answers, “If he doesn’t, it’s his own fault.”

You blinked a couple of times and sighed. “Did you ever tell him?” 

Sherlock turned to face you, tucking his shirt into his trousers. His brows were furrowed, his head tilted slightly in apparent confusion. “Why would I?” he asked, as if that should have been the logical response for both of you.

You rubbed your temples for a moment. “Because he’s your flatmate,” you explained, your arms now crossed over your chest. “Because he’s your friend, and he deserves to know.”

“And he would know, if he actually paid attention to his surroundings,” Sherlock said, almost with a bitterness toward John, even though you knew it wasn’t real. He moved now to put on his suit jacket, looking sharp as always.

You sat on the bed and rubbed your eyes for a moment, trying to wrap your head around Sherlock’s unwillingness to actually come clean about your relationship. “So… you didn’t tell him out of… what, spite?” you asked, not exactly angry or frustrated, but just trying to understand Sherlock’s reasoning for not wanting to say anything to John. 

“No,” Sherlock answered, as if it should have been obvious all along. “I simply didn’t think I would need to spell it out for him.”

With that, Sherlock opened the bedroom door to go to his usual spot in the lounge. John was sitting in his armchair, as per usual, reading something. “So…” John said, his tone slightly teasing, though not in a way that Sherlock would usually pick up on. “You and Y/N?” 

Sherlock, from his own armchair, answers, “You really need to start paying attention.”

[lacelynpage]

Kissing Sherlock

Have you ever thought about kissing Sherlock Holmes. Really thought of it? How you would have to tilt your head all the way up. He is over 6ft tall. Have you thought about the way his hands would slip around your back and press against you, pulling you into his chest. Your back would arch, matching the curve of his in the opposite direction. His thin lips would slip between yours so easily, so hungrily. Sherlock kisses to make a point. He kisses you to tell you things that he can’t find the words for. The curl of his fingers as he makes a fist in your shirt. He takes like the tea Mrs. Hudson makes him, sometimes like cigarettes, but mostly the tea. Your hands rest on his chest and shoulders, nose brushing against his in this sort of dance. Sword play. A duel, if you will.

He kisses you more often when on a case. the adrenaline, the serotonin, the high a cases give him make him far more prone to outbursts of affection. He loses himself in the case and occasionally, in you. Maybe he finds you grounding, something to pull him back when he is too high to see the ground. Or maybe you take him higher, get him far enough off the ground to see the whole problem all at once.

Sherlock’s kisses are pulling and all consuming. He is desperate at times and gentle when he needs to be. There is nothing like it in the whole world.

[married-to-google-translater]

So if this don't bother you, you would write about William and Sherlock with a y/n as smart as them but incredible lazy

You don't bother me <3

Sherlock Holmes

You really intrigued Sherlock.

You two met each other at some fancy party.

Sherlock recognized your intelligence right away, but not you as a person.

He would think that with those intellectual gifts you would have recognition.

However, Sherlock was wrong.

Probably the first time in years.

Sherlock would spend almost all of his time with you.

You would talk about a lot of things and have a good time.

When Sherlock got back home he would start investigating you more.

Watson might think you're some level of criminal...

Sherlock was so passionate about his research.

The first meeting will definitely not be the only one.

Eventually, friendship would lead to dating.

Good luck with Sherlock, you're going to need it.

You two would have intelligent conversations every now and then.

Sherlock might try to bribe you to help him with his detective work.

The success rate of this would be variable lol

William James Moriarty

William met you on the first day at the flower shop.

At first he was just going to get some seeds for Fred's garden.

However, things had not gone as he had planned.

You two would get into a really interesting conversation.

William noticed right away that you are smarter than you look.

However, this could cause problems for him.

At first this was William's explanation for observing you.

However, soon you two would start dating.

William would probably never directly reveal his plans to you.

He would quietly ask you about it.

If you show the same spirit, William could reveal his plans at some point.

This would also provide an interesting challenge.

William would try his best to be as unsuspicious as possible.

Every day he would be grateful for your laziness.

One Sherlock is a solid opposition, but two Sherlocks would really be too much.

[sherlockfanthings]

A little chat between Sherlock and his girlfriend.

[amaratas]

October 1st: Handjobs

PROMPT: Handjobs

PAIRING(S): Sherlock Holmes x AFAB!Reader

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Porn w/o plot, smut, handjob, Dom!Reader/Sub!Sherlock, ends in unprotected sex and creampie

TAGLIST: None yet

A/N: Posting a lot of my Kinktober stuff early so I can get them all done on time 😮‍💨

It was sinful, the way his body shuddered beneath your touch, fingers lingering on a well-groomed happy trail, threatening to slip under the waistband of his silk pajama bottoms. He tensed, even still, at the sudden contact of your hand on his lower abdomen. He quickly recovered his composure, and you watched as his adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed thickly, giving you an icy side eye before returning his gaze to the bright white light of his laptop screen. "I'm working."

"You're researching tobacco ash," You pointed out, slowly inching your fingers beneath the elastic of his trousers, "It's like you're purposefully avoiding me, by the way, don't think I haven't noticed." He hummed under his breath, typing something up. You slipped your hand beneath, realizing quickly that he'd forgone undergarments today, a coy smile playing at your lips as you felt him spring to life, his breath hitching as you moved to wrap your hand around his slowly hardening member-- and then he grabbed your wrist, looking down at you.

"Minx." He stated, his face inching closer to yours. "You're bored. Why are you bored at three in the morning?"

"Why are you not in bed at three in the morning?" You shot back, capturing his lips in a kiss. His grip relaxed on your hand, his eyes squeezing shut as you stroked him softly. He let out a breathy moan into your mouth, tensing under your touch. "I haven't seen you in days."

He turned to look at you as your grip on his cock tightened gently, stroking him and biting your lip as his hips jerked slightly in response to your touch, "I was working." He hissed lowly, thrusting upwards.

You smirked, pulling him into a kiss, your thumb swiping over the swollen, red tip of his member, collecting the beading precum and using it to lubricate your ministrations. "Easy," You warned playfully, the fingers on your free hand digging into his hip, keeping his in place. "Stop chasing, or I'll stop." The look he shot you was bratty to say the very least.

You smirked, pulling him into a kiss, your thumb swiping over the swollen, red tip of his member, collecting the beading precum and using it to lubricate your ministrations. "Easy," You warned playfully, the fingers on your free hand digging into his hip, keeping his in place. "Stop chasing, or I'll stop." The look he shot you was bratty to say the very least, and you relaxed your hand. "Do you want me to stop?" Watching him submit to you was always a sight to behold. His nostrils flaring, muscles rippling as he tensed, trying to stay still, your nimble fingers curled around the base of his cock, doing nothing and it always drove him insane. He shook his head, and you kissed his cheek, softly trailing your lips to below his ear. "Not good enough. Use your words."

"No. Don't-" You raise a brow, removing your hand. "-stop." Without a word, you abruptly pulled out his chair, pulling down on the waistband of his slacks to free him further. You tentatively wrapped your nimble fingers around his length, gathering your saliva and spitting on the cockhead.

"You're sensitive tonight," You murmured to him sweetly, teasing the tip lightly with your thumb, his hips jerking in response. His blue-green eyes screwed shut, fingers gripping the sides of the chair as you rolled your hand and fisted his cock. With your free hand, you opened that one desk drawer and grabbed the lube from it, squirting a generous amount onto him, twisting your hand gently.

You watched as his face twitched, always a sucker for the soft moans. His hand shot out to grab the supple flesh of your shoulder, cock twitching and pulsing under your touch. You increased your pace, biting your bottom lip. Your thighs squeezed together, desperate for friction. The groans escaping his throat were torture for you, your breathing heavy as you gripped him harder, stroking him faster. "So close- so, so close-"

"You've been so good for me," You muttered to him, "Letting me make you feel so good," You looked up at him through hooded eyes and thick lashes, slowing down your movements, "Where do you want to? I'll let you choose."

"Inside... inside, please," He practically whined. You laughed, light and melodic, your fingers wrapping around the elastic of your panties and pulling them off from under your night dress, moving to stand and straddle him, keeping a firm hold and teasing his cockhead between the lips of your dripping pussy. He jerked forward, gripping one armrest and wrapping the other arm around your waist, burying his face in the nape of your neck with a loud groan as you slowly began to sink down on his aching cock.

He was spurting inside of you before you had a chance to fully take him in to the hilt. You hummed in pleasure, relishing in the feeling of it; the power you had over him, the feeling of his hot spend filling your cunt as you slowly took him in all the way, walls clenching around him and milking him for all he had. You moaned softly as he thrusted his hips up into you, riding out his high, his loud moans muffled by the skin of your shoulder. He bit down into the soft flesh, enough to mark, enough to bruise, not enough to break the skin. You carded your fingers through his thick black curls, waiting for him to still beneath you before you grabbed hold of those same curls, firmly yanking his head back to look you in the eyes. Lovingly and breathlessly as you continued to move your hips, you pulled him into a bruising kiss, leaning your forehead against his, crooning to him,

"Good boy."

[www-zoloft-com]

y'all ever just wanna be fucked absolutely STUPID by a man who's as smart as, or smarter, than you are? i'm talking like BBC's Sherlock or Spencer Reid smart.

[dreamerimpossible]

You were typing on your computer. A lump had formed in your throat. A naive and out of place comment had escaped you. Stupid, in short. A stupid comment. He had glared at you, his fingers had abruptly stopped their activity and his words were scathing towards you. A well-argued comment on why what you had said made no sense. It was cold and with a certain cruel mockery behind it. You decided not to say anything else. You just swallowed and decided to ignore the annoyed glances of the others.

Suddenly, one of your colleagues ridiculed you in front of everyone else, mocking your slip cruelly. Your boyfriend, who had previously brutally corrected you in front of the others, looked at the man who had ridiculed you with anger and palpable annoyance. He ordered them to leave the room and never come back.

No one but him could dare to correct you. You were his.

-BB, Mello, Near, L, Sherlock, Kisaki, Hannibal

[forevers-world]

A Mycroft Holmes appreciation post.

What a beautiful specimen of the human race. 👏👏👏

[that1geek06]

Me scrolling thru tags:

I just want a good fluff story 😔

Also me one hour into a deeply plotted smut that has an even dirtier part two:

YES!! GIVE ME MORE!! 😩😈

[depressed-bitch-80]

Not So Secret Anymore

Chapter 2

Word count: 1,003

Pairing: BBC!Sherlock x Reader

Summary: John is trying to enjoy a peaceful day at 221B when a mystery woman shows up and says she’s Sherlock’s wife.

A/N: This chapter is a little bit longer! Currently halfway through ch. 3. Let me know what you think!

Ao3 link, Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

It was approaching midnight when John heard the familiar sound of Sherlock’s wingtips trudging up the stairs. By this point John had time to sit and simmer with his newfound information about his flatmate. He wasn’t angry per say, just very confused. If Sherlock truly was married why did he feel the need to keep it from him? Was the woman lying and just looking for media attention? He didn’t know, but he was about to find out.

As calm as he could, so he wouldn’t cause any suspicion, he asked “How was your day?”

Sherlock merely glanced at him as he was hanging up his belstaff and scarf. “Boring. Utter waste of time. What at first glance seemed to be a promising case turned out to be just an unremarkable patricide.”

“Is that why you didn’t call me in?” John asked, curious.

“What? No. You had work today at the surgery.”

“That was yesterday, Sherlock and that doesn’t usually stop you. When was the last time you slept?” John was now more than slightly concerned about the well being of the obviously manic detective. He watched as Sherlock paced rapidly through the sitting room, not quite sure if he’d heard him. “Sherlock?”

Sherlock was started by the commanding voice. “Hmm?”

“When was the last time you slept?” John repeated, now getting a little frustrated. Sherlock looked at him like a child who had gotten caught stealing from the cookie jar, pure guilt.

“Well let’s see counting the power nap on the table it would be Tuesday. Do not worry, I have roughly 27 hours before my transport fails me.” Sherlock stated as matter-of-factly as he could.

“Tuesday? Sherlock, it's Friday!” John was now passing the point of concern to annoyance at the man’s utter disregard of self care. “Go to bed now. You will not push yourself any further, I’m not going to pick you up off the floor when you inevitably pass out from exhaustion.”

“Fine” Sherlock seethes “what is the point of these trivial needs?” He begins to begrudgingly make his way to his bedroom when he notices the extra cup of tea sitting on the desk, gone cold. “We had a client come in today.”

“We did.” John said. He had almost forgotten the reason he had stayed up to catch Sherlock returning.

“Details?” Sherlock asked, now mildly intrigued. John was trying to figure out how he could delicately bring up the situation he now found himself in.

“It was a woman trying to figure out why her husband has been so busy.” John was purposely keeping it vague at the moment for his own sanity but he could tell he was very rapidly losing Sherlock’s interest.

“Boring. Cheating, pass.”

“Wait, Sherlock, you need to hear this one.” Well he was just going to have to come out and say it, well at least in a way that Sherlock could deduce who he was talking about. “Apparently he’s been running around with his blogger, neglecting to call her, and get this the woman had a very peculiar name”

“John-“ Sherlock looked genuinely shocked, but John didn’t care as a wave of anger and betrayal rushed over him.

“No, I don't want to hear it. You’re what? Married? And you neglected to share that information with me this whole time we’ve known each other.” John was fuming. Sherlock had resumed his manic pacing of the sitting room. John somehow realized he wasn’t going to get the answers he really wanted tonight and forced himself to breathe and unclench his fists.

“John, where is she?”

“She left hours ago. She came here looking for you but I had no clue where you were per usual.” Sherlock was now digging out a phone from the desk drawer.

“Something has gone wrong. She’s not supposed to be back for twelve more days.” Sherlock said, frantically dialing numbers into what looked to be a burner phone.

“Sherlock, what are you talking about?” John was now confused as ever. Just to add to his confusion, he hears ringing coming from Sherlock's room. Sherlock quickly hangs up his phone.

They both stare at the open door in anticipation. Just as John was about to reach for his gun, also in the desk drawer, a figure came drifting down the hallway. Almost instantly when (Y/N) came into view, Sherlock’s features twisted into those of concern.

“Don’t worry I’m fine.” She reassured, only slightly believing herself.

“You’re not.” Sherlock said, taking ahold of both of her arms and leaning in to rest his forehead on hers. It was a quiet, intimate moment between two souls who had been apart for so long.

“Just some minor scratches, I’ll be fine.” She whispered, not wanting to put an inch more between them.

“Two lacerations to your abdomen, a broken rib, and a dislocated shoulder is hardly what I would categorize as fine.” He finally pulled away, vaguely aware that John was still in the room with them.

“The shoulder has been properly reset, the rib is merely fractured and it’s nothing more than a few flesh wounds my dear, nothing to worry about. Besides, I do believe we have an in-house doctor now.” Gesturing to John, who was now sitting on the sofa staring at them in bewilderment and feeling a little like a third wheel.

“Sorry but, you’ve been here this entire time?” John asked, trying desperately to get some clarification on the situation.

“Yes, I do live here.” She answered, trying not to sound too harsh. She knew her bedside manners could use some work.

“But how?” John asked. He had seen her leave out the front door and he hadn’t left the sitting room since. It didn’t make any sense to him how she could have made it all the way back up into the bedroom.

“You’ll find she’s very stealthy when she wants to be, she is MI6 after all.” Sherlock stated, looking at (Y/N) with pride. John was going to need a drink.

[strangesthirdeye]

Y/n: *groans in frustration* Fuck me

Sherlock: *lowers his pants*

Y/n: *looks at Sherlock with wide eyes* wow

[fightclubendingscene]

A lot of fics makes the reader (fem) jealous of irene but i really want one where irene flirts with her and she sorts of caresses the reader’s cheek with her finger while saying something like “aren’t you a pretty little thing” then sherlock immediately takes reader out of the room and looks at irene and goes “mine”

[iguana-eyanna]

To Break A Frozen Heart

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: Sherlock loses the meaning of Christmas since he was a boy, but maybe he just needed a certain warmth to melt his frozen heart.

The frost-painted windowpanes scattered the shops illuminated the scene of bustling cheer as the distant songs of carolers echoed through the streets of London. Carriages were passing through the snow roads as young couples looked lovingly in each other's eyes.

Sherlock Holmes, on the other hand, observed the merriment with a distasteful frown as he was riding in the icy streets in a carriage. He adjusted his scarf, though the cold air was creeping in his lungs.

He hated Christmas with a passion. Since he was a child, his family was estranged to "affection" and "spirit of the holidays".

His mother did try to care for them but his father was a strict man, barely uttering a word to him and Mycroft as they were sent to reform school with no warning. No Christmas present was sent to the boys and Sherlock often escaped to the roof of his school and stared up in the stars, hoping that a shooting star could grant him just one Christmas to be spent with someone who cared for him.

But alas, his father later passed when Enola was a babe, Mycroft decided to be a stern government official, his mother shut off herself and Enola from the world, and Sherlock was forced to figure out life himself.

And now against his beliefs of staying at home and relearning Mozart's Symphony on his violin, he was forced to ride with a special heiress to one of the biggest landowners in England: You to be in fact. You were both traveling to Saint Jerome's orphanage as you often came to do acts of service and spend time with the children.

“I still don’t understand your enthusiasm for this season,” he muttered, looking at you with unamused eyes.

You, on the other hand, were glowing—dressed in a rich yet simple gown that complemented the joy dancing in your features, too gleeful to notice Sherlock's demeanor.

“Sherlock,” you said, placing a gentle hand on his lap.

“Christmas is a time to give, to bring warmth to those who need it. Surely, even the great detective can see the value in that.”

He huffed but said nothing as you wrapped your scarf tighter and prepared for the day’s itinerary. It was your first holiday with Sherlock, and you wanted to help warm up his cold heart. You thought maybe if you put things into perspective, he could find the child like joy he once forgot and take your courtship to a new beginning. But for now, you were grateful to take this one step with him.

Soon, you arrived to the St. Jerome's as Sherlock assisted you out of the carriage alongside a few sacks of treats and toys that you bought for the children.

"Oh Madam! It is so lovely to see you again." Mary, an elderly Scottish woman who was the main guardian said as she walked up to the two of you.

"Mary! It is lovely to see you again. I want to introduce you to a very special someone in my life, Mister Holmes."

Sherlock takes off his hat for formality and nods his head.

"It is a pleasure to meet you." He says respectfully.

"Come, come. Let us talk inside before you meet the children." She ushers you inside.

"We're going to meet the children?" He asks, not expecting to mingle.

You give him a stern look, ushering him to keep his snide remarks to himself as he reluctantly agrees to stay silent.

"Have any of the young boys and girls gone to new homes yet?" You ask as you settled in her office with Sherlock.

"A few have found homes, but some weren't so lucky. But we try to give them a good foundation here."

"I know Mary, you do so much work here. Never doubt that." You said as you gave her an enormous hug. Sherlock notices your deep connection to the guardian and ponders the relationship until a younger woman arrives in the office.

"Mary, the children are eager to meet the Madam as they saw her carriage by the front."

You smile widely, looking at Mary for permission. She couldn't help but smile back at you and cross her arms.

"You know what to do, love. Have fun."

Sherlock had to race after you with the leftover bags as you went into the dining hall where the children yelled out for joy at your presence.

You started to give fresh fruits, sweets, miniature wooden horses, trains, dolls to the young boys and girls. Sherlock saw how you embraced the children with such a free spirit, not fearing of ruining your dress or pick pocketing your personal items. You trusted these kids and they trusted you.

"Excuse me mister," a young boy says as he pulls the partial fabric from Sherlock's coat.

"I like your watch." He points out to the pocket watch that Sherlock sported.

"Oh... Thank you. It was my father's." He said, slowly kneeling to the boy's eye view.

"My father died last winter. Me and my sister couldn't keep any of his things." he said, bowing his head.

Sherlock felt a sudden pang in his chest. Was it remorse? He couldn't recognize the feeling but his eyes soften.

"I'm sorry to hear. My father died when I was younger too." Sherlock said.

"It's okay to cry. My sister, Florence, says it's okay to cry sometimes."

"Elias, where are you?" A voice cried out as the young boy in front of him whipped his head.

A girl who looked about 12 years old went up to the boy and Sherlock.

"Elias, I told you not to walk off without me knowing. I thought you ran off again!" The sister, Sherlock presumed, said as she held Elias tightly.

"Sorry, Florence." Elias said as he looks down.

Florence looks at the man suspiciously as she held Elias' hand.

"I'm sorry for the trouble mister. It won't happen again." She said as she ran off with Elias in tow.

Sherlock rose up, seeing the two siblings escape in the flow of children that were now eating or playing with their toys. He brushed himself off as he sought out to find you. He was bewildered to see you outside in the snow field as you were kicking a ball between the children in your velvet gown and heeled boots. You were smiling ear to ear, and saw how your nose was red like a cranberry. It made Sherlock chuckle a bit as he watched from afar.

“Mr. Holmes,” Mary said softly, approaching him with a cup of tea as Sherlock gratually took it.

“You’re lucky to have her. She’s a treasure.”

Sherlock beams with sudden pride. “I’m well aware.”

Mary looks and sees you tumble down accidentally from a sheet of ice. Sherlock almost ran out to help you, but you just broke into a fit of laughter. He even saw Florence and Elias nearby as they tried to help you up and saw how you talked to them intently.

"How often does she visit here?" He asks curiously.

"Since she became a young woman. Sure, high society would throw a coin our way to help them feed their reputation but not her. She comes every Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. She's an angel whose soul cradles a mother’s love, though her body cannot.”

Sherlock whips his head to her, knitting his eyebrows.

Mary frowned. “Did she ever tell you?"

The conflicted man turns away and looks down at the ground.

"No, she did not."

As the sun began to set, you bid a sad farewell to the children as they waved you goodbye as you left with Sherlock. Along the ride to your estate, you were confused of Sherlock's silence.

As you two shared a tense Christmas Eve meal together, you could sense his mind was elsewhere. It wasn't until you had enough and spoke aloud.

"Sherlock."

He blinks repeatedly, realizing he never touched his dinner.

"Is everything alright?" You ask with concern.

He looks up to you, feeling his emotions get the best of him.

"You lied to me." He says in a small voice.

"What do you mean?" You ask again.

Sherlock tried to lock eyes with you, but he couldn't face you.

"Why didn't you tell me you couldn't bear children?"

Your eyes rounded as well as your lips, but you set aside your cutlery as you placed your hands in your lap.

"Mary told you..." You said, not surprised.

Sherlock rose from his seat and started pacing around.

"I should have seen the signs. You showed no symptoms of your courses when we were together-"

"Sherlock..."

"-and when we pass new parents with their baby you wipe a tear from your face-"

"Sherlock-"

"-and all of these trips to St. Jerome's. You're just trying to fill this hole in your heart-"

"ENOUGH!" You stood up as he stopped. You couldn't believe what he just acclaimed, and you knew you had to put him in his place.

"This is why I didn't tell you, Sherlock. Firstly, I am not a case to be deduced and secondly, I dearly love those children. What you accuse otherwise is a distasteful remark."

You sit back down, feeling your words choke but refused to make eye contact with him.

"I was 17 when I found out. All my hopes to become a mother just... faded away. But then I see all of these children alone and cold during this time of year. That's when my purpose changed, that's when I wanted to become something bigger than myself."

Sherlock looks at your somber state, feeling the guilt rise up his throat. He tries to get closer to you.

"I... I didn't mean-"

You raise your hand in between you and him to create space.

"You have been nothing but cold and small minded today, Sherlock. I don't want someone like that in my life. And for that, I ask for you to leave, now."

Sherlock was stunned by your words but you were right. He has hurt your honor, and he was only making things worse with his presence.

He rushes out of the dining room and collected his coat and hat, as he heard soft cries behind him.

Sherlock just decided to walk back to his apartment to make sense of your past secret.

Why did you not tell him? How did he not notice all these clues?

His thoughts grew louder until a small figure bumped into him and ran away.

Sherlock looks down to see if anything was missing until he realized his pocket watch was missing. He whips his head back and forth until he sees the same figure by a lamp post.

"You! Stop there!" Sherlock yells as he raced the fast figure.

They were at an arm's length and Sherlock grabbed them by the arm and turned them around, wanting to confront his burglar.

"Alright young man, why did you do such a-"

Sherlock's words get swallowed as he realizes he found Florence, whose hair was tucked in a hat as she held the clock firmly in her other hand.

"I'm sorry sir, I had to! Please don't turn me into the police. I'm the only family Elias has!"

Sherlock's face slacks as he unfurls his brow and gives a solemn look.

"I won't turn you in, but we are going to St. Jerome's to have a chat with Miss Mary."

Sherlock returns back to the orphanage with Florence as Mary shares fruitful words to the young girl.

"How dare you steal this man's watch, Florence. After everything him and the Madam did for us today... what do you say to him?" She scolds.

Florence looks back to the tall man and lowers her head.

"I'm sorry again Mr. Holmes." As she began to almost tear up.

Sherlock kneels down and gently smiles at her.

"It's alright Florence. My only hopes is that you never steal again."

"Go to bed, my dear girl, we will discuss your punishment tomorrow morning." Mary says.

Florence runs off, and Sherlock suddenly feels another pang in his chest.

"I do hope you don't give her a heavy punishment. She only had good intentions for her brother." He says as Mary sat by her table.

"We do not give rash punishments, but she will help around with chores around the building. But her heart is in the right place. Elias was sought for adoption, but he refused as he didn’t want to be separated from his sister since they didn’t have enough money to have the two of them. Florence must have thought if she could find the funds, they’d still be with each other.”

"That's a shame. They look very close to another." Sherlock responds, still thinking of his time here during the day.

"Do you have any siblings, Mr. Holmes?" Mary asks.

"A younger sister and an older brother." He says.

"Are you close to them?" She asks.

"I... try." He says, recollecting when was the last time he has been with Enola and Mycroft in the same vicinity.

But his thought fly elsewhere as his fixation of you grew.

"How did I not know of her condition?" he mutters to himself.

"We are often blinded from certain truths when one falls in love." Mary said as she goes up to the detective, who looked like he was carrying the weight of the world.

"When I first met the Madam, I knew from the start that she had an ache in her soul. But she pushed her problems away cause she there was so many others who faced more struggle than her. She may not mother children, but she's the reason why young boys and girls are given a childhood. Shouldn't that count for something?"

Sherlock stiffened, his sharp mind piecing together every memory, every fleeting comment you’d made about your past. He realized he’d never asked deeply, never probed. You’d shared your wealth, your kindness, and your heart, but not your history.

That shouldn't be the reason he should lose you forever.

"There's something I must do... but i acquire great help."

Mary beams proudly.

"Let's get to work."

+

You look out your window, seeing the snow fall down in the streets. It was Christmas evening, and it was silent in your estate. Although it was adorned with decorations and your staff grateful that they have been given bigger income for this time of year, your heart still felt heavy. You tried to move on and forget what Sherlock has said to you.

You then gotten dressed for the day as you were to return for the orphanage to help cook a Christmas dinner for the young children.

As you soon arrived, you knit your brow as many carriages lined around the streets of St. Jerome’s. Many status of class arrived with high spirits as you saw them holding boxed gifts or pantries of food. Once you entered the building, you gasped at the sight.

The building you we’re once in just the other day is filled of working class and upper class that mingled together as they entertained the children with songs or shared a meal together. Little boys and girls circled around a man who was carrying them or throwing them up in the air as they yelled for joy.

The man then resembled to…

“Sherlock?” You question yourself.

“Isn’t he a sight for sore eyes, love?” Mary asks as you whip your head to her

“Mary, what is going on?” You inquire.

“Sherlock happened. He stayed up all night decorating and spreading the word that that every child deserves a home. I was afraid there wouldn’t be enough children to go to new families but Mr. Holmes assured me otherwise.”

“That is correct. I contacted my family and they were quite moved to make sure no one was left behind.” Sherlock walks up to the two of you as he was smiling ear to ear.

You look around and you see a group of girls huddled around a group of women who were teaching them a sort of defense class as the young girls looked bewildered. An older woman winks at you before she returns her lesson.

You see Sherlock’s older brother, Mycroft, as he was reading A Christmas Carol to young children and adults. He looked so at ease, you almost didn’t recognize the man.

You then saw Enola as she was holding a young boy’s hand, as she introduced him to a distant relative that lived in the country side. They had a joyful reunion as you couldn’t help but wipe a tear from your eye.

“Sherlock, this is so wonderful.” You said.

Sherlock holds you in his arms as you felt the warmth radiating from his chest.

“Darling, you started this. Once I told others your name and how you devoted your time and wealth at St. Jerome’s, they found it in their hearts to do the same. I know I did.”

He brought you to a quiet corner as he held both of your hands.

"I have been unfair and unkind to you. The words I exchanged... they were out of insecurity. I hope that you can forgive me."

"Of course I do, Sherlock..."

"No. It's not enough. You've given so much to me in the time that i've known you. Your generosity, your ambition, your character... it makes me want to be a better man for you."

He kneels down with one knee and you gasp silently, slightly shaking your hands.

"Sherlock..." You knelt down as your eyes grew wide.

"I want to grow with you. I want us to build our life in an abundance of love and generosity. I want us to grow our family-"

"But you know I can't give you that." You said, your eyes watering.

"That's why they have something to give you." He said, motioning behind.

You saw Elias and Florence smiling widely as the young boy held the paper for you to grab. You reach over, confused until you open the seal, gasping loudly as you switch your head between the siblings and Sherlock.

"You're going to adopt them?" You ask.

"We are going to adopt them. You've shown me that family lies deeper than blood and bone. I want us to experience everything in this world, if you have me."

"And us!" Florence said, as she and Elias neared the two of you.

Sherlock laughs as he grabs a ring from his pocket and offers it to you.

"Will you make me the happiest man on Christmas Day and marry me?"

You nod your head as you smile ear to ear, grabbing Sherlock's face as you kiss him tenderly. An echoes of "ews" were exchanged between the siblings until you and Sherlock locked them in an enormous embrace.

"So we're going to be a family?" Elias asks you.

"Yes, my little Eli... we will together every Christmas, birthday, and every other day." You said

"I like that very much." Florence commented, smiling between her parents.

"Me too," Sherlock concluded, as he gave you one last kiss before you four walked back to the festivities where you shared the news and cheer.

These were the moments you cherished the most with your future husband, as life became a little more merry.