#Sherlock reader insert

[strangesthirdeye]

Y/n: *groans in frustration* Fuck me

Sherlock: *lowers his pants*

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

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(BBC Sherlock) Sherlock x Reader: Holiday Cheer

Author's Note:  I struggle publishing Sherlock fics because as a Christian I personally disagree with his statements about God on the show and find it insulting actually. However, I otherwise enjoy the show and enjoy writing fics with his character. 

Just a little blurb about the holidays with the Baker Street boys! Enjoy!

Word Count: 954

You slowly lifted the mug of hot chocolate, pausing to inhale the rich, sweet scent of the beverage and feel the liquid’s warmth waft against your skin.  With a smile, your lips skated over the dollop of whipped cream as you tilted the mug to take a sip.

Mrs. Hudson was known for keeping the flow of cuppas constant at 221b Baker Street, but since the Christmas season had begun, she came walking up the steps with a tray of hot cocoa and an assortment of cookies instead.

The flat was all decorated for the holiday with strings of soft, glowing lights hanging on the wall and wrapped around garlands. Holiday knickknacks decorated the area.  A few Christmas cards had arrived as well, so you and John took turns arranging them nicely on the fireplace mantle as you received them in the mail.

At the moment, you were seated comfortably in one of the living room chairs, eyeing the decorations and occasionally gazing wistfully out the window at the heavy snowfall that covered London streets in a blanket of white.  A lovely Christmas tune on the violin drifted through the flat as Sherlock practiced.  Despite it being an afternoon in, he was fully dressed in a dark blue suit.  John was at the table, typing away on his laptop about a recent case.  It was evident that he was trying to record many details because the click-clack of the keys was rapid and constant.  

Occasionally, he paused to check the notes he had previously jotted down.

You turned your attention back to the fire crackling in the fireplace.

What a scene, you mused to yourself.

You took another sip of the hot chocolate and savored the rich flavor.

John glanced up from his laptop at you.  “That looks good.”

“It is.  Mrs. Hudson really knows what she’s doing.”  You proceeded to pour him a cup, dropping a dollop of whipped cream in with a spoon.  John set his laptop aside and rubbed his hands together in anticipation before you handed the mug over to him.

“Mm.”  He took a sip and nodded in approval.

Sherlock had paused his playing, setting the instrument down to instead gaze out the window in silent observation.  You wondered what was going through that mind of his.  It wasn’t always a mystery.  Sometimes he uttered his musings aloud for anyone nearby to hear his train of thought.  Other times, when he was in the deepest of thoughts, he fell silent.

You always wondered what thoughts could prompt that.  The great Sherlock Holmes loved to hear himself talk.  It gave him some sort of satisfaction to sprinkle in his genius observations into everyday conversation.  More than that, he enjoyed a long spiel to summarize his logic and make a final statement about his conclusion of the solving of a mystery just to observe the shocked and impressed faces of those around him.  You and John both discovered that after working cases with him for as long as you had.

“I was thinking,” John spoke up, setting his mug down on the tray.

Sherlock’s voice sounded as a deep rumble from across the room.  “That’s dangerous.”

John, now used to his roommate’s antics, continued on, ignoring him.  “I was thinking about taking a stroll tonight to see the Christmas lights.  Would you like to come?”

Excitement welled up inside you at the prospect.  London famously had spectacular lights around the holidays.  Whole streets were lit for passers by to see, and they made for lovely walks.

“That sounds like fun,” you replied enthusiastically.  John smiled, and both of you turned to the consulting detective.  “What do you think, Sherlock?  Want to come?”

“I have other matters to attend to,” he said over his shoulder.

“Oh, well, okay then.”  You shrugged, hoping to disguise your disappointment.  “John and I will go.”

“I said I have other matters to attend to.  I did not say I wasn’t going.”

John’s brows furrowed in a look of confusion.  “Okay…?”

Sherlock proceeded to take up his violin again and play another holiday tune.  You stifled a chuckle in frustrated amusement of your friend.  John exchanged glances with you and shrugged.

. . . . . . . . . . . . 

“Oh, how beautiful!” You exclaimed in awe.

The street was very festively lit with strands of lights hung overhead.  You and John were enchanted by the sights while Sherlock walked beside you with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets.  His expression was guarded, though you caught him glancing around.  The great Sherlock Holmes was not impervious to holiday cheer, even if he tried to act like it.

John stopped to look at one fixture in particular, and you turned to Sherlock, who was already inches away.

“What do you think?” you asked, trying to look unphased by the close proximity.  It was difficult enough with any other person, but especially with the detective.  You were very aware of how he could pick up on the smallest details.  He probably already saw your pupils dilate, or noticed some other telling sign of your affection for him.

He tilted his head so that he was face-to-face with you, eyes flickering down to meet your gaze.  His eyes were like ice, but with the twinkling lights shining in them, they didn’t look quite so cold as they regarded you.  “It’s not so bad,” his voice rumbled lowly.

You were frozen in place, lips parted to speak, but with no words coming out.  Neither of you moved for what felt like ages until John spoke up somewhere ahead.  Sherlock took a step back to create a little distance, though he paused so that you could walk beside him before the two of you continued your stroll down the lane.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

The Same Page part 11

Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes & little sister!reader

A/N: guys I know it’s been forever, so sorry, but hey it’s here! Also i know it’s short, I just needed to get something posted

Mycroft was having a hard time trusting his little brother.

“I left her with you for thirty seconds and you—“

“I don’t even know what I did,” Sherlock argued.

“It doesn’t matter what you did,” Mycroft decided. “We have to stop this. Every time I leave her with you, something goes wrong.”

Sherlock was only half listening, but the words hit him hard still. He was already lost in his own thoughts, which were basically saying the same thing as Mycroft.

Sherlock could no longer take care of you. Heck, he could barely even be in the same room as you.

You, who’d always looked up to him. Who’d always picked him over Mycroft for everything, no hesitation. Whose absence Sherlock could feel every time he stepped into 221b Baker Street.

Sherlock didn’t know you anymore. It felt like the part of you that he understood had died with him two years ago.

A cry from your room caught the brothers’ attention.

“She’s probably having another nightmare.” Mycroft sighed. “I want you to wait here.” It wasn’t a question. Mycroft turned his back on his little brother and went to you without looking back to make sure Sherlock didn’t follow.

Sherlock did, but he hung back in your doorway to avoid scaring you again. He could hear Mycroft waking you, and your soft, scared voice confirming Mycroft’s conclusion—you’d been dreaming about Sherlock’s death again.

“You’re awake,” Mycroft promised. “Sherlock’s ok, he’s alive, it was just a dream.”

“I want to see him,” you pleaded. There was a beat of silence, followed by Mycroft’s voice.

“Sherlock. I know you’re out there.”

Sherlock took a deep breath stepped into the room. Somehow, Sherlock knew that you would want more than to see him; you’d want to feel him, to know he was really alive. So he did what you needed—he walked up to you and let you hug him, let you touch his face and hold his hands like you were tying yourself to an anchor to keep from floating away.

Once you’d settled down, Sherlock made a decision.

“Mycroft, can you give us a minute?” At Mycroft’s immediate, visceral concern, Sherlock went on— “I’ll be careful, I swear. Only a minute?”

Mycroft waited for your nod of approval, then stepped out.

“I can’t take you in.” Sherlock wasted no time in getting to the point. “You should…you should stay with Mycroft.” Sherlock could not decipher the look on your face—concern? Confusion? Panic?—and it killed him to know that Mycroft would know. But he didn’t need to know exactly what you were thinking, he just had to make sure you would be ok. “I’m not…he can care for you, better than I can. Do you understand?”

You stayed quiet for an uncomfortable moment.

“Don’t you want me anymore?” Your voice came out in a frightened squeak.

“Hey…” Sherlock cringed, swallowed hard. “It’s not—it’s not that. I’ll come and visit…but you’re better here for now.”

“Ok.” You didn’t meet Sherlock’s eye. “Do you…can you stay now?”

“Of course,” Sherlock promised. He didn’t know what to say at first, so he decided on the first thing that came to his mind. “Do you want to hear about the case I’m working on?”

For the first time since he’d come back to life, Sherlock caught a glimmer of your old self in your eyes as you looked at him.

“I’d love to.”

Taglist:

@navs-bhat @isabellavere @chaoticglitterkitten @peachycupotea @justforrose @severussimp

[j-eryewrites]

I’m on vacation right now in Denmark and I found this gem. Coincidence? I think not. I feel like should I go visit.

Maybe I’ll find our consulting detective and talk some sense into him about Y/N😂

[renx01]

Out of Sight - part 1

Summary: Moriarty is your boss. After he helped you out of a precarious situation when you were still a minor, you started working for him. Now, he has a new job for you. Get close to the Holmes brothers to keep an eye on them for him. Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mycroft Holmes/Reader & Jim Moriarty/Reader Fandom: BBC Sherlock Word count: 1492

Masterlist

Jim Moriarty is a tricky man to work for, yet you do. After meeting you while you were a seventeen year old that had gotten involved with the wrong crowd, he had seen potential in you. So, after some training from his right hand man, Sebastian Moran, you became one of his best. He even gave you a nickname, Spike, after your personality. When you initially started working for him, you were quite spunky and talked back whenever you felt like it. Now that you’re older and have worked in his organisation for a couple of years, you’ve mellowed out a bit when it comes to business and listening to Jim. Now, you’re a ruthless assassin that will do whatever you’re told to by a certain Irishman in the blink of an eye. Currently, you’re on your way to his estate out of town. The sleek car that picked you up is quite lavish, something you’d somewhat grown used to as he tends to enjoy showing off. You watch the trees flash by you as the car speeds up while music plays through your earbuds. It had been a while since you last were at the estate, as you’d been out of the country for business the past couple of months. The car eventually comes to a halt and you quietly get out.

‘My dearest Spike,’ Jim smiles when you step into his office, ‘it has been a while hasn’t it?’ ‘It has, sir.’ You smile back at him. ‘Business in Hong Kong has been settled without too much issue.’ You glance at Sebastian entering the room. ‘The target has been eliminated and you are now in control of the biggest criminal network.’ Moriarty’s smile turns into a grin. ‘That is wonderful to hear, I didn’t expect any less from you.’ His face suddenly becomes serious again and he turns to Moran. ‘Sebastian, do you have the files I requested?’ The other man only nods before putting the files onto the desk. ‘Good, good.’ He starts looking through before his eyes turn to you once again. ‘Spikey dear, come here. I want you to look through these documents and photographs today, I have a new assignment for you.’ You approach the table and file which is filled to the brim. There’s mostly pictures of and reports about consulting detective Sherlock Holmes. Jim walks around the desk and stands next to you on your right, while Sebastian is already on your left. ‘I want you to get close to Sherlock Holmes and his Brother, Mycroft.’ He points out a picture of the two of them. ‘Keep and eye on them for me. Gather as much information as you possibly can, I do not care how, as long as you don’t reveal your identity.’ Turning to him, you finally look the shorter man  in the eye. ‘Of course sir.’ Sebastian shoves another file into your hands before he starts talking. ‘We’ve arranged for a new identity so you’ll be able to fly under the radar. Name: Charlie Moore, age: 27, occupation: intelligence analyst at Scotland Yard. Any other information you may deem necessary can be found in this file. You’ll move into 221C Baker Street tomorrow morning. We’ve already arranged for you to be able to stay there.’  That night you spent looking through the files that were given to you. Sherlock and Mycroft both seem quite interesting in their own rights. Sherlock is a high functioning sociopath that seems to get a thrill out of showing off his intellect and skills to others. His skill is quite incredible, but nothing you hadn’t seen from Jim before. Besides, deduction is a skill a person is able to learn, quite easily in fact. You’d been taught by Sebastian when you first joined Moriarty’s organisation, though your skills have been sharpened over time, with some help from the Irishman himself when he thought you could do better. Now, you rival Sherlock’s speed and skill when it comes to deduction. Still, you understand why your boss is such a fan, that is what he calls it anyway. You think it’s more of an obsession. Contrary to his brother, Mycroft doesn’t seem to enjoy showing off as obviously as Sherlock does, yet he does enjoy flexing his power from time to time. The files you possess show how Sherlock’s newest acquaintance had been picked up by the man’s secretary multiple times and driven to an ominous location so he could talk to John. Supposedly, he offers money to those that get close to his brother, so you’d be keeping that in mind. It does become clear, however, that Mycroft didn’t just hold a minor position within the British government. Clearly he, like your boss, constantly keeps an eye on the consulting detective.

The following morning you arrive at Baker Street using a cab, so as to not have any suspicions arise. You have two suitcases, mostly holding clothes, books, and other essentials. Your larger weapons have already been delivered to and hidden in your new flat, so you don’t have to worry about those. After knocking on the door, you’re greeted by Mrs. Hudson, your new landlady. ‘Good morning dear, you must be the new tenant.’ She smiles brightly. ‘Yes, very nice to meet you Mrs Hudson.’ You smile back and stick out your hand for her to shake it. She does so before letting you in. Before she leaves you be in the flat, to which some basic furniture had already been delivered, courtesy of Jim, she warns you about your upstairs neighbours. ‘I do hope you’ve read the warning about the noise carefully dear. Sherlock can be quite a lot with his antics.’ Despite not being too worried about the noise, having had to deal with plenty of situations which were significantly worse than a single man could accomplish, you make sure to assure her you’ll be fine. ‘Yes, of course Mrs Hudson. Noise does not tend to bother me very much and I’ll be away for work during the day, so I suppose I should be fine.’ You smile at her again before closing your door and starting to unpack. It is Sunday morning, so you want to try and unpack most of your things before the start of the workweek, tomorrow is your first day at Scotland Yard after all. Before you start unpacking though, you put in your earbuds and put on Radiohead’s album In Rainbows.

The day went by without much issue, or noise from the upstairs neighbours. Probably because Sherlock was on a case, as your employer had let you know. During that time, you’d hidden the last of your weapons in places which aren't deductible and gotten your image in check. Your persona was quite a boring one to be fair, and while there’s always a hint of truth in them to make it believable, your own life has a lot more excitement and risk. Still, that is something you have to intentionally hide from the brothers and their acquaintances. Looking at your watch, you decide it’s time to go to the shops, as you’d be likely to arrive once Sherlock’s already back and you’d have a reason to introduce yourself. ‘Bye Mrs Hudson. I’ll be back in a few.’ You close the door behind you and head out. When you return with a bag of food, you’re met by two men standing at the door. You immediately recognise them as Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson. ‘Excuse me, could you please step aside so I can get to my flat?’ You deliberately make your voice softer and quieter than it usually is as to come across as somewhat shy. The doctor steps aside without much hesitation while the detective just turns around and starts trying to deduce you. ‘You must be the new tenant. Nice to meet you, I’m John Watson.’ The short man smiles at you. You shake his hand before introducing yourself and turning to the taller man, though he isn’t much taller than you. ‘Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective.’ He looks you over once again. ‘You’re in the police force but no officer, your nails are too clean for that. You’re dressed as if you have a new job despite it being a Sunday, you’ve only brought clothes you wear to work, which means you don’t go out much or meet people in your free time. You prefer listening to music and reading books to social interactions.’ You feign surprise but are glad, those were all the markers you’d set for him to read. He turns around and heads up the stairs to 221B. ‘I’ll see you at Scotland Yard tomorrow.’ John quickly turns to you and apologises for his friend’s behaviour before following him up the stairs. He’s certainly a character. Didn’t notice a thing though. -S

I told you so, and that’s why I wanted you to do this. -JM

I’ll keep you updated. -S

[fallingforunrealisticromance]

The men you meet - Sherlock x reader

A/N: I'm thinking of making this a series or at least a couple parts but i'm not sure so i figured i'd post this and see what people think. Sorry if theres any mistakes, its literally 6;30am, ive been writing all night. I'm tired.

Warnings; swearing, mentions of a knife??

Word count: 5.4k

Masterlist

****= time skip

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

Living in 221b there was never a dull moment. Whether it was sherlock shooting the walls at stupid o clock in the morning because he was, quote-on-quote “BORED”, or john ranting about how sherlock needed to stop using the fridge as a place to store body parts. Every so often you would walk in to find a rather bloody, beaten body on the floor which more often than not was paired with a dishevelled looking Sherlock. You supposed you should be afraid of him, considering the things he was capable of, but you weren’t. In fact you were utterly enamoured by him. Not that you would ever admit that out loud. But it’s true, everything about the raven-haired detective enticed you. His voice, his dry wit, his intelligence – the whole lot. That didn’t stop him getting on every one of your last nerves. Maybe that’s how you ended up in this position.

****

“Sherlock, your phone keeps going off for god’s sake would you answer it?” You groaned, your head falling back against the sofa as the detective’s text notification went off for tenth time that hour.

“I’m busy” He replied plainly, his eyes fixated on the microscope in front of him.

“One of these days I am going to throw that phone down the toilet.” You grumbled standing up to read his messages. “It’s from Greg, says he has a homicide he wants you to check out.”

“Greg?” The detective stopped what he was doing for a moment, his brow furrowed.

“Lestrade you idiot.” You rolled your eyes.

“Oh. Not important then.” Sherlock resumed his work.

“Did you not hear me? He has a homicide he wants you to check out. That’s right up your street.” You said walking over to him.

“Clearly not important enough otherwise he wouldn’t have texted me” Sherlock replied flatly, not looking at you as you rested against the desk next to him.

“Explain.”

“If it was that major, Lestrade would’ve called or barged through the door demanding for my help. You know what he’s like for theatrics. Seeing as he’s done neither of those things, it’s hardly worth my time.” Sherlock ranted with a wave of his hand.

You scoffed. ���He’s one for theatrics? Jesus have you looked in the mirror recently.” Your tone caught sherlocks attention.

“What’s wrong with you today?” He asked, looking away from his work.

You shuffled slightly. “Nothing. It’s just- I don’t know.” You sighed looking down at your feet.

You did know. Your feelings for sherlock were causing more issues for you as the days went on. You were beginning to care about him, too much. Everything he did was causing you to fall more in love with him. And it hurt. Not only because you knew he wouldn’t love you back, but because he didn’t care about himself. Every day he would put his life on the line, throwing himself right into the middle of a warzone whether it be with terrorists or serial killers or whatever else, he had no regard for his own life. Whether he lived or died, it didn’t matter to him as long as he was right. But it mattered to you. Loving him resulted in a constant life of worry. The thought of him dying, it hurt your heart more than you cared to admit. As much as the detective meant to you, life before you were in love with him was a lot simpler.

“You’re lying.” Sherlock replied, snapping you from your train of thought.

“Oh well”

“It’s obvious you’re lying. The way you’re standing gives it away almost immediately. By the way you’re fidgeting with your hands I’m guessing it’s to do with someone you care about, someone you love. A friend, family member, a significant other potentially-“

“Sherlock would you just shut up?” You snapped at him.

He looked slightly shocked by your tone. Not at the fact you’d shouted, no he’d heard that plenty of times, but it was never directed at him.

“You know sometimes people like to keep things to themselves. If I wanted you to know I would’ve told you. What the hell gives you the right to deduce me and find something out I never wanted you to know. I thought as my friend you’d have a little bit more respect for my privacy.” You ranted as you grabbed your coat.

“What? y/n where are you going?” Sherlock stood up, confused by your reaction.

“Out. I need some air. Go help Lestrade.” You replied, before slamming the door.

******

You ran your fingers through your hair as you took a seat in the far corner of your favourite coffee shop, thoughts of sherlock whirling round your head. You needed to move past this silly little crush you had. It was already starting to cause tension between the pair of you and you knew if it continued either your friendship would fall apart all together, or sherlock would find out and reject you. Either way ended in you losing him. You needed a distraction, someone to take him off of your mind. But who? John was like your brother so that was off the table, Mycroft rather repulsed you instead of attract you. The thought of asking Greg out had crossed your mind, sure he was attractive enough, but you were too close as friends. Plus you knew your heart wouldn’t be in it. No you needed someone new, someone to sweep you up in a whole new world of emotion. It didn’t necessarily have to be true love, just something to occupy your mind. Slowly you started to realise how hopeless you truly were. You had no time to meet anyone new and all the men in your life weren’t enough. You sighed, looking down at your coffee.

“Excuse me? Is this seat taken?” A smooth Irish voice filled your ears.

You looked up to see a rather attractive man with slicked back black hair and a grey suit jacket on standing in front of you. You felt your stomach flutter as he smiled at you expectantly. His eyes were beautiful. He cleared his throat, still waiting for an answer. You shook your head slightly, chuckling to yourself.

“Um sorry, no its not.” You replied.

“Mind if I sit? It's pretty busy in here and they told me it would be about a half an hour wait.” He said, chuckling.

“By all means” You smiled gesturing to the seat in front of you.

He thanked you and sat down. The two of you sat in silence for a moment. He was looking towards the counter which allowed you to take in his features a little better. His jaw line was magnificently chiselled, line with a short layer of stubble. His arms looked well defined, even under the jacket. He gave off a familiar vibe even though you were certain you had never seen this man before in your life. But something about him felt, comfortable, almost.

“I’ve just realised.” His voice came, breaking you from your thoughts. “Here I am intruding on you and your coffee, and I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m James.” He said holding his hand out to you.

“Hi James, I’m y/n. And you’re not intruding at all, I’ve just been sitting here wallowing in my thoughts.” You joked, internally cringing at yourself.

 However, James didn’t seem weirded out by your statement.

“Something bothering you?” He asked, looking genuinely interested.

You questioned whether or not to say anything, you had just met. In the end you figured – what’s the worst that can happen.

“I think I’m in love with my best friend. And it sucks.” You confessed with a weak smile.

James nodded, smiling slightly. “Okay. Do they not feel the same?” He asked.

“Well I haven’t told him, but no. Relationships, feelings that whole lot – not really his thing. But that’s not even the worst part.” You sighed.

James watched you, staying silent allowing you to continue.

“His job, it’s not the safest. But he helps people, which is good, but he has no regard for his life. I guess it’s just an occupational hazard to him, but watching the man I love almost die like every day of my life is fucking draining. And every time I even try to explain it to him he just gets all stroppy about how I shouldn’t care about what happens to him and that it’s his life and I can’t stop him, which I don’t want to do because I know if he stopped working that a lot of people would suffer. That doesn’t stop him infuriating me on a daily basis.” You ranted, running your fingers through your hair.

“That’s why I am here. He was just getting too much for me.” You concluded leaning back in your chair.

“That sounds really intense.” James replied.

“Yeah his job is a bit mental but like I said he helps-“

“-no no I meant you. The fact that you care so deeply about this man is honestly beautiful, but him seemingly not caring about how his actions effect you – that is intense. And in no way fair to you.” He said, looking you in the eyes.

You were slightly shocked; no one you’d talked about this had ever taken the time to see it from your perspective. But here you were sat with some random bloke in a coffee shop, feeling more seen than ever before.

“Oh…yeah I guess.” Was your response.

You mentally face palmed, what sort of response was that?!

“Americano for J M. J M?” Someone shouted over the sea of people.

James’ head whipped round as he stood to grab his drink. Part of you was sad he was leaving so soon, even if you had just met him.

“Well, I best be off. Told my colleague I’d only be gone a few minutes.” He chuckled, a warm smile spreading over him.

“I’m sorry to have kept you. It was nice meeting you James.” You replied, smiling back.

“Don’t be sorry, it was nice to meet you to y/n. See you around.”

And with that he left. A sigh escaped your lips as you rested your chin against the palm of your hand. He could’ve been just the distraction you were hoping for, but you scared him off with an overload of emotions. Whatever, you’d just need to go out to a bar or something. Even something as simple as a one-night stand would be great right about now. Just as you started to pack up your stuff to leave, the same man appeared at the edge of the table once again.

“James? Did you forget something?” You asked looking around the table.

“Um yes. Well no not exactly. I just wanted to- I know you’re into your friend- we just met so- oh god I’m making a right mess out of this.” He chuckled looking down at his hand which was still grasping the cup from earlier.

“Would you like to go to dinner?” He spat out.

You were once again rendered speechless for a moment.

“I know you said you’re in love with your friend so if you don’t want to or think it would be weird because you hardly know me then that’s fine I just think your beautiful and deserve someone who can treat you well. Not that I’m saying that has to be me but-“

“James?” You cut him off from his ramble.

He looked hopefully at you.

“I’d love to go to dinner.” You said smiling at him.

He left out a sigh of relief. “Okay, brilliant. Do you want to take my number and text me? Or I could take yours?”

“Here” You handed him your phone. “You put your number in there and I’ll take this” You said reaching for his phone. “And put mine in. That way we both can contact the other.”

You typed your number in and handed it back. You took your phone from him, laughing at the contact name

“Mr Americano?” You said glancing up at him.

“You can’t tell me it’s not accurate.” He said laughing.

“Well I’ll be looking forward to your text.” You spoke.

“I’ll see you soon y/n.” He said as he waved goodbye walking out the door.

*****

You returned to 221b in a much better mood. James had texted on the walk home and you’d arranged to go for dinner the next day at 7. You told him you’d meet him there although he did try to convince you to let him pick you up, but you didn’t want sherlock to grill him.

“y/n? Is that you?” The detectives voice called out.

You sighed before replying, preparing yourself for the inevitable conversation to come. “Yeah hi sherlock.”

He came round the corner as you slumped onto the sofa.

“Are you okay?” He asked standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Yeah I’m fine. I’m sorry about earlier, I was just tired and in a bad mood. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” You apologized.

“Don’t be. It’s me who should be sorry.”

Your head snapped up at his words. It wasn’t like Sherlock to say sorry.

“I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like that. You’re my friend and I never want to make you uncomfortable. And I did. So you had every right to be angry at me.” He explained, taking a seat in his chair.

You smiled at him softly. “Thank you Sher, that means a lot. But I’m not angry anymore.” You said genuinely.

“You do appear to be in a better mood. Coffee shop must have worked its magic.” He said glancing at the to go cup still in your hand.

“Something like that.” You muttered, feeling your cheeks blush as you looked at the ground.

“You met someone?” Sherlock stated. Well it was more of a question.

You sighed. There was no point denying it, he could clearly read it in you.

“Yeah. I did. We’re going out tomorrow night.” You replied happily.

“Who’s going out tomorrow night?” John asked as he entered, taking a seat in his chair opposite sherlock.

“I am. I met someone at the coffee shop. He sat at my table, and we started talking. He asked me out and I said yes.” You had the biggest grin on your face, but you were excited.

Excited that someone asked you out, and that you actually felt some type of attraction to him. This could be more than just a distraction. You shook your head slightly at the thought. You’d just met him, there was no reason to be dreaming of a future already. Johns’ eyebrows raised at you.

“Wow.” He glanced at sherlock, who hadn’t said anything. “That’s great y/n. Will we meet him?”

You laughed. “No.”

This caught sherlocks attention. “Why not?” The boys said in unison.

You gestured at the two of them. “Have you met the pair of you? I love you both, but I really don’t need you scaring off the one guy who actually wants to take me on a date.” You picked your stuff up and headed to your room. “I’m going to sleep. See you both in the morning.”

“It’s only 8 o clock” John yelled.

“Well I’m exhausted. Goodnight” You called before closing your bedroom door.

*the next evening*

“Why can’t you come over? It would be a lot easier.” You groaned over the video call.

“Because Tom is over, and I don’t want to leave him.” Molly replied smiling.

You smiled for her. Even if her new boyfriend looked almost identical to Sherlock, you were glad she had someone.

“Okay well what do you think?” You tried to show her the whole dress but trying to fit yourself in the frame was rather awkward.

“I don’t know, dresses aren’t normally your thing are they?” She asked.

“Well no, but I haven’t been on a date in a while, so I wanted to make an effort.” You replied, straightening the skirt.

“Where’s he taking you?”

“Just a little Italian place. Never been there before but it’s near the river. I’ve walked past it like a hundred times.”

“I think you should wear the black dress.” Molly suggested. “The one you showed me at Christmas that you never wore?”

You looked at her, unsure. “Really? Do you know think it’s a bit, I don’t know, flashy?”

“Not at all. It’s perfect. Go on, put it on.” Molly beamed at you hopefully.

You thought about it for a second. “Okay fine, give me a second.” You said, earning a little clap from the screen.

You pulled the blue dress off and found the black one. You pulled it out, admiring it for a moment. It truly was a beautiful dress. It was a soft flowy material, the front falling just above the knees while the back trailed a couple inches further down. The top was in a crossed over, v line neck with two flowy straps going round the neck like a halter top. The back was open which just added to the beauty. It was scattered with sparkles that caught in the light in the most elegant way. In all honesty, you’d been looking for an excuse to wear this for a while. You slipped it on, paired with a pair of chunky black heels as well as your black dahlia necklace. You returned to your phone, so molly was able to see my outfit.

“Well?” You asked nervously.

“Oh my god!! You look gorgeous” Molly squealed.

You laughed slightly but had to agree with her. For the first time in a while, you felt truly beautiful.

“I was thinking of bringing my little black clutch and maybe doing my hair in a messy bun?” You suggested, scooping your hair up.

“Do not touch your hair.” Molly practically yelled.

You blinked, eyes wide, as you dropped your hair. “Why not?”

“Y/n your natural hair is perfect. It looks so much nicer if you leave it down.” She explained.

“But will it not look really messy?” You very rarely wore your hair down due to the fact it was naturally very curly. You always thought it looked quite shabby.

“No trust me. It looks amazing.” You sighed. You trusted her opinion, so you left it. Just then a notification popped up on your phone.

“On my way, be there in about 20 minutes. J x”

“Oh shit, I’ve got to go. He’s on his way there. Okay, thank you for everything Molls. I’ll talk to you later.” You grabbed your things before hanging up the phone.

You rushed out of your room, not even noticing the boys in the front room.

“Wow.” John’s voice came from in front of you.

Your head snapped up, finally clocking they were there. John was sat at the desk with his laptop as stood staring the wall with a bunch of newspaper clippings all over it.

“Y/n you look…wow.” John repeated, looking you up and down.

“uh thank you?” You chuckled nervously as you double checked the contents of my bag.

“I mean that in a good way of course.” He reassured.

You nodded. “Good to know.”

You pulled your jacket on and double checked your makeup in the mirror.

“Right boys, I’m off. No idea what time I’ll be home so don’t wait up.” You turned to walk out the door but walked straight into a certain detective’s chest.

“Jesus sherlock.” He stared down at you, his eyes raking over your body.

“I have to go Sher I’ll be late.” You said, hoping he’d move.

“You are utterly divine.” He muttered. Your heart jumped for a moment.

“What?” You whispered.

He cleared his throat, shaking his head slightly as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He moved to the side, letting you move past.

“Have a nice time. Call if you need anything.” He said, turning his back to you.

You stood there, momentarily stunned before you snapped back into reality. You walked towards the door.

“Right. Um yeah, I’ll see you later.” And with that you left the flat, still processing what Sherlock had said.

****

The date was wonderful. James was an absolute gentleman, and if you were being totally honest with yourself – you were falling for him. Since the restaurant the two of you had been out on a good few dates, each one of them making you fall further and further for him. Sherlock wasn’t pleased. You were never around anymore. Well that isn’t strictly true, considering he lives with you, and you help him on cases but in his mind you weren’t there. He felt like he never got a moment to just be with you, without the stress of a mass murderer or a kidnapping on his mind. John had noticed the change in the detective’s behaviour, which just amused him.

“Y/n, we need to go to Cornwall this weekend for a case. It’s a big one, we think Moriarty is behind it.” Sherlock said, striding into the room with john following shortly behind you.

“Hello to you too” You mumbled, adjusting your position on the sofa.

“We are leaving early tomorrow so be ready.” Sherlock continued, ignoring your comment.

“I can’t come, I have plans.” You replied casually.

“Going out with your coffee man again? That’s what like 3 times this week?” John asked, sitting down next to you.

“Yep, he’s got a whole weekend planned for us.” You smiled.

The detective froze, his back to you. The excitement in your voice was evident and Sherlock felt an intense wave of anger wash over him. He didn’t like this side of himself, and he had no idea why you being happy was provoking this reaction from him. He usually loved nothing more then when you were smiling or laughing. But he wanted to be the one making you feel that way.

“Did you not hear what I said? This case has got Moriarty written all over it. You can’t just decide not to come because of some random idiot you met at a coffee shop.” Sherlock seethed.

You frowned at him, standing to face him. “He’s not some random idiot Sherlock. He means a lot to me.” You argued.

“Well then maybe you’re an idiot too. Look cancel your plans; we need you with us.”

You laughed in his face. “I am not an idiot for falling for someone who actually gives two shits about me and treats me well. I’m sorry you don’t know what it feels like to have someone want to be around you but I’m not cancelling my plans to help you with some bullshit case so you can insult me more.” You raged.

You hadn’t meant to sound quite so harsh, but he was really winding you up. Ever since you’d started dating James he took any opportunity he could to make you feel bad about being happy and you were sick of it. You were finally getting over him and he chooses to be an arse about it. Sherlock blinked back at you, momentarily shocked by your words. The tension in the air was thick before he decided to speak again.

“Y/n, we need you. I need you there. Please” He asked, his tone a lot softer.

You sighed, looking at the floor. “I’m sorry Sherlock. I hope it goes well.” You replied before leaving the flat.

Sherlock watched as you left, unable to fully comprehend what had just happened.

“Well…that was…something.” John commented.

*****

The next day when you woke up, the boys had already left. You felt bad because you hadn’t spoken to Sherlock since the argument and now you weren’t going to see him for two days. Thoughts of him getting hurt, or something worse began to flash through your mind. You couldn’t let yesterday be the last thing you said to him. You scrambled to get your phone, finding his contact before shooting him a message. Down in Cornwall, Sherlocks phone buzzed as he was examining a body.

“John.” He instructed.

John sighed “yeah I know, give me a second”

John grabbed the phone from the detective’s coat before pulling up the message. “

Its from y/n” John said.

Sherlocks head snapped up, grabbing the phone from john.

“I didn’t mean what I said. You just know how to push every single one of my buttons Mr Holmes. Stay safe and catch me a killer. y/n xx” Sherlock grinned at the message before promptly putting the phone back in his pocket.

After a while you decided you should probably et up and start getting ready for you’re weekend away. James had told you he’d be round to collect you and 2pm and you still hadn’t packed. It was exciting that he wanted to surprise you, but without knowing where you were going – you didn’t have a clue what to pack. You stared at the wardrobe in front of you, hands on your hips as you wracked your brain on what the best choice was here. However, before you could continue our mental debate much longer your phone started ringing. Deciding to come back to your clothes later, you grabbed your phone and headed to the kitchen.

“Hey, you” You answered happily.

“Hey y/n, how are you?” James asked over the phone.

“I’m good, definitely not packing last minute I don’t know why you would even suggest that” You reply with a light chuckle.

James laughed nervously, making your brow furrow in confusion.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah…well actually no. Look I’m really sorry, but I can’t actually take you where I’d planned this weekend” He replied.

Your heart sunk a little as you placed the cup of tea you’d been making on the counter in front of you.

“Oh.” Was all you could think to say.

You had been really excited to get away with him.

“I am so sorry. But something came up at work which means I actually have to stay in London.”

You felt a twinge of annoyance at that. You’d turned down a work opportunity for him, but he couldn’t do the same for you? Not that he knew you done that but that wasn’t the point.

“But I still want to see you. I was just thinking we could do something else instead. I’d offer to let you stay over at mine, but my roommates are pretty annoying and-“

“Stay at mine” You blurted out, not really thinking.

James still was yet to meet John and Sherlock, let alone visit your shared flat. But them being in a way for the weekend presented you with a window of opportunity.

“Really?” He sounded surprised at your suggestion.

“Yeah, I mean that way you don’t have to leave London and we still get to spend the weekend together.”

“But your roommates-“

“Are away for work. They won’t be back till Monday evening at the earliest. We can have the whole place to ourselves” You said, smiling.

“Well that could not be more perfect.” He replied.

“Brilliant, ill text you the address and you can head over for 12ish if that still works?” You suggested as you headed back to your room.

“Sounds good, I have a few work calls to make but I should be done with those in time and then I’ll head straight over.”

“Okay, ill see you soon James” You said goodbye, a grin on your face.

It hadn’t been the weekend you were expecting, but it was good enough for you. It also solved your packing issue. You shoved your suitcase back in your cupboard as you began to tidy the flat, the nerves of him seeing your place for the first time finally setting in. It’ll be fine You thought. A weekend in with eh guy you were falling for, what more could you ask for?

****

It was midday Sunday when the boys were finally back in London, making their way back to their flat. Neither one had bothered to tell you they were on their way home, assuming you were out with your mystery guy.

"john I’m telling you, there was no way Moriarty wasn’t leading us astray. That whole case was way too simple. He’s misdirecting us and we were stupid enough to fall for it.” Sherlock ranted as he unlocked the door.

“That may be true Sherlock but that doesn’t get us any closer to finding out what he’s got planned. You heard what Mycroft said, nothing else has happened while we’ve been away. He may have sent us on what was essentially a wild goose chase, but he hasn’t done anything else so what now?” John replied as they made there way up the stairs.

Sherlock was about to reply as he pushed the door to his flat open, but the sight before him made the words die in his throat.

“Sherlock?” John noticed how tense his friend had become. “What’s wrong-“ He stepped around the detective to look into the apartment, his face dropping in shock.

You heard the door swing open, your head snapping round to see Sherlock staring intently at you.

“What the fuck” You muttered scrambling to get off of James’s lap. You’d been enjoying a rather heavy make out session moments before. Your face flushed red as john also caught sight of you in the compromising position.

“Why are you guys’ home already?” You asked rather frustratedly.

James didn’t say anything, but you noticed his grip on you hadn’t loosened.

“Y/n, come here.” Sherlocks voice was low, almost scarily so.

His eyes burned into you as he glared at you. You noticed the lack of colour in John’s face. Why were they being so weird?

“What? No! What the hell is wrong with the pair of you? You’re acting like you’ve never seen someone kiss before” You scoffed.

“Y/n seriously, listen to him.” John said, a hint of nerves laced in his tone.

You stared at the two of them, feeling increasingly more annoyed. Why were they being so ridiculous?

“No!! John what the hell-“

“Get over here. Now” Sherlock demanded once more.

You were about to reply when you heard a small chuckle from behind you.

“I’m not going to hurt her if that’s what you think” James said from behind you.

You noticed now the boys weren’t glaring at you, but rather him. You turned to face him, utterly lost. His face had changed, he didn’t look as kind as he had moments before. He wore a sinister smirk on his lips, his eyes gleaming with an emotion you couldn’t quite place but it unsettled you to no end.

“James? What are you talking about?”

“Let go of her wrist then” Sherlock replied, talking to him as if you weren’t even in the room.

His words made you realise just how tight James was holding onto you. You tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you. Your heart was racing, a bad feeling sinking into your bones.

“James, let go” You tried to keep your voice steady, but he noticed the way it wavered.

He chuckled ominously, meeting your slightly panicked gaze. “Would you look at that” He leant forward, so close you could feel his breath on your face.

He reached up a hand to brush some hair from your face, causing you to flinch. “She’s scared. Poor thing. Rather pathetic actually, considering how you had your tongue down my throat not too long ago” He said, his words laced with venom.

Your face flushed red in embarrassment.

“Why are you being like this James?” You asked, your voice just higher than a whisper.

“You know that’s such a boring name. James” He grimaced as he said it. “No I much prefer Jim. Or the name your little friends over there know me by. Any guesses as to what it might be pet?” He asked you with a smirk.

You sat staring at him in silence. Nothing about this situation made sense.

“Moriarty” Sherlock’s voice answered for you.

Your blood ran cold. It felt like your heart had stopped beating as you stared at the man in front of you. The man you had developed feelings for. Your reality came crashing down around you. Fear swept through you as you sat there, frozen.

He grinned wickedly at you. “Hiya love.”

Suddenly you felt the cool metal of a blade against your stomach. You heard the boys tense from behind you. Your breath caught in your throat as Moriarty just laughed.

“Now what are we going to do with you?”

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

Thoughts?? Part two??

[ladylaviniya]

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞

[tree0frog]

hey! was wondering if I could get a doctor who and Sherlock matchup. I’m female, she/her, 20, bisexual as hell, INTJ/P, Leo, ravenclaw/slytherin, and a new media artist (still in college tho). I’ve got an average build, brown eyes, black wavy hair till my shoulders, wearing cat eye clear glasses or contacts. i honestly don’t know how to describe my style cause it changes constantly depending on my art projects or vibe I’m feeling. I love game design, 3d modeling, interactive design, visual effects etc. I also love reading, gaming, binge watching, digital illustration, dancing, collecting custom jewelry, rollerblading, baking cookies, and listening to video essays/podcasts/audiobooks. My favorite genres are detective, classics, fantasy, adventure, folklore, mythology and sci fi. I love listening to music in a multitude of languages as well whether Arabic, Italian, French, Hindi and much more. MASSIVE introvert except for with my best friends where my unhinged side comes out. Despite being an introvert I’m very comfortable with leadership. I’m very contemplative and thoughtful as well as creative. I’m far from clingy and prefer to keep my own space even if I know you well. I can be a bit stubborn, and opinionated at times however. I’m a huge planner and hate when things go off schedule or when things are chosen abruptly. Think that’s all I got! Thank you!

Hii sorry this took so long

main master list

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I pair you with Bill

The two of you together would be a power couple don't try me on this.

I think you must have met when she was seeking into the doctor's classes and she sat next to you,

Bill would sometimes look over to see your small drawing of clocks or a small blue police box.

But when she learned about the doctor it had all made no sense to her whatsoever.

Over the time she travels with the two of you she learns more about you and the doctor but most importantly herself.

You know that meen where it's the couple and one like whats their hot and the other one is like can't see it hun yeah that's you two.

she has a small drawer of art pieces you made her as well as matching bracelets you had made for the both of you.

I pair you with Mycroft Homes

People this is the weirdest friendship they have ever seen.

I think the two of you met when he broke into Sherlock's home and you were just there sitting on the floor with a gaming laptop in your hands and some art thing around you and he was intreated.

Even though he doesn't like to say it he enjoys playing games with you when he has time which isn't very often thanks to his job.

will buy you that new book you have been talking about for a week but won't buy because you have 17 halve stared one in your home.

He thinks it's cute how you have a full-year planer in your room highlighted in different colours for different things.

You have been drunk before and cursed him out in french

[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?

[corinthianism]

corinthianism's fic recs

here are my personal favorite fanfics! idk how often i'll update this, but i hope you like them as much as i do :) *indicates smut

last updated: march 26, 2024

MARVEL

loki laufeyson - from the void, with love — by whirlybirbs (my fav fanfic of all time!!! i think about this fic several times in a day bro) - riptide — by starks-hero - the tailor* (series) — by birdofhermes (ao3) - time after time (series) — by goldencherriess (ao3) - a friend from work — by cozy_the_overlord (ao3)

thor odinson - god of fertility* (request) — by charnelhouse - highway don't care (but i do, i do)* (part one, part two, part three) — by spacelabrathor

peter parker (andrew garfield) - agree to disagree — by delicate-dorothea - nerdy peter (request) — by webslingingslasher - good boy x bad girl trope (request) — by webslingingslasher - hold you here, my loveliest friend* — by p3mybeloved - your friendly neighborhood sensitive spider* — by jin0 - glad you're home — by withahappyrefrain - the mechanics of a soul — by irndad - 3 is the magic number* — by withahappyrefrain - crush — by ptersparkers - as it goes — by forever-rogue - here comes the sun (part one, part two, part three) — by withahappyrefrain - stability, reciprocity, and a romance for the ages (series) — by privateanxieties (ao3 - need an account to read)

steven grant (moon knight) - hold me close — by stormkobra-5 - gift of min* — by astroboots - puzzles* — by stormkobra-5 - first time* — by luvpedropascal - domestic adonis* — by peterman-spideyparker - where it starts — by silversweetpea - fallen from heaven, grown on earth* (series) — by davosmymaster (ao3) - call me poe* — by kittyfandom (ao3) - elemental — by batsingotham (ao3) - the boy with the thorn in his side — by eating_flowers (ao3)

marc spector (moon knight) - not him — by loud-mouth-loser - it's worth it, it's divine* — by the-archxr - i'm getting to know someone — by davosmymaster (ao3)

wade wilson (deadpool) - tea and sympathy (series) — by bucketsoffrogs (ao3)

SHERLOCK (BBC)

sherlock holmes - your hidden strength — by okay-j-hannah - sublime dexterity* (part one, part two) — by daydreamtofiction - literally everything by starks-hero

SUPERNATURAL

sam winchester - playing house (part one, part two) — by uncouth-the-fifth - baby i'll stay (heaven can wait) — by uncouth-the-fifth - move over.* — by ggwritesstuff - where's your head at?* — by beau55515 - birthdays: sam winchester style* — by karleekarma (ao3) - the comforts of home — by zepskies - under the hood* — by shawslut

dean winchester - whether you like it or not — by kbeautimous (ao3) - reading you wrong — by zepskies - cherished — by thatonewriter15 (ao3) - soft touch — by wearywinchester - i love her, that's why* — by kaleldobrev - drivin' me crazy* — by lis-likes-fics

castiel - salt n' lick* — by aperfectgrace (ao3) - a bite of apple pie (series) — by ac_deanc (ao3)

THE SANDMAN

the corinthian - bring me a dream* (series, ongoing) — by placeinthemiddleofnowhere - nihil — by lis-likes-fics

dream/morpheus - sweet dreams (are made of this) — by stranger-nightmare

CRIMINAL MINDS

aaron hotchner - from eden — by heliotropehotch - gold star — by honeypiehotchner - love, an abstract concept — by luveline - honeymoon phase* (series) — by hotchsbitch (ao3)

THE BOYS

soldier boy (he's absolutely horrible but so. so. hot.) - break me down* (series) — by zepskies (go read their other stuff too!) - talk to me — by zepskies

homelander (also absolutely horrible. would sleep with him.) - if i can't have you — by watchstarscollide - milky white* — by after-witch

GAME OF THRONES

jaime lannister - i'm not made by design — by ichorai (this legitimately changed my brain chemistry)

STAR WARS

obi-wan kenobi - like turning on the light* — by full-time-make-believer (deactivated acc) (this also changed the trajectory of my life) - where it wasn't* — by 221bshrlocked - your thoughts are loud — by spidersbane - empty me out* — by 221bshrlocked - house of memories* (series) — by meshlasolus - bad idea, right?* (series) — by mischiefling (ao3) - you make me feel like dancing — by saradika (ao3) - it's a wonderful lie — by firstofficerwiggles (ao3) - temptation's kiss — by karasong (ao3) - you make my dreams* — by wickedscribbles (ao3) - like a living mirage — by karasong (ao3) - broken drought* — by rosalindbeatrice (ao3) - never grow up — by doihavetoloseyoutoo (ao3) - never ending story — by kybercrystal (ao3) - volveré* — by kxnobi (ao3)

din djarin (the mandalorian) - the savior* (part one, part two, part three) — by dindjiarin - significant — by softlyspector - touching din — by archieimagines - uncharted territory* — by pedrito-friskito - creed* — by wheresarizona - home is wherever i'm with you* (part one, part two, part three) — by saradika

DRACULA (BBC)

count dracula - the székely* (series) — by theplumsoldier

LOTR/THE HOBBIT

thranduil oropherion - a boon* (series) — by inksplots (ao3) - beauty and the beast (series) — by tamurilofrivendell (ao3)

DOCTOR SLEEP

dan torrance - of monsters and men* — by helaintoloki & obitwo - domestic life (headcanons) — by thornsinmycrown - smut alphabet* — by daincrediblegg

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

The Same Page Part 9

Sherlock and Mycroft & little sister!reader

A/N: you guys have been the epitome of patient, and I’m so sorry it took so long to update it. I got so caught up in my requests (which were all supernatural, which I also love btw) that I didn’t even realize that it’s been months. Updates are not gonna take this long in the future, I do love this series too. Thank you guys for being so patient

Warnings: angst, Sherlock’s kinda mean in this one

“I’m asking you not to declare war.”

Mycroft’s words struck a nerve in Sherlock. He wasn’t the one who threatened a custody battle, and he wasn’t the one always trying to take you away.

“It’s not about declaring war,” Sherlock argued. “It’s about you going against our agreement. You agreed that she should stay here for a few days, and it’s only been one night.”

“Yes, and she’s already had a panic attack,” Mycroft shot back as he led the argument into the kitchen so that they wouldn’t wake you up. “My agreement was made when I thought that you would actually stay here with her, not run off on a case. And I assume that that case is yet to be solved?”

“I’m getting close,” Sherlock said, feeling defensive.

“Which means that you’ll leave again. She can’t be alone Sherlock, she just can’t. You may disagree with me on that, but as her legal guardian I’m putting my foot down; if she’s in this house, she won’t be alone. Ever.”

“How is she ever going to go back to normal if you keep treating her like she can’t do anything on her own?” Sherlock challenged.

“That’s the problem with you, Sherlock! All you can think about is getting her back to normal. Why don’t you stop and try to think about what she needs, instead of just what you want.”

“You think she doesn’t want to go back to normal?” Sherlock scoffed. “You think she wants to be like this?”

“Like what?” Mycroft challenged. “No, don’t turn away,” he continued when Sherlock started to turn, shaking his head. “Like what, Sherlock? Are you going to stand here and tell me that because she’s hurting and she needs help, there’s something wrong with her?” When Sherlock didn’t speak, Mycroft persisted. “Like. What. Sherlock?”

“Like an invalid!” Sherlock snapped. “Like she can’t spend a couple of hours alone, like she can’t eat unless you’re hovering over her, like she can’t do anything by hersel—“ Sherlock’s voice cracked as he stopped, and the blood draining from his face instantly alerted Mycroft. He turned around to see where Sherlock was staring…

“Myc?” Your voice came out in a whimper as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. “Myc, I want���I wanna go home now.” You kept your head down, not looking at Sherlock even as he started to protest.

“N/N, I didn’t mean it like—“

“Of course,” Mycroft cut him off. “Of course I’ll take you home now.”

“Mycroft.” Sherlock glared at his brother. “Let me talk to her.”

“Myc, I want to go home,” you repeated, your voice a little more desperate now. The meaning was clear, even if you didn’t say it—you didn’t want to talk to Sherlock.

Mycroft turned on his heel and led you towards the door without responding to Sherlock.

“We haven’t finished discussing this!” Sherlock argued.

The only answer he got was a slamming door.

…

“I can do it,” you insisted, ignoring Mycroft’s outstretched hand as you reached the stairs leading down 221B.

“Please let me help you.” Mycroft was already reaching for your hand as he spoke, but you snatched your hand away.

“I can do it!” You repeated.

Mycroft pulled his hand back, but remained close as you made your way down the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled after a moment.

“It’s alright,” Mycroft assured you, and the two of you remained silent after that.

Mycroft was too preoccupied thinking about Sherlock to speak anyway. As much as his little brother had been out of line, he hadn’t been completely wrong. Surely you wanted to go back to the way things had been, at least a little. What was Mycroft going to do if you stopped needing him around? Of course he wanted you to go back to school, to start sleeping regularly again, to eat right, all of that…

But what if you went back to Sherlock? Mycroft realized suddenly that he didn’t want that, even if you completely recovered mentally. He liked you living with him, and he was pretty sure you liked it, too.

But it wouldn’t be fair to you if that wasn’t what you wanted. But Mycroft could no longer tell what you wanted. He was trying to give you what you needed, and it was clear that you weren’t ready for the level of independence that Sherlock was pushing for, but…but what if one day you were? Would you stay with Mycroft, or go to Sherlock?

Mycroft was starting to realize that he needed you to need him too much, and he wasn’t sure what he would do once you didn’t need him. Would no longer needing him mean that you no longer wanted him?

“Is everything ok?” John’s voice interrupted Mycroft’s thoughts as the two Holmes’ passed him in the stairwell.

“Not really,” Mycroft sighed. “We’re going home.”

“What? I’m sure you and Sherlock can—“

“Not now, Dr. Watson,” Mycroft insisted. “We’re going home.”

…

You were quiet the whole way home, and when Mycroft asked if you wanted to sleep you just nodded silently.

As Mycroft got you settled in your bed, he talked quietly to you.

“I don’t want you to worry about today, alright? Any of it. Sherlock and I are going to figure out our custody arrangement, you’re not going to be left alone again, and…and Sherlock didn’t mean what he said, alright? There’s nothing wrong with you, so don’t think about it.”

You blinked up at your brother for a moment before turning on your side and closing your eyes. Mycroft sighed, turning to sit in his chair by your bed. You hadn’t gone this silent in months.

This could be harder than Mycroft had thought.

…

Mycroft stirred at the sound of sniffling. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep—he was usually able to keep himself awake until you fell asleep, but he must’ve dozed off.

He squinted in the dim light to see your short hair, sticking out at a few angles as you cried face-down in your pillow.

“Y/N…” Mycroft was at your side in an instant, but when he pulled you away from your pillow you started to shake your head and push at him. “It’s ok,” he insisted. “It’s ok, it’s just me.”

You continued to shake your head, but Mycroft noticed that your fingers had a vice grip on the front of his shirt.

“It’s alright…I’m right here.” Mycroft pulled you into his arms, and you stopped fighting him. You still didn’t speak, and Mycroft just held you in his arms until you cried yourself to sleep.

“Sherlock, what have you done?” Mycroft muttered to himself.

…

You had barely managed to hold in your tears until Mycroft fell asleep in his chair, but it didn’t matter, because you’d woken him up anyway. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak as you tried to fight Mycroft off, or even as he held you close. You didn’t actually want him to go away, but after what Sherlock had said…

“She can’t do anything for herself!”

Even if Mycroft claimed it wasn’t true, you couldn’t get that voice out of your head. You’d barely said a word since then, and you weren’t ready to change that yet. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, it was more like the weight in your chest was so great, that even if you wanted to speak, you didn’t feel able anymore. Your anxiety clawed its way up your throat, choking even the idea of speech.

So instead of speaking, you just let your big brother hold you in his arms until your exhaustion won the fight with your anxiety, and you finally drifted off to sleep.

…

Mycroft was concerned almost as soon as he woke up. After you’d gone back to sleep, he’d returned to his chair but stayed in your room, just in case. But when he woke up, he saw that you were already awake—your eyes were open, but you hadn’t moved.

“Are you ready to get up?” Mycroft asked softly, and your eyes flickered to him at the sound of his voice. You pushed yourself up wordlessly, and Mycroft began to wonder just how long you’d remain silent. “Let’s go downstairs and get some breakfast,” Mycroft added, being careful not to phrase it like a question; he knew your answer would be no—you never felt like eating when you got like this—but Mycroft wanted (more like needed) to keep you on your eating schedule.

You didn’t protest as Mycroft helped you down the stairs, or when he put a plate of toast in front of you. But you didn’t eat it, either. Mycroft sighed, exhausted.

“I need you to eat. Just a little bit, for me?”

You blinked up at him before returning your gaze to your lap.

“Just a bite or two,” Mycroft added. When you didn’t move, he sighed and pushed the plate aside. “Alright, we can try that again later. Do you want to play our game? Tell me what you see.” Mycroft was desperate for any kind of interaction with you, but you remained unmoving and silent. “C’mon, you can’t—I can’t do this again, please. I can’t. I need you to—“

Mycroft cut himself off when your hand reached out and grabbed his in a death grip, your breath suddenly coming in gasps.

…

“I can’t do this again, please. I can’t. I need you to—“

Panic gripped your heart as Mycroft struggled to speak.

“I can’t do this again.”

This. You.

Would Mycroft get tired of trying to cater to you, the way Sherlock seemed to? Would he get sick of the way you “couldn’t do anything for yourself”?

You’d sought out Mycroft’s hand without even meaning to as your fear forced itself up your throat, restricting your breath.

What would you do if Mycroft got sick of taking care of you? Where would you go?

You remembered the earlier days of living with Mycroft—when CPS workers came over to “keep an eye” on your custody switch. They’d taken one look at you and tried to convince Mycroft to bring you to some care facility. If Mycroft didn’t want you, was that where you’d go? You wouldn’t last a week there, you just knew it—not without your brothers.

“Y/N! Y/N!” You’d been so lost in your own head that you didn’t hear Mycroft calling out your name until he was shaking your shoulders and yelling in your face. “Yes, good, look at me.” Mycroft breathed in relief when your eyes finally met his.

“I’m sorry.”

Mycroft couldn’t even take a moment to be relieved that you were speaking again as you sobbed in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t—“

“Hey, hey now,” Mycroft cradled your face in his hands, trying to get your attention back. “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here Y/N, I promise.” You finally seemed to focus on him, so Mycroft just repeated “I’m right here,” again and again as he wracked his brain for a reason behind your sudden change to hysteria. He’d been speaking just before you started to panic—what had he said?

“I can’t do this again…”

Oh no. You hadn’t understood him; worse, he hadn’t made himself clear to you. Now you thought…

“Hey.” Mycroft made sure he had your full attention before he spoke. “I need you to listen to me now. I…I didn’t mean that I can’t—or won’t—take care of you, ok? I didn’t mean that I’ll leave you. I’ll never leave you, never. You understand me?” At your hesitant nod, he continued. “Good, good. I never meant to make you think that, I just…I just meant that I don’t want to see you in so much pain again. You didn’t talk for so long, and…and I know how much you were hurting. I don’t want you to hurt like that anymore.”

“I’m sor—“

“No, no don’t.” Mycroft wouldn’t let you apologize again. “Don’t ever apologize for being in pain, that’s not what I wanted. I just…I really want you to forget about what Sherlock said. He didn’t mean it, he didn’t. There’s nothing wrong with you, ok?” You didn’t nod this time, but Mycroft didn’t push it. “But it doesn’t matter. Because no matter what happens—with Sherlock, with wherever you decide to live, with all of it—I will never leave you, alright? I’ll be here whenever you need me. I’ll always be here for you.”

Mycroft willingly let you pull him into a hug, and when you all but collapses your weight into his embrace, he held you up without wavering.

“Please tell me you know that. Tell me you believe me. Because I promise it’s true.”

“Ok,” you sniffled. “I-I believe you.”

“Ok,” Mycroft sighed. “Ok.”

Mycroft eventually led you over to the couch where you dropped in exhaustion, and soon enough you were fast asleep, remnants of tears still staining your cheeks.

Once he was sure that you were asleep, Mycroft reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, pressing a number and placing the phone to his ear.

“Sherlock? Yes, it’s me. I need you here, now. You’ve got a mess to fix.”

Taglist:

@navs-bhat @isabellavere @chaoticglitterkitten @peachycupotea @justforrose @severussimp

[a-cup-of-earl-grey-please]

just realized that this got over 300 notes??? omg? this may be the thing that pushes me out of my writer's block? we'll see! thanks to everyone who has like ever even read this non-edited mess of an oneshot??

Beg For Forgiveness (BBC Sherlock x Fem!Reader)

Word count: 2,436 words

Pairing: BBC Sherlock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your fiancé, the great Sherlock Holmes, comes back from the dead—just when you were ready to move on. Can you forgive him?

Warning: semi-heavy angst, description of dealing with grief. references to the Reichenbach fall, failing to "move on," suggestive themes towards the end

Note: this has been in my drafts for so long and i'm not completely satisfied. but hey, i really needed to get this off my mind! so i hope you like it.

It was one of those nights where you felt like you were absolutely over Sherlock’s death. You felt fine. You did the dishes. You ate dinner on your own—Mrs. Hudson was out on a date. You felt okay. You finally brought yourself to send his coat away for laundry last week—even though you knew it wouldn’t smell like him anymore. There was one step left in your “getting over Sherlock” project: letting go of the engagement ring on your finger. You fiddled with the ring, slipping it way down to the tip of your finger and back down. The ring felt like it was heavier than an elephant, yet lighter than a single snowflake landing on your eyelashes. You grit your teeth together and pulled on it once more, and it came near your fingertips—

Knock, knock.

You sighed, your breath strained. You hastily slipped the ring off your hand and held it tightly in your hand. You could feel the jewel biting into your palm, but you didn’t let that undo all your efforts to erase him from your narrative. As you went down toward the door. Your padded footsteps softly echoed through the stairwell.

“Who is it?” You absentmindedly said as you glanced up toward the door. Your breath hitched—caught in your throat in incredulousness. That silhouette was all too familiar. But you knew it couldn’t be. It really, truly couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be him turning up his coat collar against the November winds—the very coat that you sent out for laundry last week and hadn’t picked up yet. It couldn't be that very man who put that very coat around your shoulders when you shivered in the winter—tutting at you for trying to impress him with your skirts and blouses. 

He’s dead. You bit down on your tongue. This is all a cruel joke. I’ll punch them square in the face. That’ll teach whomever it is to not kid about things like that. No, they have no right to his death. You clenched your fists and opened the door in one angry move.

“You don’t get to joke about—“ Your chastising screams were stopped at the sight of him. Him. It was Sherlock Holmes. The curve of his lips, his pretty cheekbones, his fluffy hair, and oh, his eyes. 

“Hello, Y/N, my darling fiancée.” He gave her a smirk and a little wave. And his voice, his stupid voice. The rich voice you had tried for years now to rub clean from your memories. Oh, how every single thing he said to you had ruined you after his fall. A boiling anger surged through her and you slammed your clenched fist against his firm chest. He barely staggered, as if he had expected the blow. “I get the sense that you are mad—“ He said, his voice awfully clipped for a man who just had his chest slammed with a fist. Of course, it was not hard enough to bruise—but it was hard enough, oh yes, it was hard enough. A smug thought surfaced through your blinding anger. 

“Is it really you?” You cut him off. 

“Yes, Sherlock Holmes. Looking into the eyes of soon-to-be Mrs. Holmes.” He said, smug as always. So sure of your forgiveness. Watching him rub his chest—where you hit him—made you mad. Angrier, if possible. 

Your left fist still rested on his chest, just below his right shoulder. And you, seething with anger and sorrow, knew just what move would hurt him. Hurt him—let him feel a fraction of what the past few years had been for you. You looked him straight in the eyes. His eyes swirled with hope and desperation—as if he knew anything about desperation. Yet.

You unclenched your fist and dropped the ring—the precious little silver thing. It hit the ground with a small, yet cruel cling onto the doorstep. Sherlock flinched at the sound. He knew exactly what you had dropped, even without having to spare a glance. He was the greatest detective in all of Britain after all. You could see tears forming in his eyes—oh great, you reduced the supposed heartless man to tears. Tears welled in his eyes—daring to drip. Drip down those cheekbones you loved to caress. Maybe even graze those lips you loved to kiss before he left the flat in the morning. But most importantly, it magnified the emotions in his eyes. The hundreds of layers of feelings he always hid behind a cold curtain were all exposed, vulnerable to your attacks. 

You opened your mouth to speak—to spit the devilish words that you could come up with easily in your rage. But you couldn’t. You knew him too well. You knew how his mind carefully stored every word that had ever been spoken to him. Especially yours—you knew how he treated your words. A passing comment on a shade of blue you liked in a flower made him go on a wild goose chase for a dress that had the exact same shade once—just to see that smile on your face. A compliment on one of his shirts—yes, the purple one—had made him save it for special days. He remembered all your “icks” and avoided them, deliberately and lovingly. He learned all your childhood bedtime stories just so he could recite them to you when you suffered from nightmares. He knew your comfort meals and even attempted to cook them when you were feeling down. He knew you. And you knew him. Too well on both sides. 

You knew how to break his heart, and the knowledge scared you.

A ring was easier to let go of; the promise was easier to break than the love it represented. 

The ring was only a mere symbol for that night when you shoved all the furniture to one corner of the room and made him waltz with you in a drunken frenzy. It was just a reminder of the day he kissed you for the first time in a basement with a tied-up serial killer next to them—at least the serial killer cheered for you two. The ring was barely even representing a fraction of what you both felt on the day he knelt down on one knee to propose—he followed an obscure superstition from East Asia that love comes true on the day of the first snow of the year. He had carried around the ring box for a month in his pocket—just to make sure he did not miss the first snow because he was unprepared. The ring was just a shard of what you had seen in his eyes the first time you two met—surprise, curiosity, sharp intellect, and a warm heart. 

The ring was easy to drop, but it was not easy to let go of all that. When he left, all you had were the remnants of him. And they all slowly faded away. His clothes—you left all of them in the drawers—only opening it sometimes to feel his scent engulf you, only that faded away as well. His phone was already cracked during the fall. You left it on the mantelpiece— it lay there forgotten, collecting dust.

The last one to go away before your ring was the mug John convinced Sherlock to buy you—#1 Girlfriend in a pink, barbie font—you dropped it by accident one day. 

The mug cracked and so did your heart.

Stupid—you thought as you felt hot tears race down your cheeks, a sharp contrast to the cold outside. 

“I had no other choice—besides, I foolishly thought our relationship was strong enough to survive a few months. I was naïve—it took me this long to resolve everything. I think it’s fair though, I must admit, that I would say that you don’t love me anymore, judging by how you literally slammed me in the chest and proceeded to drop the most socially noticeable signifier of our relationship onto—well, a slab of concrete. That was your engagement ring—our engagement.” His words were harsher than the winter winds whooshing past them. His voice was unwavering despite visible tears rolling down his cheeks. His eyes were wounded,

“Don’t lecture me about our relationship, love, if that word still means anything to you after 2 years of being dead? Do you know how many nights I’ve spent, touching that ring—imagining that it was actually your face? I couldn’t send your coat—which you’re wearing right now, heaven knows how—for those 2 years just because I was scared I would lose your scent in the flat!” You shoved him away, and this time, he stepped back, shocked.

“I hate you so, so much. Why did you have to do this to me? All this time, seriously? Are you kidding me? Surely you’re kidding me. Surely. You couldn’t even bear to talk to me, huh? To give me even the slightest hint that you were, you know, not dead?” Pedestrians were staring as they walked past, keeping a safe distance away from the surely maniacal you. You started sobbing uncontrollably. You wanted to turn around and slam the door in Sherlock’s face. But you also wanted to kiss him—feel him, remind yourself of that fading sensation. Kiss him square on the mouth until both of you couldn’t utter anything but sweet nothings and ardent confessions of love. You wanted to bang your fists against him, but instead, you ended up burying your face into his coat—oh, he smelled just the same. Sandalwood and a delightful touch of old books. Focus. You’re angry—you reminded yourself.

“Forgive me, Y/N. It was for your safety. I’m sorry. I really am. How can I make it up to you?“ He tearily whispered into your ear, caressing your hair. To your heartbreak, you could feel his tears dripping down his face, onto your forehead. Your anger dissolved—it would be a lasting grudge, just like how his “death” would be a lasting scar in your heart, but for now, you couldn’t do anything but fall for him once again. You cried into his chest—you could hear his heartbeat. You grabbed his coat lapels and brought his face down to your face—now just barely a centimeter away. His eyes were overflowing with love and fear. You didn’t like that look in his eyes. You wanted them to be full of the former only.

“Kiss it away. Kiss it better. Kiss me, Sherlock. Kiss my scars away. I love you and I hate you—so kiss my hatred away. Simple math: we’ll be left with just love.” You murmured. 

His mouth attacked yours with its familiar swiftness and accuracy. Your lips, salty with tears, answered with equal enthusiasm. His tongue grazed over your bottom lip—he was unsure if a kiss of passion was appropriate in that moment. Screw his manners. You needed physical confirmation. 

“You know, faking your death wasn’t so gentlemanly either.” You cheekily said into his mouth—only to gently push your tongue into his mouth, capturing his mouth just like you longed to do for the past 2 years. Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open in surprise. He reciprocated the action, cupping your face with his hands—and oh, you could melt into his touch and stay there forever. The door creaked open behind you as his body pressed against yours, causing both of you to stumble backward into the building. 

He let out a needy breath as he—quite forcefully—slipped your ring back on your left hand. Heaven knows how he picked it up without you noticing. You hummed against his mouth. Taking advantage of the situation, you caught his hand—now retreating from your left hand—and pulled him flush against you. You did not want to allow a single inch between you two. Your hands were tangled up in his hair, pinky wrapped around a curl. Desperate to confirm each other’s physical presence, you two were hugging each other so tight that it was a surprise both of you were breathing—actually, you weren’t sure if you were breathing. 

All you could focus on were his warm lips on yours—the universe could have easily orbited around you two at that moment. As your heel touched the base of the stairs, he broke the kiss. He held you by one hand still entangled with your left and the other one on a suggestive spot near your waist. As you struggled to catch your breath, Sherlock opened his mouth once again. 

“Y/N, I thought about you every day, all day, even with the most dangerous criminals in the world—pressing a knife against my throat—all I could think of was you. But I couldn’t let my love come in front of your safety—you could’ve died. One text from me, and a sniper might have shot clear through your skull. Forgive me, Y/N. I love you so much—and I understand if you want me to go away, but please forgive me. I beg you.” Oh, how you couldn’t stay mad at this man for once. His sincerity bled through his usually sharp eyes, flowing down in teardrops over his cheekbones. You wiped his tears away and smiled through your own tears. 

“Sherlock, I’m not mad at you anymore—that doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you. But hey, at least I’m not mad at you anymore,” You let out a little laugh. “These are tears of joy. Of incredulousness. Of hopes and thankfulness.” You said, touching his face as if it were the most precious thing to ever exist in this world. Touching the curve of his nose. Following it down to his lips, wet from his tears and the kiss you just shared. All the way down to his chin. 

“I love you so, so much. Y/N. You do know that, right? Never doubt that, never. I don’t like saying never, as a detective, but this is the one time I’ll allow myself. Never doubt my love. Even when yours waver, mine won’t.” Sherlock hugged you tight, so tight you were afraid that you two might just become one—from what you felt, his coat was welding into your sweater and his ribcage was touching yours. 

“I love you more.” You said, a teary laugh falling from your lips. 

“That’s impossible.” He simply stated, holding your hands—leading you up towards your flat—your shared flat. The soon-to-be Holmes flat—as your ring, once again on your finger, reminded you.

“Be a sweetheart and beg for forgiveness again in the bedroom, won’t you, Mr. Holmes?” And it’s safe to say that he definitely begged for something in the bedroom—and not just forgiveness. 

[j-eryewrites]

We're back baby!

Here's a sneak peek into the next Arbitrary Lives chapter! Eek, I'm so excited to finally be writing again. God this will be such a fun chapter to write, and I can't wait for y'all to read what's to come between Y/N and Sherlock!

“Save your questions for the Inspector,” the officer replied.  Sherlock’s jaw clenched. He looked as if he wanted to strangle the man and add another body to the crime scene. Y/N grabbed Sherlock’s hand. Her finger intertwined delicately with his. Once interlocked, her thumb ran across his thumb to let him know he wasn’t alone. John and Y/N were there alongside him. Sherlock wasn’t alone.

[renx01]

Out of Sight - Part 8

I’m drowning in university assignments and trying to study for exams, but I finally got around to finishing this chapter (apparently miracles do happen). Anyhow, hope you all enjoy.

General idea: Moriarty is your boss. After he helped you out of a precarious situation when you were still a minor, you started working for him. Now, he has a new job for you. Get close to the Holmes brothers to keep an eye on them for him. Pairings: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mycroft Holmes/Reader  & Jim Moriarty/Reader Fandom: BBC Sherlock Word count: 1788

AO3

You see Jim before leaving the hospital. Sherlock and John are still busy in the lab, but you decided it would be best to leave. Besides, Mycroft had sent you a message to meet him.

‘Jim what the hell are you doing here?’ You ask after you’ve pulled him into one of the empty bathrooms. He just smirks and you let out a soft sigh. ‘He suspects nothing, by the way.’ You say quietly. ‘Oh, I know.’ ‘The underwear was a nice touch, really sold it.’ He lets out a chuckle. I lean back against the wall for a moment, looking at him. It’s odd seeing him like this, slightly dishevelled and wearing clothes that are awfully casual. ‘I have a meeting with the iceman tonight.’ That piques his curiosity. ‘Oh? I thought you’d met with him only a few days ago.’ You nod. ‘I did. I’m not certain what he wants to be honest.’ ‘Well, you’ve certainly gained his attention.’ Jim notes with a slight smirk. ‘Perhaps he’s melting.’ You raise an eyebrow at his comment. ‘I doubt that is the case. The only person he has a soft spot for is his brother.’ ‘You never know Spikey, anything can happen.’ He says in a sing-song voice and you let out a soft scoff. ‘Surely you’re joking.’ You deadpan. ‘I’m not. Please get as close to him as you possibly can. Do anything to gain his unwavering trust.’ He puts emphasis on that last word and you nod, eyes trained on his face.

‘Anything?’

‘Anything.’

‘Alright…’ you push yourself off of the wall and start walking to the door, ‘well, good luck cheering up your girlfriend tonight.’ Jim lets out a scoff. ‘I was planning to break up with her tonight, but I suppose I’ll wait another week.’ You let out the slightest chuckle. ‘Well, despite all that, don’t forget to have your fun with Sherlock. I’m looking forward to seeing what you have planned.’ ‘Oh I will, and I’m certain you will enjoy it.’

The door closes behind you and you start heading back to 221C. Being uncertain where you would be meeting Mycroft that night, you determine that you would probably be picked up by his assistant again. You nap for a short while before taking a shower and putting on some nicer clothes, consisting of a crisp white shirt, black pleated trousers, a dark grey jumper and some chelsea boots. No matter what you put on, you will likely always be underdressed compared to Mycroft, however, this should be good enough for most settings. At 18:55 you stand outside, umbrella above you keeping you dry from the pouring rain. At exactly seven o’clock, a black car pulls up and Anthea steps out and opens the car door for you. After closing the umbrella, you get in quickly and quietly, your black trench coat dragging behind you on the backseat before you fully settle in. Anthea joins you shortly thereafter and the car starts driving through the busy streets of London. You suppose you’ll be meeting him at some sort of restaurant, though you’re uncertain as to what he has planned.

The car comes to a halt after about thirty minutes. When you look outside, you’re still in the middle of London. You suppose traffic had been worse than expected. Anthea opens the door before motioning you to get out as well. Sliding out easily, you’re met by the shadow of an umbrella being held up for you. ‘Thank you.’ You say quietly before straightening your back and coming to your full height. When you do so, you realise that the person holding the umbrella is not, in fact, Anthea, but Mycroft Holmes himself. ‘Ah, mister Holmes, I didn’t realise it was you.’ His expression is as neutral as ever. ‘Do not fret it, Charlie.’ His gaze feels as if it’s burning into you. ‘And I told you to call me Mycroft. Now, shall we head inside?’ A slight nod is enough confirmation for him and he starts walking, you beside him. Inside, he closes his umbrella and hands his coat to one of the staff. You do the same before you’re led into the restaurant. The table you’re seated at is in a relatively quiet corner, out of the sight of most of the restaurant’s patrons. The both of you take a seat on opposite sides of the table. There’s a candle lighting it, but the restaurant is relatively dark otherwise.

‘To what do I owe this pleasure, Mycroft?’ You enquire carefully, your eyes scanning his face. He is wearing a dark grey (almost black), pinstriped, three piece suit that is tailored perfectly to him. His tie is a dark red and is the same colour as his pocket square. ‘I promised I would be reimbursing you for your pastry and tea yesterday, since you were adamant about paying it for yourself. Anyhow, with today’s developments, it only seemed fitting to meet so soon.’ His voice is smooth but calculated. ‘Certainly. I assume you wish to know the details of the case he’s working on?’ He nods and you start going into detail what had transpired that day, going from the details of where the shoes had been found to the pink phone and the phone call Sherlock had received on it.

‘He seemed to be close to solving it when I left the hospital, so I assume that the threat has been dealt with for now.’ You say casually as you sip your water. Mycroft nods before calling over the waiter and ordering a bottle of wine and some food for the two of you. Supposing it to be rude to refuse, you have dinner with him. Besides, as Jim had instructed, you’ll do anything to gain the iceman’s trust.

‘That’s good to hear…’ Mycroft muses as he sips his wine. ‘I’d like you to keep a closer eye on him as he solves this, what I suppose will be, series of connected cases.’ There’s a glint in his eye as he looks at you, remaining silent for a moment before speaking once more.

‘You’re a lot more clever than you let on at Scotland Yard or to my brother. I won’t pry into your reasons, but I do hope there can be a semblance of mutual trust and understanding between us.’

‘Of course, Mycroft.’ You show him a soft, kind smile, one you’d practiced many times and that had swooned many people, men, women, and other genders alike. ‘Our arrangement stands, and how I see it, I will do whatever it takes to get you the information you seek concerning Sherlock and his cases.’

‘Good.’ He says, slightly more relaxed.

‘Good.’ You nod.

The night progresses pleasantly, mostly speaking of cases and Sherlock. All of it is very surface level still, as you do not wish to pry just yet, it would not only be rude, but also awfully obvious. Instead, you listen to him speak about the political landscape and the monarchy before returning to the subject you have in common, Sherlock. As the night passes, the bottle empties, and you realize that you may have gone in and over your head. While you’re used to drinking some alcohol, this wine is heavy. Additionally, the food is paired with it so well that you just keep on drinking without truly realising the ramifications. Eventually, Mycroft calls for his driver to pick up the both of you, as he’d rather make sure you get home safely. As you get into the car, you realise how awfully considerate, and thus out of character this is for him, yet you do not question it out loud. Instead, you decide it may as well be a good sign in you gaining his trust.

The door of 221B, which also functions as the door to your apartment in 221C, comes into view after a short but silent ride. The tension between the two of you has been thick ever since getting into the car. Beforehand, Mycroft had helped you put on your coat before walking to the car with you under his umbrella. These gestures didn’t go unnoticed by you, but you remain uncertain as to what to make of it. Still, you suppose they’re a good sign, especially when it comes to completing your mission.

The car comes to a halt and Mycroft gets out, opening his umbrella in the pouring rain, before walking around the car and opening your door. ‘Thank you.’ You say as you take the hand he’s offered you. After closing the car door, he slowly walks you to the entrance of your flat, making sure not to get any rain on you. Turning to him, you speak once more. ‘This evening has been quite lovely, Mycroft.’ ‘It has indeed.’ He confirms, his eyes locked into your gaze. It flickers momentarily, his gaze focussing on your lips for a split second. It’s not much, but it’s enough.

Anything. Jim’s words repeat themselves in your head. This is the perfect opportunity, the iceman showing even the faintest sign of humanity, of the possibility of melting even the tiniest bit. You breathe in slowly as you continue to gaze at him, stepping forward slightly as to start closing the distance between the two of you. ‘Mycroft…’ Your voice is quiet, barely audible with the rain that’s pouring down onto the umbrella above you. ‘Yes?’ He asks just as quietly, stepping forward ever so slightly as well. Knowing he will not be the one to make the first move, you decide to be bold.

‘May I kiss you?’

He remains quiet, yet gives the slightest nod.

You close the distance and your lips capture his. The kiss is soft as your hand moves to rest upon his bicep while the other cups his cheek. After only a moment, you pull away slowly, opening your eyes and meeting his gaze once more. A moment passes before he leans back in himself, his lips hungry and wanting more. His free hand rests on your hip as he pulls you closer, wanting more. You let him, reciprocating the same energy he gives.

‘Join me.’ You whisper as he pulls back for a moment, catching his breath. ‘We shouldn’t.’ He says, yet his eyes linger and his touch remains.

Anything. The word repeats itself in your mind.

‘Please, Mycroft.’ You whisper as you squeeze his arm ever so slightly, eyes trained on his. You lean in and kiss him again when his gaze shifts to your lips once more. ‘Alright.’ He whispers as he pulls back once more. He lets you open the door and he follows inside, his car driving away as he closes his umbrella.

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Taglist: @h-malacus @thegirlwhosimpstoomuch @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek

[fallingforunrealisticromance]

The men you meet pt2 - Sherlock x reader

A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE!! I am so sorry it took so long, work has been draining the life out of me but i finished it and really hope you enjoy!!

PART ONE HERE

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: Swearing

****= Time skip

Masterlist

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

Everything had happened so fast. As soon as the metal touched your stomach you couldn't hear a thing. Your whole body felt numb as the voices swum through your ears. How could you have ben so stupid? How did you not clock it sooner? How did you-

"Y/N!" A voice shouted, snapping you back into reality.

"Shit Sherlock do something." It was John, he sounded scared.

Why was he scared? You blinked, trying to clear your vision. Since when had John become so blurry? You heard a shuffle of feet from behind john, whoever it was sounded rather erratic in their movements.

"Y/N? I need you stay awake for me okay? Don't close your eyes" John's voice sounded further away.

You felt something being firmly pressed against your stomach, causing you to look down. There was blood, so much blood. John's hands were covered in it. Your shirt was soaked through. Thats when the pain began to sweep in. Your mind catching up with your body. An excruciating burning sensation overtook you, your head falling back as you let out a scream.

"It's okay, you're going to be okay. The ambulance is almost here."

Those were the last things you remember hearing before everything faded to black.

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

A constant high pitched beeping noise flooded into your head, waking you from your sleep. You tried to reach to your side, to turn off what you assumed was your alarm clock. But the tearing pain that shot through you brought you swiftly back into real life. You winced as you peeled your eyes open, the harsh lights glaring onto you. You blinked a few times in an attempt to adjust to the world around you.

"Y/N? You're awake" A voice came from beside you.

A warm hand wrapped itself gently around your own and for the first time since you'd opened your eyes, you noticed the other people in the room with you. The hand wrapped around your belonged to Mary, who looked at you with a tearful smile. john stood just behind her talking to what looked liked Lestrade. "

Hi" The words scratched your throat as you spoke.

"How are you feeling? How’s the pain?" Mary asked, her tone full of concern.

"It's...manageable" You replied. Your head was spinning trying to get a grasp of the situation.

"What happened?" You asked.

"You really don't remember? You were dating Moriarty and he-"

"no, I know that" You snapped, cutting Mary off.

Just the mentioned of his name was enough to send a wave of nausea running through you.

"I mean how did i get here? How long have I been here? What happened to Moriarty? Where’s Sherlock?" You reeled off a bunch of questions as your thoughts raced.

"Hey, y/n its okay. Calm down" john said, joining the conversation.

You hadn't even realised the rapid increase of your breathing as you panicked. You took a few deep breaths, not wanting to work yourself up more than necessary.

"please just... someone tell me what the hell is going on?" You pleaded, looking desperately at them.

You could see the sorrow and sympathy held in johns gaze and it made you want to hide away from everyone. You couldn't bare them seeing you like this, knowing that the only person to blame for this situation was yourself. Guilt tangled its way around your mind, followed by a million self deprecating thoughts. You should have been smarter. You should have known better than to trust a man you barely knew. You should have seen the signs. You should have known.

"Moriarty is still missing." John spoke, his words cutting through your thoughts momentarily.

"After he hurt you, he just left. neither sherlock or I stopped him, we should've. Sherlock wanted to run after him but we were terrified about what would happen if we left you. I mean you were quite literally bleeding out Infront of us." He explained, his words making you flinch slightly at the memory. "By the time we'd got you in the ambulance and brought here to the hospital, there was no sign of him."

"We've been looking everywhere, I’ve had units out every day." Lestrade commented. "But he's good at what he does. If he doesn't want to be found, I don’t think he will be"

John shot Greg an annoyed look.

Despair filled your heart. He was still out there. He knew everything about you - where you lived, where you worked, who your friends were - and he was still roaming around freely in the world.

"How reassuring of you Gary" A sarcastic voice you knew all to well came.

The group around you turned, revealing Sherlock standing in the doorway. Any other time you would have been excited to see him, but right now you wanted nothing more than to run away. You saw his gaze shift to you, eyes locking for a split second before you turned away.

"Its Greg" Lestrade mumbled under his breath.

"Moriarty can't hide forever. I'll make sure he's found and held accountable. I'm not letting him get away with this" Sherlock replied confidently.

"He already has" You sighed quietly.

Sherlocks brow furrowed at your words. "What do you mean?"

"Well I’m in hospital aren’t I?" You shot back, annoyance evident in your voice.

"Well yes but-"

"But nothing sherlock. I don’t doubt that he was only using me to get close to you, which he also succeeded in, but he's also completely destroyed my life. And I can imagine that was also part of his plan. So quite frankly, he's already gotten away with it." You could feel a rage growing inside of you.

You weren't even sure who you were angry at, yourself maybe? All you knew was that there was nothing the others could do or say to make this situation better.

"Your life is hardly over y/n. You suffered an injury yes but you will heal and be back on your feet in no time." Sherlock replied, gesturing at your body.

"I’m not talking about the physical side of things you idiot" You semi shouted, your tone taking the detective by surprise. "How the hell am I ever supposed to go back to work, or go to a coffee shop or even leave the fucking house knowing that he could be out there at any moment. How will I ever be able to fall asleep feeling safe in my own home when he quite literally violated any peace I may of had there?!"

A silence descended over the room as they all stared at you, shocked by your outburst. You weren't sure why they were, it seemed like a perfectly reasonable reaction to you given the circumstances.

"Y/n-"

"Can you actually all just leave? I don’t have the energy to deal with this right now okay."

"But-"

"Just get out" You yelled, not looking at them.

After a few moments, they all reluctantly left your room. Mary patted your hand comfortingly as she'd left and part of you began to feel bad for yelling. But as the door clicked shut and your head fell back against the pillow, you didn't have it in you to care about how they felt anymore. Tears flowed down your face as you stared at the grey panelled ceiling in your eyeline. What the hell were you going to do now?

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

“Can you please just come out already? Your going to use all the bloody hot water” Johns muffled voice grumbled through the bathroom door.

It had been a week since you’d been discharged from the hospital and returned to baker street. Everyone was being kind, suffocatingly so. They were all treating you like you were something delicate – like an expensive China set that’s meant to only be put on display and never used in case it broke. There was someone with you at all times. They tried to be discreet about it; Mrs Hudson offering you a game of trivial pursuit every time john and sherlock left, Mary conveniently always being available whenever you decided to venture out of the flat, even Molly got roped into it once when she turned up in your bedroom randomly saying she felt like staying the night. But it was painfully obvious that they were scared. Scared of what would happen if you were left alone. Scared that Moriarty would find his way back to you.

“Honestly, there’s nothing to worry about. Moriarty isn’t stupid enough to go after you twice. Especially not with us all around.” Sherlock said flippantly as you watched him from the sofa. He tried to sound convincing, and he would’ve managed if you hadn’t noticed the way he subtly adjusted his blazer collar. Something you only ever saw him do when he was uncomfortable. Even he didn’t believe you were safe.

You pulled your knees to your chest, your head resting against them as the water washed over you. Being watched all the time was driving you insane, you hated feeling weak and that’s exactly how they were making you feel. You knew it came from a good place, but it was making everything worse. You were forced to act fine, as if the previous events had no impact on you whatsoever. But that simply wasn’t true. You were hardly sleeping – being plagued with the nasty vision of Jim every time you closed you eyes. You couldn’t eat – feeling sick to your stomach any time you even saw a meal. The only moment of peace you felt was when you were sat under the shower, letting the sound and feeling of the warm water rushing over your body drown out all the noise. Which is where you had currently been for the last half an hour. John was definitely right about you using all the hot water but realistically that was the last thing on your list of things to care about right now.

After a few more muffled shouts from the other side of the door, your peace had been well and truly ruined. You sighed, standing up and turning the water off. The cold hit your body immediately and with it returned the hollow feeling inside your chest. Reluctantly you grabbed your towel and wrapped it around yourself quickly, hoping to avoid seeing the scarring that had been left on your stomach.

“Finally” A rather annoyed looking john greeted you as you swung the door open, a cloud of steam following after you.

You didn’t reply, you just rolled your eyes walking past him.

“You seem to be spending longer in the shower on a more frequent basis” Sherlocks voice called out to you.

You turned, your wet hair sticking to your skin as you did so. He was sat in his chair, a newspaper in hand as he casually turned the page.

“How observant” You replied sarcastically.

Your tone had more of an edge to it then you’d intended which obviously caught his attention. His hands stilled in their movements and you could practically hear his mind turning.

“People only do that when they’re trying to get away from something” He counted, placing the paper down so he could look at you properly.

“Well that’s good to know” You chuckled, hoping to sound more okay than you felt.

Your eyes wandered around the living room unable to meet Sherlocks. The truth was that since you’d been home it felt almost impossible to be around him. The whole reason you had been in that coffee shop, the whole reason you’d met Moriarty, was because you were trying to move past your feelings for the detective. Now it wasn’t that you blamed him – how could you? Its not like he knew how you felt – but being around him was a constant reminder of how reckless you had been. And it hurt. On top of that, you were still hopelessly in love with him.

“You know deflecting really won’t help you” Sherlock stated, his fingers interlocked over him lap.

His eyes scanned you, as if he was trying to decipher every thought you’d ever had. And knowing him he’d probably be able to.

“Okay, sure whatever” You replied nonchalantly, turning to head back to your room.

“I wasn’t done talking to you”

“But I was done talking to you.”

“don’t just walk away from me”

“Sherlock I am literally wet and naked in a towel right now. I am not about to engage in some ridiculous deep conversation right now. Let me go and get dressed at least” You groaned, your rolling your eyes at him.

He blinked a few times faster than normal and you swore you could see a hint of a blush creeping onto his cheeks. Clearly your words had had an effect. You smirked to yourself before turning and entering your room.

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

You emerged a few moments later, having crawled back into your go to tracksuit trousers along with one of your favourite hoodies.

“Do you actually own any other clothes?” John commented with a small chuckle as you slumped down onto the sofa, curling your legs up under yourself.

“Haha your sooo funny john, look at me laughing” You said, staring at him with a straight face before your lips turned up in the smallest smile.

“I know honestly, I am a world class comedian me.” He replied, closing his laptop before standing. “Right, I’m off. Meant to be taking Mary out to dinner and if I miss our reservation again ill never hear the end of it”

He moved around the room collecting his things before waving a goodbye to you and closing the door behind him. A silence filled the room, which normally you would relish in – but now with you and sherlock being alone, you just knew he was going to try and talk to you. You were right.

“About earlier-“

“Look Sherlock you were right. I was sort of hiding I guess in the shower. I just had a massively long day at work and was just tired. I didn’t even realise how long it had been” You rushed to explain, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the lies you were telling.

But of course considering the way your life decided to pan out, that didn’t happen. He narrowed his eyes at you as he shifted to face you better.

“Why do you feel the need to lie to everyone? Why can’t you jut be honest about things?” His tone was harsher than you had expected it, and it pissed you off.

How dare he have an attitude about the way you were deciding to deal with things.

“It’s better than shooting holes in the wall. Or sticking a needle in my arm to get so high I can’t even remember my own name” You replied, glaring at him.

It may have been a bit of an overreaction, but at this point you didn’t care. You just wanted to be left alone.

“There you go again, deflecting onto me rather than taking a moment to actually tell me what’s going on” His words caused a bitter chuckle to escape you.

“What’s going on? What’s going on sherlock is that I almost fucking died in my own home.” Your voice was getting slightly louder, the anger inside you only building.

You stood up from the sofa suddenly feeling restless. Maybe you did blame him for you being in that coffee shop.

“And since then, everyone in my life has been tiptoeing around me like I’m a bomb just waiting to blow the whole lot of you to shit. And I am exhausted. I don’t need to be smothered, it’s driving me insane.”

You hadn’t even realised you’d began pacing until you noticed Sherlock making his way towards you. He placed his hands on your shoulder, causing you to stop mid pace.

“We are just trying to look out for you. We don’t want you to feel like your alone”

“Well I do!!” You shouted, moving out of his grasp as your emotions overcame you.

A flicker of hurt was evident in the detectives eyes as his hands fell from you.

“I want a fucking moment to just wallow in my pain. I want to have a moment by myself to beat myself up for being so naïve, to be able to actually be fucking upset about losing someone who I thought cared about me. I want to be allowed to grieve  my way through this without someone shoving false happiness down my throat.”

Sherlock stared, his eyes fixed on your rapid breathing and shaky appearance. He’d known you were hiding your feelings, but he’d never expected such an outburst.

“I was alone before all of this and I want to be alone after it. I am sick and tired of being under constant supervision.” Your words caused Sherlocks gaze to snap and meet your frantic eyes.

“What do you mean you were alone before?” His voice was quiet, an odd contrast to your erratic tone.

You just scoffed. “You know exactly what I meant”

“No, I don’t. Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked.”

“Sherlock its not a secret I’m no ones first choice around here. Mary has john, john has you, Molly has tom – hell even Lestrade has Donavon and they aren’t even that close. Everyone has someone and that’s fine I know where I stand. But now with this whole Moriarty thing, I’m like a shiny new toy in a playset.”

You knew how you sounded. Ungrateful, bitter. And you shouldn’t, they were just trying to support you, yet you couldn’t find it in you to be okay with it.

“So just do what you all do best, and leave me to deal with this my way. Please” You begged, your voice desperate as you looked at him with tired eyes.

His heart shattered in his chest, noting the exhaustion that was evident in your appearance.

“I’m not leaving you alone y/n.” His voice was gentle, as if he was scared he would startle you. “I’ll give you space, and the others will, if that’s what you need. But in no world am I leaving you alone to deal with this. I’m sorry if you felt that way before, truly that was never my intention. You’ve always meant a great deal to me, more than most. And the fact that I failed to show you that is a shame.” He watched you intently trying to gauge your reaction.

You couldn’t take it. His tone, his soft gaze. Everything about him was making your heart yearn for him.

“Do you know why I was in that coffee shop? The day I met Moriarty?” Your eyes had begun pricking with tears, your heart pounding as you spoke.

The detective shook his head but remained silent letting you continue.

“You.”

The silence hung in the air for a moment. Sherlock looked confused, his face scrunching up slightly as he tried to understand what you meant.

“I love you Sherlock. I’m in love with you. I have been pretty much for as long as I’ve known you. You were driving me insane, having no regard for your life or wellbeing. And it was all getting to be too much. So I went to the coffee shop to clear my head and- well you know the rest” The confession fell from your lips as you averted your gaze.

A few stray tears slipped down your face but you didn’t bother to wipe them away.

“I can’t be around you. Because every time I see you, I’m reminded that the depth of love I have for you is the thing that caused all of this pain.” Your spoke barley above a whisper.

Your chest clenched almost as if your body was rejecting the words. But you couldn’t lie to him anymore. You didn’t have the energy. Sherlocks mind was reeling, trying to process everything you’d just said.

“I…” He didn’t know what to say.

“Do you know what the worst part is?”

He shook his head not able to give you a verbal response at the moment.

“That as much as it pains me to be around you, I can’t help but yearn to be near you.” You stared at him, the love radiating through you.

His gaze softened a your words warmed his heart. He’d always known he cared for you in an entirely different and deeper way compared to the others in his life. But until this moment, he hadn’t realized that it was love. Or just how deep it ran.

Without much thought, he took a few steps towards you grasping your face his hands and crashing his lips to yours. His thumbs stroked your cheeks as his lips moulded perfectly against yours, moving with such ease as if he’d done this a thousand times before. You gasped slightly at the contact – never in a million years did you expect this from him – but in no time at all, you relaxed into the kiss. Your hands moved to his shirt, tugging him towards you in an attempt to remove any distance that remained.

He pulled away as his chest pressed against yours. His face hovered inches away from yours, one of his hands threading through your hair. A smile washed its way over him as he admired your beauty. All you could see in his eyes was pure, unwavering love. You smiled back at him, a genuine happiness filling you for the first time in what felt like years. He pulled your lips back to his, manoeuvring you until your back hit the wall with a gentle thud. You arched your body into his as an arm wrapped around your waist. His lips explored yours as if he was trying to memorize every curve of you against him.

“Hey, the restaurant closed early so we figured we’d come back here and- holy shit” The two of you jerked away from each other, Johns voice startling you.

You turned to see him standing next to Mary, his eyes wide as he mouth hung open. Mary just grinned, giving you a small nod of approval. You glanced over at sherlock, noticing the slight dishevelment of his appearance where you’d been pressed up against him. Your lips were warm with the feeling of him, already wanting it back.

“What. The. Fuck.” John finally said.

“Uh…hi” You replied awkwardly, your face going red from embarrassment. “

How- When did- You-“ He stumbled over his words, dumbfounded. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Get over yourself john, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen two people kiss surely” He shot you a playful look, causing you to chuckle.

“No, but its most definitely the first time I’ve seen you kiss someone. And quite frankly I never expected it to be our flatmate.” He said, throwing his hands up in the air. “

You didn’t? I was wondering what was taking them so long” Mary commented with a chuckle.

“You were?” You and john asked in unison.

“Yes!! The tension between the two of you has been palpable. Honestly its been insane to watch you both skirt around your feelings for months now” She said it like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“I thought I was being quite subtle” You replied, folding your arms over your chest in embarrassment.

Mary laughed “You do realise I used to be like a super-secret spy. It wasn’t hard to figure out”

“He’s the one of the smartest people around and a detective for Christ’s sake, and he didn’t know” You said indignantly, gesturing to sherlock beside you.

“That my friend is because he has no idea how to handle emotions” Mary replied, shooting him a smile.

“Okay so wait, what does this mean? Are you two like…together now or what?” John asked looking entirely lost.

You shifted nervously in your spot, not wanting to look at sherlock. Truthfully you were thinking the same thing, you just hadn’t expected to be put on the spot like this. Mary smacked john on the arm.

“You don’t just ask things like that, honestly.” She rolled her eyes, taking his hand in hers. “We’ll leave you two to talk”

“But-“

“Oh stop whining” Mary dragged john back out of the flat and downstairs.

The nerves filled you as your hands shook slightly.

“So…” You said, trying to alleviate the tension in the room. “I’m gonna go-“

“No wait” Sherlock cut you off. “Listen y/n I…” He took a deep breath; he looked anxious. “You know me. Better than most people. So I think its safe to say you know I’m not great with emotions or talking about feelings.”

You chuckled in agreement.

“But this, what I feel for you…it’s more powerful than anything I’ve ever experienced. I don’t claim to know quite how all these relationships work but I do know that I would love to figure it out. With you.” He concluded, intertwining his fingers with yours. “What do you think?” He waited with bated breath for your response.

He could feel his heart banging against his ribcage as if it was trying to escape his body.

“I think…there’s nothing I would love more” You replied, beaming at him.

He let out a sigh of relief as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. Your head buried against his chest, finally feeling a long sense of comfort.

You didn’t know where this would go, or what else could happen to you. Moriarty was still out there, and none of you knew what his full plan was. But somehow, having sherlock by your side, made the whole thing seem that much easier.  

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Taglist: @summer-is-0v3r @starlightaurorab @acumberlockedgirl @poemfreak306

[ladylaviniya]

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