#henry cavill enola holmes

[beyondthefold]

HENRY CAVILL as SHERLOCK HOLMES Enola Holmes (2020) | dir. Harry Bradbeer

[queeringclassiclit]

Which adaptation of Sherlock Holmes is the most queer?

*not including House M.D. because it's not really an adaptation, or any overtly queer pastiches like My Dearest Holmes or The Adventure of the Furtive Festivity because that's not really a fair contest

[stevenrogered]

Sherlock Holmes? [Yes…?] I’m here for my appointment. You’re seeking a flatmate?

ENOLA HOLMES 2 (2022)

[userkhael]

HENRY CAVILL as Sherlock Holmes In Enola Holmes 2 (2022), Dir. Harry Bradbeer

CHAOTIC SHERLOCK BONUS:

[the-girl-from-another-time]

It’s not an Enola Holmes movie unless Henry Cavill attractively lounges in a (politely) slutty way.

[princessaxoxo]

Strangers to Lovers Part 1

Originally thought of as a one-shot but decided to make it a two-part series.

A/N: This is no longer a two-part, there will be multiple parts.

Sherlock x reader

Summary: Being Enola’s sitter was an adventure, but not as much as falling for her brother, Sherlock.

Warnings: NSFW, 18 Only, sex (p in v), cussing, masturbation (f receiving)

If I’m missing any please let me know.

Word Count: 2k+

When Enola was younger, her mother sought you out to take care of her. You accepted gleefully. Meeting Enola for the first time was unlike any other; at the ripe age of eight, she was a daredevil, a venturesome young lady.

After spending most of your time with her, you soon met her brothers, Sherlock and Mycroft. Sherlock was charming but reserved. Mycroft was shrewd and practical.

You are able to read people without fault. It was easy to tell Mycroft wasn’t fond of you. Sherlock wasn’t so easy; he kept a blank expression around you. The difference was that he put in the time and effort to talk and get to you.

Little did you know, he was very fond of you; you were constantly on his mind.

He couldn’t help but analyze every part of you—the way you licked your lips, how you scrunched your eyebrows together when you got confused, the lines on your face from how much you smiled.

When you weren't paying attention, he let his eyes roam downward, noticing how your breasts looked when you breathed in, your delicate fingers, and the beauty of your legs that he wanted to kiss.

It wasn't ethical, but he couldn't care less.

You often found yourself thinking about him as well; you would let your eyes linger on him longer than allowed, especially for a lady.

Especially late at night like now, you were wondering what would happen if the two of you found yourselves in a room alone.

You closed your eyes, imagining him, his curly brown hair, his blue eyes, and that smirk he would occasionally show. Slowly brush your fingers between your thighs, thinking they are his.

As you started to picture his eyes that were looking up at you as he placed kisses between your thighs, you pulled down your panties.

You soon found your clit, making small circles. "Mhm,” a small moan left your lips. Moving your fingers down, you entered two of your fingers, moving them in and out.

You started to pick up your pace. “Oh, Sherlock," you let slip out, still imagining him.

Your pussy squeezed around your fingers, arching your back and moaning his name embarrassingly. You opened your eyes, your brain still in a haze from your orgasm, but he still hadn’t left your mind.

Trying to keep up with Enola was tricky; she kept you on your toes. Her excitement always made your day. At the moment, she was hiding; that was the game of the day. Hide and seek: her version was far more difficult.

She would leave small clues, making you think you’re on the right track, but it’s quite the opposite.

Walking around the house, you were checking each room thoroughly. A door at the end of the hall was already open; you checked inside, noticing it appeared empty.

“Enola, Enola, sweetie, where are you?” You walked into the room, searching as if you were a detective. You saw a desk, which she could easily hide under. Walking around it, you bent down to check.

But, of course, no luck.

“What are you looking for?” You accidentally hit your head, and his voice made you jump.

"Ow!” you winced, rubbing your head to ease the throbbing pain. Sherlock walked over to you, offering his hand.

“Enola is hiding; I’m looking for her. I saw the door was open, so I decided to check.”

He nodded his head. “Would you like some help? I have an idea of where she could be."

“Yes, she doesn't make it easy,” you chuckled awkwardly, looking down, your heart pounding out of your chest.

He put his thumb underneath your chin, making you look at him. “Let’s go” 

You followed him, finding Enola hiding in a closed-off room.

She had a laughing fit, making fun of you for taking so long and having to involve her older brother to help. Enola left the room, leaving only you and Sherlock. You started to follow her, but Sherlock stopped you.

“Let me make sure you’re okay; you hit your head hard.”

He took you back to his office, guiding you down on his leather loveseat. He started checking you for a concussion and then brought you a cold pack for the small bump that was forming on your scalp.

He sat next to you, making you stiff. “Thank you for helping me,” you said, looking over at him. “It’s my pleasure, y/f/n."

It was getting dark out; you had to leave, but you wanted to stay here with him. “I should go home; it’s almost night out."

Sherlock didn’t want that to happen; his question could go wrong. But he wanted you to himself, if only for tonight.

“Would you want to stay for the night? I would be delighted to keep you company.”

You were taken aback by his question. Your answer was yes, but nothing came out. His facial expression turned worrisome. “Don’t worry about it”, "Yes,” you said eagerly, hoping he didn’t take notice. “Yes, I would be happy to stay.”

You showed a calm facade, but that’s not how you were feeling.

He began to show you his work and what interested him. “Do you wish for a drink?”, He was pouring himself one. "No, thank you; I don’t drink,” you said with a small smile.

Your eyes were scanning his wall, which had a map covering it with small dots placed in certain places.

He stood next to you, drink in hand, watching you concentrate on his work.

You turned to look at him, and you smiled. “Yes?” You were unsure of why he was looking at you in such a way. But then he lowered his head and kissed you.

After he kissed you, your eyes widened in surprise. But that surprise soon turned into enjoyment.

You cupped his face while he placed his hand on your lower back. He tried to set down his drink with his eyes closed, but it fell and shattered on the floor. Neither of you faltered from the enchanting kiss.

He pushed you backward, lifting and placing you on top of his desk. Your thoughts were running wild; was this really going to happen? Your questions were answered when he roamed his large hands under your dress. treading lightly, his hands hovering once they reached closer to your core.

He wanted this; he had imagined it countless times in his head. But he couldn’t go rough with you like he wanted; this wasn't normal, and this shouldn’t be happening since the two of you weren't married. And a woman like you? He thought, wasn’t someone you just fucked and then left in the morning? That was not you.

You hated that he was going slow; he was starting to pull away, but an instinct in you grabbed him by his hips and pulled him forward harder.

“I want this, Sherlock; don’t be gentle with me. I want you."

Hearing you say those words broke Sherlock's facade. He snapped, locking your legs tightly around his waist as he walked the both of you over to his leather couch. He laid you down, hovering above you, teasing you with his mouth.

He stood up, removing his bowtie, followed by his vest and white shirt. His chest, his chest—you couldn’t wait to roam your hands up and down his hairy chest. You let a moan out just by the look of him; he got on top of you, recklessly ripping your own clothes off.

He took a long look at you, salivating. He needed to get inside of you.

His kisses were sloppy with need, as were yours. You were getting wetter by the second, and yet he hadn’t really touched you. “Touch me, please."

He snacked his hands down to your clit, rubbing circles while kissing and sucking on your neck. You held his head, moaning his name. He left my neck and came face-to-face with me. “You want me inside of you? Do you want my cock to fill your pussy?”

“Please, yes, I need you."

Removing his pants eagerly, he lined his cock up, smoothly coaxing his cock in my wetness, before deeply entering slowly at first, then removing before entering again faster each time.

Your nails are scratching at his back, making him grunt in your ear. “Your pussy is so tight around me; it feels so fucking good.”

You wanted him deeper in you; you wanted to feel every inch of him. "I want to feel all of you.

He thrust his hips rougher this time, your back arched, and that gave him a chance to put his arm underneath you to change positions. Now, sitting up right, you are on his lap, riding him. He helped you with his hands on your hips, guiding you to bounce up and down.

“God, you are memorizing.”

His eyes were rolling to the back of his head as he closed them. “Just like that, baby,” he grabbed a hold of your breasts, squeezing them gently and rubbing your nipples, making them erect and pleasurable going through you.

His curly hair covered his face, brushing back just as he grabbed the back of your neck, forcing you forward. His tongue danced with yours, so far down your throat that you sucked on it.

His lips were soft; they had you memorized in a daze, moaning into his mouth. You felt yourself coming.

“Sherlock, fill me up with your seed."

“You want my seed? Want to feel it dripping down your thighs?"

"Yes, please, yes. I’m cumming on your cock."

You pulsated around him, your thighs shaking, and you saw stars in your vision as you came on his cock.

He stopped his movements, his nails digging into your skin as he groaned aloud, his head falling forward onto your chest. Both of you were heaving, trying to regain your breathing.

The smell of sex radiating in the room and the glistening sweat off of your and Sherlock’s bodies made this moment intimate. One you hadn't shared with another.

After the night you and Sherlock shared in his office, the both of you fell deeply in love. Sharing every passing moment with one another. And when the both of you weren't together, you were thinking about each other.

He told you countless stories about his endeavors, what he’s done, and the kinds of cases he’s received and solved.

Enola was so happy; she thought of you as a sister already, but now she couldn’t contain her excitement about how the both of you would end up being family.

You pretended not to notice at times the way Sherlock would stare at you; he would admire you from afar, from your side profile, any time he got the chance.

You were certain that nothing would break the two of you apart or that he would break your heart.

So you thought...

One day, out of the blue, Sherlock didn't meet you at the time planned; you were at his house, waiting for him to come home.

You were taken by surprise when you heard a person knock at his door, and you went to open it. A postman handed you a letter and left abruptly. You shut the door and sat down. It was signed with your name.

Opening the letter, you started to read what it said.

You read the letter over and over again until you couldn’t anymore.

This couldn’t be true, you thought; he couldn’t have left you.

He loved you. No, no, he loves you. So this couldn’t be the end.

You waited all night to hear the front door open. To hear his voice call out for you, but by the time you saw the sun rising, you knew he had left. He was gone. You fell to the ground with an uncontrollable sob. The tears never ended. You began to hyperventilate; it felt as if your oxygen was cut off.

You were at home as your tears started to stop; now you felt your blood boil.

He is a coward.

He couldn't even face you; had he that little respect for you?

A person who loves you does not treat you in such a way.

Your face was red, and your eyes weren’t brimming with sadness anymore but with anger.

You weren't going to let him hurt you in this way again. He wouldn't get the chance.

But everyone does have a weakness... He happens to be yours, and you his.

Part 2

[nkp1981]

Henry Cavill

[kizzys]

Enola Holmes 2 (2022) dir. Harry Bradbeer

[ithebookhoarder]

En Garde (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

Synopsis: Your husband has always been protective of you, given his line of work. However, when he offers to teach you the basics of self-defence, it quickly becomes clear that his intentions may not be quite so innocent after all... 

Warnings: Mild reference to bodily harm, light smutty behaviour, spoilers for the second film.

A/N: Oh, how I’ve missed Enola Holmes. I loved the books, and the films are just as great in their own way, so expect a bit of spam for the next few weeks - apologies in advance. 

Masterlist

“Now, try again-”

“-Sherlock-”

“No. Come on. Focus, darling. Once more, from the beginning. Eyes forward-” 

Oh, that was it. 

You were going to kill your husband. Slowly… and painfully… It would be the least he deserved, torturing you as he was. 

“Call me ‘darling’ one more time, husband,” you warned dangerously, “and see if I don’t shove this sword in your direction.” 

Why you agreed to this in the first place was beyond you, given that the day had so far been much more satisfying for him rather than you. 

After all, it had been Sherlock’s idea to help teach you the basics of self-defence - throwing a punch, dodging one, along with the fundamentals for using weapons such as a pistol, club, and now a sword (although when he thought you’d be in such a position to use one, you weren’t sure). 

Given his profession and the fact that his cases often lead to unplanned consequences, it had seemed a rather sensible idea at the start. His recent run in with the infamous Inspector Grail had rattled him, helpless to protect Enola everyone involved in the case from harm. 

Luckily, they had all survived, if not a little worse for wear - most of which was down to your skilled hands, having sewn, cleaned, and bandaged each and every wound they presented you with following the confrontation. 

You had seen the pain etched into Sherlock’s face that night, as you had helped wipe the blood from Enola’s head where she had been struck. He may have often denied having emotions, but the brotherly love and concern was all too clear to you as he seemed to blame himself somehow for failing to protect her. 

So, now, Sherlock was determined to equip you with the tools you may need should a similar situation ever arise. It made it an easy yes, to agree to his tutelage in the hopes of soothing both his and your concerns. That, and dare you even say it sounded like fun? 

Well, fun for you, yes, but evidently even more fun for your husband as it turned out.

Indeed, Sherlock was certainly a ‘hands-on’ kind of teacher and it had become clear early on that his focus was not entirely on developing your skills in combat. You didn’t have to be the detective to notice how his hands kept drifting to places they didn’t belong, or that his eyes seemed to be capitalising on the opportunity to observe your form in tight trousers as you lunged about the room. 

And that wasn’t the worst of it - in fact, for the past half an hour, he had been standing behind you, his chest pressed to your back, one of his hands covering yours as it gripped the hilt of the sword - or the foil, as he had informed you. 

As for the other, it was rather distracting, pressed against your stomach so as to allow your husband to correct your stance… or so he claimed, as he pulled you closer once again. 

“That’s it,” you huffed, trying and failing to ignore the sudden shiver that ran down your spine as he ground against you. “You are certainly having too much fun. Perhaps I should have asked Enola or Edith to be my tutor instead. At least they can be trusted to remain professional.” 

He scoffed, not sounding the least bit ashamed at the accusation.

“You wound me, wife,” he murmured, his lips grazing against your cheek, “After all, was it not you who said you didn’t wish to be a ‘maiden in need of rescuing’ should anyone wish you harm?”

“You know that I am neither a maiden, nor in need of rescuing, Mr Holmes.” Turning your head, you were quick to return the favour, letting your lips graze his teasingly. His soft groan was enough of a sign that your efforts appeared to be working. 

Two could play this game. 

“In fact, the only person I seem to need rescuing from right now is you, and your wandering hands.” 

You felt his laughter shaking through him, making it hard not to laugh yourself as he began peppering kisses to your neck. 

Clearly your lesson in swordplay would have to wait; it appeared he had a different kind of physical activity planned for you both. 

[feelsforsterek]

[beyondthefold]

HENRY CAVILL as SHERLOCK HOLMES Enola Holmes 2 (2022) | dir. Harry Bradbeer

[sillyrabbit81]

Henry Cavill's shoulders appreciation post

[winchestress]

it’s nov 5 and new johnlock just dropped babes

[acecroft]

HENRY CAVILL as Sherlock Holmes in Enola Holmes 2 (2022)

[zacksnydered]

#whore behavior

[ughmerlin]

#a story in three acts