#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

[ladylaviniya]

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞

[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.  

______________________________________________________________

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

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Master Post VII - Completed!

Hey everyone! Please find all the new requests below! Hoping to be able to complete it quicker than the last one. Thanks again to everyone that writes in! - May 16th 2023

Sherlock Holmes

The mark of a kiss - Sherlock's other sister solves a mystery involving the notorious Tommy Shelby. - June 24th 2023

Irene - The Reader is not impressed with Sherlock's long-time friend. SMUT

Peaky Blinders

Teddy Bear pt 2 - Follow up to this story - About Alfie finding a little girl who lives on the streets - Alfie Solomons & Adoptive Daughter - May 20th 2023

Allergies - Thomas meets an unspeakable setback as he welcomes his new daughter into the world.

Come on Barbie - Thomas Sits back and wonders how girl manages her crazy lifestyle.

Not a child anymore - Tommy struggles with his daughter as she starts exploring the world of dating - After falling for Isaiah he catches them and all hell breaks loose

Enemies make the best lovers - Reader and Thomas are well-known rivals when a business trip from hell forces them to work together they must overcome their rocky past

Bullet Train

Values - Follow-ups to this series

First day of school

The wedding

Adopt a Fruit - A young girl falls into the hands of our two favorite assassins

Baby Girl - Tangerine and the Reader get caught in a sticky situation and he finally understands the effect he has on her - smut

Harry Potter

Peaky Magic - follow up to this story - where Harry is raised by the reader (a witch who was part of the marauders) & Thomas Shelby

Spidey-Pool

The Amazing Panic Attack - Peter has a panic attack after saving someone that looks like Gwen. After being MIA Wade comes to find him, and after a whole lot of comfort their relationship takes a new direction.

[yyutsuu]

Information + Masterlist

———

I had some trouble with the gmail I previously used, on my previous account, I have successfully figured it out and will continue to post on this account

(Please someone help me how do you work tumblr 😭😭)

Note that there most likely will be some sort of spoiler if you are not up to date with the series

I absolutely adore sherliam and William, so if I currently do not have any requests, expect sherliam or William posts.

(No exceptionally fancy layout because I am not able to figure how Tumblr works 💀💀)

———

Under normal circumstances, I will post once a week, though the amount of days may be shortened or extended by little amounts. That is depending on what I need to get finished during the week, since I usually try to fulfill requests.

I am currently taking requests.

Note that I will not write all requests, depending on the character and scenario (I may ignore a request if I know absolutely nothing about the topic or have not a clue on how to write it), processing time for any request may take up to weeks.

What I will write:

Fluff

Angst

Lime

-Extremely thin chance I will write actual NSFW, maybe a few head cannons-

Character x reader insert

Character x character

Romantic relationship

Platonic relationship

Mostly gender neutral reader

If not requested and involves body parts will mostly be gender neutral

If no detail on gender and involves some type of body part I will go with male

(Will update if I realize I have forgotten anything)

What I will not write:

As said before most likely no NSFW except head cannons

Lime of underage characters (obvious no NSFW)

Usual boundaries (I do not feel like listing them all 💀)

(Will update if I realize I have forgotten anything)

———

Masterlist (characters I will write for):

Sherliam:

-

William James Moriarty:

Sherlock Holmes:

-

Albert James Moriarty:

Louis James Moriarty:

-

Henry Antrim:

-

Fred Porlock:

-

Sebastian Moran:

-

James Bond/Irene Adler:

Von Herder:

-

Mycroft Holmes:

(If a character who is not present on the list is requested I will most likely accept it and add them)

(Will update if I realize I have forgotten anything)

———

There is barely any mtp content on Tumblr ughh

I love those silly little fellas so much it’s painful

(English is not my first language and it also is not my last, so forgive me for any grammar mistakes)

———

-yyutsuu on Tumblr and Wattpad-

!! Please refrain from reposting my work without permission !!

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Sherlock Holmes (BBC) Masterlist

Mommy… Master List

Approach at your own risk... smut = * extra smutty=**

One Shots

Let Me Help*

A Three-way Break ~Dom!Sherlock xDom!Irene xSub!Reader*

Oh and I take Requests, so hit me up with your ideas 😉 Requests & Prompt-List

[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?

[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

[j-eryewrites]

The Dancing Men (III)

Part 17 of the Arbitrary Lives of the Occupants of 221B Baker Street

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Previous | Next

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: Sherlock is Sherlock, Sherlock and John fight (Let me know if I missed any)

Author’s Note: Finally finished this chapter! I just want to thank all of you for being so patient. Hopefully, I can get back on track to finishing this series. I’m so sad that it’s almost over but trust me you guys are in for some eventful last few chapters!

Y/N never knew she would hate an overseas travel experience so much more than her flight to London a few months prior. However, that was before she knew what travelling with Sherlock and John was like. She had the overwhelming feeling that she was babysitting the two of them, more so Sherlock than John. She tried to keep her mind occupied as the two men argued over what seat on the plane was the best. Of course, Sherlock occupied the window seat. John, who was ever the gentleman, sat in the middle seat. Lastly, Y/N took the aisle. 

Once the debacle of seat choice was decided, they moved on to deducing the other occupants in the aeroplane. First, John would give it a go. Sherlock would listen intently as John relayed the information, he thought was correct about the person, and then Sherlock would correct him. 

“She’s dating the man next to her. She keeps looking at him intently,” John nodded after careful observation. He was sure he nailed it. 

“Wrong,” Sherlock corrected. “She’s fidgeting with the silver band on her ring finger. She slips it on and then off as she is talking to the man next to her. An expert way of concealing the ring as she’s talking to this man. She’s married to another yet finds the man next to her attractive enough for her to start thinking about an affair.”

“Right. How obvious, why didn’t I see it before?” John sarcastically said. 

“Do better next time, John,” Sherlock muttered before pointing to the next object of observation. 

John was sure he observed over a dozen people by the end of the flight. The longer John tried his hand at deducing, he found that he had gotten more correct than not. Once Sherlock was satisfied with John’s average observational skills, he moved on to Y/N who intently was reading a novel. 

“Y/N,” Sherlock cleared his throat.

It took a moment for the young woman to snap from her literary daze and focus on Sherlock. The book was all too exciting. “Hmm?” 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at a man wearing a bright orange shirt in the row in front of them to their right. His eyes pointed Y/N in the man’s direction, and she turned to look at him, then back at Sherlock with a hint of confusion. 

“What?” She asked as her hands carefully placed the bookmark into the novel. 

Sherlock just scrunched his brows at her unaware that she had no clue what his obscure glances and facial expressions meant. 

John sighed. “He wants you to deduce that man.” John offered a sympathetic smile to the woman. 

Y/N processed John’s words before asking Sherlock a question. “Why?”

Sherlock looked as if he was about to roll his eyes, but then stopped himself. “It’s perfectly reasonable to train my employees on their deduction skills in case they are needed. John has…” Sherlock looked John up and down, “sufficed for the day. Now it’s your turn.”  

Y/N chuckled. “Alright, whatever you say, Holmes.” 

Y/N adjusted her seating position so she could get the clearest view of the man of the hour. As the woman observed over the man in the row up by one and on the right side, John couldn’t help how his eyes looked at Sherlock. He saw how Sherlock stared intently at Y/N from his window seat. For a moment, John thought that Sherlock was deducing her rather than her deducing the man in front of them with how carefully his eyes washed over her figure. In fact, John was sure he could see her reflection clearly within his eyes.  

“He’s awfully hunched over. Could be reading a book or watching a film, maybe even sleeping with how to calm his body is…”

Sherlock smiled. “But…”

Y/N blinked at Sherlock. “But it’s not that. His slouch gets deeper whenever a flight attendant passes. He’s insecure…?” It was her best guess. 

“Close,” Sherlock stated. He reached over John as if wasn’t there and pointed at the man. “He does slouch over more when a flight attendant passes, but only a particular one.” 

Then the man in the orange shirt looked over his shoulder as the particular flight attendant passed. His arms protectively hovered over his lap. Once she was gone, Y/N caught sight of a pencil and a sketchbook. The man was drawing the flight attendant. 

“Oh,” Y/N gasped. 

“You see now?” Sherlock asked before pointing to someone else for Y/N to deduce. “Try again.” 

It wasn’t hard for John to take notice of the soft tone Sherlock used to correct Y/N’s deductions. The consulting detective’s voice was a far cry from the reprimanding tone he had used when correcting John’s observations. John most definitely saw how Sherlock leaned ever so slightly forward in his seat towards Y/N’s aisle seat and John most definitely didn’t smirk as he sank as far as he could into the back of his seat, so Sherlock could get a nice view. Maybe these new deduction skills John was gaining were going to be of use sooner than later. 

Y/N was able to try her hand at a few deductions before the plane landed in Dublin. Eventually, they were able to exit the plane and find a rental car. John drove the car with Sherlock in the passenger seat and Y/N in the back. She didn’t mind sitting in the back of the car. It gave her an ample view of the Irish landscape as they drove. 

She had done some research about Clifden and from what she found it looked like the town came from a fairytale. Located along the coast of Ireland, sat Clifden with its picturesque buildings and homes. Alongside lots of land to explore, a castle, and a National Park. 

As she stared out at the passing images of the Irish landscapes, she took notice of everything around her. The skies were grey, as was typical in late November. Sometimes there was snow covering the grounds, and other times there were windy fields of gold and brown blowing in the wind. Despite the gloomy atmosphere, it was beautiful. There was something so cosy about a grey gloomy day to Y/N. It was almost perfect. Unlike days filled with warm sunlight where she was obligated to roam around outside or the freezing stormy evenings where she was forced to stay indoors, Y/N had a choice when it came to grey days. The weather was pleasant enough that she could be outside, but it was also cosy enough to stay bundled up inside. She liked having a choice. It also helped that the grey days usually meant that rain would follow and she loved the rain. 

Y/N felt her head grow heavy as her mind was lulled softly by the scenes. For some reason, the hum of the car was all too bewitching. It rumbled in a vivid low tone as the tires of the car drove over the pavement of the roads. The sights began to blur with the sounds echoing in her mind. The perfect combination for slumber and that is exactly what Y/N did. 

_____

“Y/N.” A voice called out to her. 

She made an incoherent mumbling noise in response. John chuckled at Sherlock’s distaste for the whole scenario.

“Don’t look at me,” John said washing his hands of the whole thing. “ I woke her up last time.” Without another word, John unbuckled his seat and removed himself from the car. His legs were practically begging to be used after such a long travel time.

Sherlock sighed and reached out a hand to shake Y/N awake. Instead of placing his hand on her shoulder, Sherlock’s fingers wove around her hair and found a resting spot on her cheek. His thumb mindlessly brushed up and down her cheek and a small smile crept up on Sherlock’s face. 

“Hurry up in there,” John said. 

Sherlock’s eyes widened and pulled back his hand from her face. He quickly glanced outside to make sure that John hadn’t seen him. Once Sherlock was satisfied that John hadn’t, he continued his quest to wake up Y/N. 

This time his hand found her shoulder. With as much care as he could muster, Sherlock gently shook the woman awake.

“Y/N. We’re here,” Sherlock whispered. 

Y/N stirred, and her body sank deeper into the back seat of the car. Her eyes still shut tight refusing to awaken. Sherlock groaned he wasn’t sure that he had it in him to forcefully wake her up. The crunching of gravel behind Sherlock altered him that John was ever present, Hilton was waiting, a case was brewing, and Sherlock needed to wake Y/N up. 

Sherlock cleared his throat. “Y/N,” and with a gentle shake of her shoulders, the girl awoke. 

Her voice was hoarse as it tried to recalibrate being awake and used. Y/N’s eyes flashed open before narrowing as the light evening light filtered in. She groaned as her body stretched from underneath Sherlock. For a moment, Sherlock forgot their proximity as he took in the sight of her awakening. 

“Sherlock?” Y/N croaked. 

His mind snapped from its thoughts as he shook his head. “Hmm?”

“Do you mind getting off me now?” Y/N asked. 

Sherlock wasn’t on her, so to say, but his hand was still glued to her shoulder and their bodies sat impossibly close. Sherlock tilted his head perturbed by her question, before he remembered that people had something called personal space. A concept that he cherishes most definitely within himself, but always forgot that others had it. 

“Sorry,” Sherlock cleared his throat and crawled out of the car straightening his jacket. “We’re here.”

Y/N nodded her head and soon followed him out of the car where she bent and stretched her limbs. Her neck felt a bit funny from the position she fell asleep in on the ride over to Clifden. 

“God, remind me to not fall asleep in the car again…,” Y/N grumbled. 

Sherlock glanced at Y/N before making a mental note for future reference. 

Before any of them could say another word, a joyous voice interrupted. It was Hilton Cubitt in all his glory. He welcomed the trio with a smile and quickly ushered them into his home. 

It was a quaint old house made of a grey study brick. While small in stature it was the perfect size for Hilton and his family of three. It was a house that followed the same structure as many others in the neighbourhood: Black pointed roofs, red doors, and window casing to match its crimson hue. Alongside the home was a small garden, which Y/N assumed would be in full bloom if it weren’t for the current seasonal climate. 

Hilton graciously led the trio into his living room where they each found a seat on the black leather couch across from where Hilton sat. 

“I’m so glad you are here!” Hilton smiled. “Would any of you like tea? Water?” 

Although John and Y/N would have loved to have a nice cup of tea, the way Sherlock was eyeing the two of them told John and Y/N that any distractions from the case at hand, including getting some tea, were unacceptable. 

“Mr. Cubitt if you could explain to us where you found the latest code.” 

Hilton nodded and cleared his throat. “On the windowsill like the last one. Mr Holmes,” Hilton’s voice grew grave. “There’s another. It was out in the garden where I found the paper on the sundial.” Hilton reached into his pocket to pull out another sheet of paper. 

Sherlock eagerly took the slip of paper. “What did you do after finding the code?” Sherlock inquired as John and Y/N sat attentively listening. 

“I showed it to my wife and she feinted from the shock–fear, I’m not quite sure. That’s when I knew that I should send a photo of it to you Mr. Holmes. If this message got my wife feeling this much fear then…” Hilton shivered. “Then it must be bad.”

Sherlock rose his hand to his chin taking note of everything Cubitt had so far said when John spoke up. 

“Could all this trouble be saved if you just talked to your wife?” John asked. He was a bit annoyed with this singular aspect of the case. Clearly, Elise Cubitt knows what the code says and possibly who it is from. One word from her and the case could be solved, the culprit dealt with, and then everyone is happy. 

At John’s words, Hilton’s gaze fell and he crossed his arms over his torso, shaking his head. “I promised her and a promise is a promise. If Elise wanted to tell me, she would. If not, it is not my place to force her.” Hilton paused for a moment gauging the reactions of the three in front of him. Something in one of their faces urged him to continue. “You can’t ask her either. She does not need to be put under any more stress and fear.” 

Just then a woman and a young child entered the room. They were giggling and chatting as they carried groceries in their arms. The young girl gasped and smiled at the strange new faces in her home before running over to her father. The girl’s mother, on the other hand, had a vastly different reaction. She made quick work of readjusting her hold on the grocery bags removing her hands from sight. Y/N noticed how the woman’s face paled to a bluish tone which made her golden hair grow a sickening yellow. Her voice began to quaver as she strolled over to her husband. 

“Hilton, what’s this?” Elise asked. 

Hilton picked up his little girl and placed her in his lap. “These people are here to help us,” He said in a soft voice that one would only use when speaking to a child. Except his words were not directed to his daughter, but to his concerned wife. 

She did not speak another word as she dropped the groceries off in the nearby kitchen before removing her and her daughter from the room to allow them privacy. 

Once his wife vacated the room, Hilton sighed with his whole body and his chest heaved as if he was about to cry. “Sorry,” Hilton muttered as he collected himself. 

Y/N looked at John and Sherlock before leaning forward and asking a question of her own. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, but has Elise said anything?”

Hilton shook his head and glanced out a nearby window. “She hasn’t…but there have been sometimes where I think she might say something. I was clear that she wanted to, but something was stopping her.”

“Have you found anything out yourself these past few weeks, Mr Cubitt?” Sherlock asked now chiming back into the conversation. 

Hilton’s gaze was removed from the window. “Yes. A friend of mine who lives in town found another code this morning. I thought that we could go look at it together when you arrived.” 

Sherlock’s raised his brow with intrigue before immediately standing up out of his seat. 

No one else had risen from their seat. Each of them still felt that there was more to be discussed, yet Sherlock was a spontaneous man. When a case called or something caught his captious eye that was something he must do the soonest moment possible. 

Sherlock’s eye twitched at the stillness in his companion’s figures before clearing his throat. It was his signal that they were to leave and Hilton would lead them to the latest part of the code. 

“Right,” Hilton said. He slapped his lap as he stood up. The moment Hilton stood up, John and Y/N were quick to follow. 

Hilton quickly retrieved his things before calling out to his wife and daughter and telling them that he was going to be out for a bit. Elise only nodded as her shaking eyes glanced over Sherlock and his friends. 

“It’ll only take a moment to arrive there,” Hilton explained as he led the group to his car. 

As Y/N opened the backseat of the car, she felt a chill brush on the back of her neck. Y/N rose a hand to brush away the cold when she felt something staring at her. She turned to look back at Hilton’s house and in the window was Elise. The woman gasped upon noticing Y/N’s stare and in an instant, she was gone. The only remnant of her presence was the ripple of the curtain as it fell back into place. 

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Strange,” she whispered to herself before sneaking into the back seat of the car next to John. 

________

Buildings built closely together: a pub, the grocery store, a hair salon, an apartment building. Each piece of architecture was more colourful than the next. Y/N was sure she’d never seen such a colourful street in her life. While there was some colour in London, there was next to none in Wisconsin. 

As the bright colours in front of her swirled into a gorgeous kaleidoscope, she remembered her childhood home– Menomonee Falls. Her hometown in the United States was nothing short of stark contrast. Nature was ever-present in Menomonee Falls from the breathtaking trees as they turned from jade green to a burning gold in the autumn weather and the flowing rivers to the three-step staircase that is called a waterfall. 

Even though Menomonee Falls lacked in colour like Clifden, Y/N thought that the community of people was more than enough to make up for it. The people of Menomonee Falls were like their own rainbow of personality. She recalled the tales that she’d heard from those she passed on the street. With a cheerful smile and hello, mere strangers would embark on relaying their whole life story to you. 

Y/N chuckled as she thought of her old home, the fondest of memories from Halloween where she’d go to haunted houses in people’s garages and maybe partake in a barbeque or two. The parents’ sore feet and even smaller patience to deal with their children were relieved by the passing out of beer as the children received their treats. Menomonee Falls was home. Y/N shook her head with a smile. No, it was no longer home. Her thoughts cleared as her gaze fell on John and Sherlock as they walked alongside Hilton Cubitt. This was her home–with Sherlock, John, Mrs Hudson, and Bjørn. 221B Baker Street was where she was supposed to be. Y/N was sure of it. She’d call it destiny if she believed in that kind of stuff. 

“It’s down this alleyway here,” Hilton said. He pointed his finger to the right and the group collectively turned in the direction. Y/N was surprised at how well-kept the alleyway was. I made sense though, as she had previously seen numerous people before her use them as walkways. Y/N was so caught up in her thought that she almost crashed right into Sherlock’s tall frame. 

“Sorry,” she quickly muttered not knowing if Sherlock even heard her. 

For Sherlock hearing was something completely different from listening. While he did hear Y/N’s quick apologies for ‘not’ bumping into him, he was not listening. All his attention was on the black spray-painted stick figures on the wall. 

It was a shame that the light-yellow shade of the building was tainted by the dripping black paint of the code. As Sherlock observed every detail and position of the figures, his mind was aware noting it all down and connecting the dots. It was just like all the other ones before. Located in a place that Elise Cubitt frequented. However, all the other ones were at the Cubitt home, this one was out of the way. This meant that the culprit must have known Elise’s schedule: Where she liked to frequent, how often she left her home, and what routes she takes to arrive at her destinations. 

“...hasn’t seen it. She refuses to leave the house for anything other than the necessities.” Hilton explained to John and Y/N. The two of them listened carefully knowing that all of Sherlock’s attention was on the wall. 

Sherlock’s brow raised in intrigue before turning away from the wall to face Hilton. Y/N could see there was a fire in his eyes. Something Hilton had said must have broken the man from his ‘detective’ mode, as Y/N called it. 

“Say that again,” Sherlock commanded. 

Hilton was startled. He cleared his throat and then asked Sherlock to repeat himself. 

“Say that,” Sherlock motioned with his hands in a sort of reverse movement, ”again.” 

“She refuses to leave the house…?” Hilton sheepishly said unsure of what exactly Sherlock was asking of him. 

Sherlock pinched his brow and groaned. “No. Before that.”

Hilton’s eye lit up finally understanding Sherlock’s request. “Oh, erm, Elise hasn’t seen this one yet. At least I do not think she has.”

There was a drop in Sherlock’s expression. One that only John and Y/N could catch. “Y/N take a photo.” She nodded and quickly did as Sherlock had asked. “Mr. Cubitt. I believe it was a mistake coming here. We need to return back to your home.”

Hilton’s face paled at Sherlock’s words. “What are you saying, Mr. Holmes?” 

“I am saying that this was a distraction. You are no longer at the house. Your wife is alone. The perfect opportunity for the culprit to arrive.”

_______

Hilton drove with carelessness. His heart pounded in his chest as Sherlock’s words echoed in his mind. He kept trying to tell himself that he’d be safe, yet love is a powerful fuel for worry. Like gasoline to the flame, Hilton’s anguish grew as the minutes ticked by. 

The worry they all felt was only fulfilled when they returned back to the Cubitt household. The sun had set and the only lights around were the street lamps and the lights from the home. The yellow glow was just enough to illuminate a large black figure scaling down the wall. He had climbed down from the window on the top floor. His legs bent when they hit the ground. 

The car still had the keys in the ignition when Hilton swiftly removed himself from the car. His long strides transitioned into a dash as he charged the figure with Sherlock and the others not far behind. He called out in fury at the man triggering him to run away. 

“Get back here!” Hilton cried as he charged after him. 

“Hilton!” Elise screamed at her husband as he chased the intruder.

The woman was flailing out the front door. Her hands waved around frantically. At first, Y/N assumed that she was running to her husband in fear hoping to run into the safe arms of her husband, but that notion was soon destroyed when Elise’s voice yelled at her husband. 

“Hilton! Stop! Don’t!” 

His love was calling for him and there was no bone in Hilton’s body that could not refuse. While Hilton’s step faltered as he stared at his wife with utter shock, Sherlock and John continued the chase. It seemed too often they found themselves running after or away from something. 

Suddenly Elise’s body came crashing into her husband's as she enveloped him in a hug. She muttered something into his skin causing Hilton to grow even more aghast. Elise then looked up and saw that Sherlock and John were still running after the man. The two men were barking orders at each other trying to determine the best possible way to catch the fiend. 

Back at the house, the wails of a small child filled the air as Hilton and Elise’s daughter emerged from the house. The look of pure terror in her eyes was enough to make anyone’s heartbreak. The young girl wasn’t the only one who was startled.  Y/N could see Elise’s lips quiver and her eyes worriedly follow John and Sherlock as they chased the man. Once night overcame those in the chase, Elise’s nervous eyes locked with Y/N’s. 

Y/N saw Elise as she hugged her husband tighter before burrowing her head in the crook of Hilton’s shoulder to hide from Y/N. Everything about Elise screamed guilt as the training Sherlock made Y/N endure on the flight over to Ireland kicked into action. The biggest piece of evidence that caught Y/N’s eye was the woman’s hands. They were black. The paint seemed to glow against her pale white skin. All evidence Y/N had gathered pointed to one thing: Elise was in on it. 

______ 

The air grew tense as John and Sherlock darted across the yard. Sherlock cursed the night. If it weren’t so dark it wouldn’t have been so hard to find the man. Numerous times Sherlock found himself tripping over stones or tree roots. 

John was faring no better. Chasing a man in all black in the pitch black of night on a cold November night. It was pure torment. The cold seeped into his bones while his muscles were on fire. It was a horrific contrast that made his breath only heavier. 

“Sherlock!” John gasped. 

The detective continued in his pursuit. 

John sighed as he placed his hands on his thighs and leaned over taking the largest breaths in his life. Sherlock also happened to wear black. While chasing the intruder through the night was somewhat acceptable, running after Sherlock was not. John had spent too much of his life running after the man. Sherlock’s legs were much too long and moved at a faster speed than John’s shorter legs and slower pace could keep up with. 

By the time John’s breath finally returned to a reasonable rate, Sherlock had returned. All sorts of frustration were apparent on the consulting detective’s face. 

“Gone,” Sherlock heaved. 

“Right,” John nodded his head. “Cause how likely would it have been to catch a man in black in the dead of night when he had quite the head start on us.” 

Sherlock whipped his head around to John and sent him a glare. 

“Where’s Y/N?” Sherlock’s asked. He hadn’t realized he had said it aloud until John replied to him. 

“Back at the house. She was smart enough to know not to run,” John muttered. 

Sherlock hummed before taking a step towards the house. “Let’s go then. I’d like to have a word with Mrs. Cubitt. 

______

“I was scared for –” Elise explained. 

“Oh, that’s it then?” Hilton barked. 

“Yes, Hilton! I didn’t want you to get hurt.” 

“I can take care of myself, Elise,” Hilton hissed. “It’s you and He wasn’t believing his wife’s words of concern. He could have caught the man. He could have stopped all this madness if it weren’t for his wife’s pleas. He could help but think that maybe Elise knew who the man was. It seemed to Hilton that his wife was more concerned about the man in black coming to harm than him. 

Elise opened her mouth to reply when John and Sherlock entered the house. Elise quickly folded her arms concealing her hands from view and excused herself upstairs where her daughter was waiting to be consoled and tucked back into bed. 

Sherlock’s eye was guided along as he followed Elise’s ascent up the stairs. His mind crawled back to what John had said earlier. This case could be solved with a word from Elise Cubitt. She knew. Sherlock felt like it was safe to say that not only did she know the code, but she knew the man behind the drawings as well. 

“Hilton–” Sherlock began. 

“He left another message,” Hilton seethed as he clutched his forehead. It began to throb under his touch. For a moment he considered going against his promise. After all, Hilton’s loved his wife and daughter with his whole heart. He’d do anything to keep them safe. Even if it meant opening a wound he promised not to touch. 

“Where?” Sherlock commanded. 

Y/N stepped forward. The code could wait. The case could wait. The Cubitt family had been through enough this night. Y/N reached for Sherlock’s shoulder and nudged him away from Hilton. 

“Sherlock…the code can wait.” She looked to John for help. “It’s getting late. We should be going.” 

Sherlock shook his head and was about to scold Y/N for even suggesting a thing when his gaze met hers. Her eyes glossed over as she pleaded with him. 

“Sherlock–” Y/N whispered. 

“Send me the code Hilton,’ Sherlock said. Then he turned to his friends. “John. Y/N.” 

The mention of their names was enough for them to understand it was time to leave. They bid their goodbyes and headed out of Hilton’s house. There wasn’t a word spoken as they returned to the car. 

Each sat in the seats with their minds afire; thoughts abuzz about the case and Elise. Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about Elise: her black hands, the fear in her eyes, the concern for the man, and the obvious lies that her husband refused to bring to light. The key of this case lied in Elise. 

______

Y/N felt like she could practically collapse against the door of her hotel room and pass out in the hallway from exhaustion. The crick in her neck was feeling any better, in fact, Y/N was sure it was feeling worse. 

There was a beep and the door to her hotel room swung open. She sighed in relief as she lugged her small bag of luggage into the room. All she wanted to do at the moment was fling herself onto the bed and sleep. That would be an issue, so long as she knew which bed to sleep in. 

She rubbed her eyes awake. That wasn’t supposed to be the case. She was supposed to have a room with one bed. John and Sherlock were to have the one with two. With a puzzled look on her face, Y/N pulled out her phone. John or Sherlock hadn’t said anything to her leading Y/N to think that maybe the hotel made a mistake and that both rooms had two beds. 

______

The hotel had made a mistake. That’s all John could think of as he and Sherlock stood in the doorway to their hotel room. Both men stood with perplexed expressions on their faces. Neither of them wanted to address the elephant in the room, yet something had to be said sooner or later. 

“I’m too tired for this,” John grumbled under his breath. John stepped into the room and dropped his bag on a chair near the bed. “Right, I’ll take th–” 

“I’ll take the bed,” Sherlock stated as he threw his own bag onto the bed claiming. 

John’s mouth was thrown wide open. He was going to offer up the bed in the first place, being a good friend in all, but after Sherlock’s explicit claim on the bed, all thoughts of John’s niceties flew out the window. 

With a huff, John picked up his bag and dropped it onto the bag. “Sherlock.”

“John.”

“The bed is big enough for the both of us,” John noted. His brown eyes glared right at Sherlock’s. 

“Wrong. The bed is fit for only one.” Sherlock removed his eyes from John and looked at the bed. The dimensions would never allow two grown men to share it. Sherlock needed all the room he could get with his lengthy limbs. 

John sighed. “I’m the veteran.” He was going to pull all the cards he could to beat Sherlock. 

“Yes, good for you. The bed is mine,” Sherlock dictated. 

John chuckled. “Oh no it’s not.”

Sherlock raised a brow questioningly at his friend. “You sure about that?”

______

The phone was ringing that familiar ringtone that belonged to only one person: Jim. Y/N groaned and rolled off the bed that she claimed was her own. He was only checking up on her like they had promised. It was sweet of him to call her and put the effort in. She could almost say it was perfect if everything else hadn’t also been perfect. 

She tried to move past her concerns and continue to see Jim. Yet after her late-night conservation with Sherlock, the more she thought about wanting more. It wasn’t fair to Jim. He was perfect in every way, yet here she was thinking about a curly-headed detective who drive her insane every hour of the day. She almost hated that she wanted Sherlock to kiss her that night. Almost. It was wrong. She was with Jim. She liked Jim. Jim made her happy. Sherlock was her boss. The man whose brother paid her to watch over him. Sherlock was her friend. One of her best friends if she could admit it. Not to mention he was her neighbour and surrogate son to her great Aunt. 

Y/N would have continued to think of Sherlock if it were for the incessant ringing of her phone. Against her better judgment, she picked up the phone and answered the call. Her voice faked a smile and she found herself easily able to put the tone of excitement in her voice. 

“Hey, babe,” Y/N said. She could hear Jim chuckle over the phone. 

“You sound tired,” He noted with his Irish accent. 

“You could say that…” Y/N answered. ”How’s work going?” She scolded herself for asking such an ordinary question. She could do better. After all, Jim was her perfect boyfriend, but the conversation seemed so forced with Jim. Unlike how easy it was to converse with Sherlock. 

“Well, it’s finally starting to return to normal. Had to clean up a few loose ends after the last consultation,” Jim explained. 

“You’re not working too hard are you?” Y/N said. She couldn’t help but be concerned for Jim. She did like him and cared for him. 

“No, nothing I can’t handle. Right, well, I won’t keep you long,” Jim smiled. “Just wanted to check in with you and tell you about a t–” 

Bang! Something had hit the other side of the wall by her head. The sound jolted Y/N to a sitting position. 

“What was that?” Jim asked concerned. 

“...I’m not sure.” Y/N eyed the wall carefully before returning to her conversation with Jim. “What were you saying?”

“A trip.”

Y/N could practically hear the excitement from Jim’s side of the phone. “A trip?”

“I’ll some time off of work after my next big project. Thought that maybe you and I could travel a bit,” Jim proposed. 

“I–” 

There was that banging again. “Jim, I have to go…”

THUD. 

“Goodnight love,” Jim said. 

“Goodnig–” BANG! “Heaven’s sake.” 

The phone went silent as the commotion next door continued. Y/N’s mouth pursed in thought as she tried to think of who could be next door to her when the sudden realization hit her. Her eyes widened in shock. She had booked the two rooms to be right next to each other. The banging was coming from John and Sherlock’s room. 

______

What started as an assertion of dominance with the presence of their travel bags on the bed was now a full-on physical wrestle between the two men. All notions of exhaustion and common sense flew out the window when the fight for the bed began. 

John was underneath Sherlock at the moment, which was a good place to be. If only he had just enough leverage or a falter in Sherlock’s resistance, then John would surely be able to claim the bed for the night. In turn, dooming Sherlock to sleep on the floor of their shared hotel room. 

“Just give up Sherlock!” John scowled as he lodged an arm across Sherlock’s torso.

Sherlock grunted trying to get out of John’s grasp. Despite his smaller figure, he was surprised at how long John had been fairing in this fight.  “Never,” Sherlock replied. “You’ll b–”

There was a knock on the door. It rang loud and clear. All movement between the two men halted as they tilted their heads in the direction of the door. Whoever was behind the door knocking tried again when their original attempt was given no answer. Again, John and Sherlock made no motion to move from their positions on the bed. 

Then a muffled voice came from behind the door. “Sherlock. John. It’s me,” Y/N said. 

If it was quiet before, the two men were now silent. The silence that came after Y/N’s voice gave way to Sherlock's hesitation. John could clearly see Sherlock’s shoulders slightly relax and his grip on John and the bed loosened. It was the perfect opportunity. The moment John had been waiting for, and he took his chance. No longer was Sherlock's body above John’s on the bed, but it was now seat flat on the floor by the side of the bed. 

“Is everything alright in there?” Y/N asked the moment she heard yet another thump.

“Go answer her,” John whispered to Sherlock. In response, Sherlock glared at John from the ground. He wasn’t about to let John bark orders around, especially since he lost the bed to John. 

“Sherlock? John?” 

John briefly looked at the door before hissing at Sherlock to get up and open the door for Y/N. 

Clenching his jaw, Sherlock brushed himself off and walked over to the door before opening it.

“I heard some banging noises and I–” Y/N said as she walked into the room. Then she caught sight of the condition of the sheets and the dishevelled state of, both, John and Sherlock. “Oh…umm, never mind.” 

John’s face grew a bright red. “Not what you think. Just fighting over who got the bed, that’s all.” 

Y/N couldn’t help the fit of giggles that came from her mouth. “Right,” She sarcastically said. “Anyways, I was coming to say the room that I’m in has two beds. I think we mixed up the key cards.” 

Sherlock and John shared a brief look of embarrassment with each other as they both realized this entire scenario could have been solved with a quick word with Y/N. They’d both happily be in bed if it weren’t for their desire to win. 

“I’ve already got this bed,” John blurted. “Sherlock can take the other bed. If that’s alright with you, Y/N.” 

Y/N was caught off guard by John’s proposal and she became a stuttering mess. “Um, yeah–totally. I’m totally fine with it. With–yeah.” 

The mere thought of what John had proposed sent a brilliant blush to Sherlock and Y/N’s cheeks; an expression that only John got to bear witness of. John smiled smugly at Sherlock as he motioned for him to take his bag and follow Y/N back to her room. 

______

Sherlock had settled quite well into the extra bed in the hotel room that he was sharing with Y/N. He both cursed and thanked John for providing him with this opportunity to be near her. Something was triggered in Sherlock the night that Y/N confessed her discontent with her current relationship and boyfriend. It gave him hope, and hope was a dangerous thing. A hope that burned bright enough for John to catch on. It was a phenomenon that irked Sherlock. He wasn’t one to be easily read. He prided himself on keeping his thoughts and emotions on a tight lip. Yet here was John Watson acting as Sherlock Holmes himself with his ability to deduce his friend. Sherlock was regretting giving John training in observational skills. 

Y/N sat on her bed and sheepishly played with the sleeve of her nighties. Her eyes were cast down to the carpet covering the floor. “I’m going to head to bed,” Y/N stated. 

Sherlock gulped and nodded. Why was he feeling nervous? “Alright,” was Sherlock’s only reply. 

“Are you not going to bed?” Y/N found herself asking. 

Sherlock’s breath hitched at Y/N’s words. He couldn’t think about her. He wouldn’t allow himself to recall how peaceful she was when she slept. He refused to think about how warm her body was as he carried her into his bed during the case of the Blind Banker. His breath quickened as he sought something else to distract his mind with. “...I–the code. I’ll be working on the code.”

“No,” Y/N uttered. Her eyes widened at her abruptness. “I mean–It’s late Sherlock. We had an eventful day. You need to rest if you are going to solve this case and help the Cubitt family.”

Sherlock watched as Y/N began to fiddle with her hands. Her gaze avoided Sherlock’s. He had to admit that she was speaking with reason. Every word of hers was justified, yet Sherlock fear his sleep. He dread the thoughts that his mind would produce as he lay there waiting for sleep to take over. He scorned himself for knowing the dreams the sandman would give him that night in the proximity of her. Sherlock had to keep his mind busy and distracted; never giving it the chance to think of her. However, she had told him that it was best to sleep. She had spoken to him while his mind was not yet distracted by the code. She had broken through his defences and Sherlock now must admit defeat. So Sherlock nodded his head and pulled back the covers of his bed. He settled between the sheets and reached an arm to switch off the light beside his bed. 

“Goodnight,” he whispered to Y/N as she did the same as him. 

He could hear her breathing come to a calming pace. In and out. In and out it went. With each breath into Y/N’s lungs, Sherlock’s mind grew restless. He couldn’t think or dream of her even if it was all he seemed to do these days. So Sherlock would wait. He would wait until Y/N fell asleep. He would wait until he knew he would disturb her sleep and arise from the bed. He’d open his computer and work on the code. After all, the code was the key to the case. Sherlock would be one step closer to solving the case if he broke the code. 

______

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Tag list: @bartokthealbinobat​ @biggerthancalli13​ @themartiansdaughter​ @sunsumonner @silversword7000​ @starlightaurorab​ @melody7​ @astudyinlaura​ @sherlockstrangewolf @neroarrow83​ @khaleesihavilliard

Also, I linked cyphers for the Dancing Men code if anyone would like to try their hand at solving the code alongside Sherlock.

Dancing Men Cipher - Sherlock Holmes Code - Online Decoder, Translator (dcode.fr)

Dancing Men Cipher - decoder, translator | Boxentriq

_____

[renx01]

Out of Sight - Part 5

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: 2006

Masterlist

The show was interesting to say the least, but you were happy when you finally managed to return to your flat. Keeping Sherlock from constantly over-explaining the acts to Sarah, who only got closer to John as the show continued. At some point Sherlock disappeared backstage, only reappearing by crashing into the auditorium with a warlord on top of him. John shooting out to help him as the audience scattered, you take Sarah out of the room. You’re followed by the two men, not too far behind you. 

On the way to the police station, Sherlock explains what he had been doing behind the scenes. He’d found the yellow paint moments before he’d been attacked by the warlord. He also notes that he had seen a tattoo on the bottom of the foot of one of the performers, with it matching the ones they’d seen on the victims. You mostly just nod and enquire about what the seal looks like. ‘It’s a seal with a lotus of some sort.’ Sherlock had said. Upon your arrival at the nearest police station, you’re met by an officer you haven’t seen before. Sherlock quickly explains to him what happened, noting that you’d been followed out of the venue. The officer puts it into the system before sending you away, saying he isn’t able to do much more at the moment. 

The four of you leave and head back to Baker Street, where John decides you should probably have some food. Not wanting to be a part of John’s date for much longer, you tell them you’re quite tired and before heading downstairs to your own flat. Not too long after, you hear the front door open, you suppose for their food delivery. You turn to your kettle to start boiling some water, but you stop midway through the motion because you hear shuffling and something drop. That’s unusual. You put down the kettle and walk to your door, opening it as quietly as possible. When you look around the corner, you see a man dressed in black quietly shuffling down the stairs with John, who you’re pretty sure is unconscious, thrown over his shoulder. Quickly, you close the door. Had it not been for you having to lay low and you’d have helped him then and there, but you supposed Sherlock would find out soon enough and go look for his companion. You turn on the kettle and message Jim.

You should reel them in, they just kidnapped John and his date. I assume they think he’s Sherlock or something. Will probably have to help SH and intercept. -S

As the water starts to come to a boil, you quickly change in some more comfortable, black clothes. Something that doesn’t look too suspicious given what you usually wear, but will help you manoeuvre around without too making much sound. You also grab one of your (many) guns and put it in one of your somewhat hidden pockets, where it’s easy to reach but hard to find if you don’t know it’s there. The kettle finally boils and you make yourself a cuppa. Upon taking the first sip, you hear multiple heavy and somewhat frantic knocks at your door. ‘I’m on my way.’ You put down the cup and open the door, where you’re met by the consulting detective himself. He looks quite panicked, which in a way you had expected, just not to this extent, meaning his weakness for John is much bigger than Jim (or Mycroft for that matter) had anticipated. ‘John’s gone. I’m certain that he’s been taken by the murderer and by extension the criminal network we’ve been investigating.’ Nodding, you grab your coat and join him, heading outside as quickly as possible.

‘Sherlock, I suggest you go in and I help from the shadows. You’re an amazing distraction and then I’ll be able to get John and Sarah out from the shadows.’ He nods, agreeing that it’d probably be the best plan of action. And so, that’s what the two of you do when you go in. John and Sarah are bound to separate chairs with rope about five feet from each other. While John has a gun pointed at him, Sarah is unfortunate enough to have a balasta pointed at her. John does look somewhat worried, Sarah on the other hand looks frightened and like she’s about to lose it. Given that she probably hasn’t been in such a situation, it makes sense, and any sensible human being would probably react like she is. Being the drama-queen he is, Sherlock waltzes in as if he owns the place, ridiculing that they hadn’t realised they had the wrong person entirely. Still, the ballista is slowly getting closer to being fired at the woman. It’s unclear to you what exactly happens, but one moment Sherlock’s trying to untie Sarah, and the next he’s been caught by some sort of a rope, forcing him away. ‘For god’s sake, he can’t do anything on his own, can he?’ You whisper to yourself before shooting in the shoulder of the man that’s trapping the detective. After which you immediately sprint to the ballista and point it towards one of Shen’s other henchmen, since it’s about to fire. It does so, and pierces the man through his chest. You take the opportunity of the confusion that ensues to run to John and cut the ropes. Sherlock does the same for Sarah. However, when you look up, Shen is gone.

The following day you contact Sebastian while you’re on your run. It isn’t that you see him or anything, you just leave him a codified message for him to find while you’re at the park for your daily run. The response follows in the form of a text message as you’re making your daily morning coffee. 

We dealt with it, you don’t have to worry about them anymore. -SM

You suppose he was the one to “deal with” them last night. 

I’d hope so. It really was a bit of a pain and entirely unnecessary. -S

Rather than getting a text back, he calls you.

‘Hello?’ His voice sounds low, as if he doesn’t want to alarm someone of his presence. ‘Hi, hope you’re alright.’ ‘Yes, yes, don’t worry about me.’ He pauses before continuing. ‘Jim’s pretty mad about the situation, he’ll probably contact you to apologise at some point soon.’ You sigh. ‘Will he? He isn’t one to apologise generally speaking. No matter, tell him to make sure the camera’s aren’t working wherever we meet up. The eldest Holmes seems to be keeping an eye on me. Probably wants to gauge if I’m trustworthy.’ You take a sip of your coffee before getting out your laptop. It’s one you usually use for purposes related to your actual job. Jim’s had it encrypted so that even the best systems the government uses can’t get into it. ‘I’ll let him know.’ As you’re typing in your password, he speaks up again, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled momentarily. ‘You know I do miss you, you know that right?’ You’re scrolling past a few documents, so you only make a noise that confirms you do. ‘We both miss you. The penthouse feels a bit empty. You were barely back and had to leave again…’ Jim rents a penthouse with enough rooms for all of you to live comfortably while still having your own space. The three of you have always been pretty close, with you and Seb being Jim’s closest confidantes, having been there pretty much from the beginning. And it’s true, you’d barely been back in England and Jim had sent you off, not even being able to stay in the penthouse you’d usually call home. Still, it was mostly you and Seb there, with Jim being at his estate most of the time to take care of business without being bothered too much. ‘I miss you guys too, but we both know it’s necessary.’ ‘You’re right, I’m just being sentimental.’ He sighs. ‘Don’t be, you know it’s a form of weakness.’ That last sentence comes out a bit harsher than you’d hoped, but it is the motto most go by in your profession. ‘We’ll meet again soon, I have to go now.’ You say as you hear someone walking down the steps, probably John based on the sound of it. ‘Yeah, soon Spike.’ He says before ending the call.

When you check for the caller ID, you see that there isn’t one. Not that it really mattered, this isn’t the phone you use to contact anyone you interact with on this mission. You have several phones you keep on you, two of them basically at all times. This one in particular is a blackberry, very much contrary to the iPhone you use on the daily to keep up appearances of you being a regular person that works at the Yard. A knock at your door has you going into action. Quickly, you close and put away your laptop before grabbing your cup of coffee and (somewhat) casually walking to and opening the door. As expected, it’s John. ‘Hello John, good morning.’ He looks up slightly as you open the door, since you’re about an inch and a half taller than him. ‘Good morning Charlie. I wanted to thank you for last night. You really helped us out there.’ You smile at him. ‘No problem at all, you were in a bit of a pickle and I suppose friends help in such situations.’ Friends. It’s a term you hadn’t used with him yet, but you guessed that he probably sees you in that way, so using the term could only strengthen that feeling. ‘Still, it was a lot; quite dangerous as well.’ The look you give him is nothing short of unimpressed. ‘John, I work at Scotland Yard, I’ve been in worse situations. Despite what you might think because of my current role, I’ve had basic training and been out in the field multiple times.’ He looks a bit surprised. ‘Do you want some coffee perhaps? It’s Saturday so I don’t have anywhere to go and I just made a pot.’ You step aside to invite him in. ‘Sure.’ He steps inside and you close the door behind him. You gesture for him to have a seat at your kitchen table. ‘I do hope I didn’t ruin your date with Sarah last night.’ He laughs. ‘Oh you didn’t ruin it. I think we both know Sherlock’s the one that was behind that.’ ‘About that, you are correct. Though maybe I should’ve expected where we were going and stopped him.’ You hand him his cup of coffee and sit down opposite of him. By the sounds of it, he doesn’t sound too worried about the entire situation. ‘So why do you tolerate it, John?’ ‘What do you mean? Tolerate what?’ Surely he knows what you’re talking about but just doesn’t want to admit it immediately. ‘Tolerate Sherlock ruining your dates, taking over your life and social life. All that sort of stuff.’ You make eye contact with him as you glance over your cup. ‘He does not take over my life Charlie.’ He deflects a little bit too quickly. ‘If you say so.’ You take another sip. ‘Well anyway, how is Sarah? Is she doing okay after yesterday evening?’ John stayed for about an hour before heading back upstairs, saying he’d promised the consulting detective to go on a case with him. From your conversation it became clear that John cares for Sherlock as well, though you aren’t certain whether he really knows that himself yet. You didn’t care, but you’re sure Jim will use it to his advantage.

That afternoon you decided you’d probably need to go to the shops again, realising that you didn’t have much food in your pantry. You went out not too long after in order to go get it, but you were stopped by a sleek black car pulling up next to you and stopping. Mycroft.

__________

Tags: @h-malacus

[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

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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

[ladylaviniya]

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞