#sherlock x reader ask

[mizjoely]

Help a fan out?

Got this ask recently and since it's Sherlock/Reader it's not something I'd know anything about. Definitely an E rated fic, here is the ask:

Hi, i was told on reddit yoy might be able to help locate a long lost fanfic.

I've been scouring the internet and can't find an old fanfic, 10+ years old, anywhere. It was a Sherlock reader fanfic the followed the BBC TV show. All I remember is the oc lived in 221A or C can't remember, slightly slow burn, knew Sherlock before John came into the picture but the first chapter started with A study in Pink, the first episode, and the biggest thing I remember is Sherlock and oc being brought to Buckingham palace during the Irene Adler episode and end up doing the dirty in one of the bathrooms after Mycroft got mad at Sherlock, or both can't remember, for not wearing any clothes. Also reader/oc is caught by Moriarty and in the pool scene has a weighted vest on and he kicks her into the pool but Sherlock saves her. Sherlock is slightly dom in the series and god the wording and slight filth in the series was perfect. For the life of me I can't remember the title and it's driving me insane.

[fandom-oneshots-etc]

✨ Dropping by to request literally anything sherlock x reader - would love something with awkward idiots in love ✨

🍄 Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

🍄 Genre: Fluff

🍄 Summary: When Sherlock goes off on a frantic tangent, John knows exactly who to call, the idiot in love with him...

🍄 Word Count: 2084

🍄 Abbreviations: N/A

🍄 Warnings: N/A

🍄 Note: I hope this is what you were looking for Anon! :)

“What’s he doing this time?” you answered the phone as John’s name appeared. You had become so accustomed to the calls at all odd hours of the day, usually all pertaining to your high-functioning sociopath of a friend, Sherlock. Odd hours like the one now.

You had just sat down in your cloud chair, kindle in hand ready to read the next chapter of your gripping (b/g) when the phone had pinged, angrily vibrating against the coffee table-top. A puff of air had moved the stray hairs touching your face as you instantly recognized the personalized ring tone you had installed. You knew that John wouldn’t call you unless it was at least a code blue, blue-in-the-face blue. A colour code the two of you had created to describe the different moods of Sherlock Holmes.

“I’m so sorry-” You rolled your eyes with a little smile. “He’s just off on one. He solved the case, you know the one with the woman and the suitcases? He’s been off the walls since then. Can’t get him to settle, he’s talking about renovating the flat, knocking walls down for more ‘thinking space’. I think Mrs Hudson’s threatened to evict him already,” You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped your lips at the thought of the sweet old woman threatening your tall friend, knowing very well that she’d mean every word. You could already picture the offended horror on Sherlock’s face at her threats.

“I’m on my way,” you reassured before hanging up the phone and pushing yourself out of the comfortable chair. Slipping your kindle into your bag, you grabbed your keys from the hook and turned off the lights. You didn’t bother changing out of your night clothes,, instead your threw a long coat over your pajamas and slipped on your trainers before heading out of the flat. You weren’t exactly keen on the idea of getting a cab this late at night, but you preferred that over walking the streets alone in the dark.

Thankfully, Baker Street was only a few roads away and the journey was nice and short with the lack of traffic at this time of night. Looking up at 221B you could see tat it was one of the only lights on in the street. You slipped the spare key out of your bag and unlocked the door to 221B.

Mrs Hudson reached the bottom of the stairs in an angry flurry huffing as she passed, a few rushed ‘oh dear’s escaping her lips as she passed you, only briefly making eye contact as she scurried back into her flat, red-faced. Taking that as your cue, you started up the stairs to the flat, fully expecting to see the flat in complete disarray, and you weren’t disappointed.

The papers from the now-closed case were still strewn across the flat, stuck to the walls, laid out on the desk, tucked under the tea cups on the small side table. The tea cups, several sat on the desk untouched and probably growing a few types of fungus that Sherlock could happily describe for you. The pillows from the sofa were thrown about the flat as Sherlock stood on the sofa, feet buried in the sofa cushions and tape measure I hand as he stretched it across the wall in front of him, a HB pencil clenched between his teeth.

“Thank God you’re here!” John poked his head out of the kitchen as if weary of the man in the living room. He gestured for you to step into the kitchen, with a final glance at the tall consulting detective, you slipped into the kitchen.

“How long has he been like this?” you asked, setting your bag down on the cluttered kitchen table. Piles and piles of old experiments were stacked tall, filling up almost the entire surface of the table and from the darkening black patch by one of the chairs you had no doubt that Sherlock had blown something up today, yet another thing to add to the list of problems for you and John.

“A couple of hours now, I stupidly thought that solving the case would change his mood, but it only seemed to make him more antsy for another one-” He sighed. “Sorry it’s so late, I know you usually sit down and read about now. I didn’t want to bother you but with Mrs Hudson threatening eviction I thought it best not to wait.” You smiled at your friend and shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s been a while since he’s been like this so it was expected sooner or later. Better sort him out before Mrs Hudson really does chuck him out.” The two of you chuckle at the thought of a homeless Sherlock, it’s not really a sight either of you can imagine fully. But you had no doubt that his homeless network would really find him the best spots in London to squat.

“You don’t mind if I take a quick walk do you? I’ve been cooped up in here for a few hours trying to sort him out, just need bit of fresh air.” You shook your head and hurried John out of the kitchen door and down the stairwell. You knew it would be easier to deal with Sherlock without John around anyway. Not that John was a problem, but with Sherlock like this and his habit of making unsavory comments without fully thinking of the consequences, it would be easier than having a row start between the two flat mates.

You paused for a moment and brushed your finger against the black mark on the table top and inspected the pad of your finger. That’ll come off with some polish, you decided. Stepping back out of the kitchen and into the living room, your eyes zeroed in on the consulting detective who had now abandoned the tape measure and was gently knocking against the wall looking for a hollow sounding area.

“No.” You spoke clearly, catching the attention of the detective who had yet to notice you. Spinning on his heels, his eyes flashed at you wide and adorable. It kind of reminded you of a child who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. His mouth started to open but you shut him down quickly. “No,” You gave him a stern look. “That wall has all of the major electricity lines and one of the main water pipes. No.”

“There’s no way you could possibly know that just from looking at the wall-” Sherlock argued.

“No I couldn’t. I know because I had to get the schematics for the flat after you started shooting the walls because you were banned from in-person cases and blew the power out in this side of London,” You reminded. “An event that Mycroft still calls ‘The Great COVID Blackout’.” Sherlock’s nose scrunched at the mention of his brother. “Now, are you going to sit down or am I going to have to use that self-defense training program you insisted I go on to incapacitate you?” You could almost see the cogs turning in his head as his eyes narrowed at you, trying to deduce if you were serious or not. Your unwavering stance must have given him his answer as he slowly stepped down from the sofa and settled his feet back on the floor calmly.

“Why are you here?” You were very rarely offended by Sherlock’s blunt words, it just wasn’t worth the energy when you also knew that he rarely meant it to come across in that way. “No, don’t answer that. You’re here in your night clothes, your kindle is tucked in your bag and your hair is done up which means it’s late- John called you. Why?”

“Probably because his roommate was threatened with eviction after planning to renovate their rented flat and set the landlady off.” “Mrs Hudson wouldn’t evict me. She still owes me for getting her husband executed.”

“Favours do expire Sherlock. They have their limits.” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Really?” You nod. “Oh. Well John wouldn’t let her evict me.” “Have you been experimenting today?” You think back to the two mugs settled on the kitchen counter, one sporting a brownish green sludge at the bottom.

“Yes, why- Oh.”

“Right come on,” You clapped your hands, moving towards him and grabbing one of his hands to pull him over to his chair. You ignored the sounds of protest from Sherlock as you settled on the chair and tugged on his arm. “Sit down,” you instructed. Sherlock sighed and complied, dropping onto the floor and crossing his legs underneath him. You grabbed the TV remote and switched it on. “What should we watch? Bones or Criminal Minds?” you pondered.

“Why do we have to watch a crime show? They’re always so inaccurate-” You flick the TV onto an episode of Criminal Minds. “Look, the killer’s using tape- what about finger prints? They don’t need to study his behaviour, just find the prints-” You smiled softly, fiddling with a few strands of Sherlock’s curly hair in your lap as he rattled on about the mistakes of the Unsub and the BAU team.

It was around an hour later that John returned to the flat. Pushing open the front door of 221, he was relieved to hear nothing. The light under Mrs Hudson’s door was now off, meaning she had slipped into bed, no longer tormented by her tenant’s renovation plans. The light on the landing let off a soft glow as John started up to the flat. A heavy wave of relief swept through him as he noticed the lack of banging, drilling, sawing or any construction noises at all. You had managed to talk him out of it for now. He reached the top of the stairs and could hear the muffled sounds of the TV in the flat. Stepping into the kitchen he could see that the place was still a pig sty but at least there wasn’t any knocked down walls or partially constructed extensions. The mess could be dealt with in the morning.

As he turned the corner and peeked - still a little cautiously into the living room - a soft smile graced his face. Your back was pressed against one of the arms of Sherlock’s chair, your legs swung over the opposite side. Sherlock’s was still perched on the floor with his legs crossed, his head dropped back against your stomach, with your right hand resting on top. Your fingers rhythmically threading through his curly brown locks, soothingly. John flicked his eyes up to the TV screen to see an episode of Criminal Minds playing, Sherlock’s face scrunched in distaste as he watched the team profile the murderer. Your other hand held your kindle tightly, your fingers set comfortably around the flower pop socket on the back as you occasionally flicked the pages with your thumb.

John couldn’t help but watch in awe for a moment. No one he knew had ever been able to soothe Sherlock in the way that you could. Not him, not Mrs Hudson and certainly not his brother, not even his parents had this calming effect that you had. He wondered if Sherlock would ever confess to the effect you had on him, or explain why you had such an effect on him. John knew the reason, Mrs Hudson knew the reason… did Sherlock? Did you?

You were always just as oblivious as Sherlock. John had mentioned to you once or twice about how you effected the consulting detective, but you couldn’t see it. You wouldn’t admit to the effect you so clearly had on him nor would you confess to the butterflies that whirled in your stomach whenever you were this close to him.

You caught John’s eye and must’ve made an educated guess of what he was thinking as you rolled your eyes and shook your heads. Deciding that now was probably not the time to bring up the obvious pink elephant that shared the living room with the three of you, John mouthed a ‘thank you’ to you and you nodded, letting out a quiet yawn. He bidded a quick farewell to the pair of you before shuffling out of the kitchen and upstairs to his room. On his way up the stairs, he couldn’t help but wonder how long the two of you would remain oblivious.

As he reached the top of the staircase he paused and chuckled. Lovesick idiots.

[leniisreallycool]

Since you're taking fic request can I get some platonic emotional hurt/comfort of Dazai x reader? Bulletpoint/headcanon list format is good. The context would be that you've been in the agency for a few weeks now, and Dazai see you crying for some reason one day

YAYAYAYAYAY ABSOLUTELY

You were having a MONUMENTALLY bad day

To be fair, it didn't start that way. You woke up actually feeling refreshed for once

That is, until you grabbed your phone to see why your alarm hadn't woken you up

Only to realize you hadn't set one last night

*cue panic*

This was still a new job! You hadn't been a clerk for the Armed Detective Agency long enough to feel comfortable being late even by a few minutes!

Still, you had time to grab your morning coffee from your favorite cafe

Only to receive the wrong order and ended up with a drink you hated

It wasn't the barista's fault the cafe was so crowded but damn you did NOT need another reason to wish you hadn't woken up this morning

And to make matters worse, someone on the sidewalk accidentally stepped on your shoe, breaking the sole away from the heel

Now the sole clicked irritatingly every time you took a step

So you're annoyed and anxious

And you manage to slip in just seconds before you would have been late, yet for some reason Kunikida decides it's a good idea to lecture you on punctuality

"A proper member of the Agency is always five minutes early. Anything else is late! Do you want to end up like that deadbeat Dazai?!"

As if you need anything else to make your day worse

Luckily for you, Ranpo drags him away to coerce him into helping him take the train for a case

That's the first good thing that's happened to you today

You think you see Ranpo wink at you but it could have been a trick of the light

He also mentions that it's Atsushi and Kyouka's day off

And then. The final straw

You sit down to work, drag a massive pile of paperwork over to the middle of your desk and begin to work

And immediately get a papercut

That's it. That's all you can take.

You push your chair back from your desk and fetch a bandaid from Yosano's office

You plot back in your seat, cross your arms over your desk, and bury your face in your arms

You've never been so glad to be alone in the Agency but in the back of your mind you're grateful for it

For once, you just let yourself cry

Tears soak your sleeves and your shoulders shake a little

It feels stupid to be so emotional when nothing dramatically bad happened

Just a series of little annoyances that built up

You haven't even been awake for two hours yet, but you're already ready for the day to be over

So of course that's when the Agency's door slams open

It's Dazai, twenty minutes late, as usual

Dazai yoinks a chair from a nearby desk and props his bandaged elbows on your desk, knocking a few of the papers off

He doesn't seem to care care but it offends your soul

"So, my dear accomplice, what are we going to annoy Kunikida with today? Steal his paperclips? Ooh, maybe this time we could replace his notebook with an empty replica!"

You don't answer. He'll see the tear tracks if you lift your head

"It's so easy to pickpocket him and he'll never guess it was us!"

You know for a fact Kunikida would figure it out immediately but you still keep silent

"What's wrong? Do you want to decide today's prank?"

When you still don't answer, he pokes your cheek playfully

"Hon?"

You never responded to cutesy pet names

"Honey?"

And definitely never one that could be construed as romantic

"Honey bunches of oats?"

That one pulls an ugly snort from you

You don't have to look up to see his triumphant smile

"Go away"

He doesn't

You lift your head enough to glare at him

"Go. Away."

He still doesn't

He has a strangely blank expression

The out of nowhere, he kicks your chair backwards and knocks you off balance

You shriek and throw your arms out to grab the desk before you fall

He catches you by the wrists and twirls you like a ballerina

"Dazai, what the hell!?"

He ignores your protests and leads you in a ridiculous dance around the room

Spinning, twirling, even hopping onto Kunikida's desk to kick his paperwork everywhere until you're breathless with laughter

With one last bow, Dazai returns you to your desk

"Much better," he says and pokes your cheek again

You give him a warm smile

"Thanks, Dazai, I didn't know I needed that. You're the best"

You thought he was just going to blow it off like Ranpo always does

Nope

He just kinda malfunctions

He wears a look of shock and takes several rapid steps backwards

Then dives out the door like death itself was chasing him

He'd be slower if it was death actually-

Crazy man

Somehow without asking you what was wrong or what he could do to help, he managed to turn your whole day around

this kinda got away from me lmao

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Guided Horse Riding (Mycroft Holmes X Fem!Reader)

Characters: Mycroft Holmes

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: Mention of murder, stabbings, horses

Request: hello dear can i get mycroft/fem reader? reader has a horse and force mycroft into him we want to see a scared the british government💖 [name is mira and a horse with white yellow mane]

Notes: (Uh.... happy early holidays, I'm not dead? Sorry for being gone for so long I genuinely feel so awful for being gone for so long plz forgive me ok thanks bye)

Mycroft had wondered what had led him to the very situation he was in right at this very moment, and he had mentally been piecing it together in his head, till he reached the first domino that started this all. 

The first domino- no surprises here- was Sherlock, who had realised that there had been a pattern in some recent stabbings, with them all happening in public, packed places, and the more people, the more victims- the first was on the underground, the second was at the opening of an art gallery, and then a charity marathon. Sherlock had deduced that the next attack would almost certainly be at the parade happening, and he slapped together a rough description for what to look out for, and dragged Mycroft along to get him access to more secure areas- which included the stables that held the horses meant to be taking part in the parade, and that had been where he had met you. 

You had been there checking in on your horse- Mira, to make sure she was comfortable, calm and ready for such an event, though you knew it was more like you with the nerves than her, this being the first time either of you had took part in an event like this. So when you had the Holmes brother approach you, asking who you were and what you were doing back here, before asking if you’d seen anyone around you didn’t recognise, you were understandably alarmed. One was dressed mostly like any other bystander (who therefor shouldn’t be back there) and the other was dressed formally and seemed to be softening and adding politeness and context that the other, more brash man was missing. You quickly realised that Sherlock was acting mostly that way because he was in a rush, and that something bad was going to happen if he didn’t get answers in time, and luckily, you had remembered a previous interaction with a man just earlier in the day- one that had rubbed you the wrong way with how he spoke, and you pointed them in his direction. Sherlock immediately sped walked away, while Mycoft took the time to shake your hand, thank you for your cooperation, and wish you luck in the parade. 

The parade itself went off without a hitch- at least from your perspective it did. Mira was an angel, behaved and also let children pet her and families take pictures with her. The only thing you noticed that was a little off, was that there was a lot more police there than you predicted, and they all seemed bunched up in one area, but you just assumed it was a safety precaution, and since nothing bad happened, you presumed it was all good. You didn’t find out exactly what had happened until you were packing up for the day, walking your horse over to her trailer, and Mycroft spotted you, and came over to speak to you. 

That was the second domino. After giving you the rundown, explaining how you had basically stopped a mass stabbing thanks to you pointing the man out earlier the day, and after explaining who exactly Sherlock was, and who he was, you got to ask your own question, which began a conversation that resulted in you sharing your phone numbers to pick it up over coffee- the third domino.

Countless other dominos had been set up and knocked down since then- dates, kisses, admissions of love, and it all- somehow- led Mycroft to where he was now, watching you set Mira up for him, so he could ride her for the first time as you reassured him she was a nice, gentle horse, which he knew, but that didn’t help his nerves.  

“You ready?” You ask, patting the neck of the horse after setting up the stool beside her, turning to look at Mycroft

“Not really.” Mycroft responded, sounding far from confident, but despite that, he still took your hand and let you guide him onto the stool, and position his foot into the stirrup.

“Alright, hold the reins, and swing your leg over, I’ll make sure you don’t fall.” You explained to him, and after a moment of hesitation, Mycroft took a deep breath, and did as you ordered, and you kept your promise and helped him onto the saddle. Mira kept perfectly still as Mycroft got settled, and sat stiffly. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” You commented, chuckling as Mycroft only managed a small, unconvinced noise of agreement. 

“Does this mean I can get off now?” Mycroft asked, glancing at you at the corner of his eye.

“Well you can… do you want to try and get off, or get comfortable first?” You asked. Mycroft, upon realising that he’d have to get off the horse, which meant him mostly going backwards, and guessing his own footwork of a horse with little help that you could provide, Mycroft froze for a moment, before sighing. 

“Fine. I’ll get a little comfortable first.” Mycroft gave in, and you grinned at him, before taking a hold of Mira’s reigns. 

“We’ll just walk on the outskirts in a circle at a slow pace.” You explained, before making Mira slowly start moving, trotting along beside you. You did a full lap of the small field you were in before looking back up at Mycroft, who’s shoulders weren’t as stiff anymore, and he didn’t look constipated anymore. “You’re doing great, honey.” You told him, his eyes coming and look at you, and he managed a small smile. 

“Yes, it’s… not as bad as I thought it would be.” Mycoft admitted. You chuckle a little, gently patching the side of Mira’s neck. 

“You can thank Mira for the positive experience. I knew she’d be able to handle a nervous rider. It’s also why she’s great with kids. I’m just glad you trusted me enough to let me put you on her.” You commented, looking up at him. Mycroft looked back at you, a small smile appearing on his lips. 

“Of course I trust you. I love you.” He responded, his voice warm, which caused you to smile.

“Well since I love you too, how about after this lap I’ll get you off Mira so we can go inside and relax for the rest of the afternoon?” You suggest. Mycroft takes a moment to consider your words, before looking down at the horse, and pauses for a moment. 

“...I think I can handle a few more laps.”

Hope you liked it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @holy-tea-cup @sassy-specter @keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey @courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[bakerstreethound]

NSFW headcanon for 🍓Sherlock:

He likes to have showers and baths with you because he likes to wash your hair and body. He wants to feel you close all the time so he comes up with all kinds of excuses to have you in the shower with him. Caring for you by washing you is also one of his love languages especially when his mind is a mess and he doesn't know how to put into words his love and desire for you.

I love this idea! I hope you like this short little story. This became more of a fluffy story, but there is a hint of sexual themes towards the end. Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Gentle Love

Summary: Sherlock Holmes is not the best at expressing his emotions, let alone how to help you when you are going through a rough day. Years ago, he discovered that washing your hair was one of the ways he liked to show his care and adoration, especially when words fail him, and he cannot fully express his love for you.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Anytime you have had a hellish day or a rough one in general, he immediately draws you a bath, with no arguments or exceptions. Once you are in 221B, nothing in the outside world matters but you and him.

You are so tense; he can see it in the way you carry yourself, the way your jaw sets, your knuckles white on the countertops as you contemplate the day you had at work with many customer complaints and people being generally stupid.

However, when Sherlock comes to fetch you for your bath or shower, depending on the mood he is in, his hands will always find their way to your hair, gently brushing the strands from your face to look into your eyes, meeting his sapphire gaze.

"Everything will be okay. Let me help," he whispers before slowly unbuttoning your shirt and carefully setting it on the countertop. The rest of your clothing follows in kind, and he helps you in the tub where warm water is steaming.

You groan in relief and situate yourself as Sherlock gently begins the ritual of washing your hair, a welcome and peaceful routine you have come to savor. In these moments, it is his way of caring for you, letting you know you are not alone.

You are more than grateful for his ministrations and turn your head to give him a gentle kiss, lightly heated with simmering passion underneath. Soon enough you'll have him beneath you in the sheets, adoring him with kisses, tugging those lovely curls, your name falling from his lips over and over again.

******

[fightclubendingscene]

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

[unusuallysubtext]

Your Sherlock Life

Guys, I'm pretty free tonight. Or any time. Send asks with an intro of yourself or an oc and I'll pair you with BBC Sherlock characters (romantic or platonic, whatever you want), and headcanons.

If youre stuck on what to write, here's a list of (hopefully) helpful stuff:

Love language (either platonic or romantic: gifts, holding hands, touch, forehead kisses etc)

Dying your hair/piercings/nails

Fashion style

Ideal home (type of house/family dynamic)

Things you're into (hyperfixations)

Things you're good at (hobbies, skills)

Ideal future (marriage? Kids? Having a little bakery in the middle of london?)

Let me know if you want a male/female/doesn't matter pairing.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

is it still 2012?

It is now mostly because it's still kicking around in my brain

You lean back and scrub your hand over your face, signaling the barkeeper for another pint as you frown at your laptop screen.

Men are shouting at a telly in the corner, watching a football match and you wonder why you wandered in here. But, at least they had cider on tap. Pretty good cider too. Some kind of craft brew, good for the weather.

The noise wasn't distracting. But your phone was. You wanted to check it. And keep checking it. Over and over. Desperate to know something. But... Instead you force yourself to turn back to the draft on your laptop. Staring at the words on the page.

Your big brother wasn't the only one that wrote things. It's just that no one happened to read your little stories- that's all they were. Stories. Nothing real. Nothing exciting. Slices of a world you'd been creating. Fantasy laid over reality. Maybe one day it would be something, but right now it was just a mess. A jumbled mess. And you frowned at the screen feeling betrayed.

"Work must be going well."

The familiar voice made you jump and you nearly knocked over your fresh pint, "I- shit-"

"Really well," Lestrade chuckled, taking a seat next to you. "Grant writing?" he ventured.

"Just... messing around," you answer, exhaling slowly and trying to muster a smile that didn't look deranged. Or give anything away. But heat rushed into your face.

"Ooo a secret," he teased, "taking up a life of crime?"

"No," you snort. "I'm not clever enough for that. If John didn't catch me, Sherlock would... but honestly John would probably bust me first."

Greg half turned in his chair to look at you better and grinned, "Part guard dog part nanny dog, eh?"

"And always ready with a lecture- even if he's done it first and it went way worse." You take a sip of your pint and Greg accepts his from the barkeeper with a nod of thanks.

"Tough luck," he teased, "no crime for you."

"Probably a good thing," you muse, "I don't think I'd do very well as a criminal."

"Nah," Lestrade agreed, "You'd organize the other inmates into some kind of union or make a little community of letter writers- it would be a nightmare. They'd have to let you out early just to stop the tide of polite but very insistent demands."

You smile a little. Strictly, that's not what you did for a living, but. You suppose it did look like that. Mostly you did a lot of running and a lot of community outreach. Enough that Sherlock found you useful.

"Cult leader though," he hummed, "That. That you could probably do."

"I think that went out of style in the 70's."

"Damn."

"I know, I really was born in the wrong decade."

"Nah," he said, "I think you're where you're suppose to be."

[sunshine-on-my-mind]

Meera, hello!!!!

I saw the DM(?) you post, can I have one for Sherlock plz?

So....with a fem and chubby reader, she's Enola's friend, but she prefers live in Hermit style.

But when Enola want to do sth, she would try her best to help Enola. And when Enola fight with her brothers, she just hide in reader's house.

Sherlock found that r is good at hiding and observing the emotions, she is kind of the opposite of him but is tolerable.

Best friend's brother trope and may I add that reader has a habit that when she feel want to be clingy, she would rub her cheek on his shoulder or his chest with holding his hand?

The rest is by you, wish you have a good day🥰🥰

a/n: hi Nana, so i’ve tried to write something with Best Friend’s Brother AU with Sherlock and Chubby reader, hope you like it 💙

pairing: Sherlock x Chubby!Reader

You hear a knock on your door, a particular knock which you recognise very well.

And ‘tis indeed her, your closest friend Enola Holmes. You let her in your home, like you have before, several instances regarding arguments with her brother, especially Mycroft Holmes.

Enola was close to her other brother Sherlock, the man of mystery, she looked up to him.

“What is the matter this time?” You ask after offering Enola her favourite cake.

“Nothing new, only Mycroft being a pompous arse!” She huffs and takes the piece of cake from you. “The worst part, do you know? Sherlock didn’t object, didn’t say a word”

Enola was few years younger than you, but the bond you both had formed was very strong. You truly cared for her, and she for you.

Enola and you are engaged in a conversation when you hear another knock on the door.

“Sherlock!” you both utter at the same time.

“Oh I do not wish to go back” Enola looks at you with pleading eyes.

“How about you go to my room and I will speak to Sherlock?”

She nods and goes inside your bedroom as you make your way to the door, fixing your dress, you open the door.

“Mr. Holmes” You give a curt nod to Sherlock, and he quickly looks you up and down. It would a lie that his gaze didn’t affect you, didn’t make you want more.

“My sister…” Sherlock trails off as he makes his way inside your home. “She is in the bedroom.” Sherlock says matter of factly.

You open your mouth to say something but he looks back at you with a certain look on his that makes your whole body shiver. You clear your throat and walk up to him.

“Mr. Holmes, for a person who has extraordinary thinking abilities do you actually ever think?” Sherlock is taken aback

“Yes, your sister is in the bedroom, hiding from you, but do you care enough to ask why? to think why?”

It is at that moment you realise how close you are standing to him, how his shoulders are so broad, how you want to touch his chest, and how you want to run your finger through his hair.

Sherlock never looks at you with ridicule in his eyes, which other people do sometimes. He stares into your eyes, momentarily dropping to your body, then to your lips and again to your eyes. Sherlock didn’t quite understand what he felt towards you, he wasn’t good with feelings, all he knew is that when you touch him sometimes, be it keeping your head on his shoulder when you, him and Enola are out in a park, and you lean to him unknowingly. He is fond of that, he is fond of you.

“Enlighten me” His voice is low.

“Your sister, she looks up to you, it is not Mycroft she is angry at, it is you, because she cares about you. And I know you do too, but that is the issue with you Holmes siblings, you don’t express your feelings.”

“And you are excellent at it, aren’t you?” Sherlock asks sarcastically.

“Well at least better than you.” With that you leave him in the living room making your way to Enola, you have a hearty conversation with her about how Sherlock cares for her too, just does not know how to express it and she listens to you, all while her brother waits for the two of you.

“Right then Mr. Holmes, Enola will go back with you now.” You announce and smile at Enola, who gives you a tight hug and you hug her back.

“Thank you.” Enola smiles at you.

The Holmes siblings make their way back to their home after wishing you a good day.

“Sherlock?” Enola asks her brother.

“Hm?”

“You like her don’t you?” Sherlock smiles at that, a smile full of adoration, something that rarely appeared on his face

“She is tolerable.”

[geeks-universe]

*HEAD-CANONS*

Send in any and all head-canon requests, I will post them either bulleted style or paragraph/drabble style!

(These will all be specifically ‘x reader’)

[littlefreya]

Hi Freya love your fics sm !! Oh my god “into the night” was just perfection, will there be a part two to it 🥹🥹

Hey darling, thank you for much for the lovely ask.

I do have plans to work on a second part. 😁

Into the Night

[j-eryewrites]

Q and A

Hey y’all, I want to do a q and a while I’m finishing up both Arbitrary Lives and A Sinner’s Redemption. If you have anything you wanna say or ask, feel free! I’d love to answer and respond to you all.

[softestqueeen]

hey! love the dont you forget abt me sherlock pt 1, the tension and hurt + comfort is sooo good. any updates for when part 2 is gonna be out 🌚 🌚

hey anon, so i have started writing the second part and i will try to get it out after my 500 follower celebration, as i am quite busy with those requests rn!

but don't you worry, i have not forgotten about it! and i'm glad you enjoyed it!

love, phia <3

[asherloki]

Hello! Fellow writer here :) 8 and 9 on the smutty one liners for sherlock x reader? Maybe he was thinking about her in his head (mind palace, whatever lol) and he called her to baker street and deducted she wanted him back? :) take this as far as you want or don't do it at all. Nothing but love <3

Absolutely! Coming right up! Hope you like it. 💞

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Answer The Phone (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader) *PARENTAL

Characters: Mycroft X Daughter!Reader, Sherlock X Niece!Reader

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: mentions of being drugged via gas (fun story, this happened to me once lol), bomb, explosion, burns, unhealthy relationship with parent

Request: Hello could you do mycroft x daughter reader. Final problem the two have really broken father and daughter relationship and they haven't express themselves and because of it sherlock is kinda the father figure of the reader. So instead of Sherlock doing the phonecall its the mycroft who did the phonecall and reader almost said 'I love you ' to mycroft but its time up and mycrift witness the explosion in reader apartment and the Holmes are broken as they heard the shrill scream coming from the reader. Its up to you if you wanna turn out to let reader died. 😊

It had been a long time since you had actually gotten along with your dad. A long time since tensions weren’t running high when in his presence, well aware that things were one thoughtless comment away from a bicker or an argument. Whether it was wanting something from one another- more affection from him, or a more agreeable personality from you- or just not agreeing on things in general. He often commented on how you were more like your uncle Sherlock, even when you were young. Back then you took it as a compliment, seeing your uncle as a genius who adored you and was by far the funnest uncle in the world, but in your pre-teens you realised he meant it as an insult.

You could never forgive him for doing that, even if he didn’t mean it, or didn’t even realise what he was saying. Everytime he said it, it made you pull away from him even more. Spend more time with the man he compared you to, the only person who seemed to actually care about you. Of course, that was until you met Mrs Hudson and then John moved in with Sherlock. Mrs Hudson kept you company when your uncle was busy and you were avoiding your dad, and she’d softly poke into your home life and your relationship with your dad and try and give advice. John thought you were Sherlock’s assistant for a short while before Sherlock corrected him, acting insulted that he thought you were ‘just an assistant’. When he met Mycroft, he immediately began to understand why you weren’t close, and tried to be a responsible adult you could turn to. In the end, when you became a legal adult, you moved to an apartment much, much closer to Sherlock than your dad, and never in the 3 years you’d had it, had your dad stepped foot inside of it. He wasn’t allowed to. 

You had a lot of feelings towards your dad from childhood to now. Anger, resentment, distrust. A disconnect you never thought and come to accept could ever be fixed. Whenever you needed support, you went to Sherlock. John. Mrs Hudson. Never him. But this time was different. 

You were currently trapped in the said apartment. The one place you were supposed to feel safe no matter what, yet here you were, eyes focussed on the bomb that had been planted in the middle of your living room, the heart of your apartment, with several wires linking to it all across the apartment like spiderwebs. Linked to every possible escape route- the windows, the fire escape, and the only door in and out. You didn’t remember what had happened- you vaguely remember an odd smell as you wet to sleep last night, and when you awoke, you found yourself laying on the floor of your living room, and sitting up and seeing the device. Whoever had done this, had been nice enough to leave your phone right beside the bomb. You didn’t call anyone or even turn the phone on for several hours, scared that it had been tampered with as well and that was also a trigger, but you grew desperate. The first person you tried to call was your dad. You didn’t get through, so then you called Sherlock, and he picked up almost immediately, and you told him what was going on. 

That was about two hours ago now. The police cars littered the streets outside, the complex and surrounding buildings completely evacuated. It was just you and this bomb within a 50 foot radius. Well, for a period of time, both Sherlock and John were on the other side of the door, asking you a billion and one questions about what you could see, and you described everything to the best of your abilities, and it was useful. One, Sherlock was able to piece together it was well made, and whoever made this was an expert and had experience with this- probably a military man, working in a bomb squad or something, and that this was purely explosive, no nails or anything to cause more damage, and due the size, the blast wouldn’t go far past the walls of your home. However, after demanding his honesty, he admitted he also had no clue how to diffuse it, or if that was even possible. It seemed too fragile, that even a light breeze could set it off. That solidified your decision to remain perfectly still within two of the wires attached to your windows, too scared to even touch the glass or move to quickly, remembering his comment on a breeze, and didn’t want to risk vibration. 

You still hadn’t been able to reach your dad. 

“John?” You had asked over the phone. The phone was often being in call between people, mostly Sherlock and John, though Mrs Hudson had called when neither were available to try and keep you calm. It was John’s turn as Sherlock was following leads. 

“Yeah? Is something happening?” John asked. 

“No it’s just… I can’t reach my dad. I keep trying to call him but he won’t pick up… I… I just want to hear his voice.” You admitted. It sounded ridiculous, childish, but you were tired, hungry, and the adrenaline had drained your energy a while ago now. “Does he know what’s happening?” You asked. He was silent on his side for a minute. 

“I don’t know, but I tell you what, I’m going to personally find him, and drag him here, and make him answer his phone, okay?” He promised, and you could hear the anger oozing over the phone, which you couldn’t help but smile at. “In the meantime, I think Sherlock is going to call you later, I think he’s onto something. Hang on, alright?” He said, before handing up. You placed the phone on the floor, carefully standing up, and with distance between yourself and the window, you peered out of it, able to see John as he dashed off towards Lestrade, telling him something, before the pair got into a car and took off presumably to go and find your dad. Looking around more, you spotted Mrs Hudson peering up. She waved when she saw you, and you waved back. With nothing else to do, you sat back down in front of the bomb, trying to examine it to the best of your ability, seeing nothing of importance, before you laid down on the floor, closing your eyes, and waiting.

You flinched when your phone rang. You flinched every time it rang, even if someone had told you just a minute prior it was coming. You reached over, picking it up and placing it to your ear, remembering what John had said. “Sherlock?” You asked. 

“How many pieces of furniture in your flat can you crawl under?” His question was far from reassuring, as you bolted up, on high alert. 

“U-Um, I don’t know, why? Do I need to hide? Take cover? What’s going on?” You panicked. 

“The wiring to the bomb is far too fragile for someone to be able to rig it from the outside after escaping. They must have either found or made another way inside, somewhere where you wouldn’t have noticed. If we can find it you can get out yourself, or we can get inside. Think. Lay on the floor and look around for anything, furniture that you can get under, or furniture light enough but large enough to cover an escape but be able to move from below. Be. Careful. Watch the wires. Call me back if you find anything, I’m on my way back.” He said before hanging up, leaving you alone with silence and overwhelming pressure. You looked at the wires around you, before trying to think of the best places for someone to hide a hatch- under the coffee table, the recliner that you knew was easy to move, your wardrobe in your room which had some crawl space underneath, and for you, the most creepy- under your bed. You quickly checked under your coffee table in front of you, of course finding nothing, because of course that would be too easy. Your recliner was across from you, so after a deep breath, you got down on the ground, and carefully crawled under the wires, spotting a wire that was too low to crawl under, and you stood and carefully stepped over it. You then carefully moved your recliner, checking underneath, and found nothing. That left your bedroom. 

Your phone rang again, and your cursed yourself, realising you left it beside the table, and you hurriedly but carefully moved back, grabbing it and answering it. “Hello? Sherlock?” 

“Y/N?” Your dad’s voice caught you off guard, and you gasped in surprised. “What’s going on? John told me to call you and said it was dire.” He asked. A relief came over you just from hearing his voice, your eyes burning as you sniffed. 

“Dad… it’s bad.” You started, getting silence on the phone. “There’s… someone put some sort of sedative gas into my flat when I went to bed and broke in- they moved me into the living room and- there’s a bomb. There’s a bomb in the living room and it’s wired up to every escape and I can’t get out and I’m scared and I don’t want to die-” You rambled to him before you heard him finally repeating your name to try and interrupt you. 

“Y/N, Y/N, breathe. Is Sherlock working on it?” He asked, that last sentence sound a little distance, and you faintly heard John confirm in the background, before he returned to the phone. “Alright. Sherlock’s working on it. What has he told you?” 

“He um… He said that he thinks there’s a secret entrance somewhere- and that’s how the person who did this escaped after rigging everything. He told me to look for it- I’m going to check in my bedroom next.” You explained to him, looking over, being relieved when you saw no wire attached to the door. 

“Is that door rigged?” 

“No. Hold on, I have to crawl under the wires.” You explained, getting back down, crawling under the wires, before reaching it the door, and holding the phone to your ear. “Okay, I’m at the door.”

“Do you feel like a secret agent?” He asked, catching you off guard. 

“What?” You asked, pausing in your plan. 

“Crawling under and over the wires. It’s like the laser lights and those agents avoiding them. You used to love those movies when you were little. You thought that was what Sherlock did in his cases.” He reminisced. A faint smile met your lips. You’d totally forgotten about that. 

“Yeah… I remember one time when I pulled out all the red thread from a jumper you had gotten me, pinning it all over the house so I could pretend to be a secret agent and then using it to make an information board… you were so mad when you came back home because the jumper was some expensive brand and I’d made the board on a wall and wrote on it and everything… sorry about that.” You told him, somehow finding the energy to chuckle pathetically. 

“Don’t apologise.” Mycroft told you. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. You were 6, you were just being a child.” He pointed out. “I’m… I’m also sorry that I didn’t answer your calls. I should have known something was wrong when you kept trying to reach me.” He apologised. You hummed, before you realised something. 

“This is the first time we’ve been able to actually talk without bickering or arguing in years.” You pointed out. You heard him sigh. 

“When this whole mess is over, I promise you we’re going to have a proper family dinner, catch up, and actually talk. No bickering. No arguing. A genuine conversation. How does that sound?” He asked. You smiled to yourself. This was the best thing that had happened all day, not like that was hard. 

“Yeah. Let’s hope the escape is in my room.” You said, remembering your task. You reached out, grabbing the handle of your bedroom door, and opening it, and pulling the door open. “Hey, you know, despite not really getting along my whole life, I want you to know that I do love-” You looked up to search your room, but the sound of a beep made your eyes focus on the bomb attached to your bedframe, this one a lot bigger, that was rigged to your bedroom door, that you had just set off.

Mycroft heard you gasp, the sound of you running, hearing you muttering repeatedly ‘no, no, no, no”, the sound of you trying to open a door before the call ended. “Y/N?” Mycroft asked. He heard nothing. He tried calling you back, and it didn’t even ring. He got an awful feeling in his stomach and he wanted to be sick, but he looked up at John who looked confused at what was happening, having not heard what he’d heard. “Get me to her flat right now.” 

By the time the pair arrived on your street, it was already blocked off and there was more than one firetruck trying to subdue the fire that was blazing where your flat used to be. Mycroft didn’t speak as he approached, seeing the sight, realising what it was exactly that he heard. He heard his daughter realise she triggered an explosive. He heard his daughter run across the one place she was meant to be safe to the front door. He heard his daughter try and open the door, and realise it was locked and she was trapped inside.

He heard his daughter die, terrified and alone. And for what? Why? Why not him, or Sherlock? He wanted to be angry, demand answers, find who did this and get revenge even if it isn’t lawful, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry right now. Only guilty. He should have spent more time with you. He should have tried harder to be a better parent to you, he should have been kinder, more understanding. He should have been there. 

“John! Mycroft!” Mycroft didn’t hear Mrs Hudson at first as she dashed over as quick as she could- she was sobbing and sniffling, clutching a handkerchief to her face as she approached. 

“Mrs Hudson, what happened?!” John asked alarmed and out of breath. 

“There was a second bomb in the bedroom, when she opened the door it set it off.” She explained. Mycroft finally looked away from the blaze to look at the woman. The call had ended only 20 minutes or so prior, and since the flat was still in fire, so there was no way to examine the scene. 

“How do you know that?” He asked her. She didn’t say anything, simply grabbing his arm and pulling him down the street, pass the firetrucks, past the police who looked defeated, and towards an ambulance. The back doors were open, and inside he was able to see two paramedics tending to someone in the bed. He felt his heart leap into his throat as he sprinted to the edge and jumped inside, able to finally see your face, an oxygen mask over your face, burns littering your body, and you were unconscious as a paramedic was placing bandaging on one of your burns. “Is she okay? Is my daughter okay?” He demanded answers, one of the paramedics looking up at him. 

“She’s suffered burns and blunt force trauma from the explosion. She was conscious when she was able to get out, but she fell unconscious, and we need to get her to the hospital now. Please sit down if you’re coming with her.” He instructed, and Mycroft followed and sat down. He turned, seeing John and Mrs Hudson stood, staring at you. 

“Please make sure Sherlock finds out who did this. They need to pay for this.” Mycroft demanded. John nodded firmly, before the doors shut, the sirens turned on and the ambulance began to move. Mycroft put his whole focus on you, making sure your chest moved up and down, looking for any sign of you waking up, and more importantly, any sign you were in pain. He only saw you breathing, and he decided for now he should be thankful for that. He didn’t know what exactly he was going to do, but he knew that somehow, someway, he was going to fix this. He was going to make everything better. He had to.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @holy-tea-cup-blog @sassy-specter @keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey @courtneychicken @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines@huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[bakerstreethound]

I would like to ask some of your headcanons (sandman, good omens, Sherlock, whatever you want you choose!) 🥰

Rogue, my dear hii! I hope you can get out of this terrible Tumblr jail soon! I appreciate you sending me these. Let's see I may do a few here and there as a treat. I hope you enjoy them (:

Sherlock

This man likes hugs, but it takes him a while to get used to affection as I think he is touch starved

Loves having his curls ruffled or tugged during a kiss (make that man melt haha, plus it's in a majority of my fics now so it's almost canon)

He likes to observe whatever you're doing and when he knows you're not in the mood for affection, will sit in the room with you as you study/read/ watch a movie

This usually ends up with you listening to one of his cases as he rambles along and you've gotten used to it by now it's one of the usual nightly occurrences in 221B

In autumn, he gets curious about the tie/knot fleece blankets which leads you to a weekend stint of creating some festive ones. John comes in to help as well and you make a blanket fort

Dream/Morpheus

I am a firm believer that Morpheus will sit down in a comfortable armchair and knit dreams/stories/nightmares out of his shadows and sand while you watched transfixed

He likes to take nightly strolls in the library when he can also to check up on Lucienne and Matthew as he knows they like to keep track of him in case something were to go wrong

When you're in the Dreaming with him, it's one of your favorite places to go and you love talking to Merv as well who trains you well with his shotgun

Pre capture Dream detests family gatherings and even moreso post capture as none of his family came to help him, so when you ask him to a gathering of your friends (Hob included) he's hesitant at first and you and Hob reassure him it will be alright

I also think Morpheus has an extensive art galley and all his awesome cloaks are the art pieces so he can swoop the canvases off to shift to his robes

The Corinthian

I feel like Corinthian would go to those classy swanky 1920s themed jazz bars and get a martini and just for kicks and giggles garnishes it with an eyeball instead of an olive

He likes being hand fed his eyeballs. It's almost akin to the feeding someone grapes as they recline on a lounger type scenario. Bonus points if it's you doing the feeding

Speaking of eating, he would like to take you out for little treats like ice cream

This nightmare has such a fancy for suits, he goes to the most hip places and is so picky and particular about his suits, the quality, the fabric. He goes the whole nine yards and does not skimp

This extends to the way he would treat someone he fancies and would spare no expense. It's not a good thing to piss him off as they'd likely be his next meal so it's good to stay on his nicer side

Sleepover Weekend