#sherlock x teen reader

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 3) Prologue

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Prologue: Difficult Loss

Summary: (Y/N) is dealing with the aftermath of losing Sherlock.

Mouse Note: Welcome to A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 3)! Very angsty beginning, I know, but it didn't exactly end that well. I hope everyone enjoys this, please feel free to comment (It gets me to keep writing and I always respond). I can't wait to see what everyone thinks. I've worked very hard on this! So, without further ado, let's go!

            Two years. Two years of going on autopilot. Two years of loneliness. Two years with Sherlock.

            (Y/N) was…not doing well.

            If someone asked them, they’d refuse to respond, but if pressed, (Y/N) would assure everyone (coldly) that they were just fine. Anyone close to them knew that was a giant lie.

            Mrs. Hudson could speak of how (Y/N) refused to eat whenever their loneliness got too strong. Even their beloved lollipops were abandoned and thrown in the trash. She saw them curl up in Sherlock’s armchair and just stare into space, lost in their memories as they ached for Sherlock to come back to them. She knew they had resisted washing their sweater for quite some time, and when it had come out smelling of detergent, (Y/N) had nearly burst into tears as it suddenly felt so foreign, like the last remnants of Sherlock had been destroyed.

            Mycroft could speak of how he let (Y/N) go on cases (supervised and ensured to not be dangerous at all) but saw nothing but mechanical work. They would solve the cases, but there was no…spirit. There was none of the energy they had when they worked with Sherlock. It was like they were on autopilot. And they only spoke when Lestrade prompted them. There was no desire to show off. In fact, (Y/N) had reverted to who they had been without Sherlock. Insecure. Unsure of themself. Unsure of everyone around them.

            John could speak of that better than anyone. He had lingered for so long in 221B, but (Y/N) hadn’t liked it. They were unsure of his presence, the lack of Sherlock being too much. It was too much for John, too. He couldn’t stay in the flat. And (Y/N) hadn’t protested. It was like they were waiting for him to leave, too. Like Sherlock.

            And he had. He had met Mary. He had fallen in love with Mary. He was ready to marry Mary. He had hoped (Y/N) would like her and they’d start finding more people to trust (or anyone to trust). But they hadn’t. They had acknowledged Mary, but they were so unsure of people. It wasn’t that they disliked her—John knew what (Y/N) was like with people they didn’t like—but they just couldn’t let themself get close. They couldn’t get past losing Sherlock. Without him…

            (Y/N) was empty.

            And everyone around them knew it.

            However, there was one thing (Y/N) kept to themself. They visited Sherlock’s grave. They knew he’d remind them that such sentimentality was silly, and they should be moving on to greater things. But they couldn’t, and since Sherlock was dead, (Y/N) didn’t have him to tell them to stop visiting his grave.

            So they kept going. They’d talk about their cases. They made sure they solved each one just to make sure they had successes to share with Sherlock. They had to make him proud. But still…

            “I miss you,” whispered (Y/N), curling up in front of his grave with his old purple sweater pulled around them. “I miss you so much.”

            (Y/N) missed their dad.

Taglist:

@stilesstilinskiforlife-blog

@im-making-an-effort

@ilse235

@schrodingers-intelligence

@awsedrftgyhujikol

@lxserthxngzzz

@forever1313

@mentallyunstablemanlover

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

The Same Page part 2

Here it is! Did anyone ask for it? Not really, but I wanted to write it anyway. Enjoy!

Same Page Masterlist:

Warnings: ANGST

No words were exchanged between the Holmes’ brothers as they waited for you to wake up. They had nothing to say. All that occupied their minds currently was you, and words weren’t needed to discuss the condition you were in.

Bad things often go without saying.

Sherlock wasn’t used to looking to Mycroft for answers or help, but the moment you started to stir, his eyes turned to his big brother’s with an almost panicked expression. After all, he didn’t know how to take care of you in your current condition, and Mycroft had spent two years doing it.

“Mycroft?” Your voice was thick with sleep, and your muffled tone had an air of confusion to it as Sherlock felt you squeeze his arm.

“Hello Y/N,” Mycroft answered before Sherlock could correct you. “I’m here.”

“I had another one,” you whimpered. “Sher…he…was there. I didn’t want to wake up. It was so real.”

“I know it was, honey. Open your eyes.” Mycroft told you hesitantly.

You slowly pushed yourself into a sitting position, rubbing your eyes and blinking them open slowly. When your eyes landed on Sherlock’s, your mouth dropped open slightly, and you reached both of your hands out and gripped onto him.

“It was real?” You breathed, tears brimming in your eyes. Your eyes flitted over to Mycroft to make sure he was there, before whipping back to Sherlock, as though you were afraid he would disappear if you looked away too long.

“It’s real. I’m back, N/N.”

Mycroft watched his siblings silently. He hadn’t heard Sherlock call you by your nickname since you were around three. He also wasn’t used to seeing Sherlock allow you to hug him like you were now, and he couldn’t even remember the last time Sherlock reciprocated the affection.

But then again, over the last two years he had seen many sides to his siblings that he wasn’t used to, most of them for the worse. It was nice to see the better for a change.

“Why did you leave me?” Your frail body was shaking with sobs as you gripped onto your big brother as though he was the only thing holding you to the world.

“I’m sorry,” Mycroft could swear that Sherlock’s eyes were glistening as he held you tightly to him. “I’m so sorry. I’m here now, I’m here.”

You pulled away slightly from Sherlock, your fingers still clamped onto his shirt, and Mycroft’s heart leapt into his throat when your eyes turned to him. He knew that look all too well. Your lip was quivering, and your wide eyes held a fragility that he would never get used to, like a glass mid-way through shattering. You looked at him like he was the only thing in the world holding you together. The only thing you could trust. The only one who could fix you.

But he didn’t know how to fix you. He didn’t know how to pick up the pieces that were so broken, it was as if you had fallen with Sherlock.

“Awake?” You were holding your breath, every bit of sanity left in you reliant on the words that would come out of your oldest brother.

“Yes, yes you’re awake sweetheart.”

Mycroft breathed a sigh of relief when your attention turned back to Sherlock.

Your eyes studied him carefully, as though you were waiting for him to shatter into a million pieces in front of you.

After an agonizing silence, Sherlock spoke. “Moriarty’s men were watching you. If you didn’t react as though I was dead, they would’ve killed you, and me, and-“

“Stop.” Your voice was louder than usual, stronger. “I don’t care why.”

Sherlock swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. “Are you angry?” He was trying to find some emotion in you, anything to give him hope that his little sister was somewhere in this broken figure in his arms.

“No.” You blinked. “Yes…maybe.” Your shaking body seemed to collapse into his arms. “Not now, I don’t think. I can’t now, I just want you here.”

Sherlock held your near-limp form closely, breathing a sigh of relief. He knew there would be plenty of anger to go around later, from you, from Mrs Hudson, certainly from John. But for now you were just relieved to have your big brother back, and Sherlock would enjoy it while it lasted.

He wasn’t sure how long all of you stayed like that, suspended in a strange sense of contentment.

Mycroft was the one to break the silence, looking at his watch and leaning in to speak softly to his little sister.

“Y/N, it’s getting late. You should try to get something to eat and drink.”

“Not hungry.” You mumbled into Sherlock’s shirt. Sherlock twisted, pulling you away from him despite your soft cry of protest.

“Mycroft is right.” Mycroft barely resisted the strong urge to gloat at this statement from his little brother. “I’ll come with you, I promise.”

Sherlock wasn’t used to agreeing with Mycroft, but they had both promised to stay on the same page when it came to you, and he certainly wanted you to eat.

You slowly slipped off the bed, your fingers never once loosening their grip on Sherlock’s now-wrinkled shirt. He didn’t complain, simply following you off the bed and keeping one arm around your shoulders.

Your eyes turned to Mycroft and you nodded your consent at his proposal.

“Do you feel strong enough for the stairs?”

You took a hesitant step forward, and Sherlock felt you lurch, unbalanced on your feet. He tightened his grip on your shoulders, effectively holding you up as you shook your head in answer to Mycroft’s question.

“Would you like me to help you downstairs?” Mycroft asked gently, opening his arms to allow you access.

Sherlock watched his siblings’ little exchange, trying to suspend his feelings of disbelief. Mycroft spoke to you so gently, asking you about every next step he took. His confidence spoke of a familiarity to this situation, and Sherlock wondered how many times Mycroft had had to help you through the smallest of daily tasks.

You seemed torn for a moment, your eyes going back and forth between Sherlock and Mycroft. Sherlock struggled to understand your hesitation, before he came to the most logical conclusion.

Your familiarity with Mycroft’s help in all tasks was tempting and comforting, but you couldn’t bring yourself to release your hold on Sherlock.

Mycroft seemed to read your train of thought as well.

“It’s alright, we can both help you. Would that be alright?”

In answer, you removed one hand from Sherlock’s shirt and gripped onto Mycroft’s outstretched arm. Mycroft smiled softly at you, and together the Holmes’ brothers held you up as you walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Mycroft lifted you onto a stool at his kitchen counter, and Sherlock dutifully remained by your side so that you could keep your grip on him.

Sherlock felt like an intruder on some intimate moment every time that Mycroft spoke to you, so gentle and reassuring was his tone.

“Would you like to pick out your dinner?”

A nod. Sherlock wasn’t used to seeing you silent for so long.

“Alright, good. What would you like?”

In answer, you held up an M in sign language, and Mycroft smiled at you.

“Mac and cheese, I’ll be right back.”

After Mycroft had disappeared into the kitchen, a strange silence fell over the two youngest Holmes. You didn’t seem comfortable enough to speak, and Sherlock couldn’t seem to find anything to say.

You tugged on Sherlock’s arm, and he looked down to watch you lay his hand on your lap and play with his fingers between your own. He smiled. You used to do that a lot as a little girl, whenever he was nearby and you were incredibly bored with the “grown up conversation” around you.

“I missed you.” Sherlock whispered. You looked at him with an unreadable expression before turning your attention back on your intertwined hands.

Sherlock sighed. How was he supposed to talk to you? He had had a hard enough time with that before all this. You were the only Holmes sibling that seemed to take after your parents, leaving Sherlock and Mycroft at a loss when it came to finding common interests with you.

Mycroft seemed to have settled into a role in the last two years as caregiver, but this was all so new for Sherlock that he didn’t know where he fit in.

Not long after, Mycroft returned with a steaming bowl that he placed in front of you. You hesitated, unwilling to release your grip on Sherlock. Mycroft leaned down to better look into your eyes.

“It’s alright, you can let go. He won’t go anywhere, I promise.”

Hesitantly, hands shaking, you released your grip on your big brother in exchange for a grip on the fork in front of you.

“Good girl,” Mycroft smiled faintly.

You ate in silence, and after a short time you pushed the bowl away from you, eliciting a slight frown from Mycroft.

“Y/N, please eat some more.”

You shook your head, not daring to look Mycroft in the eye as he let out a frustrated sigh. He nudged Sherlock out of the way and stood fully in front of you, gently tilting your chin up to force you to look at him.

“Please, for me?”

You took two or three more bites before pushing the bowl away and shaking your head. Mycroft sighed and, to Sherlock’s surprise, pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“It’s alright, that’s enough. Thank you.”

“Sherlock.” It was the first word Sherlock had heard you speak in over two hours, and Mycroft responded instantly, stepping away from you to allow Sherlock to get closer.

Sherlock stepped forward and allowed you to once again fall into his arms. He couldn’t remember the last time he had held you this much in a single day.

For the first time since he had caught sight of you in Mycroft’s cameras, Sherlock’s mind drifted to other things.

John. John still didn’t know that he was alive, and Sherlock was itching to tell him. He communicated this to Mycroft by simply mouthing ‘John’ over your shoulder. Mycroft’s face took on a resolute, almost solemn expression, and he placed a hand on your shoulder, pulling you away from Sherlock.

“Sweetheart, Sherlock needs to leave for a couple of hours, alright?”

Your reaction was about as Sherlock had expected.

Your entire body went rigid, and you twisted instantly out of Mycroft’s grasp, gripping onto Sherlock’s arms with all of your strength.

“No, no don’t go!” Your wails struck Sherlock to his core, but he knew he couldn’t just stay by your side forever.

“I have to tell John, Y/N. He still doesn’t know,” he attempted to reason with you, but your cries didn’t stop, neither did your grip loosen.”

“Don’t leave, stay, you have to stay!”

“Hey, look at me, alright?” Sherlock pulled his wristwatch off and placed it into your hands. “See? I’ll be back by 9:30, ok? I promise I will, I promise.”

These reassurances were also to no effect.

“Don’t go, Sherlock don’t!”

Sherlock looked to Mycroft for help, something both men found uncomfortable. Mycroft took your small hands in his, and pried you away from Sherlock, not even flinching as you fought him with all your strength.

“No, Sherlock no!”

Sherlock felt that there was no choice now but to turn his back and leave.

“Sherlock, don’t leave me!”

He would never admit to anyone, even himself, that those were tears dripping down his cheeks as your cries echoed behind him.

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

Being Sherlock Holmes protege/child

Pairings: Sherlock Holmes x teen!reader (slight John Watson x teen!reader, slight Greg Lestrade x teen!reader)

Imagine: Sherlock taking a liking to you and decides that he wants you as his protege

Warnings: mention of struggling with school idk what else

A/N so as always my works are gn!reader so that anyone can read them and idk this idea just came to me might write and actual fic about it (sorry if it might be messy, haven’t reread it after I wrote it)

I love Sherlock <3 that’s it that’s my actual comment

So you somehow caught Sherlock’s attention weather it be that you are smart as him or not doesn’t really matter, you caught his attention

It was at a crime scene in which you helped Lestrade a lot in the case until he contacted Sherlock, when Sherlock got there he noticed how you helped him get to the answer, or more like you knew the answer which turned out to be correct. Having known much about this crime and the people involved helped you a lot to solve it.

Sherlock who as usual tried to deduce everyone tried to deduce you and noticed that he couldn’t, or he got it all wrong, it made him more curious about you

So Sherlock decided out of nowhere that he liked you, he saw potential in you and wanted to take you in, so that’s what he did

If you were an orphan he got accepted to foster you, but if you aren’t then he needed your parents approval, which he got (with a bit of help from Lestrade and Mycroft)

The first week living with Sherlock was filled with him trying to figure out things about you. In doing that he did actually notice all your bad habits.

He noticed how you were stressed about school a lot, how you struggled with school, which he thought weird as outside of school you were damn smart but as soon as it came to school all went to shit

So he started (without himself knowing) slowly to help you with your school work, he’d say random facts that you would actually need to your assignments in which you wrote down. He helped you a lot that way and when he noticed he still continued, because he noticed you never asked for help. You were a lot less stressed over school because of his help.

After a few weeks he started to notice how you would make sure that he took care of himself but you wouldn’t take care of yourself, so he started to tell you to eat something, to drink, to sleep, like you always told him

The first case he took you to was the first time you ever saw Sherlock get “scolded” though neither you or Sherlock took any mind to Lestrade telling him of for bringing a teenager to a crime scene, you wanted to be there to help so what was the problem?

Let’s not forget that both you and Sherlock are greatly annoyed by Anderson and Donovan because if anyone where to ask the two of you then they are both bloody idiots who doesn’t know a shit, and they do call you both names in which are not to your liking

Changing topic a bit Sherlock always wants to hear what you have to say about a crime scene

Everyone getting worried by your antics of throwing yourself in danger most of the time to help Sherlock who is in trouble

Mycroft actually liking you, hence why he protected you as much as he tries to protect Sherlock

This was all before John, but when John came into the picture everyone started to notice how much Sherlock had influenced you and they didn’t quite know if it was good or bad

John noticed how he now had to take care of two children in which one was a teenager and one an actual adult, but both acted as children and neither could take care of themselves

Stealing Sherlock coat whenever you miss him

“John I can’t find it” Sherlock yelled out lowly as not to wake you as he knew you were asleep

John walked into the living room with a mug of tea in his hand as he yawned tiredly, it was way to early for this “What are you looking for”

“My coat!” John heard the panic start to seep through Sherlock at the mention of his coat being gone.

“Why are you whispering”

“Y/N is asleep, I don’t want to wake them”

John who knew that you did in fact steal Sherlock’s coats from time to time sighed at those words. John took a sip of his tea before he walked over to your door opening it to show Sherlock your sleeping form.

That’s when Sherlock saw his coat draped around your body, the very same coat he had been looking for. You were cuddled up inside it the warmth keeping you warm as well as the familiar smell of Sherlock in which had comforted you into sleep helping with your previous worried state.

John had left the door leaving only Sherlock who stared at you. He sighed, closed the door and went and got another coat from his room. He’d let you have his favorite coat for now. Unknowingly to him a soft small smile had etched itself onto his lips as he thought about the fact that you felt safe around him, after all that’s why you took his coat.

He gave you a coat that looked like his after that

Neither you or Sherlock would ever admit it but you did see him as a sort of father figure and he saw you as his child in some sort of way

[cas-kingdom]

Ok… Don’t judge quality since I still feel horrible, but Sherlock and “Don’t start something you can’t finish”?

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Enola warned you with a piercing look that Sherlock fancied only the two of you could convey and understand.

You shot a particular look back, one that spoke a thousand words at once without you even needing to open your mouth. “Oh,” you said with a hint of amusement, “I’m perfectly capable of finishing this Aren’t I, Sherlock?”

“The truth of it often keeps me up at night,” Sherlock admitted with a mock sigh. He sat back in his seat and let a small smile tug at his lips as you suddenly looked victorious in many ways other than your obviously self-satisfied smirk.

“Well, then,” Enola said, smoothing the skirt of her dress as she crossed one leg over the other, “go ahead.”

The carriage ride from London to the Holmes’ holiday home in the Cotswolds made for excellent intellectual games, the three of you had decided. While Enola enjoyed the activities which catered to her genetic predisposition for crime-solving and decoding, something Sherlock was all too happy to partake in, you preferred putting your mind to good use within the world of literary heroes and riddle-solving, something Sherlock seemed happier to partake in, much to Enola’s exasperation. Though there was very little time in age between you and Enola, your differences, mostly how much your mental stimulation benefitted from opposing things, often amazed your brothers, Mycroft included. 

You had an hour or so left in the carriage, and you had sat dutifully through an anagram game Enola liked to play, but you had turned the tables now, insisting Shakespeare make his entrance. Enola knew you adored Shakespeare’s work and could quote many of his plays, but she also knew that Sherlock was much the same, albeit more experienced. She doubted you could best your brother in a game of wits such as this, but then, she had been away from her siblings for some time, living alone in London and finding her own path, and thus was mostly unaware of the bond you and Sherlock had revitalised between you. 

“You start,” you said, directing your question at Sherlock, who turned to gaze out the window, humming under his breath.

“‘Frailty, thy name is woman’,” he began confidently, looking back to you. Your eyes narrowed slightly in competition.

“Hamlet. ‘Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.’”

“The Tempest. ‘If music be the food of love play on’.”

It continued as such, both of you shooting Shakespearean quotes at each other and answering with the play it had come from. You seemed to have forgotten Enola was there, instead staring pointedly at each other, attempting to reign the champion.

Enola busied herself staring out the window, which was in fact nothing short of boring, until the competition behind her took a spin. You had turned swiftly to tossing Shakespearean insults at each other, something she figured happened a lot, considering how adept you seemed to be at it.

She was pushed a little unceremoniously into the side of the carriage as you were pulled towards Sherlock, his hands suddenly—uncharacteristically, if Enola had anything to say for it, though, again, she seemed to not be privy to your relationship over the past year or so—tickling. You still spewed your insults, shooting them out your mouth alongside your uproarious laughter, and Enola, despite her raised brows and gaping mouth, couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank God Mycroft isn’t here,” was all she could say.

Enola Masterpost

send me the first sentence of a fanfic and i’ll write the next five, except i don’t know when to stop writing so i guarantee there’ll be more than five

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞

𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓! 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It's Y/N's first day of the autumn term, but things seem bleak when she can't find her class. It's only when she meets an eccentric student, that the real tests begin...

Dark academia vibes... Sherlock in his university days... fluff!

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

Y/N glanced down at the campus map and gulped at the intricate pathways painted along the frayed paper. She scanned her finger over dozens of marked buldings, but couldn't distinguish between their uniformity. With only fifteen minutes left before the start of class, Y/N was feeling anxious as she searched for the East building's location.

She took one last look at her map before tossing it into her book bag. "I guess I'll do some exploring," she muttered nervously. "I'm bound to find my class in passing, right?" Y/N clutched the strap of her bag and walked between the masses of students bustling around her.

The university held an air of drama with its faded stone walls and branching ivy. Each college building stood tall amongst sturdy oak trees and shrubs.The semester's autumn weather served as the perfect backdrop for the academic stage. A damp wind carried the scent of heather and late blooming sage.

Y/N took deep breaths as she hurried along the student walkway. Her watch read three minutes until the start of class. She ran across the university's grassplot in one last desperate attempt to find the East building, but her search was fruitless.

"Damn!" she cried out in frustration. A look at the time told her that classes had commenced, and she would miss introductions. Y/N stomped towards a bench shaded beneath a tree and sat down with a huff. A young man was seated at the opposite end of the bench, but hardly stirred from behind his book.

"There go my marks for attendance!" Y/N exclaimed, tossing her book bag to the side. The Professor would surely detract points for tardiness. She was furious at herself for being so careless, and hated the anxious ache in her chest.

"Kindly keep all further laments to yourself," said a voice, impatiently. "I much prefer silence to the grovelling of a stranger's misfortunes."

Y/N frowned and turned to face the young man sitting to her right. He was still reading his book, though it was surely him that had spoken. A black pair of reading glasses dipped neatly on the crook of his nose, and sharp, blue eyes peeked from behind them. His hair was tousled and damp from the morning drizzle, a few delicate curls still plastered against his forehead. He wore crisp, toned garments, and had a simple tie hanging loosely from his neck. He was charming, and for a moment, Y/N forgot to answer back to his crude remarks.

The young man touched his index finger to the tip of his tongue and flipped a page of his book. His eyes never left the text.  "You're staring," he mused.

Y/N coughed guiltily, and sat up straight. "Listen," she said. "I've had a rough morning, so I really don't have the patience to deal with your hostility. I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but please leave me alone."

The young man scowled and removed his eye glasses before turning to Y/N. "Leave you alone? If I recall correctly, it was you who sat on my bench!"

"I didn't realize that you owned a portion of the university's public seating," Y/N scoffed. "Fine, have it your way. Keep the bench!" She snatched her book bag and stood up, upset by the morning's turn of events.

She had only taken a few steps when she heard the student sigh behind her. "Forgive me," he said. "It wasn't my intention to upset you further. Getting lost on campus and missing your first class of the autumn term is bad enough without my nagging. Don't take it personally, I find most people irritating, so it really wasn't an attack on your character, specifically."

Y/N stopped in her tracks. She looked back at the young man on the bench. "Excuse me?" she asked in wonder.

He furrowed his brows, annoyed. "Didn't you hear what I said? I hate repeating myself, so if it's another apology that you're searching for-"

"No, of course not," she cut in. "I just don't understand how you know so much about my situation." She raised a brow. "Have you been spying on me?"

The student gaped. "How curious," he muttered. "This university is an institution founded on the principles of intellect and critical reflection, yet everyone in attendance refuses to use their brain. To answer your question, I've only just met you, so surveillance can be discounted. I don't know these things about you so much as I've observed them. It's simple, really."

Y/N walked back to the bench and took a seat. All thoughts of missing class had vanished as the young stranger captured her attention. "Tell me how you did it," she asked eagerly. She extended a hand and smiled. "My name is Y/N by the way."

He stared at the gesture curiously before leaning forwards to shake. He puffed with pride at Y/N's sudden interest in his deductions and granted her a hesitant half smile. "Sherlock," he said. "The name is Sherlock Holmes."

He shifted his legs awkwardly as Y/N stared at him expectantly. "Most people are put off by my observations," he said.

"Does that make me special?"

Sherlock grinned. "According to the other students I've had the displeasure of conversing with, that would make you a freak. Welcome to the club." 

"Oh, I understand!" Y/N laughed. "You're the campus outcast, aren't you? The odd one out, always a step ahead of the herd?"

He pressed his lips together, amused. "In a manner of speaking, yes."

"So tell me, Sherlock. Shouldn't you be in class?"

"I'm expected to be, that's true. But I'm busy at the moment."

"Busy? Doing what?"

He quirked a brow. "Do you really want to know?"

Y/N met his gaze. She wanted to feign disinterest, but her curiosity betrayed her. Sherlock Holmes was an enigma, and she was fascinated by his subtle charm.

She leaned in close and whispered, "I really want to know."

Sherlock grinned. "Walk with me?" He stood up and gestured for Y/N to follow. As she was collecting her books, he turned to her. "If you're still looking for your Philosophy class, that's its building just up ahead," he said, gesturing towards an old stone tower. "We wouldn't want your professor to dock marks now, would we?"

Y/N stared up at it. Suddenly, class seemed so far away. She glanced at Sherlock waiting just a few steps away. He studied her carefully, his hands tucked into his pockets.

She considered leaving him, and attending class like she was supposed to, when a thought crossed her mind...

She had never told him that she was searching for a philosophy class, specifically.

Y/N took a breath and joined Sherlock on the walkway. "I think class can wait, just this once," she told him, hiding a smile.

"Very well," he said cooly. Y/N could tell he was pleased, but was holding back.

"So," she said. "You were going to tell me about yourself?"

Sherlock straightened his coat. "Ah yes, that's right." He turned to her and quirked his brows.

"Tell me, how do you feel about solving mysteries?"

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Yoohoo!! Read Dear Jealousy!

This fic was inspired by my first day on campus *cries*

NOT SO FUN STORY: I just finished my second year of uni, but have been taking online classes since 2020 - SINCE HIGHSCHOOL - so had never stepped foot on campus. Well, when the day finally came to ACTUALLY attend class, I WAS SCARED. My brother went to the same uni a few years back, so he walked me to my room #. I remember he hugged me at the door and told me good luck, but I just wouldn't let go. I was so nervous that I was down for a forever hug, until he was like "dude, it'll be okay..." Anyway, it wasn't so bad, soooo yay!!! The real pain was finding the meet-up spot for my brother to drive me back home. I got lost for a solid 40ish minutes. It totally sucked. I ended up following a bunch of honey bee Advertisements back to the car...

Yeah so, getting lost on campus is the worst experience... Okay, laters!!! xxx

If you’d like to be tagged in any future Sherlock fics, just tell me in the comments! (and if you’d rather not be tagged in ALL Sherlock fics, please specify; EX: Reader x Sherlock, Reader x John Watson...)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

Tagging my beloved: @twisted-monster @starryeddie @high-functioning-lokipath @the-chaotic-cow @turkisherlockian @kabubsmagga @aephereal​ @andthevillainshallrises​ @baby-bloos ​ @cookiemumster1​​ @eternal-silvertongued-prince​ @bogginsreadings​ @lumosouls @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson​ @lucywrites02  @danzalladaggers @mrs-holmes

[loganwritesprobably]

Fic Requests

And to finish up that mass posting of my fics, a note that

I am taking requests

I always take requests, they help keep me on the ball and give me ideas for what to be posting

All the information is below the cut, if you wanna see examples of my work, the first tag has most of my fics under it and my account is here

You can send your request via my ask box, or you can comment on any fic on my account

Fandoms I'll write for

One Piece

Teen Wolf

BBC Sherlock

MCU

Criminal Minds

Types of fics I'll write

Angst

Fluff

Smut

Hurt/comfort

Major character death

Mature

Any, really

I'll write for any pairing, I'm happy to write x readers too (they're some of my favourites)

You can request any specific details, give any prompts, be as specific or as vague as you like!

If you tell me your AO3, I can gift the work to you

If you send the ask without anon, I can tag you on tumblr when it's posted

You're more than welcome to stay entirely anonymous

[fandom-oneshots-etc]

Requests are OPEN🎉

Dear All,

Requests are now OPEN! Please feel free to send in your requests. I have listed the characters that I write for below the ‘keep reading’ line. A few things to remember:

I do NOT write ships like Buddie etc. I only write Reader-Inserts.

I only write for characters mentioned in the list as well as any that have been added under the Additional Characters sections on my Masterlist.

I have not yet written SMUT fics, but I am not opposed to doing so.

I do not currently have an uploading schedule, but I will try to get any requests done ASAP.

That’s all there is to say, so feel free to request!

Thanks,

Emily xoxo

Complete Character Masterlist

9-1-1

Eddie Diaz

Evan Buckley

9-1-1 LONE STAR

Carlos Reyes

Judd Ryder

TK Strand

AVENGERS

Bucky Barnes

Loki Laufeyson

Peter Parker

Steve Rogers

Thor Odinson

Tony Stark

BRASSIC

Vinnie O'Neil

CASTLE

Javier Esposito

Kevin Ryan

Richard Castle

CHICAGO FIRE

Kelly Severide

Matt Casey

CHICAGO PD

Antonio Dawson

Jay Halstead

CHRONICLES OF NARNIA

Edmund Pevensie

Peter Pevensie

Prince Caspian

CRIMINAL MINDS

Aaron Hotchner

Derek Morgan

Spencer Reid

FATE THE WINX SAGA

Riven

Sky

FRIENDS

Joey Tribbiani

HARRY POTTER

Draco Malfoy

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Harry Potter

Ron Weasley

James Potter

Remus Lupin

Sirius Black

HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL

Troy Bolton

LETHAL WEAPON

Martin Riggs

OUTERBANKS

JJ Maybank

John B. Routledge

Rafe Cameron

Topper Thornton

RIVERDALE

Archie Andrews

FP Jones

Jughead Jones

Reggie Mantle

Sweet Pea

RIZZOLI & ISLES

Frankie Rizzoli

SHAMELESS

Carl Gallagher

Kevin Ball

Lip Gallagher

SHERLOCK

Mycroft Holmes

Sherlock Holmes

SONS OF ANARCHY

Chibs Telford

Happy Lowman

Jax Teller

Juice Ortiz

Opie Winston

Tig Trager

SUPERNATURAL

Castiel

Crowley

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

TEEN WOLF

Derek Hale

Stiles Stilinski

THE ORIGINALS

Elijah Mikaelson

Klaus Mikaelson

Kol Mikaelson

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES

Damon Salvatore

Jeremy Gilbert

Matt Donovan

Stefan Salvatore

Tyler Lockwood

TWILIGHT

Carlisle Cullen

Edward Cullen

Emmett Cullen

Jacob Black

Jasper Hale

Paul Lahote

Seth Clearwater

YOUTUBERS

Colby Brock

[slxthxrxn-sxmp]

Fandoms I (dabble in) writing for ✨

(Not my gif)

the walking dead

last kingdom

vikings

agents of shield

x-men

mcu

agent carter

pirates of Caribbean

hunger games

dc universe

the 100

star wars (tv and movies)

divergent

dead poets society

sherlock holmes (any version)

disney cartoons

reign

teen wolf

the hobbit

the lord of the rings

criminal minds

avatar (the blue people not the last Airbender)

a few slashers (when I say slashers these are the characters I am referring to ) Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Hillshire, Billy Loomis, Stu Matcher, Jason, the Sinclair brothers 

Jurassic Park/World Once Upon A Time 

1883 ( my beloved show that killed me )

House MD 

Knives Out 

Descendants 

Stranger Things 

Outlander 

Gotham

The Vampire Diaries 

The Originals 

Legacies 

Twilight 

Transformers

unfortunately my strong suit is reader inserts specifically fem gender neutral but if the inspiration hits i may write outside of that!

[iliketothinkimawriter]

Hi Everyone! I'm Quinley and I wanna be a writer some day. My brain is a constant stream of fandoms and sometimes I cant make a story of it, so one-shots.

This will probably be a mismatch of one-shots and stories and requests.

If you have an idea that you don't want to write, ask me I'll try to write it for you.

Fandoms include: Marvel, Once Upon a Time, Hamilton(musical), BBC Sherlock and occasionally the Flash.

I hope the universe treats you well🥰

[anonymousewrites]

42070 words

137 pages

21 chapters

1 book

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 3) is finished!

It's coming February 15th, 2024. I can't wait to share it with you all.

[burntheedges]

600 Followers Celebration

Y’all!! This is wild. I realized the other day that I started writing my first fic in my notes app on my phone on 4/11/23. I posted the first chapter of that fic in July last year! I am so grateful for each and every one of you. I get so emotional every time someone reads one of my fics. Thank you for being here and being amazing. And I’m so glad you all like fandom bingo (which is still open)!! 🧡🧡🧡

I wanted to do something fun to celebrate. There are two parts -- vote and ask! I'll tag every post for this celebration with #bte600.

💗 VOTE: vote on the poll under the cut!!  A week or so ago I did an ask game where people sent me made up fic titles and I told you what I would write for them. Well, I got a little carried away and came up with some ideas I'm actually pretty excited about. So now I want you to vote on which one I should actually write next! The poll will be open for a week.

🧡 ASK: Send me any of the emojis below – send me as many as you’d like! But please send one at a time.

❣️shout out Spread the love around and tell me about a fic, author, fan art, or artist on here that you love!

📜fic rec Give me a fandom and a direction and I’ll give you a fic rec. I’ve got more than 9000 bookmarks on ao3 lol bet I can find something! let me know preferences about ships, ratings, content, etc.

(fandoms I’ve read a lot in over the years: all the Pedro boys, Inception (Arthur/Eames), Captive Prince, LOTR/Hobbit, MCU, X-Men, 00Q, Star Trek (various ships), Mass Effect, The Raven Cycle (pynch), Teen Wolf (lol), Stranger Things, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Check Please!, The Witcher, The Sandman, Sherlock, Stargate Atlantis, RWRB, Merlin, ATLA… and more?)

❓question Send me any question, FMK, ask about a headcanon, ask about one of my fics, how I write, ask for commentary on a scene or line, whatever you’d like – I’ll answer it!

Remember, 💗 vote on the poll under the cut!! 

Let's vote! Which one of these ideas should I work on next? (see more about each at the link) I had to cut one so I cut one of the Frankie ones that was very similar to something I just wrote.

🧡🧡🧡 thanks for being here!

tagging some mutuals for funzies:

@katareyoudrilling @beardedjoel @maggiemayhemnj @goodwithcheese @djarins-cyare

@jupiter-soups @undercoverpena @tightjeansjavi @morallyinept @trulybetty

@gasolinerainbowpuddles @huffle-punk @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @jay-zzle @sheepdogchick3

@joelsgreys @davnittbraes @ghotifishreads @iknowisoundcrazy @jobean12-blog

@punkette1026 @macfrog @skittlesfics @morning-star-joy @futuraa-free

@sempersirens @theywhowriteandknowthings @pr0ximamidnight @janaispunk @toxicanonymity

@chronically-ghosted @beefrobeefcal @ladamedusoif @ilovepedro @javierpena-inatacvest

@kiwisbell @iamasaddie @mrsmando @corazondebeskar @minimeiser

@mermaidgirl30 @kedsandtubesocks @covetyou @nedgooel @wildemaven

@secretelephanttattoo @theclairvoyage @sawymredfox @julesonrecord

...

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Romance, fluff, hurt/comfort, and the occasional heartbreak.

Peaky Blinders, Sherlock, Tangerine, Wade Wilson, Peter Parker, Marauders

Peaky Blinders

Kidnapped - Tommy Shelby X Reader - Pt. 2

Reader gets taken and Tommy does everything he can to get her back - kidnapping, torture / hurt /comfort confession of feelings

Arthur Shelby X OC Joey Request - Catching feelings / hurt / comfort

Falling Hard - Tommy Shelby X Pregnant Reader

She falls off the horse - Rated G, Cute fluffiness, Worried Tommy

Meet Cute - Tommy Shelby X Reader

 Proper courting, Rated G, Tommy falls for reader at a party

Domestic - Tommy Shelby X Wife Reader

 Cooking, Baking, Slight hurt comfort, Tommy being a good dad, kids being little, just lots of fluffy goodness

Self-Defense - Tommy Shelby X Reader

He defends her but she can defend herself - Teen for violence Hurt / Comfort

Girls Outing - Tommy X Wife Reader

Attempted Murder, mild description of attempted sexual assault, Murder, Tommy Comforts reader, Hurt / Comfort

Time Travel - Tommy Shelby x X-Men Reader

 Rated Teen for extreme heart break, time travel, romance, X-Men themes

The One That Got Away - Tommy Shelby X Reader

Hurt and pain. Charlie gets kidnapped and Reader has to make a difficult choice

Campbell - Tommy X Reader Wife - Pt 2.

She’s beaten by Campbell and eventually talks - Mature content - Reader is beaten badly and miscarries. Tommy comforts her.

Stay Home - Tommy X Wife Reader

He doesn’t want her to work while pregnant.

Heart Broken - Tommy Shelby X Reader

You just got broken up with - Fluff, Comfort Tommy

First Wizarding War - Tommy Shelby X Reader (HP crossover)

Reader gets attacked, falling in love, pre war, then post war follow up

Protecting What's His - Tommy Shelby X Pregnant Wife Reader

When someone breaks into the house Tommy has to protect what’s his - violence, shock / panic is described. Fluff at the end & kissing

Scarlet Witch - Tommy X Magic Reader

She has kept her powers hidden but Tommy and the family find out! Reader saves the day with her magical abilities.

Sold Down the River - Tommy Shelby X Reader

Reader gets sold to Tommy Shelby by her fiancé. Her and her baby have to adjust to arrow house

Animal Shelter - Tommy Shelby X Reader -- Pt.2

When Tommy gets Charlie a dog from the pound he doesn’t expect to take the bubbly worker home as well.

The One That Almost Got Away - Tommy Shelby X Reader

Tommy and the reader play hard to get until Polly puts and end to things. Drama, trust issues, happy ending, Polly to the rescue.

The Doctor - Shelby Sister X Alfie Solomons

he reader is underappreciated so she leaves and begins her own life. After becoming a doctor she falls back to her family and finds out that not all things are lost. Mending her heart she also finds her way back to a long lost love…..

Kisses - Finn Shelby X Reader

The one where the reader ends up with a marked up neck, the family is determined to find the culprit only to find out it was one of their own.

The Witch - Tommy Shelby X Reader

 The reader is a witch who can tell the future but she definitely did not see him coming.

Childhood Bestie - Tommy Shelby X Reader

Even though he married Grace true love never dies - even when you almost do 

Mean Boyfriend - Finn Shelby X Orphaned Reader

The Reader happens to have a mean boyfriend. Good thing the Shelby’s have a strict *no mean boyfriends allowed* rule at the garrison.

The Smallest Blinder - Tommy Shelby X Reader

The boys hate having to watch over her, but more often than not she’s the one that saves the day 

Quiet Working Girl - Tommy Shelby X Reader

Reader is hired on to work at the Garrison, and Tommy takes an interest in her. When things start to fall apart, she’s the first person he suspects. He makes a right mess of things again, but this time he’s not so sure if he can fix it.

Cold - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Head cannons about a woman who never smiles and how the Shelby family would interact with her.

Ambition - Tommy Shelby X Reader

The reader always wanted a big life and so did Tommy. Promises were made and the reader comes to cash in

Sickness - Tommy Shelby X Lizzie Shelby

Lizzie makes a difficult decision to hide her diagnosis from Tommy. She goes off on her own much like he does, when word reaches him of Lizzie’s illness he has to find a way to make peace with her before it’s too late.

Spellbound - Marauders Reader X Tommy Shelby - Series

The reader leaves the magical world - not knowing what else to do she sees an advert for a bartender. Having worked at Three Broom Sticks she figured it couldn’t be that different. Falling for her boss and getting sucked into the complicated crime underworld of Birmingham was not a part of her plan

I Can Fight - John Shelby X Reader

Having been in a toxic relationship she learns what it means to be with John Shelby.

Languages Expert - Tommy Shelby X Reader

The boys assume Tommy only keeps the reader around because she’s pretty to look at. when a deal starts to go sideways they quickly learn the importance of having a language expert

Lunch Dates - Tommy Shelby X Reader

with limited time and lots of stress you decide to take a breath and get some lunch with your husband.

Rejected - Tommy Shelby X Reader

The reader isn’t interested in what Tommy has going on

The Kindest Blinder - Tommy Shelby X Reader Wife

Tommy’s wife isn’t what people expect. Her soft kindness is visible to anyone that see’s her. She’d do anything for her family, but when she’s pushed to the limit a different side of her shows.

Grace - Tommy Shelby x Reader

When she showed up to reclaim the love of her life, she wasn’t expecting you to be there.

Pregnant? - Tommy X Reader

The reader doesn’t realize she’s pregnant and a big surprise awaits the family 

Mr. Brightside - Tommy X Reader

Tommy realizes his feelings for you, too bad he’s too late and you’ve already found a guy.

Bad Habits - Tommy Shelby X Lizzie Shelby

Tommy struggles with his drinking thankfully Lizzie is always around to help.

The Mark of a Kiss - Sherlock's Sister X Tommy Shelby

Sherlock's other sister solves a mystery involving the notorious Tommy Shelby

Come on Barbie - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Thomas sits back and wonders how his girl manages her crazy lifestyle.

I've Got My Eye on You - Tommy Shelby X Reader

A traumatic event has left the reader with one eye and an emotionless appearance. Captivated by her beauty and voice Tommy tries to get to know her better

Sherlock - Enola Holmes

The Mystery of the Shelby Sister - Sherlock X Peaky Sister Reader

Sherlock tries his best to ignore his neighbor but when Enola gets attached it becomes increasingly difficult.  Extras - Big Kiss

Tangerine - Bullet Train

Angst - Tan X Reader

Things go from bad to worse leaving you two very far apart…

Geralt of Rivia

Surprises - Geralt X Reader

Geralt of Riva finds out you are pregnant with his baby 

Wade Wilson & Peter Parker

Tired - Hurt & Comfort

Trusted - Hurt & Comfort / Seeing his face for the first time

No Powers - SpideyPool

The Amazing Panic Attack - SpideyPool

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.

Marauders

Head Cannons

[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

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Masterlist

Hello, yes, welcome to this list of things I have written. Most of it is smutty 18+ nonsense (and all of it is about Henry Cavill-shaped men), so if that's not you: turn around and walk away! This is not for you!

Don't copy, translate or otherwise post my work anywhere without my permission! I also explicitly forbid anyone to use my work to feed AI, that's gross and disrespectful, so please don't do the thing.

🍀- Drabble || 🌶 - Smut || 🍭- fluff || 🍷 - angst

Summary: The shenanigans of eight college guys who share a house...

(Mike, Charles, Napoleon, Sherlock, August, Sy, Marshall and Geralt - University Edition.)

Series Masterlist 🌶||🍭||🍷

Finished

Summary: Your weekend plans with August threaten to fall apart when it turns out he's been under a lot of stress. (Dom!August x fem!reader. )

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 -- Part 5 -- Part 6 🌶

Series summary: Life with Sy, what more can you wish for? The most amazing husband and father to a whole litter of cute little kids... Sometimes you wonder "how did you get here?" (Contractor!Sy x OFC (Lara))

🍂 Series masterlist 🍂 🌶 || 🍭 || 🍷

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

🟣 Series masterlist 🟣 🌶 || 🍭 || 🍷

Summary: One of the best decisions August Walker ever made was sharing his princess with his college roommate Walter Marshall... (Dom!August Walker x reader // Dom!Walter Marshall x reader)

Part 1🔹Part 2🔹Part 3🔹Part 4🔹Part 5 🌶

Series summary: The cute barista from your regular coffeeshop takes a while to gather the courage to ask you out, but when he finally does... (Barista!Mike x reader)

Series Masterlist (finished) 🍭 || 🌶

Series summary: A story about two people falling in love in a time when that wasn't necessarily what they were supposed to do. (Melot x ofc (Tamsyn))

Series Masterlist (finished) 🍭|| 🍷 || 🌶

Masterlist for all @henrycavillbingo entries!

A little short (August Walker x reader) - 🌶 Summary: You try to prove August Walker isn't the boss of you. Turns out he is, and you're screwed.

Puppy love (dad!August vs. Teen Daughter) - 🍭 Summary: August is not happy when his daughter first starts dating 'that Syverson boy'. Puppy love II (dad!Syverson & son!Mike) - 🍭 Summary: Sy really can't be all that bothered that Mike is dating August Walker's daughter...

In all fairness... (Walter Marshall x reader) - 🌶 Summary: It's date night, and you found the perfect outfit... In hindsight it may have been a little too perfect.

Pumpkin Spice (barista!Walter Marshall x librarian!reader) - 🌶 Summary: You finally manage to get a date with the handsome barista from your favorite coffeeshop.

Taking cues (Mike x reader) - 🌶 Summary: Your favorite bartender offers to teach you to play pool.

Tongue-tied (Mike x reader) - 🌶 Summary: Mike has always wanted to try to tie you up...

You deserve it (Mike x reader) - 🍭 Summary: You’re feeling like shit, and Mike helps you feel less like shit. That’s it. That’s the plot.

Snowed in (Mike x reader) - 🌶||🍭 Summary: You were going to spend the weekend at your dad's cabin in the woods with your boyfriend, but he bails on you and leaves you - quite literally - out in the cold. Good thing your best friend's brother shows up...

Making a mess of Mikey (Mike x reader x Black!ofc) - 🌶||🍭 Summary: Mike is a little down in the dumps after a breakup, and you and your girlfriend try something to cheer him up that turns into a fun experiment.

Happy birthday (Mike x reader) - 🌶||🍭 Summary: Mike makes you breakfast on your birfthday...

Next door (Mike x reader) - 🌶||🍭 Summary: This new guy next door is really bugging you... Until - yet another - noise complaint one night gets a happy ending.

Jersey (hockeyplayer!Mike x reader) - 🌶||🍭 Summary: Mike thought it would be a good idea to teach you how to skate. It wasn't — so he has to come up with a different plan.

🍀 Get wet (Mike x reader) - 🌶||🍭 Summary: Mike is a little stumped that he made his girl squirt...

🍀 Not what you think (Mike x German!reader) - 🍭 || 🍷 Summary: When Mike comes home, you're looking to pick a fight. Until it turns out he hasn't been sneaking around. Well... Not like that, anyway.

🍀 Common fucking indecency (Mike x reader) - 🍭 Summary: Mike comes home from his exchange earlier than you expected, and you're real happy to see him.

Little brother AU Worth it (Walter Marshall & babybrother!Mikey) - 🍭 Summary: Walter is babysitting his little brother Mikey while their mom is away for the weekend. He’s also on a date… Astraphobia (Walter Marshall & babybrother!Mikey) - 🍭 Summary: Walter doesn't have quite the night he had planned on when a thunderstorm scares both his girlfriend and his little brother... Sunday dinner (Walter Marshall & babybrother!Mikey) - 🍷 Summary: Walter visits Mike in his dorm after the death of their mother.

Baby, it's cold outside (Napoleon Solo x OFC) - 🌶 Summary: A stewardess recognises a certain Mr. Jack Deveny from her flight earlier in the day. He just so happens to be staying at her layover-hotel.

Body Double (Syverson) - 🍭 Summary: You need to clean your house, and you get a good friend to help you...

What's the occasion? (Syverson x reader) - 🌶||🍭 Summary: You come home from a terrible day at work, thinking you have about a thousand things still on your to do list, only to find your husband has taken care of all of that, and has also made you the first thing on his to do list. The next chapter (Syverson) - 🍷 Summary: You come home to an interesting situation...

Don't knock it till you try it (Syverson x reader x Walter Marshall) - 🌶 Summary: Your friends Walter and Sy have offered to drive you home for the summer, and you have decided to turn it into a nice relaxed camping trip on the way...

Axes and O's (Syverson x reader x Walter Marshall) - 🌶 Summary: Sy invited you and Walter to his family's cabin, where you get to spend a few days alone with them before the holidays.

Fantasy AU

To become one (wood elf!Prince!Melot x dryad!OFC) - 🌶||🍭

Summary: The elven Prince Melot and his dryad lover share a lovely afternoon together in the forest.

What's in a name (wood elf!Prince!Mike x tiefling!OFC) - 🌶||🍭

Summary: At the wedding of his brother Melot, Mike is lured away by his little demon. A few months later, there is even more cause for celebration.

One of two kinds (werewolf!Geralt x halfling!Druid!OFC) - 🌶||🍭

Summary: When you find a wounded, new werewolf in the forest, you can't just leave him lying there. Perhaps the enormous man will turn out to be exactly what you needed...

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Take Care

Sherlock and Mycroft x little sister!reader, John x teen!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you get a startling diagnosis that turns everyone around you overprotective

Warnings: cancer, mentions of death (no actual death)

“She…she has what?”

John looked up from his newspaper at the sound of Sherlock’s distress. He had picked up a call from Mycroft and answered with the usual bored disdain, but after listening for a moment he had sat up rigid in his chair.

“I see,” Sherlock went on. “I’ll be right over, I…oh. Yes, alright.”

“What was that all about?” John asked as Sherlock put the phone down. After a moment, John thought he wasn’t going to answer, but finally he spoke, his voice dazed.

“What? Oh, Y/N, she’s…Mycroft is bringing her over for a bit.”

“Is she alright?” John asked hesitantly.

“I…no. I don’t know,”

“Sherlock this is ridiculous, what’s wrong? You’re worrying me.”

You had become quite the regular at Baker Street, sleeping over there almost as much as you stayed with Mycroft, your legal guardian.

“Y/N…she has cancer.”

“She what?” Surely he had heard wrong.

“Mycroft took her in for an appointment, routine check up, that’s all, but…” Sherlock swallowed, and didn’t finish.

“How…I mean…” John wasn’t sure how to ask about the severity.

“I’m not sure,” Sherlock said finally. “Mycroft didn’t say much.”

“Hey Sherlock!” To say Sherlock was surprised when you came bounding into 221B like nothing was wrong would be a severe understatement.

“Hello,” he greeted hollowly. You stepped past him to bring your bag to your room, and Sherlock turned to look at Mycroft.

“She knows?” He asked quietly, and Mycroft nodded.

“I believe she doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“How bad is it?”

“They said they aren’t sure about the outcome. They want to start treatments as soon as possible, and it all depends on how she responds to it. All we can do is make sure she gets enough rest and water between visits for now.”

“Alright,” Sherlock sighed. “Then we do all we can do.”

…

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You looked up at Sherlock with a frown.

“Just for a walk.”

“No you’re not,” he responded. “It’s time you took a nap.”

“Gee grandma, you first,” you scoffed.

“Y/N, don’t be like that,” John insisted.

“You guys really aren’t gonna let me take a walk?” You glared at the two men, who didn’t waver an inch. “Fine,” you groaned, brushing past them to your room and closing the door.

…

“Drink.”

“I’ve had like four glasses of water today Mycroft, I’m not thirsty.”

Mycroft gestured to the glass in front of you insistently. You rolled your eyes and took a sip.

“Finish that, and then you should take a nap.”

“I’m fine.”

“He’s right,” Sherlock chimed in from the sofa.

“Since when do you two agree on anything?” You scoffed.

“Since now.”

You glared at Mycroft.

“You can’t lay off for one afternoon?”

“No.”

“Ok, I’ll nap on one condition; you let me go to Christie’s later, she wanted to study together.”

“You’ll take a nap either way,” Mycroft responded.

“Wanna bet?” You challenged.

“No, because I don’t have to. You’ll do as you’re told.”

“John, a little help?”

“Don’t look at me,” John raised his hands. “I’m with them.”

“Could you guys stop treating me like this for two seconds?” Your tone rose with your anger.

“Like what?” Mycroft’s resolve hadn’t changed.

“Like I’m an invalid!” You shoved past your brothers and slammed the door to your room.

…

“She won’t answer.”

“I know that,” Sherlock griped at his older brother.

“Should we pick the lock?”

“She’d kill us.”

“Well, she’s worrying me, she’s been in there for a while,” Mycroft pulled out a lock pick and got to work.

When the lock clicked, he called out a warning.

“We’re coming in if you don’t open this door!”

Silence.

Mycroft pushed open the door, and sighed in relief when he saw you on your bed, a book in your lap and headphones in your ears. You looked up in disgust.

“Privacy much?” You growled as you pulled your headphones out of your ears.

“You’ve been in here for too long, and you wouldn’t answer when we knocked,” Mycroft insisted.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“Because we need to talk,” Sherlock came to stand by your bed.

“About what?”

“About ‘how we treat you’,” Mycroft sighed.

“Alright, talk.”

“You know why we do it,” Sherlock insisted.

“Yeah, because you’re nosy control freaks.”

“Because we’re worried,” Mycroft corrected.

“You shouldn’t be.”

“That’s a load of crap,” everyone turned in surprise when John entered the room. “You know full well why they’re scared, and you are too. There’s not much we can do, alright? The only things we can do is make sure you get your rest in between treatments, and try our best to take care of you. So that’s what we’re doing.”

You were silent for a long moment.

“I-I just…” the tears in your eyes were perhaps the most surprising because it was the first time your family had seen you cry since the news came. “I don’t want to spend what could be my last few months just…resting. Wasting time, relaxing, and-and-“

“Hey,” the sternness in Mycroft’s tone shut you up immediately. “These aren’t your last few months. That’s what we’re trying to ensure by keeping you rested, and able to fight this.”

“We’re not letting you die, understand?” Sherlock lowered himself to meet your gaze.

“Ok,” you choked, and you were relieved when John stepped forwards and pulled you into his arms.

“You’re going to be ok,” he promised.

You smiled.

“Thank you.”

[ten-cent-sleuth]

A Galling Yoke, Part 15

<- Prev | Next ->

for the “If you walk out that door…” square on my July Break Bingo card

See this post for main info, including a masterlist and synopsis. See this post for warnings.

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x f!Reader

Rating: Teen

Voss House was in an uproar when you and Sherlock slipped through the back door. Rounding a corner, Sherlock would have walked right into Lucy racing by if not for your hand shooting out and grabbing his elbow.

“Sorry, sir! Prayin’ ’scuse me!” cried the maid as she scurried off, not pausing to curtsy to Sherlock and evidently missing you entirely.

“She seems to be in a hurry,” he muttered.

“Brilliant deduction,” you quipped as you let go of his coat and straightened out the wrinkles you’d caused. “Lord Coltidge is likely raising Cain to find out where I am and what is going on. I can only hope that nobody has mentioned that I have been at your flat the past few days…”

The kitchen door flung open, and Cook bustled out with a harried expression. Her eyes widened even further when they met yours.

“Oh, Madam, you’re home,” she exclaimed. “Thank the Lord you’re well. Your father’ll be pleased.”

You couldn’t stop the sardonicism from leaping up and quirking your brow. “I suppose that would be the natural reaction of one under the influence of paternal affection, yes.”

Sherlock, very discreetly, choked and coughed.

“Well, I best be moving along,” said Cook. “His lordship’s asking for an account of our foodstuffs, and then, what with dear Mrs Rogers busy entertaining him in the front sitting room, I ought to help Lucy prepare the master’s suite… Oh, Madam, is it true that he is taking up residence in Voss House again? That you are leaving?”

Sherlock stiffened, and you tightened your hold on his arm to reassure him.

“It is not true,” you told her. “Though I am pleased to know you would have matters well in hand if it were. Carry on, Cook.”

She beamed at you, blushing lightly, before going on her way.

Turning to watch her disappear down the hallway, Sherlock commented, “She remarked not on our entry through the tradesmen’s entrance.”

“Please expound not on what that says about how eccentric she perceives me to be.” You hid your wince with a wide sweep of your arm. “To the front sitting room, then, sir?”

Nodding, he gestured for you to lead the way, but you caught the “You said ‘eccentric’, not I” that he said under his breath and shot him a look.

You were still some metres away from the sitting room door when you started to pick up on the raised voices within. Or, rather, the raised voice, and the soothing tones of battle-hardened Mrs Rogers. You and Sherlock shared a look before you swung the door open.

“Father, I apologise for keeping you waiting.”

Whirling around, the Earl of Coltidge blinked a few times at you, caught mid-rant. By the time Mrs Rogers made a discreet exit with a flashing smile in your direction, he managed to gasp, “Daughter. Where in Christendom have you been?” In the span it took you to grant yourself a fortifying breath, he lost his interest in your reply and said, “I have given you nearly a sennight complete. I trust you have taken care of whatever was so important you neglected an affair of the essence?”

You gripped your skirts in tense fists. “I did, but Mr Holmes worked quicker than I.”

Your father’s eyes slid to the detective standing at your shoulder, apparently taking note of him for the first time. “And what do you mean by that?”

Finding strength in the presence behind you, you smoothed out your skirts and spoke evenly. “As we speak, William is at Scotland Yard. He has been arrested for his crime.”

The earl stiffened, but his focus remained on Sherlock. “Crime?” His voice was just slightly too high-pitched. “What crime?”

Sherlock stepped forward, his sleeve brushing against yours. “The crime of soliciting a murder, of course, your lordship,” he said bluntly, not even bothering to handle Coltidge’s fragile anxieties with care.

They shattered before your eyes.

“Confound you, Holmes!” he hissed. “I hired you, damn it, I did! You had a single task, and you could not do it properly?”

Sherlock arched a brow. “My lord, you hired me to investigate your daughter’s husband’s death, and I have done precisely that.”

“Bah!” scoffed Coltidge with such force that spittle flew out of his mouth. “My heir shall be seen as a criminal! My name shall be tarnished—hang it all!”

You grimaced at his poor choice of words and of priorities. “Father—”

He turned his blazing eyes to you. You halted, allowing him to speak, but when he did, he was still addressing the other man. “You have done enough, Holmes. I must deal with my family business now, which has naught to do with your blasted meddling. Leave us.”

Sherlock huffed, muttering something that started with “How many times must I explain…?” before he turned to give you his full attention. “You did not ask me to accompany you here, so I shall understand if you wish to speak to your father in private. Petal, do you want me to leave?”

He was so soft in that moment, in his voice and in his eyes, that you would have lost your heart if you had still been in possession of it. But no, it was already securely placed in Sherlock’s vault of treasures, and for that, you could not let him leave.

“If you walk out that door,” you whispered, “I shall be alone against my tormentors once more, and I refuse for that to be so any longer. For too long have I been made by either external forces or my own fears to bear my burdens alone, so from now on, if I can have you by my side…” You tilted your head to regard him in the afternoon light streaming through the window. “I would have you by my side.”

Sherlock stared back at you, not smiling but still somehow drawing you in—the very promising way his eyes were darkening or the very thrilling way his tongue wet his lips, perhaps. But the moment was broken when, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed your father sneer and remembered that you had an audience.

“Is that what this is about, then?” said the earl. “You would sacrifice your brother to throw yourself at the first man to show you any hot-blooded interest?”

You were briefly stunned speechless—nobody had ever dared speak so crudely in your presence before—but Sherlock reacted without hesitation.

He whipped around. “How dare you?” he said, tightly, darkly, thundering but not like the crack of a nearby strike: like the low rumbles on the ground from a faraway storm rolling closer. “How dare you speak to her in such a manner? Do you honestly believe you are superior to her in any way? You are a poor excuse of a man—and a still poorer excuse of a father.”

“Speak not of superiority to me, Detective,” jeered your father before focusing on you. “Edmund might have preferred his mistress to you, Daughter, but at least he was the son of a peer and a respectable gentleman at that—Holmes is little better than a tradesman with the way he makes his living! Would you truly toss your honour on someone so beneath us, so unworthy of the Voss connexion?”

Your surprise gave way to fury. “There is no one worthier,” you bit out, stepping into your father’s space. “Peers, sons of peers, gentlemen, tradesmen—to me, they are merely the outside world.” You waved one arm at the window, and reached the other out to Sherlock. “He is the only one who knows me, who has seen the disarray that is my interior and has stayed by me. How can someone beside me be beneath me?”

Pulling his shoulders back, your father said, “Spare me your melodrama, it is—”

You barked out a laugh. “My lord, need I remind you that it was you who brought Mr Holmes into this? If not for your melodrama, your production of a case, you could have gotten exactly what you wanted.”

“What…?” He was pale, his voice shaken.

“If you had simply told me your plan to frame me for William’s sake, you would have succeeded because I would have gone along with it,” you explained, surprising even yourself with how patient you sounded. “By bringing Mr Holmes into the matter, you ensured that, instead, I came to see that my future is as bright as anyone else’s.”

“Blame this not on me,” he spluttered. “You do well to recall that though I had been prepared to let you answer for your brother’s mistake, I had hoped the case could be steered away from my progeny at all. The scandal of a murder in the family would have been distressing enough.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, and he glared at you.

“It is because you never fail to involve yourself in men’s business that we could not all be freed from this mess. After all, it was you who led Holmes to that tail-wagging hussy, Miss Allen or Miss Ayles or…” Flapping his hand in a dismissive motion, he narrowed his eyes at you. “Do you deny it?”

A cold sweat passed over you, and for a moment, you were frozen. Those years-old, not long vanquished fears of being a botch-up, of deserving nothing better than blame, crept up on you. But William’s kind eyes and gentle words warmed you. It was no evil to help and be helped.

“I do not,” you said, squeezing your forearms to ground yourself. “But you cannot make me regret working with Sherlock. We both were better off for letting each other in, and I shall not be persuaded otherwise. Indeed, there is naught you can expect to accomplish here, Father; your time would be better spent trying to convince William to recant or Scotland Yard to release him.”

Shadows fell across the earl’s face as he brought himself to his full height. You had not seen that expression on him since you were a misbehaving young girl under his roof, and you braced yourself for the patronising lecture that was about to come. But you were not prepared for the quiet words that came from him.

“Would that your mother had survived her third confinement and we had lost our first babe instead.”

Your mouth fell open as your thoughts ground to a halt. Their first child…

Towering over you, Lord Coltidge snarled into your face, “Or would that your brother had left you to your fate with Edmund!”

“Father,” you choked out.

He waved you off, shouldering past to get to the sitting-room exit. “At least then, I would not be the one burdened with you and your impertinence,” he sniffed as he turned around to look you up and down. He had never sounded so bitter, looked so vicious. “It matters not to me how; I would merely be grateful so long as I was free of you, you senseless girl.”

Staring at him across the room, you felt small and silly, shame prickling at your skin as though you deserved his contempt despite logically knowing you didn’t. Helpless, you didn’t know how to make the humiliation stop burning in your chest and feared it would flay you alive right there.

But then a tall, wide frame stepped in your line of sight, blocking your view of the source of your pain and mortification but above all shielding you from that which was doing you harm. Staring, now, at Sherlock’s back, tension rippling from his shoulder blades down, you recalled the thunderclouds that had been gathering on the horizon and—oh, now came the crash.

“What fitting idiocy from an addle-pate,” said Sherlock, his voice as sharp and dangerous as the cliff’s edge it teetered on. “Since you wish to avoid senselessness, my lord, these are the facts: Your daughter is here—has been here all this time, you myopic ingrate—and after all she has already made it through, there is little that could stop her from continuing to be here. And while she lives, you shall die, wifeless, friendless, and at this rate childless. While she prospers, you shall sink deeper into the realisation that you have wasted your years.” He jabbed a finger in his direction, just barely restraining his volume and the vehemence of his movements. “Do you think I cannot recognise the rumpling of your clothes from lying sleeplessly in them night after night, cannot detect the perfumes for hiding the diminished energies of a miserable tyrant?” Hands shaking and chest heaving, he caught his breath before snapping, “You reek of desperation, your lordship, and it is not the victory you think it is to be leaving us in a huff before the stench can settle deep.”

Coltidge simply stood, eyes wide and mouth unmoving.

Sherlock jolted him out of his stupor with a roared “Get out!”

Tail between his legs, Lord Coltidge yanked open the door and scurried out. Blinking away your shock, you hurried over to the threshold and peeked through. You spotted Mr Rogers standing in the hallway, and for the first time you felt gratitude that the butler had taken to hanging around when you were entertaining guests. You trusted him to handle getting Lord Coltidge out of the house without the earl destroying the property in a fit.

Shutting the door behind your father, you leaned against the knob and took a deep breath. “Oh, dear, that went terribly. Sherlock, I must apologi—mmf!”

The rest of your words vanished as you were whirled around, pressed back against the door, and descended upon by the full force of Sherlock’s tenacity.

With one hand gripping your waist and the other cradling the back of your head, he held you still under his unrelenting lips, stealing your breath, criminally, mercilessly, but so lovingly that you gladly gave up more and more of it to him. Although you could hardly move while pinned between the door and Sherlock’s insistence, you did what you could with your hands and mouth to give as good as you got.

When he coaxed your mouth open and pushed his tongue inside, you groaned and gave a particularly zealous tug on his bowtie. As you felt it come undone, a heated thrill shot through you: the levees of decorum Sherlock had valiantly put up against the storm the earl stirred up were decimated by this flash flood of passion, passion unprecedented, and you were the one to witness it.

He swallowed your whimper as your knees gave out, not letting up, only holding even more of your weight with even more tenderness. More and more control slipped out of your grasp as he continued his siege on your senses, but you let it slip—you had seen how he’d strained to keep a hold on courtesy in the face of Lord Coltidge’s utter discourtesy, and would happily let him be ungentlemanly now.

He broke away with a ragged gasp. And even as you fought to rein in your breathing, he dusted kisses across your face.

“I thank God that you are alive and well, darling.” His voice was gravelly, your head was light. “I pray you listen not to his lordship. He is a doddering fool and—”

You turned your head to catch Sherlock’s mouth on its way to your cheek. After another minute or five of bliss, you eased away and whispered, “I know, Sherlock. His words got through my defences because I was shocked by them, not because I believed them. Distress yourself not.”

He shook his head, gazing on you in such a way that you felt pierced, like your lungs were losing more air than they were making use of. “Consider me distressed until you know that… You must know that… Dear heavens, one’s world is better with you in it. Bigger, brighter. The earl deserves you not. He is a dunce to think he would be happier without you, flaws and mistakes and all, for I have lived ten and five years in your absence and hold it as indisputable proof that losing you is the worst thing that can happen to a person. Though, blazes, I deserve you not—”

“There is no one worthier,” you reminded him, arching an eyebrow.

After a beat, the anguish on his face fell with a startled laugh. “Heaven help me, you are an impertinent thing.”

Grinning, you looped your arms around his neck and pulled him back down so that you could hug him close and bury your nose in his collar. When he said that, you didn’t feel mortified: you felt seen, and you felt loved.

His hands drifted down to your hips, at once primally possessive and profoundly gentle. “Are you certain you are all right?” he asked softly. “I had never seen that expression on you before, and it disturbed me—gutted me—to see it then. I had tried to let you handle your father as you saw fit, but when I saw that look on your face… I could not stand by, my lady.”

Nodding, you squeezed him tight. “I am certain.” If you had been terribly overwrought, you would be calming down quickly now, with Sherlock’s arms around you and his light swaying back and forth. “And I thank you for stepping in, Sherlock. I thank you for staying.”

“You may depend on my doing so for the rest of our lives.”

“Sherlock…” You nosed his chest, burrowing even closer to his comforting warmth and familiar scent, and pecked his clavicle through his shirt. “I love you.”

His sudden stillness was your only clue that he had heard you.

Trying to mollify his apparent agitation, you dropped another kiss onto his shirt, a little higher this time, near the wrinkled fabric of his undone bowtie. “I love you,” you said again, knowing repetition often grounded him. “I love you.”

Still there was no response. He had not stiffened or cringed away, so you did not think he was uncomfortable. Startled, then—taken aback. You could picture the quizzical frown that had surely overtaken his expression, could practically hear the churning of calculations in his head. And who knew what conclusions he was arriving at? Who knew how long it would take him to share them with you? Flushing with sheepishness, you more resolutely hid your face in his chest.

“You need not say it back, of course,” you rushed out. “It is only that you mentioned love earlier, and it made me think, ‘Could he mean that he loves me?’ But— But of course, I know it is more complex than that. You could hardly be blamed if you are still hurt and cautious from my marrying another man without warning you, and surely you had the right of it to reprove me before for expecting you to trust me blindly…”

Much to your chagrin, he held you away from him and pulled back from the embrace. Your anxiety mounted with every passing second of his scrutiny.

“Sherlock?”

“This is the ‘something you had to tell me’, then?”

Disoriented, you nodded mutely.

“Definitely should have done yours before mine,” he muttered.

“Sherlock?”

“I beg of you, let not love be your second thought and my rashness your first. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. In short, this is the answer to your question: yes, he could very well mean that he loves you.”

A smile wormed its way to your face as you leaned back against the door to take in as much of Sherlock as you could.

“Its being complex makes it no less certain,” he said firmly. “I love you. I have loved none but you.”

“I as well,” you breathed, reaching out and resting your palm over the left side of his chest. “I have been married, heartbroken, alone, and free; through it all, there has only ever been you. I love you, Sherlock.”

He smiled then too, and it was the brightest sight you’d ever laid eyes on. Oh, yes, you had your life ahead of you, a future gold and aglitter indeed.

Can you tell I was reading JAFF before writing this? xD Thank you for reading, and feedback is always welcome! (You never know, you could end up like @marveldcmistress and inspire a line like “You are a poor excuse of a man—and a still poorer excuse of a father” with your lovely suggestions. ;P) Attention, readers: please be aware of this announcement about upcoming chapters.

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