#Enola holmes peaky blinders cross over

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Sherlock & Peaky Sister Extras

Two extra parts from this request, where a Shelby sister reader befriends her neighbor Enola and eventually Sherlock Holmes. These happen after she is friends with Enola and gives more info on how she became closer with Sherlock before the ending of that post.

Warnings: sickness, peaky-related themes,

The Case:

Readers POV

One quiet night you were tucked into bed with a romance novel and a mug of hot tea when your bedroom door slammed open. Enola was red in the face and your stomach dropped. Your whole body tensed up ready for a fight. 

“Enola!” Sherlock’s voice snarled from somewhere in your apartment. 

“Qucik I need your help!” She quickly threw your robe at you and you climbed out of bed. She dragged you into their apartment and passed a very angry ranting Sherlock. 

“You can't burst into people’s spaces like that - she’s not going to understand and your wasting precious time.-” He rambled on as she dragged you towards the kitchen table where a bunch of newspaper clippings and little tiles with letters and numbers were sprawled out. All the clippings were in various languages most of which you spoke. 

You placed them in order by date, most of them were about a specific political leader. A few of them outlining murders that had happened in the past two weeks. 

You read them carefully and noted things that stuck out to you. Enola went into a long explanation of everything they had worked out pointing to the wall that was covered in articles and photographs. You nodded along and felt the annoyance radiating off of Sherlock.  You made some points on cultural things they had skipped over and corrected some things they had gotten wrong with their translations. 

It was a long night but it was of vital importance so you sat translating things for them and giving your thoughts on the murders, and why you felt they were connected. 

You enjoyed the slight look of surprise in his face before he started to elaborate on your thoughts. The way he paced the room and the things he thought made your mind swirl. How could someone absorb that much information? 

You all quieted down again working on various things when his hand brushed your shoulder. You jumped and noticed he’d made you a mug of tea. While sitting at his desk it seemed impossible not to bump into his large frame or brush fingers while reaching for articles. 

You would write things out and hand them to him and he seemed to be intent on keeping you comfortable. He grabbed a blanket to wrap around your shoulders. He seemed to notice everything but being pleasant or considerate seemed to be something lost on him, or maybe he just pretended to be that way. 

You pushed your thoughts out of your mind to continue on. Before long you had made enough progress to put it together.

Sherlock went on a rant putting the info together before finally calling out the name of the killer. You let out a whoop of excitement, happy that the logic was foolproof. He gave you a small smile before setting off to the Yard. 

Enola finally gave up her argument to tag along and the two of you went back to your apartment and collapsed in your large bed. 

Opiates for the common cold

Sherlock's POV

Sherlock got out of bed to a very quiet and empty flat. He moved through the space concluding that Enloa must have spent another night at your flat. At this point, you should have been charging him rent for all the time she spent over there. It would make his morning easier though, he had a meeting with Lestrade. 

He thought of you and all the work you put into his last case and sighed. It was a horrible distraction having you around while trying to work, or really do anything. Everything about you was consuming and somehow his brain slowed in your presence. 

He was about to leave when he noticed that her shoes were still by the door. Mind you she could have other shoes. When coming closer the doormat was still crumpled from where he had kicked it in frustration the night before. Enola had laughed at him over it.

He turned his gaze to Enola’s bedroom, half scolding himself because he really didn't have time for this sort of thing. He knocked on the door and a muffled groan responded.

“Enola?” He asked opening the door slowly. She was laying on her side in a tight ball. 

“M’ sick.” She said in a very scruffy tone of voice. He stood there looking at the girl resentment for her situation was plain on her face. 

He could see her face was flushed, shivering despite the sweat on her brow. The rest of her seemed very pale and weak.  

“I’ll call for a doctor.” He said quickly. It hurt him to see her like that and he was at a loss for what to do. Should he sit next to her for the day? She was much too old for needing that much of his attention. She would probably want space to rest. 

He called the doctor, then listened to Lestrade try to boss him around. Annoyance towards the man grew and Sherlock took a deep breath. Yes, there was another murder he needed to attend to, but he didn’t feel right about leaving Enola alone with a man in the house. 

Perhaps you would know what to do? Or at least you probably wouldn't mind staying while the doctor was visiting. He moved across to your flat and knocked on the door wondering if you would respond. If you were reading you became completely useless. He knocked again and really hoped he wouldn't have to enter to go startle you again. 

To his surprise you opened the door, looking like your usual self when he saw you. Your hair was a mess and the dress you were wearing was very simple cotton. You looked like you had just rolled out of bed. 

“Sorry to disturb you,” Sherlock remembered to say before bombarding you with requests and demands. “Enola is sick - she has a cold.” 

“Oh” Your eyes widened with shock and you turned around and hurried into the kitchen. 

“If it’s not too much of a bother -” But you had already moved past him with multiple jars in your hands. You moved into Enola’s space with the same comfort that she showed when moving around your flat. 

You sat on the edge of her bed and placed your hand on her forehead. He watched very carefully as you moved between Enola’s bedroom and the kitchen. Applying compresses and making her eat spoonfuls of odd things. Enola looked more at peace once you settled into the girl's bed holding her hand. 

“Read to me?” 

“Of course,” You said looking at the various piles of books. It was such a peculiar thing to witness. He knew women were more maternal. But had no memory of being touched so gently or fussed over. You looked worried and you had a way of interacting with the situation that was helpful but also comforting. He realized for a moment that he felt jealous. Towards you or Enola he wasn't sure. 

The doctor would be there soon enough, but leaving the two of you caused a feeling of warning in his stomach. He gave a sigh of frustration before calling Lestrade back and saying he must stay home. 

This wasn't like him at all. His mind was racing with different possibilities. What if the doctor was an absolute idiot? Everything you had given Enola was herbal and provided a low risk of being fatal, the doctor however could have given her the wrong amounts of all sorts of things. How many dead bodies had he seen that had been poisoned or had overdosed? 

Running a hand through his hair he moved back to the doorway to Enola’s room. The two of you looked very comfortable and he wondered why you weren't afraid of getting sick. 

“Lestrade said I’m not needed.” He announced a lie that he hoped would keep Enola happy. 

“That’s alright, pick a book for us then?” You said with a smile. Enola let out a loud groan. 

“Nothing stupid please.” She said before coughing. He left the room and picked up a book of murder mysteries. When she first moved in that was the only thing they would do together other than argue. 

“New book of mysteries.” He said before sitting in the armchair near the bed. He still felt a wave of discomfort at your ability to hold Enola to your chest lovingly. 

He read the first story out loud pausing to hear Enola’s thoughts and counter them. He observed you and the way your fingers would tighten where they rested on Enola’s shoulder every time he raised his voice.

Something he would have to ask you about later, he took a deep breath and tried to enjoy the argument rather than win it. Your posture responded to his change of tone immediately. 

As the story progressed they both ended up with the same conclusion, the correct suspect. 

The doctor showed up and he noticed your reluctance to move from the girl's side. You both watched the man carefully before he prescribed a bottle of cough medication and a large amount of opiates. 

Sherlock paid him and was about to pocket the opiates for himself when you moved out of the room and stood close to him. “That's really heavy stuff, Sherlock, she has a simple cold she doesn't need any pain killers.” You were whispering but there was an angry edge to your tone that surprised him. 

Sherlock looked at the worry on your face and wanted to ask why you had such an intense reaction. Did she think so little of him to think he would just hand Enola a bunch of drugs, did she think Enola was stupid enough to take them? 

“I wasn't planning on giving it to her. I know what Opiates are.” He looked down and saw some relief on your face. 

“Took us ages to get my brother clean,” you whispered your face scrunched up as if remembering something painful. He knew a decent amount about Thomas’s motives and choices to bring the family where they were today, however, he knew very little about the rest of the family or what prices they had to pay. 

“Enola’s too smart for that anyway.” He said, happy when a laugh escaped your lips. “Don’t tell her I said that though. She doesn't need more encouragement” 

You leaned against the counter after putting the kettle on the stove. 

“Why not?” You asked looking entirely too comfortable in his kitchen. He thought about his answer carefully and tried not to get distracted by the way you looked up at him. 

“This life,” He let out a sigh. “Is complicated and dangerous. It doesn't matter to her know, but it will.” There was pain evident in his voice, something he knew you were too smart to miss. Your eyes narrowed slightly as if you could see into his mind. 

“You don't seem very dangerous.” You whispered slowly and if he wasn't aware of Enola watching them from her open bedroom door, he would have had nothing holding him back from kissing you. 

A moment flew through his mind of what it would feel like to throw you onto the counter and embrace you. He looked down at you and noticed your eyes focused on his lips and could feel how your pulse quickened. 

This problem was becoming difficult to ignore.

[patdkoala]

New Neighbor

Pairing: Sam Claflin x Female Reader

Warnings: None This is Pure Fluff

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT A PART TWO I kinda want a part two

I just moved into my new apartment complex. It's nice. Clean. Quiet. And it's mostly filled with actors and actresses so the people that live here are rarely home anyway.

I'm a writer. So, I'm always home.

I sit in my apartment, turn on my ambiance lamp, have my record player on a constant rotation of my favorite tunes, and then have my cup of tea.

I will sit there and write for hours on end. If all goes well, I will have written a page and a half during those hours.

I never said I was a good writer. I'm speaking from experience.

One day I was getting home late. (I was sitting at Mcdonald's for two hours just reordering a large fry with a large Dr. Pepper.) I had just stepped out of the elevator and I heard the apartment door next to mine open and then close.

My neighbor was finally home.

For as long as I'd lived here, they had never been home. I've lived here for two years.

I set my giant Dr. Pepper cup on the counter along with my keys and wallet. I turned on my lamp and record player.

I turned it up on full volume like I have been doing for the past two years. I sat down at my desk and started to write about the people I was staring at in McDonald's. Then I heard three knocks at my door.

Quite loudly too if I must say.

"Jeez, I'll be right there!" I yelled as I ran over to the door to answer it.

I opened the door and I shit you not the guy standing there looked like that Billy Dunne fella from that Amazon show I was watching late last night.

"Excuse me, but do you mind turning that down? I'm trying to run lines and we have thin walls," He said as I just stood there and stared at him.

"Are you-" "Yes, I am the man from the tv. Now, do you mind turning that down?" He said in a grumpy old man tone that made me roll my eyes and go to turn it off.

I left the front door open and when I went back over to it, he was gone. So I shut the door and did what any sane person would do, I googled him.

'Main guy from Daisy Jones show'

Sam Claflin. Okay, so I googled something else.

'Sam Claflin movies'

So I watched some.

Okay, I watched all of them. Plus, I finished all of Daisy Jones and started Peaky Blinders.

A few days later, I realized I hadn't written anything for days. I'd been sitting on the couch ordering food to my door and only getting up to use the restroom or answer the door.

I decided to cool it on the Sam Claflin marathon. I got up and took a shower. I then deep-cleaned my whole apartment.

I finally decided to write something. So, I set up my lamp and my record player. I may or may not have forgotten about my neighbor, Sam Claflin.

I started writing and then I heard three distinct knocks at the door. It's funny how I can tell it's his knocks already.

I opened the front door and smiled up at the tall gentleman in front of me. "Hello, Sam Claflin. Would you like for me to turn down the music again?"

"Yes, I- Did you google me?" He asked as I nodded proudly. "I did as a matter of fact. I also watched your whole discography."

"What? No, you didn't. That would have taken you a matter of days."

"I did actually. I'm a big loner with no friends and all I do is spend all day writing in my sad lonely apartment. If I don't go outside for weeks nobody is gonna notice," I said as he just stood there with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Did you watch the Hunger Games?"

"Yes."

"Enola Holmes?"

"Yes, of course, my dear Mycroft," I said with a wink.

"Peaky Blinders?"

"Yes, love the stache by the way."

"Thanks. Did you-"

"Yes. I watched everything. Even the bad romance ones and the-"

"You don't like romance movies? What woman doesn't like romance movies?"

"Ones with brains. They are all the same. They all start the same and all end the same."

"Oh, you've had your heart shattered," He said as he crossed his arms.

"What? No. I've never even been in that sick puppy love before. I've only been in serious relationships with serious men. Not dumb pretty boy actors. Also, what's with you dying in all of your films? And do you only star in book renditions?"

"Did you just call me a pretty boy actor?"

"Is the only thing you heard me say?"

He just stood there and smiled at me. His cheesy British pretty boy actor smile. And I mistakenly smiled back.

"Would you like to have dinner with me?" He asked as I then crossed my arms to match his energy.

"Okay. But, I don't want to go out."

"Okay. We can eat at my place. I'll pick you up at-"

"I can walk next door by myself. You just have dinner ready by 8."

He nodded and then he walked away from the door. I shut it and went back to writing.

I wrote a couple of pages. Nothing much.

I then started to get ready around 7:30. I wasn't going to put much time or effort into this because I don't see it as a date. I see it as a get-together with my cute neighbor who just so happens to be Sam Claflin.

I walked over to his apartment around 8:15.

I knocked three times.

"You're late," He said as I rolled my eyes and walked into his apartment without any introduction.

"Well, I figured you already don't like me so what's the harm in being a few minutes late."

"How can I not like you when I don't even know your name?"

"(Y/N). There now you have every right not to like me."

"Okay, well, (Y/N). I hope you like chicken."

"What if I was a vegetarian? Would you have something else for me to eat?"

"Are you a vegetarian?"

"No."

"Then we won't have to worry about that now do we?"

I smiled at him and then sat down at the two-seater table in the middle of his dining room. His apartment was a little bigger than mine. I guess that comes with being a big-time Hollywood actor.

He had nice things. A big Tv. A big couch. Probably even had a big bed.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't still have my twin bed from my college apartment.

His plants are fake, though. This means that he likes the ambiance that plants create but he doesn't want the commitment of keeping them alive.

"What are you doing?"

"Scoping out your apartment. Seeing if I'm going to steal it from you or not," I said as he laughed and then sat down in front of me.

He poured us both glasses of wine.

"Is this a date?" I asked as he set the bottle down.

"Do you want it to be?"

"Well, I'm just curious because you asked me out before you even knew my name. So, you are either insane or incredibly horny and will most likely fuck anything that moves," I said matter-of-factly.

"Are you a musician?" He asked obviously trying to change the subject.

"No, why do you ask that?"

"The loud music."

"Those are just some of my favorite bands. They help me write when I can't think of anything."

"Ah, you're a writer. That makes sense," He said as I glared at him from across the table.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you talk a lot and you seem to always be stuck in your own head. I've seen a lot of writers and they all have those tells."

"Okay, so you figured me out. My turn."

I studied him. I've watched all his movies. I know his Star Chart. I know what college he went to. I know when he first started acting. I know what his first movie was. I know who his first girlfriend was and I know to who he lost his virginity. He's another dumb male celebrity that has nothing secret or hidden from the media.

"I've got nothing," I said as I looked into his eyes.

Because that was the truth. I looked into this man's eyes and all I saw were these gorgeous green eyes that were just staring right back at me.

"Well, since you know everything about me do you mind if I ask you something?" He asked as he ate a piece of meat off his fork.

"Go ahead."

"Why did you watch all my movies?"

"Because I wanted to figure you out and I found it interesting that I live next to Sam Claflin the actor."

"Pretty boy actor" He added as if he were correcting me.

"Right. Pretty boy actor." I said as he turned a slight shade of pink.

"Are you usually home alone? Or do you live with someone?"

"Why? Do you want to kill me, Sam Claflin?"

"No. And why do you keep using my full name?"

"Because it's throwing you off."

"Yeah, it is."

We went on to talk about what I like to write. Which is mostly mystery and murder mystery. I stray far away from romance. It's sticky and all the same.

He learned my Star Chart. What college I went to. When I first started writing. The first novel I wrote. Who my first boyfriend was and to whom I lost my virginity.

"I hope to see you again, (Y/N) (L/N)," He said as he leaned against my door frame. (He insisted on walking me to my door)

"Well, if I ever want to see you again I know to just turn my music up too loud," I said as he smiled and then I turned around and shut the door.

I leaned against it and I swear this man stood in front of my closed door for a solid minute before walking away. I wonder if he was hoping I'd open it and let him in.

If we were going to have sex, though, I'd hope it'd be in his bed because mine can barely support my own weight.

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Request List VI

Jan 2023

Hey loves, here is the next request list. Everything below was sent in before my inbox was closed, I will be opening it back up. Please keep in mind that I am still working full-time + studying for my big board exam in early spring. I will try my best to write as much as I can but be mindful it may take me a while.

Bullet Train

Tangerine Dream - Blue light room with smut - Jane 2023

Values - Tangerine and the reader have an entanglement that leads to quiet the journey. (Pregnant Reader)

Part Two - She finds him - super hurt comfort + fluff

Angst - Things go from bad to worse leaving you two very far apart...

Sherlock & Enola Holmes - Peaky Blinders cross over

The mystery of the Shelby Sister - Sherlock tries his best to ignore his neighbor but when Enola gets attached it becomes increasingly difficult. - March 30th, 2023

Extras: Extra bits about the reader and Sherlock from the story.

Kissing: Reader and Sherlock kissing <3

Peaky Blinders

Grace - When she showed up to reclaim the love of her life, she wasn't expecting you to be there. - Jan 9th 2023

Pregnant? - the reader doesn't realize she's pregnant and a big surprise awaits the family - Jan 2023

Mr.Brightside - Tommy realizes his feelings for you, too bad he's too late and you've already found a guy. - March 21st 2023

Dresses - While the ladies of the Shelby family are on vacation you realize you still need to find a ballgown for the big dance. Thankfully your dad is available. - March 21st 2023

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

High Sex Drive - Arthur Shelby smut one shot with gifs - Jan 13th 2023

World Away - Tommy's young wife finds a way to catch his attention.

Anything that was sent after my requests were closed is not included to keep things fair to folks that may have been waiting.

I also write for the Marauders, The Witcher, Spider-Man, and probably a few other things I'm forgetting. Thanks again for all the love and Happy New Year!