#I need MORE sherly on his knees

[ryuusea]

no furniture no problem

[frost-queen]

It takes two (Reader x Sherlock Holmes)

Requested by: Anon; Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

Summary: Sherlock and you have been rival detectives for as long as you can remember. Competing and despising each other. When Sherlock and you are forced to work together, it doesn't go smoothly. Till you get hurt and see how truly worried Sherlock is for your life.

You stared at the officer at the precinct. For five minutes now had he been silent. Not wanting to tell why he had asked you over. You had hoped staring at him would make him uncomfortable enough to start chatting. You sighed loud looking away at the old clock. – “I must say officer my time is of value.” – you said hoping it would let him speak. Instead he looked at his pocket watch, clicking it shut again. – “Just a moment Miss Y/n.” – he replied, the first thing he had spoken since you had entered. The door creaked open as the officer straightened his posture. – “Ah finally.” – he spoke.

You turned around in your chair to see who had entered. Expression filled with disgust at the sight of Sherlock. – “Wonderful.” – he mumbled to himself, plastering a faked smile on his lips. – “You’ve asked for me.” – Sherlock spoke ignoring you. You got up joining his side. – “He asked for me so why don’t you run along Sherly.” – you stated waving him off. Sherlock turned his posture to you. His eyes full of annoyance to you. – “I actually called for both of you.” – the officer spoke making Sherlock and you stare shocked at him.

The officer reached down his pocket, revealing a folded note. – “I have a case.” – he outed. It took Sherlock and you one second to look at each other. Eyes full of mischief. You pushed Sherlock aside as he took a hold of your clothing. Pulling you back to him as he wanted to cut in front of you. You took a hold of his arm, grunting when he swayed his arm around to free it from your grip. The officer watched with wide eyes, slowly backing away to the wall. – “Let go!” – Sherlock groaned giving you a push. – “Never!” – you shouted clamping onto his arm.

You tried to tackle him as he wrapped an arm around your waist. Threw you over his knee and guided you down to the floor. He took exactly one step before you grabbed him by the ankle, pulling at it. He lost his sudden balance smacking with his chest against the desk. He groaned in pain, rubbing his chest. You had gotten back up wanting to run at the officer. Sherlock clenched his arms around you, keeping you close to his chest. – “Give it to me!” – Sherlock begged holding a hand out. – “No!” – you shouted squirming to break free. – “Give it to me!” – you called out ushering him to give it.

“Don’t listen to her.” – Sherlock breathed out trying to keep you in place. – “He’s an idiot.” – you said stepping on his foot. The officer blinked confused. He thought two great detectives would be more mature. Yet here you were fighting over a piece of paper. – “It’s… it’s… actually a case for the both of you.” – he told you. Sherlock and you stopped fighting, looking at each other. – “I don’t work with her.” – he said, arms still around you. – “We’re not partners.” – you said at the same time, looking back at the officer.

“Well that is too bad, cause we need the both of you.” – The officer placed the note on his desk. Sherlock and you sharing a brief glance. Both of you rushed to the desk, slamming your hands down on it. Yours was underneath as his were on top of yours. He grabbed a side pulling it from under your hand. You kept your hand pressed down.

Sherlock kept tugging at the note. – “Y/n let go.” – he grunted out. – “You let go.” – you answered forcefully. Sherlock stumbled back when a force released him from you. Confused he looked down at his hand. Holding up half a note. You lifted your hands up seeing the other half underneath it. – “Excellent, just brilliant Sherlock.” – you accused holding the ripped note up. – “If you hadn’t been so eager.” – he replied hash. – “Eager! This is my case Sherlock!” – you answered right back.

“My case!” – Sherlock called out. The officer cleared his throat. – “Both your cases. You are working together.” – Sherlock and you glared at the man. – “I’m not working with her!” – he said pointing accusingly at you. – “I work better alone.” – you reminded him. The officer pinched his nose. – “Either you work together or it is jail.” – he offered. Sherlock and you looked at each other in silence.

Bars shut hard as Sherlock sighed deep. His arms sticking out between the bars. You sat down on the bench inside the cell with him. Who knew the officer meant his threat. You looked down at half the note in your hand. Sherlock still possessing the other half. You opened it, as it didn’t make any sense. Half a sentence. Sherlock sighed again looking up. There was absolutely no way he was going to work together with you.

He couldn’t possibly work with you. Not when the two of you had such a history of competing with each other. Wanting to have the last laugh at overdoing the other one’s though cases. The two of you would take on any job just to brag about it. Brag about the amount or the difficulty of it. Now he wasn’t sure what to do.

One thing was sure that he didn’t want to stay in this cell. After half an hour and not having changed position returned the officer. – “Have you made up your mind?” – he asked. The two of you remained silent, not wanting to be the first to give in. – “Alright suit yourself. I suggest you get cosy then.” – he already turned half back to the door as Sherlock spoke. – “Wait.”

The officer paused. You got up shocked by how he would give in. – “I’ll do it.” – he sighed out. The officer looked over at you. – “I need your answer as well.” – he spoke. You looked over at Sherlock who had his back towards you. – “I agree.” – you replied seeing Sherlock look over his shoulder to you. – “Now that wasn’t so hard to say right.” – the officer joked coming closer with the jingling keys.

He opened the cell door letting Sherlock and you out. Not a moment later were you on the streets. It had gone dark. Gaslighted streetlights lighting the way. A few carriages riding over the cobble stone. You took a deep breath, looking away as you held the note up to Sherlock. Expecting him to snatch it from your hands you heard him search his pocket.

Fumble the note open and hold it against yours. You looked reading the sentence. “To die is an art.” It read. Your eyes widened turning to Sherlock as he did the same. – “Moriarty.” – you said at the same time. That is why the officer wanted both of you on this case. Moriarty had been a though man to catch. Having messed with both Sherlock and you. Teasing and taunting you with the impossible catch.

*

The clouds rumbled. Rain falling down with an unbearable amount. Sherlock and you getting out of the carriage. – “This should be his hide-out. All the hints lead here.” – Sherlock spoke over the rain. Up in the sky it rumbled once more. A thundering as the clouds flashed with a bright light. – “Then let’s catch him once and for all.” – you replied, the rain staining your face with droplets.

Sherlock nodded taking the lead. You followed him inside the building. A shammy old building squeezed between the other buildings. An apartment way. Inside there was only a staircase leading up and a narrow way just beside the staircase. The building dark and barely lighted. The first step creaked when Sherlock set his foot down. Looking over his shoulder to you, he hinted at the creaking stairway.

You nodded. He went up the stairs, carefully. Sometimes a creak would slip and make itself hearable. Sherlock and you went up meeting up with a door and some stairs that continued to go up in the turn. Sherlock knocked on the door as it opened creakingly. He walked inside carefully. He coughed loud at the smell of death.

You coughed as well, holding the back of your hand up to your nose. The windows were stained with dust. From the sink flew a dozen flies. Sherlock opened a cabinet with the use of a filthy spoon. He nearly gagged at the stench coming from the cabinet. You wanted to look as Sherlock quickly shut the cabinet once more. – “What is it?” – you questioned in a hushed voice. – “Our missing politician’s head.” – he answered making you shudder at the thought.

For days now you had been searching for the politician who got somehow entangled up in Moriarty’s schemes. – “Where is the rest of him?” – you wondered. Sherlock was about to reply when. Clash. A bucket clattered to the ground. Sherlock’s eyes flashed up to where the sound came from. In the blink of an eye he saw a figure run across.

“Sherlock!” – you shouted as he went in pursuit.  You went after him through the house. You neared the window sticking your head out. – “Sherlock!” – you yelled looking up as the rain fell hard on your face and in your eyes. Above you saw Sherlock climb a stairs leading up to the rooftop. The faint silhouette of another figure climbing in front of him.

You couldn’t let him deal with this alone. If this was truly Moriarty, he couldn’t take him alone. You assisted yourself out of the window, grabbing onto the stairs. Thunder rumbled as you fought against the rain to keep your balance. – “Sherlock!” – you shouted again wanting him to slow down. He was nearly at the top as you could barely follow. 

The bars wet and slippery. Your foot slipped as you felt yourself nearly fall. Having clutched onto the bars quick enough so your weight hadn’t pulled you down. Catching your breath, you set your foot back, continuing the climb up to the roof. With shaky hands and drenched you came at the rooftop. Sherlock looking panicked and desperately around.

“Sherlock!” – you called out over the sound of the rain. He turned around to you and made his way over. – “He was right here… he’s gone!” – Sherlock panicked. You neared him as he grabbed your arms. – “He was right here… He couldn’t be gone…” – Sherlock breathed out, turning his head to keep looking.

“Sherlock. Sherlock.” – you said trying to calm him down. – “He’s here! Taunting me!” – Sherlock called out. Your eyes widened when thunder struck, lighting the dark sky up. Seeing a figure stand behind Sherlock, arms raised up in the air. You called it out pushing Sherlock aside. A heavy object clashed against your head as it send you down. Sherlock’s eyes widened seeing you lay lifeless on the ground. – “Y/n!” – he shouted scrambling to get up.

He rushed over to you, picking your body up to place on his lap. – “Y/n… Y/n wake up.” – he begged touching your cheek. Seeing the blood on your head. He pressed you against his chest, screaming loud to the sky. A scream raw with emotions. – “Moriarty!” – he called out. – “I’ll kill you!” – he made clear looking around for any sign of him. There was none. None neared him or showed himself.

Sherlock looked down at you, brushing his palm against your wet cheek. – “Please… wake up.” – he asked. You groaned soft, squinting your eyes. Sherlock noticed the sudden change in you, widening his eyes. – “Sher…” – you mumbled out, slowly opening your eyes. Sherlock looked up to the sky, relieved you were still breathing.

“Where… where is Moriarty?” – you asked numbly. Sherlock let his fingers brush against your cheek, placing a kiss on your forehead. It made you blink confused at his sudden affection. – “Sher… Sherlock what are you doing?” – you questioned as he retrieved his lips from your forehead. – “I thought I had lost you.” – he confessed. – “I felt my heart rip at the loss of you.”

You stared bewildered up to him. Where was this sudden sweetness coming from. – “Sherlock… I am alright.” – you told him. He looked at your head, touching the area just below your headwound. – “I am not.” – he breathed out. You noticed how much he worried for you.

Something you didn’t think he was capable with the history you had with him. The sorrow and sadness reflecting clear in his eyes. Feeling a bit emotional yourself, you wrapped your arms around him, wanting to have him close to you. Sherlock hugged you back with a deep exhale. You were alright.

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[moriartyluver]

Sherlock definitely doesn’t know anything about love, bro is clueless

STOP WILLIAM PROBABLY FELT EVEN MORE GUILTY BECAUSE FL NEVER GOT ANY REASSURANCE OF HIM LOVING HER AND CARING ABOUT THEIR CHILD

Imagine Louis taking liam to his grave because bro was curious or smth and he somehow found the letters😭

Love louis, but bro has to leave liam to his whoreship of fl

It’s okay fl and liam eventually got better when he came back

Louis played the therapist

They so should have fucked in his office in that scene💔 it’s okay tho they probably fucked in every room of that manor after they did it the first time

FL’S BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH BRO GIVE THE POOR GIRL A BREAK😭

Also liam may be a stupid virgin but he’s still good asf, bro literally said it himself🛐

FL AND WILLIAM WOULD NEVER PLAY CBAT WHILE FUCKING

okay maybe William’s dumbass would but fl would beat him for it🛐

You just re-traumatized me with that

The images in my head rn are terrifying

Oh god

You just convinced me to go church

🎀.

John getting engaged and Sherlocks silly reaction is proof enough that sherly knows NOTHING about love. He may have only seen it once and acknowledged it when fl came to him to tell him to help liam and he just says “you really love him, don’t you?” And she just nods with a melancholic smile

The moment liam finds out about the accidental fetus deletus, poor guy is just sobbing and shi because he feels like it was his fault and poor fl was suffering mourning not one but TWO people

If Liam found the letters he wouldn’t know how to feel. He’d feel guilty but also bro was probably kicking his feet and blushing because he hadn’t ever been written a love letter from fl

Each time fl goes, she leaves a bouquet of lillies and Liam saw the fresh bouquet when he visits his grave

Keyword: eventually

It was probably so awkward for them at first. Fl was probably a little salty and Liam is just trying not to annoy her

Imagine them at that family dinner omg 😭 like with john and mycroft and miss Hudson and they’re all like ‘whys she so mad at him I thought they were married’

Louis definitely had to deal with their silly couple shenanigans for a bit afterwards.

Also poor Louis had to deal with his older brother being so down bad for god knows how long. William probably has a whole shrine for his whoreship of fl

On that note, bro is probably such a good therapist. They should have given him more screen time away from liam before his brother ‘died’ because his development seemed a bit sudden but makes sense when you read back on it

Nah they down bad fr 😭 can’t keep their hands off of each other omg

EVERY ROOM 😟😟 I think maybe the office and both their rooms are enough. Bathroom too if they’re that down bad there are other people in the house

Maybe if u combine both the rooms in Durham and London, that could probably make sense

Nah they actually can’t stop being down horrendously. There are going to be complaints from the other residents I swear

He may be good without realising but that stupid virgin still needs to initiate something ‼️ those idiots need to consummate the marriage

Also I actually think it makes most sense for William (along with the other Moriarty bros tbh and other characters like the Holmes brothers) to have little to no experience even in canon. You can’t tell me liam had time for anything involving his clothes off in the manga and in false lovers, bro couldn’t do that unless with fl. stupid hoe 🙄

Nah fl is so silly she probably made it a competition mid way just so she wouldn’t have the admit that she thinks liam is hot.

I had to be a little silly with the cbat thing cmon 😭 liam wouldn’t even mind being beat for that what a masochist

Yknow who else needs to go to church?

William

He should get on his knees for something that isn’t fl (that has so many meanings to it—)

[joanquill]

Hellooooo!!

I’m so happy that the requests are open! Soo if it’s not too much to ask can I request Sherly, Moran and Will, a married life with them ? Thank you in advance😖 Have a good day/ night!! Sending love and support💕💕💞💞

A/N: Hope you have a good day/night too! 💖💞

Married Life with Sherlock, Sebastian, and William

Sherlock Holmes, Sebastian Moran, and William James Moriarty

Sherlock Holmes

The idea popped up when he saw John with Mary, and he started to fantasize that it was you and him.

He knew he needed to clean up his act, so he started working on his domestic skills, paying bills, and controlling his smoking.

He even went to Mycroft about how to become a “proper gentleman”, which almost made Mycroft doubt that he was his actual younger brother.

You caught early on that he was acting differently, so you confronted him about it. He told you that he wanted to be better for you, someone you can be with.

You reassured him that you loved him the way he was and that won’t ever change, which made him feel better.

When he finally has the ring, he leaves it around the flat when you visit, wanting to see if you’ll find it (you don’t)

That is until you stayed over and woke up with the ring on your finger.

When you married him, there weren’t a lot of changes, except for the fact that you have his last name and he’s your husband now.

You were always at 221B Baker Street, so moving in was very exciting (Miss Hudson was the most excited to have you around).

He still has you around during cases, usually holding your hand and spinning your ring with his fingers.

He likes to touch his ring when his thinking or fidgeting. It somehow gives him comfort.

He also likes to kiss your ring or on your cheek when greeting you.

You two try to split the chores evenly, but you end up doing them together and turning them into dates.

When he’s had a long day, and you were at home, he likes to hold you close and recharge.

He also likes to have you on his lap while he’s experimenting or have you talk about your day.

Sebastian Moran

I feel like if he ever marries, it will be when it is finally peaceful with no more nobles to kill.

Sebastian may be a playboy, but once he really has his eyes set on someone, nothing’s going to get in his way.

It’ll take a long time for him to propose. He would carry the ring around for months and still think of how to do it.

If you start dropping hints about it, like your eyes lingering on weddings or rings, he’d be less afraid and more excited to propose.

Sometimes he jokes around it, but not enough to make you think there’s something behind it.

When he does propose, you wouldn’t know it was happening until he got down on one knee.

I feel like he’d want to settle somewhere more in the countryside (like in the anime).

He’d still tease you and can’t keep his hands to himself.

He will always have his arms around you when you wake up or go to sleep, usually with some kisses from your cheek down to your shoulders.

Surprisingly, he really helps around the house (granted, he’d want a reward afterward, but that’s for another time)

When you two have free time, expect to have this man wrapped around you, usually hugging you from behind before pulling you down to his lap while you two talk about your days.

The only time you ever catch him in bars is when you’re with him celebrating over drinks, or his co-workers dragged him (with your permission or he told you beforehand)

When women approach him and flirt, he usually shows them his wedding ring or mentions you.

When you’re out, he likes having you around an arm’s reach or just holding you by the waist.

Kids have never been part of his plans, but the idea of you being the parent of his child makes him happy.

It’ll take a long time for him to admit that, though.

William James Moriarty

At first, marriage never crossed his mind, let alone a romantic relationship.

When you walked in and showed him what future he could have with you, he started to change his point of view.

When he came back from the Reichenbach fall, and you two are reunited, spending the rest of his life with you was one of his priorities.

William knew he had to take it slow, and he didn’t want to scare you off.

You could have moved on with someone else for all he knows.

You reassured him that he doesn’t have to work so hard to rekindle your relationship since you knew what falling in love with him had, and you just wanted to be with him at the moment.

Sherlock also sent you letters about how much William missed you ever since he woke up.

He’s a little taken back but grateful for the detective. Ever since you two restarted, you loved each other better than ever before.

When he realizes that you’re ready for the next step, this man has your proposal and wedding planned down to a single second.

The wedding planner was a little scared, not gonna lie.

After you got married, you two decided to have a house of your own (somewhere nearby the mansion, of course)

You and William share the chores around the house, but sometimes he likes to surprise you with breakfast in bed or do your share when you had a rough day.

He’ll never admit it, but sometimes he leaves his lunch so that he can see you at the university.

Congrats! You are now the co-parent of his class.

William barely talks about his private life, but his students notice the loving expression he makes when you visit or mention you.

When he does have a free day, it’s either taking you on a date or a lazy day with just napping in the afternoon and cuddling.

[nakaharasknife]

Stella. Stella, I'm crying. I'm on my fucking knees, Stella.

The bridge scene. They did it. I love them so much, I can't.

I love how progressively more human Liam gets, and how he actually let his composure slip as he was debating his life with Sherlock. And I love how it shows how all the murders Liam has committed affects him, instead of him just being the stereotypically unemotional, morally grey character.

I love how they fought and how ready he was to take his own life for London.

'You've bested me, Sherly.' Stella, he wanted those to be his last words. Emo bitch.

I love how there's a bit more room to breathe instead of 'I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,' until the end of time, and Sherlock and William grow fond and understanding of each other. They're dear friends, Stella. That's gay.

I love how morally grey Sherlock is and there's no side I'm on because they both have goals that require questionable methods. I love this Sherlock so much because he solely loves analysing and unravelling mysteries, and because of this, he and Liam are integral parts of each other's lives.

Listening to your Sherliam playlist and crying right now.

Also, they moved to Switzerland, a neutral place because they wanted to get married; they told me themselves.

Cries with you ohmygodvaisvw

THE BRIDGE SCENE GHOULIEWHOULIE THE BRIDGE SCENE

UGH YOU COULDNT HAVE DESCRIBED IT BETTER- i love the character development in that last episode like liam OKABWUNW

His last words really wanted to be praising his boyfriend- i mean friend…

OKAY I HAVE SOMETHING TO SHOW YOU

He really said i want to hold hands with you if i wasnt about to jump of a bridge-

Bro what straight person ??????

But yes i love how this sherlock universe doesnt make them hate each other!!!! Im so happy abt that

THEY WORK !! TOGETHER !! PERFECTLY !! WITHOUT NEEDING TO BE OPPOSITES AND TRUE GOOD ABD TRUE EVIL !!! LIKE HES DOING WHATS RIGHT BUT HE’S CHOSEN THE BAD WAY !! AND HE JUST WANTS TO HELP HIM IM GONNA WAIL 2($/?:$2

I LISTENED TO THE BEACH ON REPEAT AFTER FINISHING IT CUZ UAAHAHSHAHAGHSHAHHHHSHSHSHSHS I WAS HYSTERICALLY CRYING

That last sentence is true and noone can change my mind

[high-functioning-lokipath]

SH - Sherlock x Watson!reader - Strangers Like Me - 1,468

A/N: THIS IS THE FIRST SHERLOCK ONESHOT I WROTE! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! (WHY AM I YELLING? 🤣) ~ AMETHYST

You had come to visit your brother in London about a week ago. Unfortunately, you had unknowingly brought with you a stomach bug and gave it to your brother. This particular morning he was still in bed sleeping, no longer sick but still too weak to go out. You'd spent most of your time helping him recover or sightseeing around the city. You, of course, had met Sherlock but you didn't spend too much time around him because you didn't want him to deduce your secret. 

"John!" Sherlock yelled from downstairs. Your brother "Jawwwwwn!!!!" He yelled again. You ran downstairs to quiet him down. 

"Sherlock!" You whisper-yelled. "Please don't yell! He's still sleeping for goodness sake!"

"Why?"

"Why is he still sleeping?"

"Yes."

"Because he's still recovering from being sick you twit!" 

"But I need him for a case! Gavin just called me and said there was a murder!"

"Gavin?"

"Yes, Geoff."

"Geoff?"

"Gucci."

"Oh! Greg!"

"That's not it."

"Yes it is."

"No, Lestrade's first name is-"

"Greg," John said coming down the stairs completely wrapped up in his blanket. 

"John!" You both exclaimed. 

"You look absolutely dreadful!" Sherlock stated. "How are you supposed to help me in that condition?"

"I'm not!" He said, "I'm going back to bed. She'll go with you."

"John, please no," you pleaded. Your brother gave you a pointed look.

"Look, you can't avoid him forever. I think he might actually find you quite interesting." He whispered.

"I don't think this is a goo-" you paused a moment looking again at your brother. "Are you wearing any pants?" You asked loud enough for Sherlock to hear too.

"Nope." John and Sherlock both started laughing hysterically. You tried to look disgusted but couldn't help yourself and joined in on the laughter. John started coughing suddenly, ruining the happy mood. 

"You'd better get back to bed, John," You said. "I'll put on a fresh pot for you and I guess I'll go with Sherlock if that'll make you happy."

"Thanks, sis," He replied heading back upstairs. You went to the kitchen and started some more tea. Sherlock hadn't said a word but you felt his intense gaze on your back. You whipped around suddenly, staring back at him. His gaze faltered for a moment before he finally opened his mouth to speak.

"I suppose you'll do. Just make sure not to mess anything up."

"I wouldn't dare," You replied. Purposely bumping into him as you walked out of the kitchen, you smiled to yourself. Perhaps you wouldn't let him figure out your secret. Perhaps you'd show it to him willingly. 

"We found her in the car completely unresponsive. The medics pronounced her dead at the scene. We figure she couldn't have been here for more than a couple hours," D.I. Lestrade explained.

"To the average person it would look like a standard car accident. Why were you guys called?" You asked. Sherlock was completely ignoring Greg, preferring to examine the body. 

"She was an old classmate of mine actually. We kept in contact occasionally. She always told me she would never get behind the wheel of a car. We were called because the car wasn't registered to her and the owner has gone missing." You nodded and thought about the situation. Walking up to the body and the car, you examined it for yourself.

"The driver of the car, where did he work?" You asked. 

"At the bank about 6 blocks north of here."

"Call the bank and ask if they ever punched in this morning. I think they'll also find they're missing some money. Here's what happened. Your friend and the owner of the car had both gotten jobs at the bank about 2 months ago. They decided to carpool since they lived near each other. They headed into work this morning, the first ones in. When they entered the bank 2 robbers were already inside. They went to hit the alarm but the robbers took them hostage, they'd already gotten the money. They assumed your friend was the driver of the car and forced her to get behind the wheel. As they were driving she started to have an asthma attack and lost control of the car. They probably had another buddy nearby in another car so they could get away with at least one hostage." Taking a closer look at some papers in the car, you said: "Try the Hotel on 27th. That's where they're staying."

"How did you figure this all out?" Greg exclaimed.

"It's quite easy, all the evidence is right there," You stated.

"C'mon, Miss Watson," Sherlock said sharply. "Wouldn't want to keep your dear brother waiting home alone. Good day, Lestrade." He grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the scene. He was silent, never sparing a glance in your direction for the whole walk back to 221b. 

"Wait just a minute, Mr. Holmes. We're both adults and we are going to discuss this matter as such," You said just before going inside. You now grabbed his arm and pulled him into Speedy's. Pushing him into a booth, you sat across him and analyzed him carefully. He'd placed his elbows on the table, hands together in a prayer position, fingertips resting on his chin. He stared straight ahead, which so happened to be directly at you. "Oh no you don't! Don't go off into your mind palace now, Sherly."

"Don't call me that!" He snapped, a barely noticeable pink rising to his cheek. 

"Are you sure, Shirl?" You cooed, noting his reaction. He blushed even harder this time. His face remained stoic but his eyes shone. "You like the fact that someone has finally called you by a nickname without using it derogatorily. You claim not to be emotional but all the name calling affects you very much. Well they're wrong you know. You're not a freak, you're a genius. You're not ugly or weird, you're quite handsome and absolutely amazing. You're not crazy, well, maybe a little." He smiled slightly at that, finding himself unable to meet your eyes. "You do this work because you want to help and you find it enjoyable because you can understand it rather easily unlike emotional matters. Well lemme tell you something, honey, emotions aren't easy for anyone. But most people believe they're a necessary evil. And some people can read emotions a little better than others. You'll find most of those people are women though. I think that right now, you feel absolutely naked at having someone deduce you back." You looked down at your own hands. "Don't feel so bad. I don't mean any harm, I just-" You sighed deeply. "I've been doing this my whole life." He looked up at you, an amazed look on his face. "This deducing and all. Why do you think John gets along with you so well? He's used to me. I drove him and Harry crazy for years." You finally made eye contact with Sherlock again. "I'm sorry I stole your spotlight today. I just, I just wanted to let you know you're not alone."

"What emotions do you see in me now?" He stared deeply into your eyes. 

"Admiration, surprise, and," you paused for a moment. 'No, he wouldn't feel that way,' You thought. "Uh, I don't know." You trailed off. 

"C'mere," he said standing up and taking your hand. You stood up facing him. He took both of your hands in his. "You missed one," he whispered, leaning into you. "Love." He closed the gap, kissing you quickly on the lips. 

"SherlocK! I-"

"Come with me," He exclaimed, grabbing your hand. 

"What are you doing?" You yelled as he pulled you out of Speedy's and upstairs to the flat.

"Jawwwwwn!" He yelled bursting through the door.

"I'm right here," Your brother groaned from his chair not 6 feet away. "What is it?"

"I'm going to marry your sister."

"Sherlock!!!" You yelled. "You haven't even asked me yet!"

"So? I know your answer," He replied with his classic, cocky smile.

"I still want you to ask." He raised his eyebrow at you, still remaining silent.

"Just ask her the bloody question, Sherlock!" John yelled. You laughed as Sherlock reluctantly got down on one knee. Taking your hand he finally said those four special words.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" You replied emphatically. He picked you up as he stood and twirled you around. After he finally put you down he kissed you with such emotion you almost didn't believe it was him. 

"Ok, ok. I get it. My sister's in love with my best friend and my best friend finally admitted he's human. Now can you please not do that in front of me? I think I'm going to throw up and I promise you it's not this stomach bug I have."

[lemonpeter]

Catch Me if You Can - chapter 7

:) sorry it's two days late, I hope it's worth it

Tags: @sherly-not-obsessed @mykale-yellow @avaxxc @alette606 @starkravingspiders @smidnite @indecisive-mess-named-me @mercury-deacon-taylor-may @seaweedbrain3000 @aoifelaufeyson @ironspiidey @ironfestivalgoopmaker @darknessyuu @john--imnotgay--watson @t1of3

**

The rest of their miniature study date had gone amazing. Either of them would say so.

Well, maybe not out loud. They both still had some sort of a reputation, after all. 

But everything was perfect and smooth until-

“Hey, Pete, I know I’m late, I’m sorry,” Harley apologized as he walked through the door. Then he blinked, confused as he looked at the both of them.

Peter looked like a deer in headlights, Bambi eyes so wide as he looked at his boyfriend. “Harley! Hey, uh, Tony needed some help with some project so I offered to help…” the excuse was lame and he knew it.

His boyfriend frowned, seeing how Tony was laid on the couch, completely relaxed like he didn’t have another care in the world. Didn’t seem like he was just there for help on a project. And- “Why would he need help from you? Or even want it?” Harley commented coldly. “You and I both know that he’s smarter than you. He’s a Stark after all. He’s created all kinds of tech, I don’t think he needs academic help from someone like you.”

The smaller boy deflated, shoulders hunched and defeated. “Harles, I’m just telling you what’s going on, okay? We can hang out another time.” Like both of them hadn’t forgotten that they were even supposed to hang out. 

Tony was just watching the exchange, brows furrowed. He didn’t understand why Peter let Harley talk to him like that. He knew the boy was smart, even smarter than him! So why did he let his boyfriend of all people insult his intelligence?

Harley huffed. “But I wanted to hang out now. I feel like you should choose to spend your time with me rather than him. Haven’t you referred to him as your enemy or something? With that dumb rivalry?”

“It’s all just for fun, I told you that. And maybe I want to actually spend some time with friends instead of just you all the time.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, two moments, until Harley turned his gaze to Tony. “I don’t know what the hell you did to him but you need to knock it off! He’s mine. I was the one there when he was upset when you started ignoring him at the beginning of the school year.”

He just said that he was there. Not there for him. Because he hadn’t been there for Peter. He had told Peter to stop complaining about it. Told him that he wasn’t as likable as he thought and the world didn’t revolve around him.

Tony looked at him, sitting up. “Look, I don’t know what you think I’m trying to do, but Peter told you, I’m just here for help on a project. And you don’t know how lucky you are to have him. He’s so smart and caring and all kinds of other things you don’t deserve. You make him feel stupid but I only ignored him before because I felt threatened by how genius he was. But now I admire him for it. As you should. You’re so lucky he puts up with you. But I can’t say I understand why he does.”

Peter watched the exchange, jaw dropped a little. He couldn’t help it! He had no idea what was going on or why Tony was standing up for him. No one did that. Not to Harley. Because Peter told them not to. “Tony…” he looked at the other boy, unable to help the adoration in his eyes.

A discontent sound left Harley as he watched. “Peter! You’re supposed to be mine! Not his. We’ve been together so long, I can’t believe you would even let him talk to you. I love you. He doesn’t.”

Something snapped. Peter wouldn’t be able to explain what it was, but it was as if he could physically feel something break inside of him. “Love? Is that what this is? You policing who I hang out with. You making me feel less than and stupid when I know damn well I’m smarter than most if not all of the student body at our school. You telling me to lose weight. You using me but never wanting to please me in return. If that’s your idea of love...I don’t want it. So you can take your ‘love’ and get out of my house. And leave Tony alone. He’s shown me more affection in the past couple hours than you have in months and he hasn’t even touched me. You have no place to say anything negative to him.”

Harley was frozen for a moment, just looking at him. “What did you say to me?”

Tony chuckled, looking at Peter. “He said get out. I advise you do as he says. He doesn’t seem to be messing around.”

“Who do you think will want you if you make me leave? Him? Peter, no one will love you like I do.”

“You’re right,” Peter said quietly, eyes narrow and determined. “No one will love me like you do. Anyone else would be so much better.”

Harley glared at him, jaw clenched before he walked out. He slammed the door behind him, the action causing the pictures on the walls to shake.  

Peter’s expression crumpled as soon as he was gone. He pulled his knees to his chest and dropped his head. “What did I just do?” He wondered aloud.

Tony looked at him, unable to help the smile on his face. “You just freed yourself from that asshole. You don’t have to deal with him anymore! That’s awesome!” He noticed Peter didn’t seem to be celebrating. “This is a good thing. He was awful to you.”

“Even awful, I loved him. And...and he loved me.”

“You said it yourself,” Tony said gently. “That wasn’t love. You deserve so much more.” Me, is what he wanted to add. But he didn’t.

Peter looked up, eyes finding Tony’s. “Right...and, thank you for standing up for me. No one does that. Not even me.”

“I know. But I couldn’t just let that happen to you. No one deserves that. But especially not you.”

Peter smiled a little, cheeks colored a soft pink at the words. He suddenly felt the need to tell Tony exactly how he felt. How amazing just being around him was. He knew it was a risk, but he felt ready to take the leap. Maybe it was leftover adrenaline from his confrontation with Harley. “Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I love you.”

[grav3yardbb92]

Sherlock X reader

            ***********************

"Did you know, over half of the population suffer from this. For some its more than fifteen times a month, this is ,what, your tenth?...." My boyfriend rattles off, while softly running his fingers through my hair, while my head rest in his lap.".....there are different phases" he pauses to glance at me" nausea, fatigue, dizzy, are you dizzy, looks like you're in attack phase.,.." He only stops his ranting, when I let out an annoyed groan. " Sherly, I love you, but you're not helping my migraine" I whine, in a whispered voice, cause it would hurt to talk any louder.

" oh, I'm sorry, love. How can I help?" He ask, looking down at me with sympathy. His lips then crack into a smile, and he gently removes his hand from my hair, only to place them both on my forehead. I close my eyes again and moan in contentment as he begins to message my temples. He chuckles slightly as I physically relax at his actions. After Twenty minutes of this comforting silence, he turned to reading a book and I slipped into a much needed nap.

We are suddenly brought back to reality by the front door slamming, followed by incoherent mumbling from John. I jolt up from my spot and we both watch as John continues rambling on about ' those wankers' at the market, as he's slamming various items on the table. 

I rest my elbows on my knees as I cover my ears, and grumble again at the noise. I feel a weight lift from the  couch, causing my eyes to open to see Sherlock stride toward John in the kitchen. I can see their lips moving, their words are muffled through my hands, but are punctuated by arm gestures. It's almost amusing and I would let out a laugh, if i didn't know it would hurt. They both look back at me and I notice John mouthing what I recognize as ' sorry', and I remove my hands, giving him a small smile.

Moments later, Sherlock returns to his previous spot, draping his arm across my shoulders, allowing me to rest against his chest. The excruciating torture in my head finally subsides and I let out a sigh of relief. " better?" Sherlock ask, to which I hum in response, before laying a peck on his cheek.

" you know, if your pain is that bad next time, I can always get you something stronger then motrin" Sherlock States, not needing to elaborate his suggestion, to which John lets out a disapproving grumble from his chair across the room. I can't help but giggle at the unamused expression on his face, directed at my, once drug-addict, boyfriend. I give it some thought before shaking my head in response.

" you're the only drug I need, detective. "

[thebeethathums]

Observers - 78

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Warning: 18+ THIS IS A LEMON. Please skip if you are not comfortable, prefer not to read, or are not of age.

A/N: If this isn’t your scene please just skip. There are no important plot points here

Before you could respond to his statement or ask what he meant, he bit down on your neck right where it was most sensitive, making you moan zealously and arch up into him. He swirled the tip of his tongue over the new mark, both teasing and soothing, before moving on to leave a self-designed constellation of nips and bites across your fevered skin. He worked his way down your neck and over your collarbone and shoulders, switching to gentle kisses when he came upon a bruise, and the combination only made you want him more, a  desperate heat building between your legs as your heartbeat quickened.

He lingered over it for a moment, feeling its frantic fluttering with his lips, and then smirked into your skin as he ghosted a hand up the curve of your waist. As intended, it made you arch your back just enough that he could slip his other hand beneath you, deftly unhooking your bra on the first try- he’d learned from the last time. Your sensitive buds rapidly hardened as he lifted the bra away from you and exposed your soft breasts to the cool air of the room, your breath catching in your throat. Noting the pause in his touch, you shifted a little, uncomfortable at the feeling of his gaze on you, and your skin prickled a little from cold and knowing he’s likely looking you over. You made a small noise in the back of your throat like a short whine and it snapped him out of his moment of utter admiration of your bare body.

The warmth of his hands was quick to cover your breasts, his fingers sending an electric-like shock through your body when he rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger as if he was tuning his violin. The friction against the delicate ridged flesh sent waves of pleasure through your body and you gasped out a desperate note, wordlessly begging him for more. He willingly gave it, his lips returning to your skin to soothe the sensitive swell his fingers had left behind with a light kiss to your nipple. Squirming beneath him, you sighed gladly when his hot wet tongue slipped out to swirl over the hard nub, letting out a breathy gasp a moment later as his lips locked around it to suck. 

‘How the bloody hell does he know how to do that?’ you wondered for a split second before he gave it a little nip and you arched into him, thoughts erased as your fingers wove tightly into his hair to keep him where he was. Your heart faltered at the soft tug of his mouth around your perky bud, teeth grazing it occasionally in a way that sent a small shock like pang straight from your chest to your folds. You whimpered and pressed your thighs together to try and ease the ache that he so easily encouraged, panting softly as you scratched lightly at his scalp. A pleased and extremely smug hum vibrated through your breast as he relished your response, shifting to give your other breast a similar treatment while his thumb returned to drag over the nipple he’d just left. You squealed, fisting your hand in his hair as your hips jolted up in a desperate involuntary buck, and he chuckled deeply. He’d observed so carefully the last time, noting what made you gasp and moan, and now it paid off as he applied it to the extreme. He wanted to hear you beg like he had, to know that you needed him- to please you.

He left the pliable mounds of your breasts, your wet nipples aching at the sudden absence of his warm touch as the cool of the room settled in on them. You let out a small groan as his nose traced across your indulgent flesh and his lips worked to provide a healing affection to each and every mark that marred its soft surface- the gentle care easily making up for your frustration at his pace. He was unable to keep a content sigh from escaping his lips when he nuzzled his face into your stomach and you let out a soft giggle. He turned his attention to your jeans after a moment and sat back on his heels to drink in the sight of you, absorbing it like dry earth receiving water after a drought. Not wanting to leave you waiting long, he traced the edge of your jeans as he took a moment to admire the way they fell on your hips.

He hummed to himself and then decided that they needed to go, moving to rid you of both the jeans and the thin slip of fabric that lay beneath. You took a deep hungry breath as his hands ran over the small of your back and down across your cheeks to slide the stiff fabric away from your legs and toss them to the floor. Goosebumps rippled across your skin as you wiggled impatiently, wondering what he was planning. You felt a strong longing for his warmth to return to you and a soft unplanned whine escaped your lips to bring his attention to this, making him refocus again. His own desire was peaking toward painful, his trousers overly tight as his growing bulge made itself prominently known, but he was determined to make you cry for mercy before giving in to what you both wanted.

Hesitating as he planned to delve into previously uncharted territory, Sherlock stroked your thigh for a moment to let you know he was focused on you fully and then slipped his hand between your knees to part your legs and settle himself between them. He chewed lightly at his lip as he admired your slick folds in a way he hadn’t had a chance to do last time, the heated skin flushed and desirous for his attention. His thumb ran experimentally between you them, brushing upwards from bottom to top to get a feel for the area, and your response was instantaneous. You fisted the bed sheets with a sharp gasp that turned into a groan as your legs tensed a little and he grinned like Cheshire cat, running his thumb between them a second time to get the same response with an added squirm. With his confidence boosted, he dropped to repeat the action with his tongue, burying his face in your wet folds as he settled more fully between your legs.

When he finished his first experimental lick with a flick of his tongue over the sensitive nub hidden between them, you let out a little cry, barely muffling it with a hand, and he silently panicked, pulling away to breathe, “Not good?”

Finding his hair and giving it a gentle tug, you hurried, “Heavens, Sherly. Good. Very, very good.”

You managed a small smile at his concern, reminded of just how much you care for him, before his tongue demanded your attention again. Reassured, he had returned to his task with a renewed fervor, his broad licks and teasing flicks causing you to tremble and moan. You squeaked out a moan as his hot tongue probed your clit more firmly before his teeth grazed against in a small nibble. You desperately tried to buck up into him but found all your attempts thwarted by a firm hand on your hip pressing you down into the mattress. 

The noises you made for him were like sweet music to his ears and he noted in his mind how easily they escaped you when he gave the throbbing rise of your clit any sort of attention. Just as he flicked his tongue over it again, he slipped his free hand up your inner thigh and added a finger, easing one in slowly to start. You covered your mouth as you let out a small gasping cry, straining to buck your hips against him, and he rumbled lowly against your folds, “Careful. If you agitate your injuries, I will have to stop.”

As small frustrated whine erupted from you as you squirmed slightly but ultimately nodded, “R-Right.” Satisfied with your answer, he returned to his experiment with a nip to your sensitive nub as he shallowly thrust his finger and gently stroked at your slick inner walls. Your hands fisted in his hair and the sheet when he found what he was looking for, making note of the location for the future. He slipped in a second finger to trill them both expertly against your inner wall as if it was the strings of his violin, hitting that overly sensitive spot that made your entire body tingle. You arched your back a little off the bed as you pressed a pillow over your mouth for fear of waking John with the pleased noise the action drew out of you, legs coming together as much as they could with him between them.

Within a matter of seconds, Sherlock coaxed you to a climax unlike any other, your back arching up more intensely as your frame trembled violently and shockwaves of heart-stopping pleasure blanketed all your senses and quickly surged through your body. He groaned, enjoying how your body responded to his efforts, and lapped a bit more gently at your clit until you pushed him off, toes already curled tightly. Letting you ride it out, he looked up to enjoy the look of bliss on your face before dotingly kissing your folds and then the burn marks above them. You took a moment to recover and then breathlessly panted, “Please. I need you.”

As you puffed out short breaths, you could tell his face held an imperious grin without needing to lay your eyes on him and you felt him shift away from you for a moment. Your ears twitched as they picked up the movement of him hastily ridding himself of his trousers and pants before he returned to you, his weight settling across you as your bodies fit perfectly against each other. You chuckled softly when his rock hard length pressed against your thigh, pulling him down for a desperate kiss.

“Mercy, Sherlock… Please let me help you,” you whispered against his lips as you reached a hand down to grasp his length and pull a loud moan from him as you finished in a purr, “with this.”

He grunted and shifted back to his knees, pushing your legs wide open as his thumb stroked at your hip. You mewled softly as you suddenly felt his tip drag between your still pulsing folds and Sherlock bit his lip hard, repeating the action a few times just to enjoy the feel and watch your folds part for him. You squirmed with an impatient groan and he lined himself up, one hand holding you in place by your hip as the other guided his cock into you. His breath caught audibly in his throat as he watched himself slide into your drenched cunt with ease, your folds swallowing his cock perfectly. Your walls tensed around him as he filled you completely and you let out a high-pitched gasp, gripping tightly at his shoulders, “Sherlock-“

He leaned over you quickly, cutting you off with a passionate kiss before murmuring, “Slow… I remember.”

You wound your arms around his neck to kiss him again, transferring your gratitude to him in the way your lips connected with his, and he gathered you carefully to his chest in an embrace as he sat back on his heels. You stayed like that for a long moment while you each enjoyed the feel of skin against skin and his lips left kisses on your jawline and a single one on your nose -two beings perfectly intertwined. A need to mark the consulting detective as your own spread through your chest as your fingers carded through his silky hair and you nuzzled deeply into his neck. You left some light kisses and nips along his pulse, searching for the perfect spot, and he groaned impatiently just as you picked one and sank your teeth into the sensitive skin. He held back a squeak, the noise tensing his throat under your lips, and you sucked firmly to leave your mark as a way of encouraging him to act on his desires.

Settling you carefully back on the sheets of his bed, he flexed his hips to pull his length out to the tip and then slide slowly back in to the hilt with a low cursing moan, biting his lip as his eyes fluttered closed. The wet heat that enveloped his member tightly drove him to the edge of his senses as he gave another deliberate and slow thrust, feeling you arch into him in response. You gripped at his shoulders, gasping between pants as he filled you again, and shifted your legs open fully for him. He knew if he went too fast too quickly he would hurt you but couldn’t keep up the slow pace for longer than a handful of thrusts, his needs and impatience winning over his calculated logic as he quickened his movements. You hardly minded as ran your hands down to his waist and back up while you rocked your hips up to him, deepening each of his passes into you with breathless sighs and soft mewls. 

His hands fisted the bed sheets on either side of your head. He wanted desperately to run them over you and pull you up to him but he didn’t trust that his grip or heavy-handed caressing wouldn’t agitate your injuries. In the end, it didn’t take away from the pleasure since your nomadic hands more than made up for the absence of his and he was pressed so closely to you that your breaths mingled- your moans and sighs getting caught in each other’s throats. Your fingers found their way into his hair and tugged softly with a breathless groan as he fit himself against you a bit more forcefully, his tip driving deep into your snug walls and your hips instantly snapping up to meet his in response. 

He shifted back, the need to touch you becoming overwhelming, and locked his thumbs against your hipbones as his fingers splayed back to grip your cheeks tightly, enabling him to pull your lower half up to him to enter you at a deeper more pleasurable angle. A jolt of pleasure started as a tingling pang deep in your core, spreading out to your fingers and toes in the following moments, and you gripped at his forearm tightly as a loud, surprised gasp fled from your lips like a bird from a cage followed by a faltering moan, “Sherlock- Right there- yes!”

There were no pauses between your moans now, leaving you breathless, and you could hear Sherlock’s ragged breathing as his grip on your hips pressed tighter but no sounds left his lips. The disappointment over his silence drove you to tighten your muscles around him, making his position inside you devastatingly tight, and his low baritone reverberated through you and the bed below as he left out a staggered set of curses, groaning, “Yes- (F/n).”

You smirked as you repeated the action, loving the way your name fell from his lips like a deep melodic phrase, and your detective let out a whimpering moan- he wasn’t going to last much longer at this rate. He picked up a steadier pace, his length hitting all the right spots with each thrust as he drove himself into you as fully as he possibly could, eyes locked on you. Your head was tilted back as you let out quiet breathless moans and kept a tight grip on his wrist. His eyes trailed down from your stunningly pleased face to watch the slight bounce of your raise nipples that came with each deep forceful thrust, licking his lip as he followed it with his eyes for a moment.

The knot of your core coiled tighter each time he filled you, your already sensitive walls getting more snug around him, and his gaze quickly moved lower to watch again. He groaned lowly at how his slicked length disappeared into your glistening folds, a deep husky noise that caused you to shiver as it tightened the knot inside you even more, and he gripped your hips more firmly.  When you cried his name again in a whimpered warning that you were close, his thrusts turned rapid and erratic until he shortly hit his peak, a few more forceful thrusts burying his pulsing member deeply inside of you.

You gasped at the feel of his cock unleashing hot seed deep into you and clawed his arm as it easily pushed you over the edge with him. He choked out a moan when your body tensed around him in your own climax, making the breathtaking heat spilling through his loins that much more intense and highly satisfying as he bucked a few more times. Your hips shuddered as your body seized with surges of ecstasy, his member convulsing similarly within you, and, in a brief moment of clarity, he pulled you to him and collapsed on his back to avoid hurting you.

[smutfornerds]

Mile High Club // Sherloque x Reader

A/N: well these two are just fueling all my creativity this weekend smh. @jay-wells-writes wrote a wonnnnnderful Mile High fic about HR. Which then lead @cursed-ocs to start up a Harry version. So NATURALLY I felt obliged to get Sherly into the club too! So here we have one of three parts to our impromptu Mile High Wells Bois miniseries. Enjoy my babies!

—

The bags were fully stowed away above you in a Tetris-like mess, but at least the compartment doors closed. Where you seemed to be relieved that the plane would be taking of soon, the detective to your right was quite the opposite. Sherloque sat ringing his hands back and forth, the occasional swipe of his dry tongue over his even drier lips. His blue gaze was stuck piercing the tarmac like if he stared hard enough it would anchor the plane to the ground. Finally taking your seat, you placed a gentle hand to his arm and he snapped his gaze to you with raised brows. “Oui? Everything okay?” The very fact that in such an anxious state he was still worried about you made your heart backflip. You gave a soft squeeze to his arm before trailing your hand down to his own, breaking his nervous palm rubbing to cup your hand over his.

“Everything’s fine, and so are you. I promise planes are nothing to be afraid of.” Giving him the most reassuring smile you could still didn’t change his mind. “Nothing oh? What about if the engines are not fully operational? Or if the wing just - POOF —“ Sherloque threw his hands up wildly as he gave the visual of some sort of explosion before continuing. “Just like that, hm? That is not something to be afraid of?” He gestured it the window and back to you before rubbing his hand over his stubbled chin. You watched as his chest rose and fell with each semi-quick breath. Without a second thought you pressed your palm to the square of his chest. He opened his mouth to speak but you were already ready. “Deep breaths. In your nose, out your mouth. Five of them.” Shooting him a serious glance he rolled his eyes before obliging. You kept your palm pressed firmly to his chest as he did so, and you could feel his heart rate lowering with each intake of air. With breath number five he finally sat back against his seat, exhaling in a slow and exasperated sigh. “I don’t mean to be such a fuss.” He stated softly, much softer than his usual booming voice. You placed your hand on the arm rest, nudging his elbow just a bit as you spoke. “Hey I was the same way when I started flying. It takes getting used to, it’s alright.” You shrugged at the finish of your sentence only to be greeted by the flight crew over the intercoms.

They gave the safety speech and motioned towards every exit, the oxygen masks and floatation devices under the seats. Every other word you would glance over at Sherloque, and his eyes would widen at the little mentions of “if we were to go down” protocols. Both of you clicked your seatbelts as the captain rang through the speakers to alert you for take off. Again you saw your companions gaze lock on the window, but this time you weren’t about to feed into his fears. “Hey, Sherloque, don’t watch the take off.” Tapping his shoulder he turned back to face you and his expression read beyond nervous. To say it took a knife to your heart was an understatement. This man who was always so confident in his every move, had faced a meta-murderer more than once without flinching, and yet the idea of flying was making his hands all but shake. You softened your expression just as the engines whirred on. He tried to turn again but this time you cupped his face in your hands. “Hey hey hey, don’t look out there just look at me.” His eyes seemed to lose their worried glaze and find a calmer, warmer one to shine back at you. “Okay.. that I can do.” He murmured as the plane began to creep forward. Letting your hands slip to rest on on his shoulder, the other in the crook of his neck, you smiled sweetly over to him to help ease his nerves.

“This is exactly what my mom has to do for me when I was a kid, just hold eye contact til we’re in the air and it’s not as scary, I promise.” Nodding at your own words, Sherloque nodded once in return before scoffing slightly. “So I’m like a child being so scared and nervous? I mean really what could be so terrible about fly-aye!” The plane lurched just as he spoke and roared into the air, sending both of you unexpectedly thumping lightly into the backs of your seats. “Sacré bleu!” The detective let his voice boom through the rows of empty seats and around the ears of the few other passengers. You could hear the muffled snickers and couldn’t help but giggle a bit yourself. Eyeing him again you couldn’t help but notice his ragged breathing had returned, even shakier than before. A frown formed on your previously chipper face and he noticed immediately. Clearing his throat he wiped a hand over his face and blinked a few times to regain his composure. “Is there any chance they’ve got a.. a nice chamomile tea on this floating deathtrap?” The tone of his voice was a bit more shrill than usual, and you could see it all over his face how tense he’d become. Placing a hand on his knee you shot him a knowing smile. “I don’t know if the flight attendants do, but I made sure to pack a few bags in my carry-on.” As you leaned down to fish your bag out from under your seat Sherloque finally cracked a smile. “Look at you mon cher, always coming prepared.” As you say up and saw his softened features you gave him a warm smile. For a moment that’s all the two of you did, stare and smile in adoration of the other. The clanking of the refreshment cart snapped you back from the trance, and you handed him the tea bag. “Uh, here. Chamomile to help calm you down.” Another genuine smile crept over his lips, and this one finally sent those dimples popping to melt your heart. “Merci belle femme.” Sherloque let his hand linger over yours a moment before snatching the tea bag, and a rose tint hit your cheeks when you realized just what he’d said.

Just like clockwork the flight attendant tapped your seat and asked if you needed anything. After procuring hot water for his tea and a few bags of pretzels, Sherloque seemed as calm as he was going to get for a while. Seeing as you were on an evening flight you went ahead and ordered yourself a glass of sparkling rosé, gaining a teasing look from your travel companion. “What? Maybe you aren’t the only one who’s a nervous flier.” You took a slow and slurping sip of your drink, sighing contently when the fizz of the bubbly and the sting of the alcohol hit your throat. Sherloque followed suit and let the tip of his cup tap your wine glass before slurping up a bit more of his tea. He coughed a bit after his sip, setting the drink down as he blew at the steam. “Too hot for the tea connoisseur?” You teased gently, still unsure of where his anxiety was and how he was feeling. Thankfully he shot you an equally playful glance. “Au contraire, I just added a bit too much..” As he spoke he reached into his coat breast pocket, waggling a small and almost empty wooden flask. “Security scanners don’t detect what isn’t metal.” He shot you a wink and you couldn’t do a thing but scoff and giggle at his antics. Of course it didn’t surprise you that he’d snuck his honey whiskey with him. The countless times he’d poured a little splash into his tea with the whip “What’s tea without a little honey?” flashed through your mind and only got you laughing harder. To your surprise and joy, Sherloque was chuckling right along side you.

Most of the first half of your six hour flight was spent chit chatting. A few moments of small turbulence got the better of Sherloque but his tea concoction seemed to be helping keep his nerves at ease. Hearing the familiar ding to alert you that you could roam the cabin, you glanced over to see him unclicking his seatbelt. “Too much tea not enough bladder. Excusez-moi?” He motioned to your legs and you spun yourself to stick them in his seat. “I’ll keep it warm for you.” You teased, and he nudged you gently with his elbow as he slid past you. Watching him stumble slightly to the main cabin bathrooms at the back of the aircraft, you looked around to see just how vacant your cabin was. Four rows ahead was a man who’d been sleeping for a few hours already, and across from him and up a few more rows sat an elderly couple who were both watching a movie on a laptop. When a stewardess walked by you asked how far you were from landing, and she said it’d be about another two hours. Shifting around your seat you let your feet hit the floor, stretching as best you could in the cramped seat. You’d finished your wine and stolen a bag of his pretzels in the time Sherloque had been gone, and the plane had been a bit bumpy, so you worried he’d lost himself in his anxiety all alone.

Quietly as to not disturb the few sleeping passengers behind you, you crept to the bathroom and gave a light rasp to the door. “Sherloque? Hey it’s just me, is everything okay?” You spoke softly into the crack of the door, and heard him shuffle his feet and clear his throat before the lock clicked open. Instead of coming out however he opened the door enough to motion you in with him. The quarters were cramped, but not uncomfortably so. You stood with your back against the door and Sherloque leaned against the small counter. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just leave you, the plane started back with the-the bumps and—“ He closed his eyes, trying his best to take a deep breath but you could see how hard it had become for him to stay calm. Unsure of whether it was the wine flowing your movements or because of how enticing the veins in his neck were looking you weren’t sure. But you closed the minimal space between you by locking your lips onto his. The faint taste of his whiskey floated into your mouth as his tongue skillfully rolled against yours. His slightly shaky hands fell to your hips and gripped tightly, pressing your body firmer and tighter to his. Another bump of turbulence and he groaned, but you weren’t about to let him lose himself in anxiety. Only in you.

Hopping onto the small counter area you wasted no time slipping your shorts off. Sherloque eyes widened at the sight but he wasn’t about to deny you. He slid his trousers down to his knees, letting himself hang out of his boxers when you pulled him back into another heated kiss. His hands traveled up your thighs and along your waist before he began palming at your breasts. A small whine left you and dripped into the kiss, and Sherloque ate up every little noise you made like he was starving for them. You rolled your hips forward and ground against him, feeling the way his erection grew against your thighs made the pool between your legs practically gush. As he moved a hand down to your panties you brought yours to his hair, combing your fingers through his wild curls only making them crazier. His fingers brushed your wetness and now he groaned for a whole new, breathless reason. Pushing the fabric aside he slicked his fingers into your awaiting wetness, rubbing figure eights over your clit. The moans and whimpers that trickled out of you melted him to the bone. Using his free hand he lined himself up with you, sliding in with ease. A strained groan left the both of you, and you both stopped to tell the other you needed to stay quiet. A seductive grin curled over your lips and you began grinding into him, forcing him to thrust into you deeper with each movement. Soon his hands were bracing the counter as he railed into your core, and your lip was throbbing with this hard you were biting it to stay quiet. Another bout of turbulence rocked the plane but neither of you could be bothered, as it had forced Sherloque to hit an angle in you that made your back arch harshly into him. That was all he needed to release, and he pulled himself from you to try to shoot into his hand.

As if on reflex you jumped from the counter and dropped to your knees, moving his sticky hand away to lap up his mess yourself. The look of shock and immeasurable pleasure on his face was more than enough fuel to keep going, but you knew you’d been in there long enough to draw attention already. So you gave a few slow bobs of your head as your tongue swirled his tip, cleaning every little drop of his seed before sliding your lips off of him again. His head hung back against the wall for a moment as he caught his breath. Taking the initiative you grabbed a wad of toilet paper and slid it across his messy hand, causing him to chuckle lazily. “Merci, you naughty little thing.” His voice was low and raspy, as if he was truly spent. What with how anxious he’d been and then surprising him with a ticket to the mile high club, you weren’t surprised. Standing to your feet again you wiped your thumb along your lower lip to clean any trace of your fun from your mouth. “We better get back to our seats before we get in trouble..” You shot him a wink before leaning up to peck his cheek. “I’ll see you out there.” Creaking the door open you scanned for any signs of what you’d done being known, but everything was exactly as you’d left it. Everyone asleep, flight attendants in the first class cabin being none the wiser.

Making your way back to your seats you decided to steal Sherloque’s window seat, and curl up with the complimentary blanket. When he came back a few minutes later he chuckled at the sight of you. “Keeping my seat warm hm?” He grinned down at you before settling into your previous spot. He lifted the armrest that separated the two of you and motioned for you to cuddle into him, and you happily obliged. You curled your legs up into his lap and the action made a slow creeping smirk grow on his features. Pulling the blanket up over you, he slid a hand along your thigh until he was pressed at your clit through your shorts. Shooting him a playful glare he whispered to you, just as he began pushing his fingers past the fabric. “It’s not at all fair that I got off and you, such a thoughtful..” He paused to slick the pad of his finger along your folds. “Wonderful..” Again he lowered his voice to a raspier whisper while his fingers glided along your wetness, finding your clit with ease and wasting no time rubbing hard circles against the bundle of nerves. A small whimper escaped you and you bit your lip again, wincing at the sensitivity from earlier. Sherloque simply let out a chuckle as he quickened the pace of his fingers. Burying your face in his neck you whined just below his ear, and you watched the goosebumps trail over his skin. “Belle femme.. so so beautiful like this, all for moi..” He continued rubbing furiously at your clit as you began writhing in your seat. His free hand braced your back as he pressed even harder to your clit.

Releasing your bite on your own skin you latched onto his neck, gaining a sharp gasp from him. He began flicking the tip of his finger rapidly across your throbbing clit, and you were had. Your hips twitched up into his hand and a soft, slow and needy whine escaped you against his bitten skin. “Oh, so beautiful..” Sherloque slowly pulled his hand from between your legs, starting to wipe it on the blanket when a thought hit his still slightly tipsy mind. “Since you were so willing to clean me before..” He trailed his hand up to your face, letting his middle finger trace your lower lip before slowly parting them to get his finger in your mouth. Without hesitation you licked him clean just as you’d done to his length in the bathroom. Sherloque bit back another groan and cleared his throat, stealing a chaste kiss once you’d released his digit. The kiss seemed calmer, less heat and more gratitude behind it. Upon pulling away you heard the intercoms click on to alert everyone the plane would be landing shortly. Sherloque sucked in a deep breath and locked his arm tightly around your shoulders to keep you close to him. Bringing your hand up to his chest, you placed it directly where you had at the beginning of the flight. “Don’t worry, I’m right here.” This time however, you were given a genuine smile in return and not a faked or scared one. “And aren’t I the luckiest man alive for that to be so?” He placed a sweet and tender kiss to your forehead just as the plane began to descend.

[fracturedmotivationwriting]

Sleeping Sherly

Request~ Sherlock talking in his sleep while the reader and John are sitting in the room (Sherlock x reader). Headcanon 

To the anon that requested this: I really enjoyed writing this! I’m not sure this is entirely what you wanted, but I hope you like it! 

Sherlock almost never slept, so when he did manage doze off you and John did everything you could to avoid waking him. 

Which included, but was not limited to, simply leaving the flat whenever possible, telling Mrs. Hudson that you all didn’t need anything and asking her to stay quiet nearby, and communicating strictly through notes tossed at one another. 

After a particularly difficult and exhausting case, all three of you crashed -  you had made it back to your flat 221C, and John had made it back to his bedroom, but Sherlock had passed out in his chair. Thankfully, he had managed to change into his pajamas though. 

So when you stepped into 221B in the morning, hoping to steal some coffee from the boys, you weren’t surprised to see Sherlock still sleeping. You still felt tired yourself, but your body had refused to let you sleep all day. You’d definitely be going to bed early tonight though. 

You found John in the kitchen, already preparing coffee, two mugs on the counter. He offered you a knowing smile, handing you a mug once they were poured. 

The two of you went about your day silently - John typing up his blog article for the most recent case, and you researching possible new cases for when Sherlock woke up and was bored again. The two of you tossing paper balls of notes back and forth when you were bored of staring at your screens. 

It was around noon that the silence was broken with a voice, albeit a mumbling and gravelly voice speaking words that neither of you could make out. You and John both looked over at the consulting detective curiously, ready to say hello, but you soon realized that he was still asleep. 

Sherlock very rarely talked in his sleep, but it did happen on occasion. Usually when he had a lot of things on his mind. Like when the whole Moriarty business was still going on, you often caught him grumbling about the consulting criminal. 

“Moriarty... Cabby... Molly, gay... Attractive... James Moriarty... Crown.” 

Or when he came back from the dead and Mary was suddenly in the picture. 

“Mary... Cat... Only child... Appendix... Engaged, John.... Liar.” 

Or when it was just a few days from the wedding, and he was slightly stressed about his best man speech. 

“John... Wedding... Mary... Baby... No. John... Doc-... Soldier... Brave... Cabby case. Bullet... Soon Husband... Best mate.”

But you were surprised he was mumbling now. You’d just finished a case, surely he wasn't thinking of more work yet... Who were you kidding, it was Sherlock. 

John tossed a fresh note to you, hitting you in the temple. You glared playfully at him as he tried not to laugh. You opened the paper as quietly as you could. Listen to him. I don’t think this is work-related. 

You raised an eyebrow curiously, leaning forward on the couch to better hear. 

At first you still couldn’t make out any words, just soft whimpers. Your eyebrows furrowed. Was this a nightmare? 

“No, don’t... Don’t hurt her... I’m the one- the one you want... Don’t... Y/N! No!... Y/N...” 

You and John both raised your eyebrows, staring at each other with concern and shock. 

John motioned for you to go to Sherlock, quietly walking out of the flat and down to Mrs. Hudson. You knew John wanted you talk to Sherlock. John knew of your feelings for the consulting detective. He was hoping that maybe, finally, something would happen between you two. 

You moved from your spot on the couch after John left, stopping beside Sherlock’s armchair and falling to your knees. You gently ran a hand threw Sherlock’s curls, noting how they were starting to stick to his forehead as beads of sweat started to form and a look of clear distress broke out on the man’s face. 

Your other hand gripped his arm tightly, giving it a shake. 

“Sherlock, wake up. Sherlock! Sherlock, it’s me. Sherl... Sherlock, please wake up. Sherl!” 

After a few attempts, the detective finally woke, eyes wild and breathing labored. It took him a few moments to process that it had all been a dream. Just a dream. You were safe. You were right beside him, looking worried, but you were safe. 

After a few shaky breathes, he finally relaxed, falling back against the chair and gripping your hand tightly in his. 

You offered him a small smile, standing to sit on the arm of the chair and resting your intwined hands on your lap. Your other hand still grazing his curls softly. 

“Want to talk about it?” 

Sherlock shook his head no. 

“Sounded like a nightmare.” 

“...” 

“You said my name... Was I in danger?” 

He did squeeze your hand tighter. 

“Sherl... I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

“...” 

“And if, God forbid, something ever happened to me, I’d be safe. Believe me.” 

Sherlock finally looked up at you, furrowing his brows and opening his mouth to question you. 

But you cut him off. 

“I’d be safe because I have you. And John. I’d be safe because I’m a smart woman. John’s taught me how to defend myself. You’ve taught me how to outsmart everyone around me. And... And I know you’d do everything in your power to come save. I fully believe that you would find me before anything terrible happened. I believe in you, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock didn’t know what to say to any of that. The idea of you being taken, the idea of anything bad happening to you, made him feel sick to his stomach. It made his heart race. It made his thoughts blur. He never wanted to lose you. And his mind (well at least his limbic system) was yelling the obvious at him, trying to tell him why he felt all these things. Trying to get him to act. 

For once he listened and acted instead of talked. 

His hand released the death grip he had on yours, wrapped gently around the back of your neck and pulled you down to him. His lips ghosting over yours for a brief second, a moment of uncertainty, before closing the distance. 

He was trying to show you everything he felt. He wasn’t the best with feelings. He didn’t know how to communicate what he felt for you. He didn’t know how to verbalize it. So he went strictly on instinct, kissing you with everything he had. 

You completely melted into his, sliding from the arm of the chair to his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck, one hand still in his black curls. You’d waited so long for this. You never knew he felt this way about you. But you were so incredibly glad he returned your feelings. 

Eventually you two broke apart, panting slightly to catch your breath, your foreheads resting against each other. 

“I will always find you, Y/N. I- I love you.” 

“I love you too, Sherlock. I’m not going anywhere.” 

[lemonpeter]

Catch Me if You Can- chapter 3

This is a little angsty, I know, I'm sorry. All the fun banter will be back with the next chapter. I've just had a bad week and all the sad just kind of came out while I was writing. This is just sort of a filler anyways. I hope you still like it!

Tags: @sherly-not-obsessed @mykale-yellow @avaxxc @alette606 @starkravingspiders @smidnite @indecisive-mess-named-me @mercury-deacon-taylor-may @seaweedbrain3000 @aoifelaufeyson @ironspiidey @ironfestivalgoopmaker @darknessyuu @john--imnotgay--watson (tag list is still open! Message me if you want to be added!)

**

“Peter, where are your glasses?” Harley asked, raising an eyebrow.

He was laid out in their usual booth in the back of the library, stretched out with his laptop on the table in front of him.

Peter moved his hand to his face, internally cursing himself. He got so caught up in his new appearance, he forgot to grab his glasses. Since he didn’t seem to need them any more. “Uh, oops? Guess I forgot them at home. Maybe May can bring them to me.” 

Harley shrugged, sitting up straight and patting the seat next to him. “Alright. Well, anyways, I’m glad you made it. I wasn’t sure you would come, since you got...sick yesterday. What happened?”

There was genuine concern in his eyes, something not often seen. 

“I’m okay now. Just...must have had a virus or something.” Peter tried to brush it off as he sat down. He knew there was no way that he could explain what had really happened. 

Harley wrapped an arm around his boyfriend’s waist, pulling him into his lap. Or trying. He frowned, confused as he was unable to move the smaller boy. “Pete, what gives? Are you shifting your weight or something so I can’t move you?”

A dark blush flooded Peter’s face. He hadn’t thought about that. With his new body, he must have gained some muscle weight. And his boyfriend wouldn’t be able to hold him in his lap any more. “I-I’m sorry. I think I’ve been gaining weight recently…”

Harley frowned. “Can you lose some of it? I want to still be able to hold you.”

He didn’t mean to sound rude, but that was how it came across to Peter, who had cast his gaze to the floor in shame. “O-oh. I mean, I guess I can try…” He shifted awkwardly in his seat. 

Harley leaned over, kissing his cheek gently. “You know I love to hold you. And I can’t do that if you weigh more than I do.”

Peter barely heard what he said, instead his brain zeroing in on the fact that he had only kissed his cheek. Not his lips. Harley never did that unless he was upset with him. But he didn’t know how he could fix it.

He had been mostly happy with his new body, intrigued with the new definition to himself. Yet his boyfriend was upset over it, even if he didn’t exactly know about all of it.

He stood up suddenly, chewing his lip hard. “I think I’m just going to go to class,” he said quietly, trying not to let his voice shake. 

“Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll see you at lunch.” Harley stretched back out once Peter had moved, not seeming to care at all that he was going after such a short time. “Love you.”

Peter kept his eyes to the floor, nodding slowly. “Love you too.” He started walking away from the table, gripping the straps of his backpack tightly. 

He made his way to a bookshelf, as far away from the table as possible, but still hidden from everything else. He sat down on the ground, curling up and letting himself cry. He brought his knees to his chest, burying his face against the worn denim of his jeans.

“I know gardening and plant genealogy is a deeply moving subject, but why do I have the feeling that you’re not weeping over fertilization methods,” a snarky voice commented, coming from the other side of the shelf. 

Peter sniffled, wiping his nose and looking up. “I’m...fine. I’m fine,” he mumbled, voice thick. “Leave me alone.”

The disembodied voice suddenly had a body, which appeared to lean against the wall. “I know I’m not your favorite person in the world, but I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Peter’s face flushed with recognition and he glanced away. “Go away, Tony. I said I’m fine.”

Tony shrugged. “Fine. You’re fine. That’s why you’re sobbing alone in the back of the library while your boyfriend is in another part of the library.” He had watched the whole scene from the sidelines, unable to look away once he had seen Peter.

Watery eyes glared at the boy. “Shut up. That’s none of your business.”

“Okay. I’ll go now. I was just trying to see what was wrong.”

And just like that, he was gone, disappeared back around the shelf.

And Peter was alone again, curled up with his back against the wall. He sighed, wiping his eyes one more time before he unrolled himself, slowly stretching as he stood. 

He decided he had better actually get to class, starting to walk out of the library. And all he could think about was how Tony talked to him. Like he at least sort of cared.

***

As soon as he was in class, it was back to normal. 

“Parker, I’m going to kick your ass on this next project. We both know I’ll ace it,” Tony called out, flicking a small ball of paper at the other boy.

Peter sighed, batting the paper away. “Tony, who’s still top of the class? You? No. So I doubt you’ll beat me. You haven’t yet.”

Unhappy with the bland reaction, Tony flicked another ball of paper. “I could do better than you if I wanted to.”

“But you do want to. And you still haven’t managed to,” Peter shot back. “So give it up. And stop throwing stuff at me!”

Peter was obviously not in the mood for competition and Tony picked up on it. He just wanted to know what was up. Quips aren’t fun if they’re just one-sided. “What’s wrong? Boyfriend problems? Hot aunt problems? Brain problems?”

Peter snapped. “Tony, shut the hell up. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but you don’t need to be involved in everything. So leave me alone.”

Tony went silent, turning in his desk to face the front instead of looking at Peter. His face was burning a little as he stared forward, going silent.

Everyone else was looking at Peter, surprised. He would normally keep the banter going with Tony, but it was all out of fun. This was different. And almost mean. But no one said anything. He obviously wasn’t in a good mood.

Sweet, quiet Peter Parker was unhappy. And his bad mood seemed to seep into the rest of the student body. The rest of the day was quiet, brooding atmosphere seeming to spread.

**

A/N: I promise Peter will be back to normal next week, he's just a little angry and sad here.

[thebeethathums]

Home - 9

Pairing: John Watson x HolmesTwin!Reader

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts mentioned very vaguely. The reader in this fic is a TWIN to Sherlock Holmes and as such shares some physical features to him. Please read at your own discretion with this in mind. 

A/N: Bolded text indicates John’s Blog Posts

You got up early, or rather just got ready early; you’d become a bit of an insomniac, so there was not really any getting up involved. It had been four days since you’d saved John and you had talked to him briefly the day before so he would quit worrying. Such a worrier that man… you could practically feel him doing so through the walls and door.

So you’d put on your best face for him until you were sure he was satisfied and then locked yourself back in Sherlock’s room to think. He’d said maybe you should visit Sherlock’s grave. At first, you’d hated the idea but anything was better than just staring at the ceiling, so here you were- fully dressed yet entirely disheveled, walking up a grassy hill as the sun barely peeked over the horizon. You yawned as you came to your destination, plopping down in front of the stone marker to trace the letters of his name with shaky fingers.

Sherlock froze when he saw you there, quietly crying in front of his empty grave, before ducking behind a nearby tree. He was supposed to meet Mycroft here for his weekly update in a few hours but he’d come early because he was bored and tired of being cooped up. The last person he’d ever expected to see was you. You weren’t even supposed to be in London… when had you gotten back? And why?

He shifted closer so he could get a better look at you, careful to remain hidden even though every fiber of his being told him to go to you. He needed to keep you safe- especially if you were back in London for good. He frowned at your appearance. You looked as much of a mess as you felt, with your short hair sticking out in all directions and your clothes wrinkled and slightly off-kilter, and your face was sullen and haggard from lack of sleep. He wondered how long it had been since you’d slept… how long had you been home to look the way you did.

Wiping the tears from your eyes as you breathed deeply to keep more from escaping, you let out a heavy huff, “John said I should come here. I told him it was an idiotic idea- why should I talk to a slab of stone and a pile of worm food… yet here I am. Like an idiot.”

You rubbed at your temple and sighed, “He’s nice- your friend- and he misses you… I suppose my presence doesn’t really help with that does it? But I like him and he was good for you… perhaps he’ll be good for me too. We are- ...were similar after all.”  

It was quiet for a moment and your voice switched to a pained whisper, “I miss you, Sherly. I keep thinking I see you or hear you- I’ve never hated my mind more.”

Sherlock’s chest wrenched and he sank down to sit with his back against the tree as you shifted to sit against his grave marker, leaning your head back on it, “Do you remember our first day of school? The teacher had to phone home because we wouldn’t let go of each other’s hands and the other children thought we were strange... but neither of us cared because we had each other… I suppose we were freaks from the beginning.”

It was true. You’d always been considered freaks but, no matter how much the comments that came later hurt or how many people shunned the two of you, at the end of the day it didn’t matter- he had you and you had him. Who needed friends when you had each other?

He stifled a small chuckle at the memory and you hummed with amusement, “Or what about the time we were playing pirates and you refused to let me be captain? I was so cross with you that I built a working cannon and shot a giant hole through our ship as well as the shed behind it. Mother was so miffed… I can still see her face.”

You laughed weakly, a tear trickling down your face, “You, on the other hand, were beyond proud and named me Pirate Queen- far better than captain you claimed- and we fixed our ship to include the cannon.”

Sherlock smirked and ruffled a hand through his hair, remembering the incident clearly. You had made a fantastic Pirate Queen and after the two of you had fixed the ship you’d worked together to steal Mycroft’s briefcase, forcing him to fence with you to get it back. It was a good memory. He was brought back to the present when you let out the heaviest sigh he’d ever heard from you and he could feel your sadness. He’d always denied that you two had a ‘twin connection,’ as to him that was absurd hogwash, but now he was beginning to think that maybe you did. It would explain the pains in his chest he’d been feeling lately.

Remembering where you were and exactly what you were doing, you rolled your eyes, “This is bloody pointless. You can’t hear me and if you can, then you're probably teasing me for behaving like a drivel-minded idiot. Still…”

Resting your chin on your knees, you took a deep breath, “If you can- I’m sorry. All those things I said before I left were such lies… terrible, awful lies… I need you. I will always need you. I-I shouldn’t have gone…”

Your voice turned angry as you practically yelled up to the sky, “But you were supposed to be here when I got back, you cock. Sure, I left, but it was hardly permanent- there was not a chance in hell I wasn’t coming home. So why did you have to go and leave me forever? I thought we agreed that one-upping each other was a pointless waste of time and energy.”  

He clenched his fists in frustration, wanting to tell you everything so badly, and then tilted his head back against the tree when you started to cry, “I don’t know how much more of this I can endure, Sherlock. I hate being alone. It���s awful and horrid and… exhausting. I just want to sleep forever, but for some reason, I can’t sleep at all. I wish I’d died in that bloody desert… a whole lot of nothing and unending darkness has to be better than this. At least maybe then I could get some peace.”

There was a long period of silence after that and he let everything that you’d said sink in- you’d rather be dead than live without him… it made his chest hurt unbearably because he felt the same way. He would have to make sure you didn’t do something drastic before it was safe for him to come back. He got up, thinking you’d gone, but instead found that you’d fallen asleep curled up against his tombstone, your tear-stained cheek resting against your knee. He frowned deeply and texted Mycroft that he needed to get there as soon as humanly possible before sitting down on the grass next to you, certain that as long as he didn’t touch you, you’d stay asleep.

Mycroft uttered a soft curse under his breath when he arrived and saw the two of you sitting there and Sherlock was up in a flash, dragging his brother roughly out of earshot before seething, “Why did you not tell me she had returned?”

“You did not need to know.”

“Didn’t need to know? She’s miserable. I never intended for her to be a part of this.”

“All the more reason for me to keep it from you. There are those who would use her against you. You can’t put her in danger, Sherlock.”

Your twin fell quiet, knowing that Mycroft was right, and then huffed, “Take her home. She can’t sleep here… and tell John to keep a close eye. Her thoughts are muddled.”

Mycroft paled slightly, aware of the implications in his brother’s words, and then nodded stiffly, “I will inform him.”

Fully intending to chew out his brother later, Sherlock strode away before he could do something stupid or his emotions got the better of him and Mycroft stepped over to you, gently running his fingers through the top of your hair as he hummed, “(F/n), dear… This a poor choice of a place to sleep.”

You stirred to blink up at him sleepily, “HmmMy? What are you…”

You fell silent as you realized where you were and he sighed, “Come on. I’ll take you home before John begins to worry.”

He rolled his eyes when you reached your arms up lazily, knowing exactly what you wanted, and bent to pull you to his chest. You wound your arms around your brother’s neck with a small yawn and despite the fact he was slightly annoyed and a little strained over having to carry you, he still gave a small fond smile- the kind he reserved for you and only you. He started on his way back to the car, worrying a little when he realized you were lighter than he’d expected, and you nuzzled into his shoulder, “I missed you, Mymy.”

“And I you, (F/n),” he sighed, slipping into the car with you still in his arms since he knew you weren’t about to let go.

You yawned again and fiddled with his tie before looking up at him, the childlike expression on your face reminding him of when you were younger and you’d crawl into his lap with a book you wanted him to read or just to give him a hug. You’d always been so annoyingly affectionate but he could never bring himself to stop you or push you away. You turned your attention back to his tie and mumbled, “If you aren’t too busy… would you come call on me more often?”

The corner of his lips turned up in a sad smile as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, “Of course, my dear. Of course.”

An Unexpected Arrival  

Will my life ever be normal? Then again… Do I even want it to be normal? The mysterious Mycroft Holmes showed up this morning just as I was frying an egg for breakfast, his arm wrapped around a very exhausted looking (F/n). I didn’t even realize she’d gone out but apparently, he’d found her at Sherlock’s grave- asleep against the marker. I knew she hadn’t been sleeping but I didn’t think it was this bad. She’s asleep on the couch now but it took a while for Mycroft to get her to stop clinging to him in her sleep so he could leave. I’ve never seen him like that. It was like he softened a little despite being totally annoyed. He’s worried about her, as am I after he told me to keep a close eye out for any signs she’s thinking about hurting herself. That was a tad sobering. Even sad, I’ve never seen her as anything but strong and independent but looking at her now, curled up on the couch completely exhausted and so upset, she seems terribly fragile and small. Entirely unlike the woman who saved my life a few days ago.

After her brother left, I got to thinking… maybe this was meant to be. The universe dumped her in my lap because we both needed each other- I needed some of him back in my life and she… she needs me to keep her from being alone in the world. I have try harder to do that and as such, I have removed the door from her room. She’s going to hate it, I know, but if she can’t just revert to shutting herself away, maybe we can get somewhere. If I stop updating send someone to check she hasn’t torn me to bits…

[thebeethathums]

Observers - 24

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Warnings: Manic mess making and fear

You woke up with a sore throat, no doubt courtesy of the cold in your flat, and groaned, rolling over to look for John. He was gone and when you saw the time it was no surprise, like clockwork that man, always up before nine. Pulling yourself out of bed felt like the most difficult thing in the world but you managed to get yourself to your feet. You trudged down the stairs, rubbing your eyes as you came into the living room, only to jump when they found Sherlock in his chair. You snapped your head to face forward and then consciously avoided that area, slipping into the kitchen in search of John. You found him, as usual, making tea and quietly began poking at Sherlock’s science equipment on the table, you’d always been interested in the oddly colored liquids he worked with and wondered briefly what would happen if you mixed two of the vials together. John happened to look up just as you got a wicked smile on your face and picked up a vial with something blue in it, “Put that down.”   You pouted in a slightly hoarse voice, “But it’s so pretty… and it would look prettier mixed with that.” You innocently pointed to a green vial, still holding the blue one in one hand, secretly hoping something cool and/or destructive would happen, and John leveled you with a glare, “Put it down. I already have Sherlock almost blowing up the flat on a regular basis and he knows what he’s doing. I don’t need you causing trouble too.” 

You pursed your lips unhappily, putting the vial back in its place reluctantly just as Sherlock came into the doorway. Your eyes went wide and you ducked behind John as he stepped forward to pick up the vial you’d just been holding, scrutinizing it in the light. 

He turned to say something to you but you were gone, having dashed out the door while he was otherwise distracted, and John just shrugged when he gave him an inquisitive look, “If you want to know how her mind works go ask her ‘cause I haven’t the foggiest.” You were sitting in John’s chair when he came into the living room, your knees pulled up to your chest as you took deep breaths, trying to reassure yourself that it was all just a dream. He could see you tense as he came into your peripheral vision and, instead of demanding you tell him why, he sat down across from you, opting to read you instead. You looked up at him, playing the little staring game that had become common between the two of you since that first day. You didn’t try to hide anything, he would always find out in the end so it was pointless to try and do so, and let your eyes take him in, facing your fears as best you could. He could see that you were afraid and his jaw clenched when he realized it was him the feeling was directed at, he went over his actions over the past couple of days trying to find a source for your fear and, coming up with none, came to the conclusion that he must have made an appearance in your nightmare. Your subconscious was making him a threat, why? What had you seen to make someone like you, uninhibited, brave, and a little crazy, so fearful of someone who just the day before you had shown more trust in than anyone aside from John? He must have triggered something by showing you a little more attention than he normally would. This is why we always run experiments appropriately he thought to himself, if he had kissed you there was no telling what unintended effects it may have had. He was surprised when, for the first time since he’d met you, you purposefully looked away from his gaze, burying your face in your knees with a shaky sigh. That was probably more telling to him than anything else you’d done, coupled with the fact that you jumped when John placed a hand on your back as he walked in, “You ok, Squeak?” You tilted your head to look up at him, “Yeah, Johnny. Just thinking.” “The nightmare again?” You didn’t answer, tucking your head back between your knees, and he sighed, “You can stay in my room while I’m gone if you’d like.” You were up like lightning, bolting towards the door, “Thank you, but no, John. I’ll be downstairs.” He looked after you with a little frown, “Maybe I should stay…” “Why? You can hardly protect her from her mind, John.” He knew Sherlock was right but he still wanted to, he felt so helpless, he hadn’t been able to protect you before and now you were here with him and he still couldn’t. It was aggravating. He took a deep breath to let go of his frustrations, maybe some time away would do the both of you some good. He would be able to process everything that had happened and you could come to terms with the fact you no longer had to hide things. A short while later you saw him off, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek as you promised to at least try and stay out of trouble while he was gone before ducking back into your apartment. You toed some of the mess you’d made in your flat across the floor with a heavy sigh, sometimes your artistic side could be a pain as it was also the part of your personality that threw you into almost frantic fits of destruction when you were upset. You looked around. You’d pulled all your old sketchbooks from their place on one of your two large bookshelves and strewn them about, things you had tucked in them escaping to litter the floor. The corner you had set your easel up in was painfully empty as you had flattened the wooden structure and pushed it against the wall, tearing down the tarps to throw over it so you didn’t have to look at it. Your painting stool was toppled on its side and tubes of paint and brushes were tossed haphazardly on your couch and coffee table. The drafting table you used as a desk was tilted so nothing could sit on its surface and your papers, pens, pencils, and larger drawings were scattered on the floor next to it. You held your head in your hands, trying to get a hold of yourself before you destroyed something you couldn’t replace, and then sank down in your chair, feeling exhausted for some reason. Leaning back into it limply, you tried to go into your creative space to at least come up with a better way to handle your frustrations and uneasiness only to have your concentration rudely jarred as the door to your flat was flung open. You nearly toppled your chair backward as you jumped back, “Bloody hell, Sherlock! If you aren’t going to knock can’t you at least be gentle with the door?” His jaw went slightly slack as he took in the state of your flat and you got up to put the chair in between you and him, instinctively seeking a way to protect yourself. Your tone was slightly hostile as you softly asked, “Are you going to tell me what you want or do I have to guess?” “Tea,” he lied, knowing that at the moment you weren’t likely to call his bluff. Though annoyed you obliged, escaping to the kitchen with a slight sense of relief and leaving him to do what he did best, observe. If he had had any doubt as to your interest in him, it was squelched now as his eyes found not only the large sketches of him that had been stashed away on your drafting table but various drawings of him on things ranging from napkins to cardstock advertisements smattered across the floor. He stopped short of your couch when he spotted your current sketchbook on the coffee table, open to your most recent set of drawings. They were also of him but in a very different light than all the others, his face malevolent and his stance extremely threatening, and a couple had his hand raised in such a way that it was obviously going to make contact with the viewer. If Sherlock had ever felt like he had a heart, it was then as pain wrenched through his chest when he realized what you must have seen in your dream and in turn why you were avoiding him. He stepped over your mess and into the kitchen, watching you tense again as you sensed his presence before you took some deep breaths and mumbled to yourself about reality. You turned to offer him a weak grin and a cup of tea, which he accepted only to set down as he closed the gap between the two of you, trapping you between himself and the counter so you couldn’t dash away again. Your form went rigid as your brain fell back on its instincts for situations like this- you’d learned that fighting back would only cause more pain for you in the end, so you turned your cheek and steeled yourself what should come next. It never came. Instead, a hand gently wove its way into your hair, encouraging you to make eye contact with its owner, which you did, looking up at him through your lashes warily. His eyes looked pained and you tilted your head confusedly, forgetting your own potential pain in favor of wanting to stop whatever was causing his. Your fingers seemed to make their way to his sharp cheeks without your permission, taking his face in your hands as you breathed, “What’s the matter, Sherlock?” In response he brought his other hand up, causing you to flinch and pull your hands away from him as you internally cursed yourself for falling into a false sense of security. He brought his hand to your face cautiously, his touch as gentle and feather-light as he could manage as he shifted his other hand so he could cradle your cheeks, causing you to look up at him again as he said only one word, “Never.” You relaxed and he let his hands fall to his side before grabbing his tea and going back out to the living room to drop down in your chair. Standing there frozen for a few minutes, you recovered and went out to where he was to press a light kiss to his cheek as you murmured, “Thank you, Sherly.” A slight smirk crossed his face at his success and you plopped down on the floor to put everything back where it was supposed to be.

[thebeethathums]

Observers - 70

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

John refused to leave you alone for very long, not wanting you to wake up someplace unfamiliar alone, and ended up sorting through emails on his laptop in his room while you slept. He looked up when you groaned and your hand came up to rub at your forehead as you grumbled, “Merde… What- Where am I?” “You’re in my bed,” John offered and you sighed, sitting up, “I’m sorry, Johnny. I didn’t mean to fall asleep up here. I’ll go back downstairs.” You moved to leave, unable to stop the sharp gasp and cringe as pain rippled through your body, and John got up to ease you back down, “It’s alright, Squeak… I was actually wondering if you would stay up here with me tonight.” “Why?” you asked warily, thinking it might be a ploy to get you to take his bed while he slept on the couch, and John wrapped his hand around yours, “You’ll be more comfortable here and then if you need anything you can just wake me.” You blinked a couple of times and then hummed worriedly “Are you alright, John? Usually, I’m the one asking if I can sleep with you.”

He let out a heavy sigh and you squeezed his hand as he admitted, “I thought I was going to lose you, (F/n). I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid in my life and you know all the things I’ve been through. I need to know that you’re ok… that you’re safe.” You rubbed his hand between yours, “Alright, Johnny. I’ll stay.” He pressed a kiss to your temple with a mumbled thank you and then you moved to get up again, wincing slightly, “I need to take a shower.” “I’ll have to rebandage your arm,” he pointed out, helping you up, and you pursed your lips, “Is that alright? I just need to be clean.” John carefully led you down the stairs, “Of course it’s alright, Squeak… Just be gentle washing your hair and try not to stress your shoulder. I’ll bring you a set of my night clothes.” “Thanks, Johnny,” you murmured and slipped into the bathroom shutting the door behind you. After a quick shower, in which you found out exactly how hard it is to wash your hair without being able to raise your arm up over your head and some confusion as to what was body wash and what was shampoo, you felt a lot better aside from the pain that was slowly beginning to creep up on you again as the pain meds wore off. You managed to get dressed on your own, no small feat, and then carefully shuffled back out to the living room, your hair falling around your shoulders in a tangled mess. “Stay there, Squeak. I’m coming,” John ordered when you appeared in the doorway, so you waited patiently for him to come wrap an arm around your waist and guide you to a chair at the table. Once you were sitting, he gently pushed back the sleeve of the shirt he’d lent you and frowned when you hissed softly from his just brushing your skin, looking over at Sherlock, “Sherlock- I think it’s time for another round of pain medication.” The consulting detective opened his eyes to look you over and then slid off the couch to get you some water and another set of pills as John took your arm in his hands and carefully unwound the bandage. Neither John nor Sherlock had seen your arm injury since it had been gushing blood and when John finally pulled the last of the gauze away he let out a soft growl as his heart felt like it was being torn in two. “Is it that bad?” you whispered, tucking your chin to your chest and scrunching your eyes closed. John dropped one hand to squeeze your knee, “It’s fine. I just didn’t realize-“ “That he’d carved his initials into me? Yeah… he said he wanted to label me as his to keep me from being unfaithful again,” you interrupted, your voice low and a little shaky. Sherlock walked back in just then and nearly dropped the glass of water, working hard to keep his composure as he caught sight of the ‘NF’ branding your skin. Every time he thought he couldn’t possibly hate that man any more than he already did something new proved that he could. John recovered quickly, moving to clean it and then wrap it with a new bandage, and Sherlock clenched his jaw but gave you the pills so you could pop them in your mouth before placing the glass of water in your free hand. You swallowed them and he took it back from you as he pressed a kiss to your temple, “Good.” John had never seen you take pills so willingly and you hadn’t even made a face, meaning you were probably lost in thought. He blinked a couple of times to try and comprehend not only that but that Sherlock had just oh so casually kissed you before shaking his head and helping you up, “Time for bed, Squeak. Let’s get you upstairs before those kick in.” You just nodded and let him escort you up the stairs to his room and tuck you into his bed again before excusing himself to get ready for the night. You snuggled into the pillow and pulled the blankets up so you could bury your nose in them, inhaling your brother’s scent deeply. By the time he got back, you were feeling drugged and needy again, reaching out for him as you grumbled, “I need snuggles.” He chuckled and slid into bed with you, letting you tuck yourself tightly to his side as you whimpered, “I was so afraid of losing you, Johnny. He said he would… he said…” You couldn’t finish your thought and just buried your nose into his side with a shaky sigh as he stroked your hair, “I wouldn’t leave you like that, (F/n).” He was surprised when you pulled back and tilted your face up towards him, “I could just see it, John… so vividly. It was just like that case. He was going to kill you or you were going to kill him and go to prison- either way I was going to lose you and it was going to be my fault.” “What case was that, Squeak?” John huffed softly, mentally cursing your fantastic imagination for putting you through that, and you snuggled into him again as you responded sleepily, “The murder Sherly and I worked while you were gone.” John was quiet for a moment as he thought that over, putting some things together in his head, and then decided to take advantage of your willingness to share in this state, “Was that when you had a panic attack?” “Mmhmm,” you nodded into his chest and then yawned, “Just don’t tell, John. He’ll worry.” Raising an eyebrow at your obviously drug-addled mind, he hugged you a little closer and mentally noted to have a ‘talk’ with Sherlock about that later as he hummed, “Go to sleep, (F/n).” Your fingers gripped at his shirt tightly as you whispered in an extremely distressed voice, “Don’t leave me alone. I don’t want to be alone.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he hushed you, “I won’t, (F/n). I’ll be right here.” You let out a relieved sigh and fell asleep clinging to him while John sorted through his thoughts. He was tremendously glad he’d asked you to stay with him, as it seemed you needed to be near him just as much he needed to be near you. He hadn’t realized you were so afraid of losing him in that way- though it explained why you hadn’t come to him and why you’d been so panicked when he and Sherlock had shown up, not to mention the episode in the hospital. John understood now why you didn’t like him to worry, knowing you were stressing and fretting over his wellbeing even when you were hurt and in trouble made him feel even guiltier. He sighed and nuzzled his nose into your hair, both of you were safe now and he was going to have to remind you of that every chance he got.

[thebeethathums]

Observers - 44

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Warnings:None

With your voice what it was, you took a few days to recover and you spent that time avoiding Sherlock to appease John as you coped with all the emotions that had come up. It wasn’t hard, Sherlock was focused on the case and both he and John speculated about the involvement of whoever this Moriarty person was in hushed whispers when you were out of earshot. At this point, you didn’t have the energy to be curious and instead let them be, opting to spend the time drawing by the window or down in your flat. Days seemed to meld into each other and before you knew it, John was tentatively approving you to go back to a somewhat normal schedule.

At the end of the week, you went back to work intending to make up for the missed time to Annie by working the entire day without pay and found that, as usual, Mycroft came in and sat in your section. You could feel him looking you over as you moved to finish serving a couple of other patrons before coming over to greet him, “Bonjour, Monsieur Holmes. How may I help you today?” He gave you a soft smile, “Just tea for me today, (F/n)… You know you can drop the formalities. It is good to see you back. Your injuries are healing well I take it?”  You gave him a wide grin, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Yes, quite well and I know, Mycroft. I just enjoy greeting you that way so very much. I’ll be right back.” He chuckled softly, watching you skip away to get what he’d requested of you. You got someone to cover the rest of your section before returning to sit down across from him as he noted, “You look nice today. I see you’ve been shopping.” You blushed lightly with a nod, “John insisted I get a work outfit that fit me properly.”

You felt pretty today, funny how a change of clothes could do that. You were wearing the same simple outfit as before, a white button down and black trousers, but your pants now hugged your waist nicely and the button down had a more feminine v-neck then the one you had had before. You’d also gotten a little fancy with your hair and covered the bruises on your neck expertly. You had only been chatting with Mycroft for a few minutes, mostly about the case, when Sherlock walked through the door looking for you. You gave him a little wave, motioning that he should come over, and he did, glaring daggers at Mycroft the entire way. You greeted him warmly, “Bonjour, Sherlock, What are you doing here?” Mycroft smirked at him, “Yes, little brother, what are you doing here?” He narrowed his eyes at his brother suspiciously as he flatly stated, “I could ask you the same thing,” and then turned to you, his expression softening, “I need to speak to you alone for a moment.” You tilted your head at him and then looked to Mycroft politely, “Would you mind, Mycroft? My break is nearly over as it is.” He shook his head, “Go, my dear, he will behave like a child for the rest of the day otherwise.” You let out a soft giggle, making Sherlock’s fists clench, “That is very true. Shall I see you tomorrow?” He gave a small nod, “You shall. Goodbye, (F/n).” Fed up with the situation, Sherlock pulled you away as you called, “Au revoir, Monsieur Holmes.” You let him lead you to the other side of the café, as far away from Mycroft as possible, and slid in across from him when he picked a cozy booth, “What’s up, Sherly? I hope you aren’t going to make it a habit of showing up at my work simply because you're bored.” “You don’t seem to mind when Mycroft does it,” he stated flatly, pursing his lips unhappily. Your lips twitched up in a smile as you teased, “My, my, is the great Sherlock Holmes jealous?” He didn’t respond, working his jaw slightly, and you brushed your hand across his knee, making his eyes snap to you curiously, “Sherlock, I have no interest in your brother, certainly you can see that. Not to mention the fact that he hardly has any interest in me either. If anything, we are friends and even that is a stretch. He acts the way he does when you are around because he knows it bothers you.” He was still pouting and you sighed, getting up to sit next to him and cautiously lean your head on his shoulder, “You may come to visit me every day if you’d like. I would gladly give up my time with Mycroft for time with you… but I warn you it’s pretty boring. Now would you please tell me why you’re here before I have to get back to work?” He seemed satisfied with this, as well as your little display of affection, and a hesitant expression crossed his face before he leaned his head lightly on yours, murmuring, “I brought you something.” You pulled away from his shoulder to look up at him in confusion and he reached into his jacket, producing a new set of art pens and a single teal daisy before hurriedly shoving them into your hands. You let out a surprised giggle, putting the daisy behind your ear as you ran your hands over the pens, and then looked up at him with a questioning frown, “W-Why? You don’t have to buy me things just because John said to treat me right…” He tucked the daisy more securely behind your ear, letting his fingers stroke down the curve of it as his thumb traced along your cheekbone, and softly explained, “I couldn’t help but notice your pens were running low and I knew you were planning on replacing them when you had enough money, but based on the amount you draw, the fact that the final two you have left from your old set are both running low on ink, and your average weekly wages… you were going to run out long before you could afford them. I’ve saved you from having to wait.” Your breath caught softly as the skin under his fingers warmed, a fact that he noted as it made his heart flip. You flashed him a giddy grin before leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek, “Thank you, Sherlock. I really appreciate it.” He was glad to see you genuinely happy, hoping that it could distract you from the sadness he noticed in your eyes, and let a tiny smile tug at his lips despite rolling his eyes at your little public display of affection. In truth, it had been the only way he could think of to improve your mood that didn’t involve an overt touchy-feely type moment and he could write it off in his mind as a practical gift for both him and you in that he could avoid the feelings as well as your inevitable annoyance at running out of pens. Your phone buzzed, notifying you that your break was over and you needed to get back to work, and you sighed, “I have to go… Would you like me to get you anything? Coffee? Or maybe a biscuit?” He had watched your expression go from happy to flat and almost dejected and didn’t like it one bit, catching your wrist as you got up to straighten your apron, “Come home with me.” You tilted your head at him as you frowned, “I can’t, Sherlock. I already skipped out on Annie last time I worked.” “I need you for an experiment.” You rolled your eyes, “Can you get John to do it? Just don’t tell him what you're doing. By the time he realizes-“ “It needs to be you.” You sighed, trying to hide the excitement over what it could possibly be that was bubbling up inside you, and firmly tried again, “Sherlock, I can’t. I’d be happy to when I get home but for now, you’ll have to wait. I’ll bring you some tea and a croissant.”

He made a small face but nodded, watching you leave the table to get it for him, and then locked eyes with Mycroft across the room. His eyes narrowed when his brother gave him an amused look with a teasingly raised brow as if to say ‘I saw all that just now’ and he was about to retaliate when you returned with his tea.

“Stop allowing him to antagonize you, Sherlock,” you hummed softly, setting it in front of him, “Enjoy your tea and then go home. I’m sure there is some way you can annoy John for entertainment until I’m finished.”

“I’ll wait here.”

You blinked a few times, processing that, “Are you-”

“I am perfectly capable of waiting, (F/n). Don’t ask pointless questions.”

You rolled your eyes and went back to your work, glancing at him occasionally, and after about an hour, it because very clear that he was not, in fact, capable of waiting. He was certainly trying... but failing, rather like a cat that wanted attention. When he ‘accidentally’ spilled the small bowl of sugar cubes you’d brought for his tea across the table and the adjacent floor with a small crash, you came to clean it with a hiss, “Quit making a mess and go home.”

“Only if you come with me,” he insisted and you gave up, “Fine. I will go ask Annie if I can leave… again.”

He gave a smug smirk as you swished off to find Annie and came back with her trailing you, a look of guarded curiosity on her face. She offered him a small smile, “May I ask why exactly you need (F/n) to come home with you?” Deducing a number of things from her in a blink, he decided to answer honestly, “I intend to conduct an experiment that will allow her to begin painting again.” You gaped at him for a moment, “That’s what this is about? I’ve given up, Sherlock! I can’t dwell on something that’s never going to happen again.” Both he and Annie ignored your protest and she gave him a small approving grin, “For that, Monsieur Holmes, you may have her. I wish you success.”

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