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minhosimthings · 9 months ago

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The Elysian Angel || 18+

Synopsis: For the second day of your pact, you make a good friend in a good angel.

Pairing: detective!Jake × fem!reader

Warnings: smut minors Dni, oral (f receiving), anal sex, switch Jake, slight dom!reader, praise, degradation, p in v sex, dumbification, use of petname 'pup', mention of food and alcohol, Heeseung being an asshole

A/N: My apologies that this took a lot of time. Unfortunately I was travelling and i didn't find time to edit and do all that crap. Also my dumbass wrote the smut on the plane so again, apologies if it is not satisfactory. No I cannot for the life of me praise myself

Series Masterlist

The tiny cactus pot near his bedroom window had never seemed more interesting to Jake than now, as he thought over the events that had occured this evening.

Now, hungover and somewhat peckish, Jake thought of his two best friends, a drunk woman, and even more drunker pact. What had he called it? Something with Heeseung and jealousy and whatnot.

Ah yes Heeseung, Jake had a eureka moment, he had cheated on his wife had he not? And she had come to the police precinct and she had beat him in drinking bourbon...yes he remembered now!

Jake sighed to no one in particular as he cuddled into his blanket, watching the way his cactus blocked the shimmering moonlight from entering the room. He was weirdly craving sugar at the moment.

Maybe he should treat Heeseung's wife to his favourite cake tomorrow, he thought, what was her name again? Lee Y/N.

No not Lee, Jake yawned, no she's divorced now, his last thought came as he drifted off to an eager tomorrow.

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|

"So—" Jake leaned on the table, staring into Sunghoon's eyes, "—how was it last night?"

"Heavenly." Sunghoon sighed dreamily into his coffee, "She gave me some advice on how to-."

"I meant the sexual part." Jake chuckled, "You know, the part where your peni-"

"Yeah yeah I got that!" Sunghoon coughed loudly, though there weren't any other officers in the break room at the moment, save for Jay and Jake who had been listening fondly to Sunghoon show off his new coat, "It was... great! Might I add, she can take a lot. And I mean a damn lot." He widened his eyes to maximise the effect.

"Maybe you just have a tiny dick." Jay snickered, which made Jake spill a waring amount of coffee out of his nose.

"Jake what the fuck!" Sunghoon recoiled, as Jake cleaned himself up, still laughing, "Hey don't do that around her alright?" Sunghoon made a disgusted expression, wiping off the coffee from the table.

"So where is she staying right now?" Jay asked, taking the attention away from Jake's sopping wet shirt, "She can't go back to Heeseung's so—?"

"I dropped her off at a friend's." Sunghoon sipped his coffee, relishing the bitter taste of the grinded beans, "And before you ask, Mister lover boy—", Jake laughed raucously at his quip, "Yes she's fine. And weirdly happy too."

"Where is this friend's place?" Jake asked curiously, glancing at Jay who was looking suspiciously at him, "I-I wanted to take her out...for some cake." He finished awkwardly leading the two men to look at him with raised brows.

"What?" Jake scoffed, "Can't I treat a lady to some cake before I- you know."

"Fighting Jongsoeng for the lover boy position Jake?" Sunghoon laughed, "I'm impressed." He took a look at a glaring Jay, which motivated him further, "Her house is on Baker's Street, the second one when you enter."

"Is that really necessary?" Jay questioned, the gravel in his voice was evident, "She never asked you to buy her cake."

"And yet I want to." Jake answered, downing his coffee in one go, before getting up briskly, "See you later boys."

"Um, sir you have files to complete." Sunghoon interrupted, but Jake was faster in striding out the door.

"Do them for me would you Sunghoon?!"

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|

The atmosphere around the cafe was pleasant, as the cool evening wind blew against your face. The light brown coloured cake sat patiently in front of you, with only a few bite marks decorating it.

"Thank you for taking me here." You said to the man in front of you, who looked up at you with widened brown eyes, before offering a smile.

"No harm in treating a lady is there?" He poked at his own piece of cake with his fork, "I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything before we—" he smiled awkwardly, "—go into the details of the pact."

You felt him internally cringe at what he had said so you quickly diverted the topic. "Do you come here often?" You asked.

Jake's ever present grin appeared again, as he nodded, looking fondly at the small cafe, which smelled like pine trees to you, though perhaps it was from the fact that you were sitting outside. "It's one of my favourite places to come when I need to take a breather."

You smiled at the man's words as you took the last bite of the cake, closing your eyes to taste it properly. It melted right into your mouth, and you savoured the caramel flavour, sweet yet having a tinge of salt in it. You almost felt like you could have-

"What the fuck are you doing with her?"

That voice.

Your eyes burst open, to locate the source of it, the siren like tones which had once intoxicated you, not irritated you. You first landed on Jake, who was looking behind you with a somewhat terrified expression. Whipping your head around you saw him.

Lee Heeseung.

"And might I ask what you are doing here?" You tried to keep yourself calm, reminding yourself it's a public place.

"Y/N, what are you doing with him?" Heeseung's brow was dripping with sweat and his face was formed in a glare. He looked ferocious.

"I'm not your wife anymore Heeseung." You stated calmly, though you were internally fuming, "So please, can you leave us alone?"

"So you're fucking my colleagues now huh?" Heeseung chuckled loudly, catching the attention of a few people around, "Sort of forgives me for just fucking one other girl doesn't it?"

"Forgives you?"

Your voice cut through the air like a hot knife through butter. It had a tone to it which Jake had never heard before. It was....colder.

"Are you actually being serious, Heeseung?" You laughed, this time it didn't warm Jake's cheeks. It rather broke through his eyes like icicles.

"You don't have even one right to be forgiven. In fact you don't have any!" You scoffed, "I'm surprised you even have the gall to fucking approach me right now, because trust me, if I were you, I would have hid my face in my bedroom until I died." Jake was taken apart by the very new air of you he was seeing, "So please kindly fuck off would you?"

Heeseung's teeth gritted as he glared daggers at Jake, giving you one final, venomous look before spinning on his heel, and angrily stomping away. The sight of it was practically cartoonish.

"Are you alright?" Jake asked from behind you, you turned to see his worried eyes. His voice was the sweet honeyed one you knew well and proper.

"I'm fine, thank you Jake." You gave him a smile, concealing how much the incident had shaken you.

"It's getting dark." Jake lent you an arm which you gladly took, "Shall we head home?"

"Lead the way." You gave him a final grin.

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|

"Do all detectives have such nice looking houses?" You chuckled, looking around Jake's apartment. Though not as homely as Sunghoon's was, it certainly was cozy, giving off the same rustic vibes as the cafe. A maroon divan sat in the corner.

"Was Sunghoon's fairy cottage that beautiful?" Jake chuckled, inviting you to sit beside him on the sofa. "Perhaps its just my preference of cottages." You chuckled, though you certainly had no complaint against Jake's apartment.

"You'd like Jay's house then." Jake said, leaning back against the wall of the sofa. Silence passed for what felt like an hour (though it was only five minutes), until Jake finally spoke up.

"How did Sunghoon ever get you into his bedroom?" Jake asked, startling you from the sudden break of silence, "Because I am extremely nervous right now. But then again—" he grinned, "—Park Sunghoon can get even a cupid into his sheets."

"And you can't?" You quizzed, admiring his features, as he shook his head.

"It's a bit shameful for a man to admit but–" he chuckled darkly, "–at the most I've had two women in my bed."

"Would that make me the third?" You fluttered your lashes at him, making him gulp, "Come on, detective Sim," you smirked, “Don’t you want to play with me?”

Jake's voice catches in his throat as you lock eyes with him. Your eyes are soft and kind, like usual, but the more he looks, the more he begins to notice a hint of lust glazing them. Neither of you move for a moment, studying each other's expressions. Jake moves closer to you, though not close enough for you.

"Closer, detective." you smirk, pulling him closer to kiss him full on his plump lips. His hands find their way to your waist. He pulls you closer to him, and your legs seem to mindlessly straddle his lap. You can't fight the urge to grind your hips against his pelvis, slowly rocking back and forth.

He groans quietly as the two of you continue to kiss, and you use this opportunity to slide your tongue inside his mouth. His saliva has faint tastes of coffee and whiskey.

Jake's fingers mindlessly fiddle with the top button of your blouse, unsure as to whether or not he should undo them. You undo the top one, prompting him to undo the rest. His face is warm and pink as you pull away from the kiss leaving a string of salvia behind, and you can feel his cock harden beneath you as you continue to grind on his lap.

You push your hips into his, his hard-on pushes up into the wet patch on your panties. Slowly, he pushes your skirt down your thighs, and you momentarily stop grinding on him to help take your skirt off. Your bare thighs hover in the cool breeze from the evening. You leaned in for another kiss.

"Wait," Jake stops you, hands rubbing into your waist. With his lusty sinews, Jake picked you up, you wrapped your legs tightly around his hips to secure yourself as he led you into the adjacent room.

"I don't think we should mess my sofa up, eh pup?" The nickname had your core erupting into lava.

|•|•|•|•|•|•|

"You're so pretty..." Jake whispered into your ear as he lay you down on the bed. His bedroom, though tiny, was spacious enough, for you to collect your mind.

"Let's leave the compliments for later detective." You smiled at him, nipping the bud of his ear with your teeth, "For now, " you whispered seductively, "Shall we begin?"

You could feel Jake's nervousness, from the way his body tensed up. Inexperienced man, you thought, you were about to have a lot of fun.

“Open,” You said, leaning forward and tapping his chin, you were about to take the lead, if he wasn't going to. A woman couldn't have waited all day could she?

Jake complied, easier than you thought, opening his mouth allowing to shove two fingers inside, just like Heeseung had once did to you. He licked and sucked your fingers for two minutes, never breaking eye contact as his spit rolled down your hand.

“Good boy,” you said, pulling them away as you began to touch yourself. Sitting back on your ass, you rubbed your clit, rubbing his spit into your sensitive button, letting him know how good it felt, how close you were to cumming with his spit on your cunt. You plunged one finger in and then another as you watched him bite his tongue, careful not to let even a small sound slip out.

You let go of his hand so you could guide his head to where you needed his mouth. Your hands wound tightly into his hair, legs struggling to stay open as you felt the heat of his tongue against your core.

Jake slid it shallowly into your folds. The sensation made you whine and grab his head to push him further. He resisted but soon gave you what you want. Your chest rising and falling rapidly as he tasted you and let a gloriously loud moan vibrate against your center.

“Do that again- Shit, just like that, right there.” you moaned as you felt every bud of his sharp tongue, "G-Good boy...."

You weren't interested in taking it slow tonight, being wet since he had touched you.

He licked a stripe up your vulva, his tongue flat and getting every inch of your pussy till he reached your clit where he wrapped his lips around it and gently sucked.

Your back arched on the bed, one hand going straight to his hair as your orgasm quickly built. Your pussy clenched around nothing as he started flicking his tongue against you.

"Fuck...Jaeyun!" You screamed his name out, which built up the fire in him, "You're being so good for me...."

The other hand not threading through his tresses fisted the sheets of his bed tighter as your hips began to roll and grind against his face in circular motions, trying to catch that sensation of his nose bumping against your throbbing clit. Your body had a mind of its own, sinking deeper and deeper into the burning hot abyss of pleasure and reach the high you were quickly ascending to.

But before you could grasp that high properly, you felt a discerning movement.

"Jake!" You cried, suddenly feeling the familiar taste of his tongue leave your walls empty, "Why the fuck would you do that?!"

"Shh, baby." Jake shushes you, which makes you hold your tongue quickly. Jake let's go of one of your thighs and unbuckles his belt, pulling down his zipper and pushing down his pants. He lets out a deep breath again when he finally feels free and without his tight trousers around his hips. Jake looked magnificent as he admired you laying in front of him. Wild, primal thoughts flanked every neuron of his mind.

"Turn on your side for me." He commands you, with lust filled eyes, "Now." He adds as if it's an afterthought. You quickly obliged, finding his tone of voice enamouring you into obeying him. You couldn't wait for what he was about to do.

Jake knows it's wrong, to fuck another man's wife, but fuck—he couldn't help himself, and anyway you had agreed to this. So there he was, hard cock slipping between your thighs as he thrusts his hips slowly, biting his tongue to prevent the guttural groans threatening to escape his lips. Jake's veined hands slip under your bra, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his thrusts grow slightly faster while his hand grasps at your tit tightly, sinfully thankful that Heeseung had given you up.

"F-Fuckkk-" you groaned painfully as Jake slipped into your ass, you needed time to adjust, "Jaeyun wait—"

Your words meant nothing to him as every thrust stretches you to the shape of him, his cock ramming painfully into your cervix with each thrust. He takes you, uses you as his hips bounce against your ass, shaking you with the force of every movement. Your moans grew louder and louder with each thrust, you felt his hot breath against your neck, and yet he didn't stop, only growing more possesive by the second.

"Fucking hell baby." Jake's accented voice tingled against your skin, "such a good pup for me aren't you?"

The sensations of his mere words burn through your core as your toes curl while he fucks into you with such a possessive need that your whole body trembles with the overwhelming pleasure. His obeying tendencies earlier had changed into a much more obsessive one, turning you on even more.

His expression grows almost enamored at how you're squeezing him-tense, as he thrusts into you, balls slapping against your ass at his relentless pace. Hot, searing pleasure makes its way up your spine-emitting a low, almost inaudible, squeal from you as he pinches your clit.

You're constantly on the edge, slipping in and out of consciousness from his assault on your cervix, harsh-angry thrusts punctuating his words.

"Faster—" you moaned, not realising how much his dick was controlling your mind now, "Jaeyun, fuck—faster please...."

"Faster?" Jake's low voice vibrated on your skin as he chuckled, pulling you against him in a brisk fashion, making you cry out in pleasure, "Am I making you feel good baby?" You nodded, not even hearing his words, fuck he was making you feel better than ever.

"Dumb–" one thrust, "—fucking–" the second, "—pup." He accentuated every word clearly.

Your eyes roll back, and he fucks your hips right back on him with his tight grip on them. Even when the rope breaks, and you’re pushed under—thighs shaking in illicit euphoria as you leak around him, he doesn’t stop.

Like some rabid animal, he takes you back in-then out again with his movements—his thoughts becoming scrambled, accentuated with primal, violent pushes and pulls before he’s slamming back in you again as tears gather in your eyes.

"Jaeyun!" You scream again, feeling your cunt throb for even a mere touch of his dick, which was stretching your back out so well, "I want you Jake.. please.." your begging makes it just sweeter for him.

He gulps and kisses you passionate, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth. Hands on your waist, he grips you tightly and flips you over onto your back, the skin on your back tickled as it hit the sheets. He grabs his shaft and runs his tip through your folds, teasing your clit a little bit.

"Fuck, Sunghoon was right," he breaths out, "You really can take a lot and nods. Slowly and carefully he starts to push his fat tip against your entrance, pushing and pushing until his tip was in.

He watches your face for any sort of pain or discomfort but sees nothing, so he pushes forward again until you knit your brows together in pain.

"don't stop, fuck." you whisper against his lips, which motivated him further, "Fuck~Jake!" You moaned, as he moved ever so slightly

The man began to move faster, starting a stutter in his hips that ended up colliding against yours forcefully. It hurt you, it was too abrupt, and that feeling remained there even though the pleasure clouded your mind and senses.

Jake leaned over your sweaty, flushed body to get a better angle, you could see his face better and closer.

He had flowing strands of his black hair stuck to his forehead from sweat, the rest fell on your forehead, tickling you. And his seducing gaze that evaluated each and every one of your expressions, as if he were memorizing them.

You lower your hips slowly before bringing them back up. Jake presses his face against your chest, his own arms moving to wrap around you. His hips move down, fucking into you.

You try to help him as best you can but your thighs are already starting to hurt from being in this position too long.

It didn't seem like Jake minded though. In fact once he notices you’re giving your body up to him he seems to find some super strength because before you know it he’s ramming into you.

His thin lips moved against yours and his tongue made your mouth open to give way to his.

And he was there, kissing you, giving you pleasure and pain, both in a play or duality. His hips were now moving precisely, at a speed that you both enjoyed. His lips dancing over your mouth took away the little breath you had left. The head of his erection began to hit a delicious spot deep in your intimacy that, along with the movement of his thumb squeezing and stretching your clitoris, made your mind blur and spin.

"You can take it," Jake said, noticing your expression, bringing his head down as his tongue swirled over your nipples. Your back arched at the contact, your legs beginning to shake as he brought his hand over to rub on your clit.

Your nails scratched at Jake's back ruthlessly, clawing and taking your way down as you felt the muscles tense underneath your touch. You get your orgasm building up slowly, a dam threatening to burst with every snap of his hips. Your legs began to shake underneath his grasp, your nails digging into the flesh of his back as he buried his head into your shoulder. His cock twitched inside your cunt a couple seconds later, indicating that he was close to his orgasm.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him close to you as he continued to thrust inside of you. His eyes rolled back, his cock shooting out ropes of cum deep into your cunt.

Jake's thrusts came to a slow stop. His hand left your throat and went to the back of your head, pulling you into a sloppy kiss. He pulled away and looked into your eyes for a few seconds before pulling out of you. He laid down next to you, staring up at the ceiling and breathing heavily.

"Whiskey?" "By all means."

|•|•|•|•|•|•|

"This—" You took a deep sniff of the liquid, "—is delicious."

"Jay gifted it to me." Jake took a sip from his glass, savouring the burning taste from the bubbling whiskey, "I feel as if our love language is gifting each other alcohol, especially Jay, with all his knowlege in it."

For the second time since the last two days, you couldn't comprehend why Jay's name had made the veins in your heart abruptly stop, like water against the rocks of a seashore. Though you certainly knew of the tiny red ants in your mind which whispered to you, about love and whatnot.

Well, you sighed to yourself, tomorrow was merely hours away.

Taglist: @diorsyun @jaeyunluvr @hoondrop @mxxninthesky @alvojake @wondipity @blurryriki @lilyuwon @heeliopheelia @pockettwinzz @heeslomll @seunghancore @shiningnono @noonareads @deobitifull @luvitria @wonibae @nyfwyeonjun @hwa-0403 @saanvilovessunghoon @bubblegyu00 @sunpov @heeheeswifey @chartrucewhore @slut4hee @heesangs-blog @rikiwaify-blog @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @kirinaa08 @heeshlove @seokseokjinkim @brownsugarbaybee @yzzyhee @anittamaxwynnn @kgneptun @penny44224 @ribbioniki @strxwbloody @immelissaaa @heesminee3 @nshmrarki @yawnzzhoon @sousydive @yunhoswrldddd @whateverhoon @cloud-lyy @missychief1404 @ensaz008 @sunsunl0ver @binniesbabe + taglist is open!

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g1rld1ary · 9 months ago

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lifeguard!james x reader 3

wc: 1384

cw: horny.

the next time you saw james was early in the morning. you were on a run, trying to get it in before the sun reached full strength and it became awful to even move, so most of your town wasn't awake yet. you ran through the streets, legs burning and lungs heaving as you focused on the good parts of the experience. the emptiness of the streets let you admire the old buildings -- maybe worse for wear but still architecturally beautiful. the smell of bread filled the air from one of the nearby bakeries, so far untouched by the stench of petrol usually pervading the main street. you waved at one of the bakers arranging the display cabinet in the window, the father of someone you went to school with.

the joy of the morning had distracted you from the pain of running, but when you reached the site of a public drink tap you realised how much your legs ached, tired pain shooting out from the knees. you'd run a bit further than you normally would have caught up in your daydreams, so you took a break for a drink and to stretch out the soreness in your legs, pulling your cap off to wipe the sweat from your brow. you glanced to your left casually, whipping your head back for a double take when you saw james in the window of the 24-hour gym, doing god knows what on a machine you didn't know the name of. you did, however, know that it was turning you on.

both your interactions with james thus far had featured him shirtless; as a lifeguard, it was bound to happen even with the mandatory red and yellow sun shirt, and james in particular seemed determined to wear it as little as possible. so, you knew he was gorgeous, with the body of a Greek god and the confidence to show it off. this somehow seemed more sensual -- how was it that sometimes wearing some clothes was more sexual than wearing nothing? james was in a muscle shirt with the arm holes cut longer to give a peek into the broad expanse of chest underneath. he was on the ergo, you remembered marlene explaining once, and the way his muscles shifted under his skin was downright sinful. you'd never understood why they were described as 'rippling' until you saw james'.

you realised with a start you were openly ogling him on the side of the main street and tore your eyes away with a start, pretending to admire a nearby tree as you felt your embarrassment catch up to you. you fanned yourself with your cap quickly, putting on a big show of taking a rest break for no one but yourself. stealing one last glance at him, glistening with sweat and looking positively unearthly, you began to run again, filing the image away for when you were alone.

you were pretty sure he hadn't seen you, thank god, but your hammering heart still matched the pounding of your feet against the pavement as you headed home. you figured if nothing else, giving you full-body goosebumps just by working out probably earned him your name, and you resolved to give it to him the next time you met.

you thought you were safe for the rest of the day since you were working a shift at the local supermarket, alas, fate had other plans. you'd been behind the counter for a few hours, well into the groove of scanning the items through and getting them into bags as fast as possible.

"hi, welcome to -- oh!" you said, meeting his hazel eyes. "james."

"nice uniform," he glanced down at your shirt, eyes catching on your silver name tag. he tried it out, seemingly content with the way it sounded from his mouth.

"you caught me." you smiled, not upset your game had come to an end.

"how do you know this girl, jamie?" the woman next to him said and you noticed her for the first time. she had to be his mother, both contextually and because they shared the same spark of trouble in their eye and lopsided smile. you raised an eyebrow in his direction: jamie. james seemed unfazed, to his credit, smiling down at his mum warmly.

"this is one of the girls i told you i met down at the pool. my first friend here." his earnestness caught you off guard again and you hated the way it warmed your heart.

"it's nice to meet you mrs, uh..."

"potter," she finished for you, "but call me effie, all of james' friends do." you smiled at her, introducing yourself politely despite the name tag rendering it superfluous.

you continued to make small talk with them as you bagged their groceries, surprised by how easy it was to talk to james and his mum. you were never really one for new people in general, growing up in a smaller town made it an unnecessary skill to develop, but you were especially bad with parents. you could hardly talk to lily's parents, and she was your closest friend. yet, with effie it felt natural, as if you'd known the both of them all your life.

you answered her questions about the town patiently, giving her recommendations about what you thought were the best restaurants and telling her about the book club your mum was part of that might be a good way for her to make friends. as the transaction came to an end effie was all gratitude, showering you with kind compliments and an invitation to visit their house whenever you pleased (much to james' chagrin, judging by his red cheeks).

"you bring these to the car, mum. i just have another question and then I'll be right out." you looked at him curiously, unsure of what couldn't wait or be said in front of effie. james watched her leave for a second before turning to you with an unnaturally innocent expression.

"you follow arsenal, right? pretty chuffed with their results this season, though I wish they could've brought it home." you opened your mouth to reply before pausing, your eyes narrowing to scrutinise him.

"how do you know i support them?" you asked, sure you hadn't brought up football in your limited interactions with him.

"you were wearing their hat, right? this morning?" he asked, and you tried to think back, oh. if you hadn't picked up on the reference, james' shit-eating grin told you all you needed to know. he'd seen you this morning. oh god, james had seen you checking him out from the street and you wanted to sink into a hole.

somewhat predictably, james didn't appear mad. in fact, he looked rather pleased with himself as you covered your face with your hands, hoping he'd just leave you to wallow in self-pity.

"you know, you could've just asked," he said casually, as if you weren't utterly embarrassed, "i would've let you watch. hell, i'll let you touch if you ask nicely." now he was teasing, and for the sake of your pride you had to come up with something in response or he'd take the upper hand and never give it back.

"i was just making sure you didn't hurt yourself, big boy." not your best, but at least it wasn't tears of shame, and james seemed amused anyhow.

"good to know you would have saved me, supergirl." he shot you a wink and you scoffed good-naturedly. you shooed him off with the excuse of his mum waiting in a hot car, but honestly, you knew you couldn't keep up the banter or staring up into his eyes for much longer without jumping his bones in the middle of the checkout line. you had a feeling your boss wouldn't take too kindly to you riding james potter on the conveyor belt, even if he was the hottest man you'd ever seen in your life.

"see you later, hot stuff!" he called, probably too loudly for the grocery store, a cheeky salute to you as he braved the heat outside.

"bye, baywatch," you muttered, praying you didn't look as flustered as you felt. you called the next customer over, greeting them politely as you tried to pretend there wasn't an aching in your core.

not sure if im convinced by james as an arsenal supporter but lmk if you have a more fitting team for him!!

#giasfics˚ ༘�� ⋆｡˚ ❀#love #fluff #james potter #james potter x y/n #the marauders #marauders #marauders era #hp marauders #dead gay wizards #james potter fluff #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #lifeguard!james #lifeguard james #lifeguard!james potter #harry potter

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duvetfawn · 3 months ago

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A Case to Die For

- Masterlist

INTRODUCTION: The bones told stories only you could read. As an anthropologist, you were brought in to assist on a chilling case—a serial killer carving intricate patterns into the bones of his victims. It was meant to be about the work, about solving the mystery. But then you met Sherlock Holmes. Brilliant, maddening, and utterly magnetic, he challenged you at every turn. The case pulled you both into the depths of human depravity, but it was the tension between you and the detective that threatened to consume you entirely.

PAIRING: Sherlock x fem!reader

WARNINGS: This story contains SMUT (it's at the end, I put a warning before the scenes), MDNI, oral sex (both receiving), fingering, vaginal sex (different position), cursing, etc.

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

A/N: Hello people! I've had this idea for a while. As you may have guessed I enjoy writing one-shots quite a lot. Don't worry though, I'll update my main story soon. Sorry about grammar mistakes (if there are any). Enjoy your reading!

The knock at the door was brisk, almost impatient.

You glanced at the worn numbers marking the address—221B Baker Street—and adjusted the strap of your bag, the weight of the files inside pulling at your shoulder. The letter from Detective Inspector Lestrade, which had summoned you here, was crumpled in your coat pocket, and you briefly considered turning back. You weren’t sure what unnerved you more: the gruesome details of the case you’d been asked to consult on or the man you were about to meet.

The door swung open before you could knock again.

Sherlock Holmes stood in the doorway, taller than you’d expected, his lean frame emphasized by a dark suit that seemed tailored to the millimeter. His sharp cheekbones caught the light filtering in from the window behind him, and his piercing blue eyes swept over you with clinical detachment.

“Finally,” he said, stepping aside to let you in. “You’re late.”

“I was told noon,” you replied, stepping into the cozy yet cluttered sitting room. The air smelled faintly of tea and books, with an undertone of something more chemical.

“It’s five past,” he said, his tone clipped as he gestured toward the couch. “Sit. Let’s get this over with.”

“Charming,” you muttered under your breath, but you complied, placing your bag beside you.

As you settled in, Sherlock was already pacing, his eyes darting over you like a scanner. He tilted his head slightly, as if piecing together a puzzle. “Forensic anthropologist. Academic background, but you’ve spent time in the field—South America, recently, given the faint traces of mosquito bites on your arms. You’re meticulous, perhaps overly so. Single—though not by choice. No pets. Late nights working have left shadows under your eyes. Addicted to caffeine. And—”

You cut him off before he could continue. “I drink tea, not coffee. And I left South America three months ago, not recently.”

Sherlock stopped mid-step, his lips twitching upward into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk.

“Impressive,” came a voice from behind you. Turning, you saw Dr. John Watson standing in the doorway, arms crossed and a warm smile on his face. “Not many people interrupt Sherlock.”

“Someone has to,” you replied, shooting a pointed look at Holmes.

John chuckled. “Well, you’ll fit in just fine here.”

“Enough pleasantries,” Sherlock interrupted, his smirk fading as quickly as it had appeared. He moved to a cluttered desk piled high with books, papers, and vials of indeterminate substances. “Lestrade claims you have insights into the carvings on the bones. Show me.”

You bristled slightly at his abrupt tone but reached into your bag, pulling out the folder containing photographs of the remains. You set it on the table, and Sherlock was on it immediately, his fingers quick and precise as he flipped through the images.

“These carvings,” you began, pointing to one of the photographs, “aren’t just random marks. They’re runic, but not purely historical. Someone’s added their own cipher to them, which is why no one’s been able to decode them yet.”

Sherlock didn’t look at you, but his lips parted slightly, and he let out a low hum of interest.

“They’re not just decorative,” you continued. “They’re instructions—or warnings. And they’re meant to mislead.”

“Fascinating,” Sherlock murmured, finally glancing up. His gaze was intense, the weight of it almost physical. “And you’ve decoded these… instructions?”

“Not yet,” you admitted. “But I’ve narrowed down the language and symbolism to something that originates from Norse mythology. Whoever is behind this knows their history but is using it to obscure their true intent.”

Sherlock straightened, his tall frame towering over you as he considered your words. Then, without warning, he turned to John. “Get the laptop. Now.”

John sighed, muttering something under his breath as he retrieved the requested item. “You could at least say please once in a while, you know.”

Sherlock ignored him, his attention already back on you. “Your methodology. Show me.”

You opened your own notebook, flipping to a page filled with notes, sketches, and translations. As you explained your process, Sherlock’s eyes darted between your notes and the photographs, his brow furrowing in concentration.

“You’re thorough,” he said finally, his voice softer than before. “Almost obsessively so.”

“I have to be,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “Lives depend on it.”

His lips twitched again, as if he were on the verge of another smirk, but he turned away abruptly, the moment passing.

Hours passed as the three of you worked. The initial stiffness between you and Sherlock began to dissolve, replaced by a grudging respect. John chimed in occasionally with practical observations, but most of the time, it was you and Sherlock, your minds sparking off one another as you dissected every detail of the case.

The bones belonged to multiple victims, all of whom had vanished under mysterious circumstances. The carvings on the remains suggested a connection to a cult, one that used ancient rituals as a cover for their crimes.

As the day wore on, the atmosphere in the room grew heavier. The implications of the case were grim, and the pressure to find the killer mounted with every passing moment.

It was well past midnight when John finally stretched and stood. “I’m calling it a night. Some of us need sleep, you know.” He clapped Sherlock on the shoulder, then glanced at you. “Good luck keeping up with him. He’ll be at this all night.”

You smiled faintly as John left, but the tension in the room remained.

“You should go, too,” Sherlock said, not looking up from his laptop.

“I’m staying,” you replied firmly. “This case doesn’t just affect you, Sherlock. I’m involved now, whether I like it or not.”

He glanced at you then, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. “Stubborn.”

You shrugged. “Dedicated.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, unexpectedly, Sherlock’s lips curved into a genuine smile. It was fleeting, but it transformed his sharp features into something softer, more human.

As the hours dragged on, the weight of exhaustion began to set in. You leaned back against the sofa, stretching your legs as Sherlock continued to pace the room, his mind clearly racing.

“Do you ever stop?” you asked, your voice tinged with amusement.

“Rarely,” he replied without missing a beat.

You watched him for a moment, noting the way his dark curls caught the dim light and the way his sharp jawline flexed as he mulled over the case. He was undeniably striking, but there was something more captivating about the way his mind worked—relentless, brilliant, and entirely singular.

“You should sleep,” he said abruptly, breaking the silence.

“So should you.”

He stopped pacing, his piercing gaze locking onto yours. “I can’t.”

The honesty in his voice surprised you. For a moment, you saw beyond the genius and arrogance to the man underneath—a man burdened by the weight of his own mind.

“Sherlock…” you began, but he shook his head.

“Don’t,” he said quietly, almost pleading.

You didn’t press further, but the moment lingered, the air between you charged with unspoken words.

The silence stretched between you and Sherlock, thick with unspoken thoughts. He returned to pacing, the sharp lines of his face etched with concentration.

You rose from the sofa, crossing to the table where the photographs of the bones lay spread out. The weight of the case had settled heavily on your shoulders. The carvings weren’t just the work of a killer—they were the work of someone meticulous, someone who enjoyed leaving a trail, daring others to follow.

“Why bones?” you murmured, half to yourself.

“What?” Sherlock’s voice cut through the room, sharp and sudden.

“Why bones?” you repeated, turning to face him. “The killer could’ve left messages in any number of ways. Why carve them into bones? It’s labor-intensive, messy, and… personal.”

Sherlock’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing as he considered your words. “Because they want us to see the victims as something more than flesh. Bones are timeless. Eternal. To them, this is art.”

The thought made your stomach churn. “So we’re dealing with an egotist. Someone who wants to be remembered.”

“Exactly.” Sherlock’s lips curved into a grim smile. He stepped closer, his movements fluid and purposeful. “And egotists always leave clues. They want to be found—eventually. It’s a game to them.”

You nodded, your mind already racing ahead. “But the runes—there’s a pattern. I don’t think they’re random.”

Sherlock’s eyes lit up, a spark of excitement flickering in their depths. “Show me.”

You reached for your notebook, flipping to the page where you’d sketched out the carvings. As you explained your theory, Sherlock leaned in, his proximity making the air between you hum with tension. You could feel the heat of him, the sharpness of his gaze as he absorbed every word you said.

When you finished, he straightened, a rare look of approval crossing his face. “You’re good,” he said simply.

“Better than you expected?” you shot back, unable to resist the jab.

His lips twitched. “Much.”

Hours later, the two of you stood side by side at the kitchen counter, a map of London spread out before you. You’d identified a pattern in the runes—coordinates, perhaps, or some kind of geographical marker.

“Here,” you said, pointing to a section of the map. “The killer’s movements trace a path through these locations. They’re circling something.”

Sherlock leaned over your shoulder, his hand brushing yours as he followed your line of sight. “They’re closing in on a central point,” he murmured. “A hub. But what?”

Before you could respond, the sound of the door opening interrupted you. John stepped into the room, his expression curious.

“You two still at it?” he asked, his gaze flicking between you and Sherlock.

“Yes,” Sherlock replied, not looking up.

John sighed. “Of course you are. Did either of you eat? Sleep? Do anything remotely human?”

“I had tea,” you offered.

John shook his head. “Right. Well, if you need me, I’ll be in my room. Try not to burn the flat down.”

As John left, Sherlock straightened, his attention fully on the map once more. “We’re close,” he said, more to himself than to you. “I can feel it.”

It was well past three in the morning when the breakthrough came. You’d been poring over the map, exhaustion tugging at the edges of your mind, when Sherlock suddenly froze.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“What?”

He grabbed the map, pointing to a section near the Thames. “The carvings aren’t just coordinates. They’re dates. Look—each location corresponds to a disappearance, and the runes indicate the order.”

You stared at the map, your pulse quickening. “So the central point…”

“Is where the killer will strike next.”

The realization sent a jolt of adrenaline through you. But before you could react, Sherlock turned to you, his expression serious. “You’re staying here.”

You blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“It’s too dangerous,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “The killer knows who you are. If you come with me, you’ll be a target.”

“And you won’t?” you shot back. “Sherlock, I’m not staying behind while you run off to confront a murderer alone.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But then his shoulders slumped slightly, and he sighed. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered.

“And you’re overbearing,” you replied, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

The tension between you remained thick as you prepared to leave for the central location. Sherlock was quiet, his usual sharp remarks absent as he packed a small bag with tools and evidence.

“You’re worried,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

He glanced at you, his blue eyes unreadable. “I’m always worried.”

“About me?”

His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, the mask he wore slipped. “Yes,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The admission hung in the air, heavy and charged. You stepped closer, your heart pounding. “Sherlock…”

He didn’t move, his tall frame unnervingly still. Then, slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “I can’t afford distractions,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“I’m not a distraction,” you said, your voice steady.

His lips curved into a faint smile, and before you could react, he closed the distance between you. His kiss was sudden and consuming, all the tension and frustration of the past days boiling over in a single, electrifying moment.

The kiss lingered for a moment—unspoken emotions breaking through the controlled veneer that Sherlock so carefully maintained. But just as quickly as it began, he pulled back, his sharp features hardening as if he’d remembered himself.

“This is a distraction,” he muttered, turning away abruptly.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “A distraction?” you echoed, your voice edged with disbelief. “You kissed me, Sherlock.”

“And I shouldn’t have,” he said, his tone clipped. He grabbed the map from the table, his long fingers gripping it tightly. “The case comes first.”

You felt a flush of anger rise in your chest. “You don’t get to decide what’s important for both of us. I’m here because I want to be.”

Sherlock turned to you then, his blue eyes flashing with something you couldn’t quite place—anger, perhaps, or something deeper. “And what happens if you get hurt?” he snapped.

“I could say the same to you,” you shot back, stepping closer. “You’re not invincible, Sherlock.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the tension between you crackling like static electricity. But before either of you could speak again, Sherlock’s phone buzzed on the table.

He snatched it up, his expression darkening as he read the message. “Lestrade,” he said shortly. “There’s been another body.”

The air was cold and damp as you arrived at the scene, the faint mist of the Thames clinging to your skin. Lestrade met you both at the edge of a cordoned-off area, his face grim.

“Another one,” he said, nodding toward the forensics team working under a floodlight. “Same carvings. Same precision. This one was left out in the open, though—almost like they wanted us to find it.”

Sherlock pushed past him without a word, his long coat billowing behind him. You followed closely, your heart pounding as you approached the body.

The victim was laid out on the ground, their arms folded across their chest in a disturbingly serene pose. The runes were etched deep into their skin, trailing up their arms and across their torso.

“Another message,” Sherlock murmured, crouching beside the body. His fingers hovered over the carvings, his sharp eyes scanning every detail.

You knelt beside him, your stomach twisting at the sight. “It’s different,” you said, pointing to a series of symbols near the victim’s collarbone. “These weren’t on the last body.”

Sherlock tilted his head, his expression sharp. “A variation in the pattern,” he said softly. “Why?”

“Because they’re escalating,” you replied. “The killer’s becoming bolder, more confident. They’re taunting us.”

Sherlock’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Or they’re telling us exactly where to find them.”

Lestrade approached, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Anything?”

Sherlock stood, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the scene. “Yes. The killer is leaving breadcrumbs—and we’re about to follow them.”

Back at 221B, the two of you worked furiously to decipher the new symbols. The atmosphere in the flat was charged, the earlier tension between you and Sherlock now overshadowed by the urgency of the case.

“These markings,” Sherlock muttered, pacing the room. “They’re not just coordinates. They’re a challenge—a riddle.”

You stared at the notes spread out before you, your mind racing. “It’s a location,” you said suddenly, the pieces clicking into place. “The symbols form a map—a rough one, but it’s there.”

Sherlock stopped pacing, his piercing gaze locking onto yours. “Show me.”

You grabbed a pen, sketching out the pattern of the runes and overlaying them onto the map of London. It was crude, but the alignment was unmistakable.

“Here,” you said, pointing to a spot near the outskirts of the city. “An abandoned warehouse. It’s isolated, easy to control. If I were them, that’s where I’d be.”

Sherlock’s lips curved into a rare smile—one that sent a jolt of electricity through you. “Brilliant,” he said, his voice low and almost reverent.

Your breath caught, but you quickly pushed the moment aside. “So, what’s the plan?”

“We go,” Sherlock said simply. “And we end this.”

The warehouse loomed before you, its broken windows and rusted exterior shrouded in darkness. You could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you as you and Sherlock stepped inside, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the empty space.

“Stay close,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

You nodded, your heart pounding as you followed him deeper into the building. The air was thick with the scent of damp and decay, and every creak of the floorboards set your nerves on edge.

Then, you saw it—a figure standing in the shadows, their face obscured.

“Mr. Holmes,” the figure said, their voice smooth and cold. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Sherlock stepped forward, his posture rigid. “And here I thought you’d try harder to hide.”

The figure chuckled, a low, unsettling sound. “Why would I hide? This is my masterpiece, Mr. Holmes. And you’re the final audience.”

You felt Sherlock’s hand brush against yours—a silent reassurance. Your pulse quickened, but you held your ground, ready for whatever came next.

Sherlock’s hand brushed against yours again, a fleeting touch, but it steadied you. His blue eyes flicked toward you for the briefest of moments, and you nodded, understanding his unspoken command to stay close.

The figure stepped forward, their face finally illuminated by the dim light filtering through the broken windows. A man, tall and gaunt, with sharp cheekbones and a glint of madness in his eyes. His hands were clasped in front of him, as if he were a host welcoming guests to a party.

“You’re braver than I expected,” the man said, his voice eerily calm. “I didn’t think you’d come here so willingly.”

Sherlock tilted his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve been practically begging for my attention. Did you think I wouldn’t come?”

The man’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing. “And you’ve brought company,” he said, his gaze shifting to you. “How… quaint.”

You stiffened under his scrutiny, but Sherlock stepped slightly in front of you, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “She’s not your concern.”

“Oh, but she is,” the man said, his smile returning. “She’s part of this now. Part of my design.”

Sherlock’s expression darkened, his hands clenching at his sides. “Your design is flawed,” he said coldly. “You think yourself a mastermind, but you’re nothing more than a petty narcissist playing with symbols you barely understand.”

The man’s smile vanished, replaced by a flicker of anger. “You don’t know me, Holmes. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I know enough,” Sherlock replied, his voice like ice. “You carve your messages into bones because you crave permanence. You want the world to remember you, but you don’t understand what true brilliance looks like. You’re a coward hiding behind theatrics.”

The man lunged forward, his face twisted with rage. But Sherlock was faster. He moved with a precision that took your breath away, sidestepping the attack and pinning the man against the wall in one swift motion.

“You’ve made your last mistake,” Sherlock hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “This game is over.”

The man struggled, but Sherlock held him firm, his tall frame towering over the killer. You felt a surge of relief mixed with admiration as you watched him work, his sharp mind and physical prowess in perfect sync.

It wasn’t until the police arrived that the weight of the confrontation truly hit you. The man was dragged away in handcuffs, his defiance replaced by a sullen silence. Lestrade patted Sherlock on the shoulder, muttering something about a job well done, but Sherlock barely acknowledged him.

Instead, his attention was on you.

“You’re shaking,” he said quietly, his piercing gaze softening as he stepped closer.

You hadn’t even noticed until he pointed it out. The adrenaline that had carried you through the night was fading, leaving behind a hollow ache in your chest.

“I’m fine,” you said, though your voice wavered.

“No, you’re not.”

Sherlock’s hands were on your shoulders before you could protest, his touch firm but gentle. He guided you away from the chaos, into the quiet corner of the warehouse where the shadows offered a semblance of privacy.

“You shouldn’t have been here,” he said, his voice low. “I shouldn’t have let you come.”

“I had to be here,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “You needed me.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But then his hands tightened on your shoulders, and something in his expression shifted—something raw and vulnerable.

“I did need you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The confession hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You felt your breath catch as he stepped closer, his blue eyes locked onto yours.

The first kiss had been a crack in the wall. This one was the collapse.

The warehouse was silent save for the echo of your hurried breaths. The tension in the air had reached a breaking point, and when Sherlock’s lips crashed into yours, it was like a dam breaking.

The kiss was urgent, heated, his hands coming up to cup your face with an uncharacteristic lack of control. His body pressed into yours, pinning you against the cold, dusty wall. His lips were surprisingly soft, but his movements were anything but gentle. His teeth grazed your lower lip, his tongue slipping past as he deepened the kiss, leaving no doubt about the desperation behind it.

Your hands found their way into his hair, tangling in the dark curls you’d wanted to touch far longer than you cared to admit. A low groan escaped him as you pulled him closer, the sound vibrating through you.

But just as quickly as it started, he pulled back, his breath ragged, his blue eyes dark with something primal.

“This isn’t the place,” he said, his voice strained, but his hands remained on you, his thumb brushing over your jaw as if he couldn’t quite let go.

You nodded, your chest heaving, unable to form words.

He stepped back reluctantly, running a hand through his hair as he tried to collect himself. “Come to Baker Street.”

It wasn’t a request.

You followed him outside, the cold night air doing little to cool the fire raging beneath your skin. The drive to 221B was a blur—Sherlock barely spoke, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, the tension between you palpable.

By the time you arrived, the front door was barely closed before he had you pressed against it, his lips on yours once more. This time, there was no hesitation, no restraint. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel just how affected he was.

“Upstairs,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine.

You didn’t argue, letting him guide you up the narrow staircase to his flat, every step building the anticipation to a breaking point.

Sherlock’s lips were everywhere—your neck, your jaw, your collarbone. His hands roamed with purpose, as if memorizing every curve of your body. But it wasn’t hurried. There was an uncharacteristic tenderness in his movements, a contrast to the raw hunger in his kisses.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and strained, as if he couldn’t believe the words were leaving his mouth.

The sound of him—usually so controlled and precise—undone in this moment sent a jolt of heat through you.

You let your hands roam over his chest, marveling at the lean muscle beneath his pale skin, the way his body seemed almost sculpted, yet undeniably real. He was all sharp lines and ridges, a perfect contradiction of strength and vulnerability.

“Sherlock,” you breathed, his name tumbling from your lips without thought.

He paused at the sound, his head lifting to meet your gaze. His blue eyes were blown wide with desire, yet there was something else in them too—something softer.

“I’ve thought about this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than I care to admit.”

Your breath caught. “And?”

His lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile—so unlike him it made your heart ache. “And now that I have you, I’m not sure I’ll ever let you go.”

The vulnerability in his words stole your breath, but before you could respond, he was on you again—his lips searing against yours as if he couldn’t stand the distance for another second.

He guided you to the bed in the corner of the flat, his hands never leaving your body. When the back of your knees hit the edge, you sank down, pulling him with you.

“Lie back,” he commanded softly, his voice like velvet.

You obeyed, your pulse racing as you reclined against the pillows. Sherlock followed, his tall frame looming over you as his hands trailed down your sides.

“You deserve to be worshiped,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your stomach. “Let me show you.”

His hands slid to your hips, and with a fluid motion, he rid you of the last barriers between you. The cool air against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body, but any nervousness you felt dissolved the moment his mouth replaced his hands.

The first touch of his lips against you sent a shockwave through your body. He worked slowly at first, his tongue tracing deliberate patterns, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady.

“Fuck, Sherlock,” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his dark curls.

He hummed in response, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through you. He was meticulous, as if solving a puzzle—reading every gasp, every shiver, adjusting his movements until he had you unraveling beneath him.

His tongue pressed harder, his pace quickening, and you couldn’t stop the moans that spilled from your lips.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice breaking.

He didn’t. If anything, he doubled down, his hands tightening on your thighs as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. When his fingers joined the fray, slipping inside you with a skill that left you breathless, it was too much.

Your release hit you like a tidal wave, your back arching off the bed as his name tore from your lips.

But Sherlock didn’t stop—not until you were trembling, every nerve in your body alight.

When he finally pulled back, his lips glistened, and the smug look on his face would’ve annoyed you if you weren’t still recovering.

“Impressive,” he said, his voice laced with amusement.

You managed a weak laugh, your chest heaving. “Cocky bastard.”

He smirked, leaning down to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

As the haze of pleasure began to fade, you found yourself wanting more—needing more. You pushed against Sherlock’s chest, flipping him onto his back with a boldness that seemed to catch him off guard.

“Your turn,” you said, your voice low and teasing.

His eyes darkened, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Be my guest.”

You moved down his body, taking your time exploring every inch of him. His sharp collarbones, the defined lines of his chest, the faint trail of hair leading lower—it was all intoxicating. When you reached the waistband of his trousers, you paused, glancing up to meet his gaze.

“Off,” you demanded.

His smirk widened, but he complied, lifting his hips to help you. When he was fully exposed, your breath hitched.

“You’re staring,” he teased, echoing your earlier words.

“Shut up,” you shot back, leaning down to kiss him in a way that wiped the smirk off his face.

You started slow, letting your tongue trace along him, savoring the way his body tensed beneath you. His hands fisted in the sheets, a low groan escaping his lips.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered, his voice rough.

You smiled against him, taking him deeper. His reaction was immediate—his head falling back, a string of curses spilling from his lips as you worked him with a combination of precision and fervor.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groaned, his voice strained. “If you keep that up, I won’t—”

You pulled back just enough to look at him. “Good,” you said, your voice laced with mischief.

He growled, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulled you back up to him.

Sherlock’s hands tightened on your hips as he hovered above you, his breathing ragged, his dark curls falling into his face. The weight of his body pinned you beneath him, his lean frame pressing into yours in a way that made your pulse race.

He slid into you in one fluid, deliberate motion, the stretch and fullness stealing your breath. A guttural moan escaped his lips, his forehead pressing against yours as he stilled, letting you adjust.

“Christ,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and strained. “You’re… incredible.”

You dug your nails into his back, urging him to move. “Sherlock, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

He didn’t make you wait. His hips began to move, a slow, torturous rhythm that left you gasping.

Each thrust was measured, precise—just enough to leave you wanting more. His lips brushed against your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he murmured, “Tell me how it feels.”

“So good,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders as you arched into him.

His pace quickened, each thrust deeper, harder. You could feel every inch of him, the way his body fit perfectly against yours. The sounds of skin against skin, of his low groans and your cries, filled the room.

“You’re driving me fucking insane,” he growled, his voice raw with desire.

You couldn’t respond, too lost in the sensation of him. His hand slid down your thigh, hooking your leg over his hip to pull you closer. The new angle sent a shockwave of pleasure through you, and you cried out, your nails raking down his back.

“More,” you begged, your voice breaking.

He obliged, shifting again, this time pulling your legs over his shoulders. The depth was overwhelming, every thrust hitting a spot that left you trembling.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low and authoritative.

You opened your eyes to find his piercing blue gaze locked onto yours. The intensity of his stare was almost too much, but you couldn’t look away.

“You’re stunning like this,” he said, his tone reverent. “Completely mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver through you, and you tightened around him, pulling a sharp gasp from his lips.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his control slipping.

He slowed suddenly, his movements deliberate as he leaned down to kiss you. The change in pace was almost maddening, but there was something intimate in the way he took his time, as if savoring every moment.

“I want to see all of you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours.

Before you could respond, he pulled out, leaving you aching and empty. He flipped you onto your stomach with ease, his hands guiding your hips into the air.

“Stay like this,” he commanded, his voice dark with lust.

You shivered as his hand trailed down your back, pausing to squeeze your hips. When he entered you again, the angle was deeper, more intense, and you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips.

“So good for me,” he praised, his hands gripping your hips as he set a relentless pace.

You braced yourself against the bed, each thrust sending you closer to the edge. His fingers dug into your skin, leaving marks you knew you’d feel tomorrow, but the pain only heightened the pleasure.

“Sherlock,” you moaned, your voice muffled by the pillow.

He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back as he murmured in your ear, “You feel fucking incredible. Do you know that?”

You could only whimper in response, the words lost as he hit a spot that made your vision blur.

“I need to see your face,” he said suddenly, his voice softer but no less commanding.

He pulled out again, guiding you onto your side. He lay behind you, one hand lifting your leg as he slid back inside. The position was intimate, his chest flush against your back, his lips brushing against your shoulder.

“Touch yourself,” he murmured, his hand trailing down to guide yours.

You obeyed, your fingers finding the spot that had you spiraling. His thrusts grew slower but deeper, his lips never leaving your skin as he whispered filthy praise into your ear.

“You’re perfect,” he said, his voice a mix of reverence and need. “So fucking perfect for me.”

The intensity built again, the pace quickening as he turned you onto your back once more. His body covered yours, his weight grounding you as he drove into you with a ferocity that left you breathless.

“You’re close,” he said, his tone confident.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words.

“Let go,” he commanded, his hand slipping between your bodies to push you over the edge.

The orgasm tore through you, your body arching as you cried out his name. The waves of pleasure were overwhelming, leaving you trembling beneath him.

Sherlock followed moments later, a guttural moan escaping him as he buried himself deep inside you.

His body tensed, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he found his release.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the room filled only with the sound of your ragged breathing.

Sherlock collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he buried his face in your hair. His body was warm against yours, his breath still uneven.

“You’re remarkable,” he murmured, his voice soft but sincere.

You smiled, your head resting against his chest. “So are you.”

He chuckled, the sound low and soothing. “I suppose we make a good team, then.”

“You think?” you teased, looking up at him.

His blue eyes softened, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips. “I know.”

And for once, Sherlock Holmes had nothing else to say.

#bbc sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch smut #benedict cumberbatch x reader #sherlock #sherlock fandom #smut #female reader #fem reader #smut oneshot #smut writing #one shot

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transvestismus · 1 month ago

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Some of my favourite facts about Sherlock Holmes, from the Baker Street File.

#you can tell i've gone back to working on that damn case fic bc im hitting The Books #literature

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therealsaintscully · 7 months ago

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saintscully's completed johnlock/mclennon/x-files fics - a master post (January 2025)

Since I'm a bit stuck with some of my WIPs, here's a list of my completed ones, ordered by most recent to the oldest:

(x-files/msr) Paper Thin (G, 1 chapter) She doesn’t know which scares her more: that he’ll never find the answer, or that he might.

(mclennon) Gretna Green Waltz (E, 1 Chapter) A fleeting melody chases Paul for decades—a tune half-remembered, a life half-lived. This is its story.

On Hold (E, PWP, 1 chapter) John is on hold with the bank. Sherlock empties the teapot into the flowers.

things we can't untie (T, Friends to Lovers, 1 chapter) John moves back to Baker Street on the last day of summer.

Simon (or: Love Calls You by Your Name) (M, Established Relationship, 1 chapter) John bumps into Simon. The Simon. Five times in one night Simon.

Life and Death in Sunderland (M, Happens during Sherlock's hiatus, 1 chapter) One last sip, one last over-the-shoulder glance at the ghost. It’s still standing there when he leaves, forever staring out into the water. ***Life and Death's companion piece, written from Sherlock's POV during his hiatus, is I Have Not Lingered (M, 6 chapters).

Plus One (G, TSOT fix-it, 1 chapter) More precisely —and more to the point— Sherlock was staring at the man’s arse, hanging mid-air like a denim-clad piñata.

Mark Your Calendars (M, Friends to Lovers, 1 chapter) John happens upon a box full of Sherlock’s old yearly planners.

Erosion (E, Friends to Lovers, 12 chapters) Sherlock's father falls ill. James Sholto is back in town. John has to navigate the consequences of crime, illness and death and their impact on his frayed relationship with Sherlock.

The Fight or Flight series, made up for Fight or Flight (M, TST fix-it of sorts, 10 chapters) - This is the story of John and Sherlock during Mary’s months away from London, continued by Detours (M, Post-TFP, 12 chaptes) - John has to examine everything he thought he knew about Sherlock, himself and their relationship in order to win his rightful place yet again.

#my fics #completed fics #johnlock #mclennon #x files #msr #mclennon fic recs #mclennon fanfiction #mclennon fic #johnlock fics #johnlock fic recs #johnlock fic #x-files fic #msr fic

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yamy-brett · 1 year ago

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"During filming [...] while other actors disappeared to the canteen at lunchtime, Brett would remain on set sitting alone reading the script, analysing every nuance. One of Brett’s prize possessions during filming, according to Manners, was his 77-page “Baker Street File,” which covered everything from Holmes’ mannerisms to his eating and drinking habits. From such obsessiveness resulted heavenly acting."

"The beauty of Jeremy Brett"

Article By James Jeffrey, 21 May, 2020

#granada holmes #jeremy brett #unnecessarily handsome

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yes-asil · 1 year ago

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Hey so I’m about to watch detective Conan for the first time and I just wanted to make sure but Cased Closed is the one I’m supposed to watch first right? Cuz there are a could other detective Conan stuff on the site I’m using

I have the perfect list on how to rewatch the show under the cut

We've got a German website over here, so this is kinda??? official, but not really, it just makes the most sense as far as I'm concerned.

Episodes 001-054

Movie 01 (The Time-Bombed Skyscraper)

Episodes 055-097

Movie 02 (The Fourteenth Target)

Episodes 098-139

Short Stories 01-03 (Wait for Me, Wandering Red Butterfly, Santa Claus of Summer)

Episode 140

Movie 03 (The Last Wizard of the Century)

Episodes 141-173

OVA 01 (Conan vs. Kid vs. Yaiba - The Grand Battle for the Treasure Sword!)

Short Stories 04-07 (Detective George, Ten Planets, Play It Again, Making of Conan)

Episodes 174-186

Movie 04 (Captured in Her Eyes)

Episodes 187-231

Movie 05 (Countdown to Heaven)

Episodes 232-262

OVA 02 (16 Suspects!?)

Episodes 263-275

Movie 06 (The Phantom of Baker Street)

Episodes 276-303

OVA 03 (Conan, Heiji, and the Vanished Boy)

Episodes 304-315

Movie 07 (Crossroad in the Ancient Capital)

Episodes 316-344

OVA 04 (Conan, Kid, and the Crystal Mother)

Episodes 345-356

Movie 08 (Magician of the Silver Sky)

Episodes 357-383

OVA 05 (The Target is Kogoro!! The Detective Boys’ Secret Report)

Episodes 384-396

Movie 09 (Strategy Above the Depths)

Episodes 397-424

OVA 06 (Follow the Vanished Diamond! Conan and Heiji vs. Kid!)

Episodes 425-434

Movie 10 (The Private Eyes’ Requiem)

Episodes 435-452

Drama Special 01 (A Challenge Letter to Shin'ichi Kudo ~Prologue Until Goodbye~)

Episodes 453-459

OVA 07 (A Challenge from Agasa! Agasa vs. Conan and the Detective Boys)

Episodes 460-470

Movie 11 (Jolly Roger in the Deep Azure)

Episodes 471-490

OVA 08 (The Casebook of Female High School Detective Sonoko Suzuki)

Drama Special 02 (Shin'ichi Kudo Returns! ~Confrontation with the Black Organization~)

Episodes 491-504

Movie 12 (Full Score of Fear)

Magic File 02 (Shin'ichi Kudo, The Case of the Mysterious Wall and the Black Lab)

Episodes 505-520

OVA 09 (The Stranger from Ten Years Later)

Episodes 521-529

Lupin III vs. Detective Conan (TV special)

Episodes 530-531

Movie 13 (The Raven Chaser)

Magic File 03 (Shin'ichi and Ran, Memories of Mahjong Tiles and Tanabata)

Episodes 532-561

OVA 10 (Kid in Trap Island)

Episodes 562-570

Movie 14 (The Lost Ship in the Sky)

Magic File 04 (The Osaka Okonomiyaki Odyssey)

Magic Kaito Special 01

Episodes 571-610

Detective Conan vs. Wooo 01

Detective Conan vs. Wooo 02

Drama Special 03 (A Challenge Letter to Shin'ichi Kudo ~The Mystery of the Legendary Bird~)

Movie 15 (Quarter of Silence) (Love that movie aughhh)

Magic File 05 (Niigata ~ Tokyo Souvenir Capriccio)

Episodes 611-616

OVA 11 (A Secret Order from London)

Episodes 617-623

Drama Episodes 01-02

Episode 624

Drama Episode 03

Episodes 625-626

Magic Kaito Special 02-03

Drama Episodes 04-07

Episodes 627-628

Drama Episodes 08-09

Episodes 629-630

Drama Episodes 10-11

Episode 631

Magic Kaito Special 04

Drama Episodes 12-13

Episodes 632-634

Magic Kaito Special 05

Episodes 635-641

OVA 12 (The Miracle of Excalibur)

Magic Kaito Special 06

Episodes 642-651

Movie 16 (The Eleventh Striker)

Magic File 06 (Flower of Fantasista)

Drama Special 04 (Shin'ichi Kudo and the Kyoto Shinsengumi Murder Case)

Episodes 652-666

Magic Kaito Special 07-08

Episodes 667-670

Magic Kaito Special 09

Episodes 671-674

Magic Kaito Special 10

Episodes 675-680

Magic Kaito Special 11-12

Episodes 681-694

Movie 17 (Private Eye in the Distant Sea)

Episodes 695-721

Lupin III vs. Detective Conan: The Movie

Episodes 722-735

Movie 18 (Dimensional Sniper)

Episodes 736-753

Magic Kaito 1412 01

Episodes 754-756

Magic Kaito 1412 02-04

Episodes 757-758

Magic Kaito 1412 05-06

Episodes 759-760

Magic Kaito 1412 07-08

Episodes 761-762

Magic Kaito 1412 09-11

The Disappearance of Conan Edogawa ~The Worst Two Days in History~

Magic Kaito 1412 12

Happy New Year, Kogoro Mouri (Fugitive: Kogoro Mouri)

Episodes 763-764

Magic Kaito 1412 13-14

Episodes 765-766

Magic Kaito 1412 15-16

Episode 767

Magic Kaito 1412 17-18

Episode 768

Magic Kaito 1412 19

Episode 769

Magic Kaito 1412 20

Episode 770-771

Magic Kaito 1412 21-22

Episode 772-773

Magic Kaito 1412 23-24

Episode 774

Movie 19 (Sunflowers of Inferno)

Episode 775-813

Movie 20 (The Darkest Nightmare)

Episode 814-844

Episode “One”: The Great Detective Who Shrank

Episode 845-854

Episode 856-874

Episode 855

Movie 21 (Crimson Love Letter)

Episode 875-898

Movie 22 (Zero the Enforcer)

Episode 899-935

Movie 23 (The Fist of Blue Sapphire)

Episode 936-1002

Movie 24 (The Scarlet Bullet)

Episode 1003-1038

Zero’s Tea Time 1-2

Episode 1039

Movie 25 (The Bride of Halloween)

Zero’s Tea Time 3

Episode 1040

Zero’s Tea Time 4

Episode 1041

Zero’s Tea Time 5

Episode 1042

Zero’s Tea Time 6

Episode 1043-1058

The Culprit Hanzawa Episode 1

Episode 1059

The Culprit Hanzawa Episode 2

Episode 1060

The Culprit Hanzawa Episode 3-4

Episode 1061-current

#detective conan #it took me a while to translate sdhsdj #I'm sure I could have found an english version somewhere but eh #here you go anyway #I'm on ep 86 and I just love the Mouri family + Conan so much

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kneelbeforeclefairy · 1 year ago

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hii ^^ i just wanted to tell you the baker street file is available on zlib

Thank you! I was able to find it on a discord but I appreciate the second source! And maybe someone else will find that useful!

#baker street file #granada holmes #sherlock holmes #jeremy brett

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stellacartography · 1 day ago

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Day 4 Green/grey / chess

The dimming grey of the clouds made the sky look infinitely blank. The washed out light of early February absorbed the colour from everything it touched. Greg was already hurtling towards a headache and Sherlock wasn't helping. Nor was John.

"It was obvious, John."

"Obvious to you is not obvious to everyone, Sherlock, as I've said before."

"The toxin had no other plausible origins. The wife's penchant for occultism notwithstanding, it would have taken thousands of pounds of cherries to extract sufficient cyanide by any method available outside a sophisticated chemical laboratory. And she was pitting them first!"

"It could have been cyanide."

"It could. But it wasn't. Take alone the signs of flushing and asphyxia and it could still be cyanide or arsenic or any number of pharmaceuticals–"

"Enough!" Greg roared, his head pounding. "Get in. No talking in my car or I'll leave you on a wharf."

There were some muffled whispers in the back seat that still sounded like bickering, but Sherlock and John mostly adhered to the letter if not the spirit of the law.

At Baker Street he found temporary parking and followed the two up to the first floor flat. They had quietened at the street door and Greg hung back to watch them, really observe as Sherlock was always insisting he do.

John climbed the stairs after Sherlock, his body held strong. He looked edgy, braced for anything, and when Greg stepped on the stair that elicited an intrusive creak in the silence, he was biting his lip when he glanced over his shoulder.

Greg was aware of the tension John and Sherlock carried between them. He'd been a fly on the wall of their relationship going on eight years. Their relationship had changed and shifted from the breathless infatuation of their early days but still held the startling intimacy that inspired so many rumours.

Greg had explained it to John once over pints when he'd tired of John's defensive "We're not like that; I'm not gay" refrain. "Nobody gets this," he'd said, staring down at his fourth pint. "Everyone wishes they could be what you two are. People see what you have, what you are to each other and they see what they wish they had. What it actually is is yours."

John had seemed willing to absorb Greg's pint-fuelled philosophy at the time, nodding sagely and staring contemplatively into his ale. Though nothing much changed about John's demeanour when yarders made comments about him and Sherlock – he still bristled, still got defensive and snarly – Greg never did hear him say the words "Not gay" again.

Greg followed the dynamic duo into the sitting room of 221B and couldn't help but observe the glances, the touches, the seemingly thoughtless considerations and superficial affections dancing over the surface of an old, deep tension. Sherlock touched John's arm, just about cupping it in the palm of his hand when he passed John his tea. John watched Sherlock stride to his chair as a starving man might watch a hot meal being handed to someone else.

"Godfrey," Sherlock began, leafing through a folder, "If all you need is our statement, you'll find it here and you can be off."

Greg typically categorised Sherlock’s games with his name as affectionate teasing, but today it was harder. Sherlock was more difficult, more of a berk, and he was clearly trying to excise Greg from his cosy evening in. Greg snatched the file away with a sniff and leafed through.

As ever, John had completed his statement and signed it. Sherlock's was blank. Nearly. Greg pulled the pages out and handed them to the lanky berk.

"You know you can't just write 'What John said' and sign your name."

"I contributed to his statement."

"I need your statement Sherlock, not an endorsement of John's. I'm going to make a tea since neither of you have offered and then you can dictate your statement to me." Greg stomped into the kitchen.

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@fluffbruary @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @etrebko @naefelldaurk

#fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2025 #mystrade #sherlock fandom #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade #grey

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saraakpotter · 8 months ago

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do you suppose we could have a platonic bbc sherlock onehsot where the reader lives in the flat to the right and after knowing each other for a few months, tells him “I love you.” for the first time? again, platonically.

please and thank you

okay, i love this request. sorry this took a little long but i hope it's how you imagined it❤️

the most extraordinary way

warning: none :) genre: fluff

The walls of 221B Baker Street had always been thin, a fact that you became acutely aware of not long after moving into the flat to the right. The muffled strains of a violin would often seep through the brickwork, accompanied by the occasional emphatic "Interesting!" or "John, come here!" It was an odd comfort, a reminder that life buzzed on the other side, filled with its own peculiar rhythms.

the first time you met Sherlock, you were at the Scotland yard reading some files and he came to give the answer to a case they have been working on. he found you interesting and now you are constantly at 221b.

today, you came home from Scotland yard tired and angry. let's just say it wasn't your best week. before you enter the flat you saw a small note, hanging next to the door handle. it was from Sherlock:

i have noticed you have interest in classic music. I extend an invitation to you for an evening of musical reprieve. I shall be playing a selection of pieces that, I believe, might be to your liking. Consider it a respite for both our minds.join me at 7:00 pm.

you couldn't help but smile at the note. as the clock hit 7:00 you knocked the door of 221b.

after a few seconds,Sherlock opened the door. his hair was a little messy and he looked excited or maybe happy.

"y\n, glad you came." Sherlock said opening the door.

"thanks for inviting me! i haven't had the best week in Scotland yard" you said with a smile walking in the flat.

Sherlock started playing the violin for a long time and you love it. it really meant to you how he knew all your favorite songs.

you completely forgot about your though week for some time.

after the music stopped you looked at Sherlock and stopped before clapping your hands for him

"Sherlock, that was really incredible! it really changed my mood, in a good way. thank you!" you said

"it was nothing" he said with a small smile but he was secretly really happy\satisfied that he could cheer you up.

after the music, you and Sherlock decided to read books together instead of leaving. and by together i mean you read your own book and he reads his.

you were really happy. you liked Sherlock, he was a really great friend even if some say the opposite. you looked up from your book and looked at him with a small smile.

"what?" Sherlock asked not looking up from his book.

"i love you, Sherlock"

this was the love of a friend for a friend, the love for two people who had become an unexpected part of each others life.

the words made Sherlock look up from his book and at you. even if it was just as a friend, it really meant to him. you know, he really doesn't hear that a lot.

Sherlock had stilled, his back to you, and for a moment, you'd worried you'd crossed an unseen line. But then he'd turned and smiled.

"i know" he teased and then turned serious, still smiling "and i, you, in the most extraordinary way"

you both went back to your books afterwards, but none of you could stop thinking about it.

@sleeplessdreamer14

#bbc sherlock x you #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock fanfiction #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes

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renx01 · 10 months ago

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Out of Sight - part 1

Summary: Moriarty is your boss. After he helped you out of a precarious situation when you were still a minor, you started working for him. Now, he has a new job for you. Get close to the Holmes brothers to keep an eye on them for him. Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mycroft Holmes/Reader & Jim Moriarty/Reader Fandom: BBC Sherlock Word count: 1492

Masterlist

Jim Moriarty is a tricky man to work for, yet you do. After meeting you while you were a seventeen year old that had gotten involved with the wrong crowd, he had seen potential in you. So, after some training from his right hand man, Sebastian Moran, you became one of his best. He even gave you a nickname, Spike, after your personality. When you initially started working for him, you were quite spunky and talked back whenever you felt like it. Now that you’re older and have worked in his organisation for a couple of years, you’ve mellowed out a bit when it comes to business and listening to Jim. Now, you’re a ruthless assassin that will do whatever you’re told to by a certain Irishman in the blink of an eye. Currently, you’re on your way to his estate out of town. The sleek car that picked you up is quite lavish, something you’d somewhat grown used to as he tends to enjoy showing off. You watch the trees flash by you as the car speeds up while music plays through your earbuds. It had been a while since you last were at the estate, as you’d been out of the country for business the past couple of months. The car eventually comes to a halt and you quietly get out.

‘My dearest Spike,’ Jim smiles when you step into his office, ‘it has been a while hasn’t it?’ ‘It has, sir.’ You smile back at him. ‘Business in Hong Kong has been settled without too much issue.’ You glance at Sebastian entering the room. ‘The target has been eliminated and you are now in control of the biggest criminal network.’ Moriarty’s smile turns into a grin. ‘That is wonderful to hear, I didn’t expect any less from you.’ His face suddenly becomes serious again and he turns to Moran. ‘Sebastian, do you have the files I requested?’ The other man only nods before putting the files onto the desk. ‘Good, good.’ He starts looking through before his eyes turn to you once again. ‘Spikey dear, come here. I want you to look through these documents and photographs today, I have a new assignment for you.’ You approach the table and file which is filled to the brim. There’s mostly pictures of and reports about consulting detective Sherlock Holmes. Jim walks around the desk and stands next to you on your right, while Sebastian is already on your left. ‘I want you to get close to Sherlock Holmes and his Brother, Mycroft.’ He points out a picture of the two of them. ‘Keep and eye on them for me. Gather as much information as you possibly can, I do not care how, as long as you don’t reveal your identity.’ Turning to him, you finally look the shorter man in the eye. ‘Of course sir.’ Sebastian shoves another file into your hands before he starts talking. ‘We’ve arranged for a new identity so you’ll be able to fly under the radar. Name: Charlie Moore, age: 27, occupation: intelligence analyst at Scotland Yard. Any other information you may deem necessary can be found in this file. You’ll move into 221C Baker Street tomorrow morning. We’ve already arranged for you to be able to stay there.’ That night you spent looking through the files that were given to you. Sherlock and Mycroft both seem quite interesting in their own rights. Sherlock is a high functioning sociopath that seems to get a thrill out of showing off his intellect and skills to others. His skill is quite incredible, but nothing you hadn’t seen from Jim before. Besides, deduction is a skill a person is able to learn, quite easily in fact. You’d been taught by Sebastian when you first joined Moriarty’s organisation, though your skills have been sharpened over time, with some help from the Irishman himself when he thought you could do better. Now, you rival Sherlock’s speed and skill when it comes to deduction. Still, you understand why your boss is such a fan, that is what he calls it anyway. You think it’s more of an obsession. Contrary to his brother, Mycroft doesn’t seem to enjoy showing off as obviously as Sherlock does, yet he does enjoy flexing his power from time to time. The files you possess show how Sherlock’s newest acquaintance had been picked up by the man’s secretary multiple times and driven to an ominous location so he could talk to John. Supposedly, he offers money to those that get close to his brother, so you’d be keeping that in mind. It does become clear, however, that Mycroft didn’t just hold a minor position within the British government. Clearly he, like your boss, constantly keeps an eye on the consulting detective.

The following morning you arrive at Baker Street using a cab, so as to not have any suspicions arise. You have two suitcases, mostly holding clothes, books, and other essentials. Your larger weapons have already been delivered to and hidden in your new flat, so you don’t have to worry about those. After knocking on the door, you’re greeted by Mrs. Hudson, your new landlady. ‘Good morning dear, you must be the new tenant.’ She smiles brightly. ‘Yes, very nice to meet you Mrs Hudson.’ You smile back and stick out your hand for her to shake it. She does so before letting you in. Before she leaves you be in the flat, to which some basic furniture had already been delivered, courtesy of Jim, she warns you about your upstairs neighbours. ‘I do hope you’ve read the warning about the noise carefully dear. Sherlock can be quite a lot with his antics.’ Despite not being too worried about the noise, having had to deal with plenty of situations which were significantly worse than a single man could accomplish, you make sure to assure her you’ll be fine. ‘Yes, of course Mrs Hudson. Noise does not tend to bother me very much and I’ll be away for work during the day, so I suppose I should be fine.’ You smile at her again before closing your door and starting to unpack. It is Sunday morning, so you want to try and unpack most of your things before the start of the workweek, tomorrow is your first day at Scotland Yard after all. Before you start unpacking though, you put in your earbuds and put on Radiohead’s album In Rainbows.

The day went by without much issue, or noise from the upstairs neighbours. Probably because Sherlock was on a case, as your employer had let you know. During that time, you’d hidden the last of your weapons in places which aren't deductible and gotten your image in check. Your persona was quite a boring one to be fair, and while there’s always a hint of truth in them to make it believable, your own life has a lot more excitement and risk. Still, that is something you have to intentionally hide from the brothers and their acquaintances. Looking at your watch, you decide it’s time to go to the shops, as you’d be likely to arrive once Sherlock’s already back and you’d have a reason to introduce yourself. ‘Bye Mrs Hudson. I’ll be back in a few.’ You close the door behind you and head out. When you return with a bag of food, you’re met by two men standing at the door. You immediately recognise them as Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson. ‘Excuse me, could you please step aside so I can get to my flat?’ You deliberately make your voice softer and quieter than it usually is as to come across as somewhat shy. The doctor steps aside without much hesitation while the detective just turns around and starts trying to deduce you. ‘You must be the new tenant. Nice to meet you, I’m John Watson.’ The short man smiles at you. You shake his hand before introducing yourself and turning to the taller man, though he isn’t much taller than you. ‘Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective.’ He looks you over once again. ‘You’re in the police force but no officer, your nails are too clean for that. You’re dressed as if you have a new job despite it being a Sunday, you’ve only brought clothes you wear to work, which means you don’t go out much or meet people in your free time. You prefer listening to music and reading books to social interactions.’ You feign surprise but are glad, those were all the markers you’d set for him to read. He turns around and heads up the stairs to 221B. ‘I’ll see you at Scotland Yard tomorrow.’ John quickly turns to you and apologises for his friend’s behaviour before following him up the stairs. He’s certainly a character. Didn’t notice a thing though. -S

I told you so, and that’s why I wanted you to do this. -JM

I’ll keep you updated. -S

#fanfic #ao3 writer #fanfiction #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #reader insert #sherlock reader insert #jim moriarty #mycroft holmes x reader #jim moriarty x reader #sherlock fandom #johnlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock x john #sherlock fanfic #no proofreading we die like men

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