#bbc mycroft fanfic

[reallyunluckyrunaway]

Please SOMEBODY make it happen!!!!

[lilmoonbunny]

Denial; Mycroft Holmes

Mycroft only seeked you out to deduce you (aka, how Mycroft realised he liked you).

John and Sherlock were, without a doubt, the loudest neighbours that Y/N had ever had.

Gunshots at God only knows what hour, constant stabbing, banging, and so on. Despite this, she still considered them dear friends and the best neighbours that she had ever had. Sure, they were weird and loud, but they were also kind and genuine, at least for the most part. Alongside this, they also appreciated her baking, especially after long cases.

A gentle knock sounded on the door the 221B catching the attention of three people.

“You can come in, Y/N,” Sherlock called from behind the door, greeting the woman with a nod before turning his attention back to Mycroft whilst John smiled at her.

“Hi, Sherly. Hi, John.” She smiled at the two friends before turning to the older Holmes brother. “Hi, Mr Holmes.” Y/N greeted him with a smile. Although she hadn’t met him before, it wasn’t difficult to deduce who he was; the expensive suit and the fact Sherlock was glaring at him gave it away.

“Sherly?” Mycroft spat, grimacing at the nickname given to his brother. “Who on Earth would you let call you that?” He asked.

“This is Y/N, our neighbour. What have you brought for us today? I’ve been looking forward to this all week.” The sweet smile Sherlock gave to the woman made Mycroft feel ill. He had no clue who this woman was and absolutely no idea why they seemed to be this close.

“Chocolate cake, sugar cookies, and love.” She joked, beginning to laugh at the way Mycroft audibly gagged. “I’m only kidding. No love.”

“I should certainly hope not,” came Mycroft’s response, one which simply made her laugh again.

“Are you jealous, Mycroft?”

“Because of the cake, he is.” Sherlock interrupted, waving Myrcoft off. “No, I won’t take the case. You can leave now.”

“This is an urgent matter, brother mine.”

“Don’t care.”

With a groan and a roll of his eyes, Mycroft lifted himself to his feet and prepared to leave.

“I’ll leave these with you, just in case you change your mind. Goodbye brother mine. John.” The hesitation was obvious on Mycroft’s face, despite how well he typically hid his emotions, as he faced Y/N.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr Holmes.” Y/N smiled sweetly, earning a simple nod from him before he left.

Sherlock, who had leaned to grab the tub of baked goods from the woman’s hands, rolled his eyes as Mycroft left and immediately began to eat.

It wasn’t long until Y/N’s entire life had been researched.

There wasn’t much there. No criminal record, a few jobs, occasional moves, but no sign of her posing any danger to Sherlock and, by association, John. However, the way Mycroft felt upon seeing her was unusual, so he decided to do his own investigation.

“Morning, Mr Holmes,” he was greeted before he reached the empty counter. “Welcome to my bakery! Would you like anything?”

“Just a coffee, please. Black.” Mycroft nodded, not returning the smile she had given, despite the odd feeling it gave him. She was evil and he would prove it to Sherlock.

“Coming right up! Take a seat wherever you’d like, and I’ll bring it over.”

As Mycroft occupied a seat, he took a moment to properly assess the woman making his drink.

She didn’t seem threatening: a content smile on her lips as she prepared his coffee, humming a quiet tune that he barely picked up on. In fact, she didn’t seem out of the ordinary at all, but the feeling when he first saw her – a feeling Mycroft couldn’t explain – had him needing to investigate her further.

“Here you go, Mr Holmes.” Y/N said, placing a hot coffee and chocolate cake on the table in front of him. “Sherlock mentioned that you like cake, so I grabbed you some. It’s all on the house.”

“Why?”

With a small laugh, she responded without hesitation. “You’re Sherlock’s brother.”

How odd, Mycroft thought to himself. She doesn’t even know me and she’s giving me things for free…

Despite his thoughts, Mycroft simply nodded, watching as she took a seat opposite him. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s quiet today so I figured I’d try and keep you company the best I can. I’m sure you have better company than me, though.”

“I don’t mind,” he replied before even thinking. It was safe to say that he didn’t enjoy the way his chest felt whilst he watched her smile.

Maybe she’s a witch? No, don’t be stupid, Mycroft. They don’t exist.

“So,” Y/N’s voice broke the man from his thoughts. “It’s a funny story how me, Sherlock, and John met. I was actually working and Sherlock bursts in demanding to talk to me. My baking stuff had been found at a crime scene and he thought it was me!”

“How interesting.” Came Mycroft’s blunt reply, even if he was intrigued.

“You listened to it, so you must care, even just a little bit. I think that’s a win for me!”

Mycroft couldn’t help the tiniest smile that crawled onto his lips, but he internally prayed that nobody noticed it, especially her. She, however, seemed oblivious to the movement, simply staring over his shoulder and out of the window.

“Anyway, what was he like growing up? Was he like he is now? Blunt and rude?” Y/N asked with a giggle.

“He wasn’t, actually. He was rather sweet. He liked playing pretend with his friend; he always wanted a dog too.” Came Mycroft’s reply. “His favourite thing was pirates.” He said with a fond look in his eyes. Sherlock wasn’t going to be happy when he found out that he had told her, but he couldn’t resist answering her question.

Mycroft watched closely as the woman in front of him grinned, the bright and happy smile a nice contrast to what he was used to whilst working with the government. He couldn’t help but smile back, noting how her smile widened further as he did so.

“That’s sweet. I couldn’t imagine that, to be honest,”

It was time to ask the question that was on his mind. “Are you attracted to Sherlock?”

“Sherlock?” Y/N said, bursting into laughter. “No, absolutely not. He’s more like an annoying older brother. Same with John. We’re just friends, and, well, neighbours too.”

Confusion spread over Mycroft as she felt the weight on his shoulders lift at her words; she was telling the truth.

“How is she?” Sherlock asked the moment he answered the phone.

“How is who?” Mycroft’s voice sounded through the device.

“Y/N,”

“Why do you assume that I know?”

“It’s obvious you were there earlier.”

“…”

“Well, that and Mrs Hudson told us.”

“Of course she did.” Mycroft said with an involuntary roll of his eyes.

“So, how was it?”

“It was fine.”

“You like her then?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, you went to see her. It’s quite obvious, Mycroft. Come on, I thought you were smarter than that.”

Mycroft simply put the phone down.

He did not like her.

The next time that Mycroft came across Y/N was when it was raining.

He hadn’t wanted to seem ‘creepy’ by seeking her out again for more investigations and deductions, so he simply waited. She was friends with his brother, it wasn’t like their paths wouldn’t cross at some point. Besides, he didn’t want Sherlock to think that he liked her.

“Raining real bad tonight, isn’t it?” The driver spoke to Mycroft. He was new, so Mycroft couldn’t exactly blame him for attempting some type of conversation with him; it was still annoying, though.

Anthea, looking up from her phone was what caught Mycroft’s attention. “I feel bad for her.” She said, nodding towards a soaked woman. It only took Mycroft a moment to realise who it was.

“Pull over,” he stated bluntly, grabbing his umbrella. He simply ignored the look he was receiving from his assistant.

It had been a long day filled with rude customers, and to make it worse, it was raining, and she had forgotten her coat. Today couldn’t be going any worse for Y/N.

Shivering wildly and soaked to the core, Y/N huffed, watching the way her breath instantly evaporated; it was clearly below freezing, but she held out hope that the rain would stop and she would be home soon.

Her hope seemed to pay off, though, since she could no longer feel the rain. As she looked up at the sky, she spotted a familiar face.

“Mycroft?”

“Y/N.”

“What are you-“

“Get in.” He said, pointing towards the car before wordlessly leading her towards it, still holding the umbrella above her, even if he was getting wet.

“You don’t have to, Mycroft.” She said as he ushered her in and shut the door behind them both. “I mean, I’m soaking your car!”

Mycroft, who could feel the heat on his cheeks from their proximity, simply shook his head. He was too focused on the way her leg was pressed against his as she sat between him and Anthea who stared at her phone with a small smirk.

The ride was void of conversation, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, the only noise was that of Y/N shivering.

After a moment of hesitation, Mycroft shrugged off his jacket and handed her it. “Here.”

There was no chance of refusal, Mycroft wouldn’t allow it, so with a quiet ‘thanks’, Y/N popped the jacket over her shoulders. He just found the chattering of her teeth annoying, was what he told himself.

As they arrived at the flats, Mycroft followed her out of the car.

“Thank you, Mr Holmes.” She said as they stood on the door of her flat.

“Mycroft is fine, Y/N.”

“Thank you… Mycroft.” She said with a small smile before bidding him a goodnight.

“I see you gave her your jacket,” Was all Sherlock said as Mycroft entered 221B.

It was hard. Very hard. Harder than anything Y/N had ever experienced. Having a crush was not easy as it was, but having feelings for Mycroft Holmes was the hardest thing in the world: he rarely showed emotion, he was blunt, he was rude, but most importantly to her, deep down, he was nice.

A small sigh left Y/N’s lips as she worked on her latest batch of cookies for the morning. He was on her mind… again. It was a common occurrence by now.

“We’re not open yet, sorry!” She called over her shoulder at the sound of the door opening. As she turned around to see who it was and apologise again, a blush rushed to her cheeks. “Mycroft! What are you doing here?”

Mycroft stood there, umbrella in hand, and gave a simple shrug. “I was on my way to work so thought I would ‘pop in’ as people say.” He explained, earning a laugh from the baker.

“Modern phrases don’t suit you, Mycroft.” She teased.

With an amused shake of his head, Mycroft took a seat at the table nearest her.

“Want some cookies? They’re fresh out of the oven!”

Mycroft nodded with a grateful smile, always glad to have sweet treats. He would never turn down anyone’s desserts, least of all Y/N’s; not because he liked her and didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but because she was a good baker.

The pair sat in a comfortable silence, Mycroft gladly eating his cookies with an appreciative look whilst Y/N worked on her next batch. There was nothing awkward between them, and there, surprisingly, never had been.

“Are you not at work today?” Y/N broke the silence with a question that was bugging her. She could have sworn Mycroft had always worked this time over the months that she had known him.

Mycroft hesitated for a moment. He was supposed to be there right now but had decided to visit you before. It wasn’t like anyone could fire him for it, he was basically the British government, after all.

“Not yet,” he lied, and he was glad that he was a good liar.

“Oh, okay! I’m happy you came then. I don’t want to bother you.”

“You could never be a bother,” the words fell from his lips before he even registered what his thoughts, and he noticed the blush race up her cheeks, as did she with his.

“Thank you, Mycroft.”

As he stared at her and her rosy cheeks, a million thoughts went through his mind, but they were all related to one thing: her. It was in that moment that he realised the truth, he did like Y/N, and he had been attracted to her since the beginning; that was what he was feeling.

Oh dear…

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Someone To Rely On

Sherlock never trusted anyone, but now, barely without his knowledge, he trusted five people. Five! It was outrageous.

Despite his snarl and distaste for his brother’s involvement in his life, Sherlock trusted Mycroft nearly most of all. Nearly.

Whenever Sherlock ended up in a drug den, needed transport, or rescue from Serbian prisons, Mycroft was the one to trust, and he never failed to deliver.

Behind Mycroft in line, there had been Lestrade. Sherlock could always count on the DI lacking the brains to solve a difficult case, then turn to the world's only consulting detective for help.

His beloved landlady was dearer to Sherlock than his own mother. Her biscuits and cakes were the best in the land, perhaps even the world, and he didn’t mind her fussing all that much. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. Besides, she loved their bickering just as much as he did.

Molly, next. His cheeks blushed when he thought about how over the years, he has exploited her crush on him to the fullest. Crowding in on her to let her get a whiff of his cologne. Lowering his voice when he wanted to get access to some interesting body parts. 

The only times he has touched her, though, were to apologise for his behaviour and thanking her for helping him faking his own death. Both kisses were full of regret on his part, and he still wished he hadn’t needed to bestow them on her.

And then there was the enigma, the soldier, the doctor, the man with as many trust issues as Sherlock. John Hamish Watson. The most loyal man he has ever met. A man who actually killed another man to save Sherlock from his own stupidity mere hours after they’d met. He was admittedly an awful cabbie, but the truth remains; John had not hesitated when he fired that gun. His hand was steady, his shot perfectly aimed. It took Sherlock an embarrassing amount of time to realise who the hitman was, but when he did, he was defenceless.

***

After years of living together, Sherlock knew for a fact that John was the puzzle that would always remain unsolved. That thought appeared in his mind numerous times a week. Sometimes, numerous times a day.

On Mycroft’s last visit, he called John a Living Weapon. When Sherlock had insisted on an explanation, his older brother had rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“You are totally blind when it comes to Doctor Watson, brother mine.”

Sherlock waved a hand, indicating for his pompous arse of a brother to continue.

“How loathe I am to state the obvious, there is…how shall I put it…the effective way he disposed of Mr. Hope. I don’t think I need to go into details of every time the good doctor has kept you from harm’s way, for which I am most grateful. Be it his hands, his fists, his arms in general, or illegal firearms, he is there for you, Sherlock. Always. From day one. I am certain he would have a go at me if he thought I was a threat to your life.”

Mycroft looked smug after this delivery, which Sherlock didn’t notice. He was so deep in thought, he failed to perceive that his brother left the flat. When he returned from his Mind Palace, two hours had passed.

He had created a new room for John in his mind, using all the images Mycroft planted there while he listed every way John had saved him over the years. He used less than three seconds to name it.

John Hamish Watson - The Living Weapon

***

“You’re unusually calm,” John murmured into Sherlock’s ear when he came home that afternoon.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Sherlock asked a bit puzzled.

“Considering that your brother has visited,” John clarified.

“Ah. The knocker,” Sherlock sighed. “We really should consider gluing it to stay askew for eternity.”

John chuckled and kissed Sherlock’s jaw. The great detective inhaled sharply when he realised that John’s new room in his Mind Palace would need more images. All the ways John brightened his life, how he loved him, were weapons too. Sort of. Because Sherlock was totally helpless when his lover used every trick in the John Watson Bible of Seduction to get his attention.

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I'll leave it up to you to deduce whether Mycroft was aware he was using a pun...

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[multific]

Destiny

Mycroft Holmes x Reader

Summary: What happens when you fall in love with the IceMan himself? It can never end well, right?

Destiny.

A simple word yet it held so much power.

What does it mean to be destined for something or even, someone?

When you first heard about this word, your grandmother told you how she and your grandfather met.

A true love story.

A story so beautiful it was always in the back of your head as you grew older and older.

You hoped you would have a similar experience in your love life. Finding, the person and falling in love, it all sounded amazing.

You knew you wouldn't be able to force such a thing, you were aware of that. And yet, you were impatient. 

So impatient that in fact, you fall into many traps.

In many ways, you thrived in your life.

Expect your love life.

Your desire for a love like no other made you fall in love with men who were undeserving. 

Until you met Mycroft Holmes.

To say that he was the entire British Government would be an understatement.

You applied for a simple job, to be his assistant.

You spent so much time with him, that you thought you were going insane.

You blamed Stockholm syndrome for your feelings.

The moment you realized your feelings were real was during a very difficult week.

Almost every criminal in London had an agenda to mess with him. This caused you to do so much overtime, that you didn't even leave the office.

It was during the fourth day when Mycroft showed up with a bouquet. 

"I thought you would be home," he said, clearly he wasn't prepared to have you right there, at your desk. "Usually you arrive at 6:46 because you stop by at the nearby bakery for breakfast and coffee." 

So, he did pay attention to you. After he spent all that time to make sure you are aware that he simply doesn't care for people like you.

"I stayed to finish the file on this. I-"

"Did you eat?"

"No, Sir." he made a face at that and took his phone out of his pocket.

"Delivery will be here in 10 minutes. Eat, drink your coffee and then come speak with me. I'll be in my office."

He ordered exactly just what you wanted with the most perfect coffee you ever had.

He paid attention to you.

And you realized your feelings for him were real.

You knew hiding it from him would be impossible. Mycroft was incredibly smart. He would notice.

But little did you know, he felt the same.

He thought you would notice his feelings and confront him about it. 

He wasn't ready for a rejection.

Yet, your rejection never came.

Not when he asked you out to dinner. Not when he brought you another bouquet.

Not when he kissed you.

Instead, he let you guide him.

Love wasn't new to him. He loved his siblings, and his parents but this kind of love is very different. 

He didn't have experience with this kind of love, and it scared him a little.

But he also didn't reject it.

He embraced it.

And soon, a beautiful diamond ring found its rightful place on your finger.

It might have not been the way you wanted your one and true love.

But it was your destiny.

And you were okay with it.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[forevers-world]

A Mycroft Holmes appreciation post.

What a beautiful specimen of the human race. 👏👏👏

[strawberrywinter4]

May 9 | Prompt: Intimidation

Warning: Depictions of violence and drug use.

“You’re just too much sometimes, that’s all I’m saying,” his mother comments as she troubles herself with the dishes.

Mycroft rolls his eyes. He knew it would be a poor idea to come visit. He should have just settled for a call.

“You almost scared John away,” she says, scrubbing a class clean. “Your comments and glares at dinner are not helpful, you know. Sherlock almost had your head.”

“John is anything but frightened by me, Mummy. He made that perfectly clear when we first met.”

“Sherlock told me about that first meeting.” She sighs, turning toward him with a scolding expression. “Mycroft, why did you do that?”

Mycroft wills his cheeks not to flush crimson in embarrassment. “It was merely for precaution.”

“Sherlock is a grown man. He can take care of himself.”

Mycroft’s hands clench the kitchen counter. She doesn’t know. She hasn’t seen the extent of Sherlock’s pain like Mycroft has.

“All I’m saying is that I think you should be more considerate to the people who seem to actually want to be around him,” she says. “And John…well, he’s a very polite man. I think he’s good for Sherlock. Very good.”

Mycroft doesn’t answer her. Realizing she’s not going to get a response out of Mycroft, she leaves the kitchen with a tut under her breath.

Mycroft’s eyes are trained to the sink.

——

The front door opens and shuts loudly, Mycroft wondering if the force of it broke any vases. Ignoring his brother in the lounge, Sherlock runs up the steps, his little feet going as fast as they can. Mycroft hears his bedroom door shut.

Mycroft sighs, getting up and leaving his science project. Heading upstairs, he turns the corner and knocks on Sherlock’s door.

“Go away, Mycroft!”

Mycroft is silent for a moment, then tries for the door handle lightly. Locked, of course. He rests his head on the door.

“If you open the door, I’ll make Ginger Nuts.”

A few seconds pass and the lock clicks, the door creaking open. One of Sherlock’s blue eyes peak through the crack. “Do you promise?”

“Yes.”

Satisfied with the reply, the door fully opens. Mycroft holds his grimace successfully, but it isn’t a simple task.

Sherlock’s eye that wasn’t peaking through the door is a mixture of purple and black, a few bruises gracing his jaw. His lip is cracked and blood is oozing down his chin.

Mycroft attempts to keep his voice leveled. “Sit on the bed, I’ll grab the first aid kit.”

Returning with the kit, Mycroft is pleased to see Sherlock took his advice for once, sitting on the sheets, eyes focused on his legs as they swing back and forth over the edge.

Without comment, Mycroft sits beside him. “Up,” he instructs, tilting Sherlock’s face to the correct position. He applies alcohol to a cotton and begins dabbing the application to his brother’s lip.

They sit in silence, Sherlock hiding his winces and Mycroft cleaning the blood and bruises.

“When are they coming back?” asks Sherlock.

“I’m not sure. Probably not for another few days.” Mycroft is used to their parents being gone for business trips, but Sherlock is still wrapping his mind around it.

Silence falls again. Then Sherlock speaks up:

“Are you really making Ginger Nuts?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

It takes everything in Mycroft not to crack a smile. “Why is that?”

“You don’t like Ginger Nuts and you only do things that benefit yourself,” he says bluntly.

Mycroft hums. “You really think so little of me?”

“Yes.”

They both share a grin.

Mycroft’s face hardens as he wipes another trail of blood on Sherlock’s cheek. “Did you decide to make another quip?”

Something changes in Sherlock’s expression. Something akin to…embarrassment? Shame? Mycroft’s not sure, but he’s never seen his brother acquire such a look.

“I didn’t,” Sherlock replies.

“Then what happened?” Mycroft demands, though his voice is quiet.

Sherlock shrugs. “I don’t know.”

And it truly seems like he doesn’t know. “Then tell me what could have possible occurred.”

Sherlock looks down, his finger trailing the design of the solar system on his bed sheet. “I thought I made a friend.”

Mycroft blinks. “A friend?”

Sherlock nods. “He said he wanted to be my friend. At break, he offered me to join him at the back of the building to play, and I said yes because…well, I told you about the pond that’s back there.”

Sherlock enjoys observing the frogs that live around there.

“I thought I’d show him the pond,” Sherlock says, this time more quietly. “But then we got there and he pushed me in the mud. His apparent friends came around the corner and…”

“Did that,” Mycroft finishes, nodding to Sherlock’s face.

Sherlock nods in answer.

Mycroft will never understand it. Out of all things, he will never understand this. Yes, Sherlock is odd. He has required rudeness over the past year, but Mycroft fully believes that Sherlock has just been taking after him.

Then there are the admittedly good things about him. Sherlock enjoys rambling about scientific discoveries, he likes to play in ponds and rain, he likes to help Mummy bake, he likes to play Pirates (which is actually quite fun), and he is a swift and independent learner. Mycroft admires these qualities. And though he’s never been good at showing his affection (and possibly never will be), he and Sherlock know how to make their relationship work.

“I will take care of them,” Mycroft says as Sherlock wipes tears from his eyes.

“They’re big,” Sherlock says. “And scary.”

Mycroft snorts. “Bigger than you. Not me.”

Hesitantly, he puts a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. This seems to give a sign to Sherlock that he’s been waiting for, and he hugs Mycroft tightly. Stunned, Mycroft settles for patting his curls awkwardly, but this doesn’t will Sherlock away. Sherlock continues to hug him and cry, and Mycroft wants to make it all go away.

After a while, Sherlock releases him and sniffles stubbornly, wiping more tears. “Can I have Ginger Nuts now?”

Mycroft stands, nodding to signal Sherlock to come along. “You’re assisting me. I know you know how to make these in your sleep.”

——

In a random building, in a random place. That’s usually where he is.

Mycroft hears either miserable sounds or nothing at all. He sees stranger’s eyes rolling to the back of their head while taking sedatives or pills.

The curls are unmistakable. Sherlock is huddled up in a corner, a blue hoodie wrapped around him loosely. Mycroft nudges him. He then turns him and is not startled to see his pale skin, his unhealthily sharpened cheekbones or his dull eyes.

Mycroft sighs.

He helps Sherlock up and practically drags him to the vehicle parked thankfully close outside.

Carefully putting him in the passenger’s seat, Mycroft gets behind the steering wheel.

Mycroft glances at him, and is overcome with what his brother has turned into.

“Brother mine. Why do you hurt yourself so?”

He knows Sherlock doesn’t hear him, doesn’t understand his whispers.

Maybe that’s for the best.

——

“I worry about him…constantly.”

John stares at him. “That’s nice of you,” he murmurs.

“But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned. We have what you call a difficult relationship.” Mycroft keeps his voice impassive. His heart aches.

John’s phone pings. It’s obviously from Sherlock.

They continue with comments back and forth. Mycroft feigns an impression that he’s only wanting Sherlock’s whereabouts for personal gain. John seems to believe it wholeheartedly.

Mycroft can’t decide if John is worth Sherlock’s time.

Probably not.

Mycroft analyzes him to get a rise out of him.

“Are we done?” John asks, attempting to keep his frustration to a minimum.

Anger issues. Of course.

The rest of the meeting goes not so smoothly. John leaves obviously bothered and Mycroft doesn’t know, he doesn’t know if he can trust this man to even come close to deserving Sherlock’s friendship.

No one does. It’s the truth.

Mycroft has been called overprotective. He’s been called annoying. Unfair. Unethical.

Mostly by Sherlock.

But what are big brothers for?

——

You can read it here on ao3 as well.

I hope you all enjoyed! Love me some Sherlock and Mycroft lore.

Prompt by @calaisreno Thank you!

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[bs2sjh]

My first @flashfictionfridayofficial! Thanks for the great prompt!

Fandom: Sherlock (Johnlock, Mystrade)

I'm also posting it on Ao3. It's over 1000 words, so feel free to go here to read it!

cw: implied drug use, implied suicide attempt, implied torture

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There had been a number of times where Mycroft Holmes had been made very aware that he did, in fact, have a heart beating in his chest after all.

The first was when a small, red-faced infant had been brought home. As Mycroft looked down at the crying, screaming thing, he didn't expect the sudden jolt in his chest. A stab of sudden overwhelming emotion. What was equally unexpected was that when he stroked his new baby brother's face and told him to quieten, that everything was going to be okay, that he would always be protected by his big brother, the infant had listened. William Sherlock Scott Holmes simply looked at his older brother, and Mycroft felt that deeply. 

The second time was sheer pain at finding his younger brother in a drug den, surrounded by needles, barely breathing. It wasn't the first time he'd found him in a place like this. But on this occasion, it felt different. Mycroft knew that this time, Sherlock had not meant to survive the encounter. Scooping up the younger man in his arms, his heart ached at how thin the boy was, at how little life remained in him. He took him straight to the nearest hospital, where they whisked him away, leaving Mycroft with his aching heart to sit and wait. It wasn't until many days later that Sherlock opened his eyes to see the concerned expressions of his family around him. In his heart, Mycroft knew that this wouldn't be the last time his brother would be in this situation. The pain was indescribable. 

The third time was seeing Sherlock chained up in a filthy cell in Serbia. His brother had spent two years moving around the globe, destroying pockets of Moriarty's empire single-handedly. That the criminal mastermind hadn't targeted Sherlock's family should have hurt, but strangely it didn't. Knowing that Sherlock had people he cared about enough to keep them safe meant that he valued at least some people in his life to prevent their suffering. It was a pity that John Watson didn't know the lengths to which Sherlock would go to protect him. It might have saved his heart some of the ache he was currently feeling. But seeing Sherlock beaten, tortured, at the edge of his sanity. Anger filled his heart this time. That someone could do this to his baby brother. Infiltration successful, Sherlock finally cut down from his bonds, too weak to stand, bleeding and barely conscious. Mycroft hardened his heart and made sure no one who had laid a hand on his brother was left to tell the tale. 

The fourth time was the hardest to bear. To know that Sherlock had once again sacrificed his life for a love that would never be acknowledged. By now, Mycroft was angry at John Watson. He had Sherlock's undying love but was so blindingly stupid not to realise that fact. So here they were, in a prison cell, Sherlock about to be sent away on a one-way mission to the place he had been rescued from not long before. All so that John Watson could be happy. And there was nothing Mycroft could do. His heart ached at how easily Sherlock would throw his life away for someone who merely considered him a friend. But nothing Mycroft could say would make Sherlock change his mind; he refused to tell John the truth, and that was that. The relief when Moriarty appeared on the screen, the phone call that followed, the pardon that he had hoped for arriving almost too late. His heart skipped with happiness only to sink again when he realised his brother had fallen back on old habits. No one who had seen that list could think otherwise. Sherlock had not meant to land in Serbia alive. Telling John Watson to look after his brother was the hardest thing he had ever done, but at that point, Mycroft knew he had to let go. His heart couldn't take any more. One day, Sherlock would succeed, and his heart would break. 

The fifth was a surprise. As Mycroft stood blinking at his brother, who was sitting at the kitchen table in Baker Street bouncing a three-year-old Rosie Watson on his knee, his heart gave the biggest lurch he'd ever felt. He felt for the chair he knew must be there and sank into it like his strings had been cut. 

"Best man?" His brother rolled his eyes and set Rosie on the floor, watching as she toddled off into the living room.

"Yes."

"But..."

"But what? You've been there every day, meddling, since I was born. For once, and once only, I'm asking you to be there. With me." Mycroft's heartfelt three sizes bigger; a lump appeared in his throat, and his eyes started to fill. Choking down the emotion, Mycroft coughed and turned away. 

"Don't tell me it broke him too. You two are ridiculous." John laughed as he walked into the kitchen. So a few weeks later, Mycroft stood next to his brother as he married his best friend, finally. 

If the fifth was a surprise, nothing shook Mycroft more than the sixth. He was standing on the edge of the dancefloor as he watched Sherlock waltz with his new husband, besotted expressions on their faces. It happened when the other best man approached. 

"So, normally, I guess I would be asking the maid of honour to dance. But seeing as that would either be you or me in this case, would you do me the honour of this dance?" Gregory Lestrade held out his hand for Mycroft, and at once, something like a bolt hit him straight in the heart. 

"I'd be delighted, Gregory." He accepted the proffered hand, and they waltzed onto the dancefloor. As they moved in time to the music, Mycroft felt his heart change. He continued to feel its presence long after the dance, the night, the week. Mycroft spent the rest of his life knowing full well he had a heart. It was a joyful feeling most of the time, and, on occasion, it ached. It got larger as their families grew and settled. And he never once said again that caring was not an advantage. Because he had learned that it most definitely was. 

@totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @dapetty @calaisreno

If you'd like to be tagged when I post a new story, let me know!

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2024-08-13

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite BBC!Mycroft Holmes stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | ��F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning

✑ Earth Angel by lacelynpage • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: You spent the last year and a half planning your wedding and know every detail except one. Mycroft picked and then wouldn't tell you what song you would be dancing to for your first dance.

✑ Force Majeure by the-girl-next-door-writes • 〔F〕 •

Summary: Mycroft Holmes is so caught up in analyzing his own feelings that he doesn't see they could be reciprocated. Lucky for him, his little brother is an interfering shit.

✑ He Should Know What to Expect by galactic-academia • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Lady Smallwood wants to 'have a drink' with Mycroft; he's confused, but Reader knows exactly what to do...

✑ Hold My Hand by grace-writes-sh*t • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Mycroft Holmes was not known as a very compassionate man. To some, his emotionless personality is… strength, himself included in this. To others, it is viewed as insensitivity and rudeness. However, to one such woman in his life, it is nothing more than a shield to protect the ones he loves.

✑ It's Beautiful by sherlockxreader • 〔F〕 •

Summary: Rain usually means less people milling around London streets. Still, you love the rain. Seems someone else appreciates it as well.

✑ Little Smiles by marvelmymarvel • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: When life got crazy as a spy and your life was endangered, the US sent you to England to be protected and 'start over' as they would like to say. You were placed under the care of Mycroft Holmes and soon became the mystery woman to the people of England.

✑ Motivated by sherlockxreader • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Mycroft hasn't been enjoying exercising, so the reader decides to help motivate him creatively by working out with him.

✑ Pointless Jealousy by megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms • 〔A〕 •

Summary: You can't help but feel heartbroken after learning about Mycroft's *ahem* arrangement with Lady Smallwood. Mycroft makes the situation by dismissing your jealousy as a pointless emotion.

✑ Your Hand in Mind by girl-next-door-writes • 〔A〕 •

Summary: Witnessing the death of Mary Watson causes Mycroft to focus on what he feels is truly important to him.

✑ A Matter of Take Out by bakerstreethound • 〔F〕 •

✑ A Proper Date by thranduilsperkybutt • 〔F〕 •

✑ After You by thranduilsperkybutt • 〔F〕 •

✑ Because by thranduilsperkybutt • 〔F〕 •

✑ Can't Lose You by specialagentlokitty • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Cuddles with Mummy by fandom-puff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Deeply and Unswerving by anna-liz-fiction-blog • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Feelings by imagine-by-susu • 〔A〕 •

✑ First Date by multific • 〔F〕 •

✑ First Sight by collecting-stories • 〔F〕 •

✑ His Weakness by imagine-by-susu • 〔A〕 •

✑ I Need to Go by imagine-by-susu • 〔A〕 •

✑ Jealousy by coppercatwrites • 〔A〕 •

✑ Just a Tad Sweeter by sherlockxreader • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Late at Night by multific • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Masquerade by megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms • 〔F〕 •

✑ Midnight Mission by fandom-writers • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ My Boys by make-me-imagine • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Never Fell Out of Love by raggedy-dxctor • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Oh Darling by lacelynpage • 〔F〕 •

✑ Pleasant Distraction by fandom-puff • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Precious Cargo by bewarethecrazyperson • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Prim and Proper by fandom-writers • 〔F〕 •

✑ Pub by make-me-imagine • 〔F〕 •

✑ Sherlock No! by specialagentlokitty • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ So Brilliant by lacelynpage • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Surveillance by thranduilsperkybutt • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Time the Ice Man Melts, the by deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Two Minutes by thranduilsperkybutt • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Visiting by fandom-puff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Work Function by multific • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Wrong Person by anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Dating Mycroft Holmes... by lacelynpage • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Dating Mycroft Holmes... by raggedy-dxctor • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || BBC!Mycroft Holmes Master Index

Authors: @anna-liz-fiction-blog || @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek || @bakerstreethound || @bewareofthecrazyperson || @collecting-stories || @coppercatwrites || @deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts || @fandom-puff || @fandom-writers || @galactic-academia || @girl-next-door-writes || @grace-writes-shit || @imagine-by-susu || @lacelynpage || @make-me-imagine || @marvelmymarvel || @megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms || @multific || @raggedy-dxctor || @sherlockxreader || @specialagentlokitty || @thranduilsperkybutt ||

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Take Care

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

Requested by Anonymous

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

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

“She…she has what?”

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

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

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

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

“Is she alright?” John asked hesitantly.

“I…no. I don’t know,”

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

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

“Y/N…she has cancer.”

“She what?” Surely he had heard wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How bad is it?”

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

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

…

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You looked up at Sherlock with a frown.

“Just for a walk.”

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

“Gee grandma, you first,” you scoffed.

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

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

…

“Drink.”

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

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

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

“I’m fine.”

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

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

“Since now.”

You glared at Mycroft.

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

“No.”

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

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

“Wanna bet?” You challenged.

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

“John, a little help?”

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

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

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

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

…

“She won’t answer.”

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

“Should we pick the lock?”

“She’d kill us.”

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

When the lock clicked, he called out a warning.

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

Silence.

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

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

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

“Why won’t you leave me alone?”

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

“About what?”

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

“Alright, talk.”

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

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

“Because we’re worried,” Mycroft corrected.

“You shouldn’t be.”

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

You were silent for a long moment.

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

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

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

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

“You’re going to be ok,” he promised.

You smiled.

“Thank you.”

[lilmoonbunny]

Balls and Questions; Mycroft Holmes

Mycroft has a question.

There was nothing Y/N hated more than attending balls, but alas, it was mandatory in her workplace. Being in the cyber security sector of the government was nothing short of exciting, at least until you factored in that the digital safety – and perhaps physical also - of the country was essentially in her hands. Socialising had never been her forte, least of all dancing, so combining the two was a nightmare which is likely why she stuck by her close friend Mycroft Holmes.

“Do we have to be here?” Y/N whispered, being careful as to not be too loud that others around them would here.

Frankly, Mycroft did not care about being heard and replied in his typical voice. “Sadly, yes. I do not wish to be here anymore than you do.”

With a sigh, Y/N turned to face those dancing, watching her friend Anthea dance with a man she had been approached by moments prior.

“I don’t know how people dance so much; I couldn’t do it.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Mycroft asked, turning to face her with a raised eyebrow.

Y/N smiled. “A bit of both. I don’t think I’d be a good dancer.”

Mycroft hesitated for a moment, seeming as though he was about to say something before turning back to facing the crowd.

Everyone seemed to be having fun except the pair stood off in the corner of the room, both praying that nobody would approach them, although, Mycroft did have a question on his mind for the woman beside him that he was not yet willing to ask.

Truth be told, he had harboured feelings - a ‘silly crush’ as Sherlock called it - for her for the last year, having worked together for three, yet no matter how many times Sherlock told him that she reciprocated his feelings, he did not believe him nor wish to approach her romantically. He didn’t believe that he could be a good partner to her and did not wish to hurt her in any form.

“Maybe we can leave early? Say I feel sick or something.” Y/N chimed in with her idea.

“That does not get me out of this, I’m afraid.”

“Just say you’ll take me home or something,”

“That would start rumours.”

Y/N smiled sadly, taking a sip from the glass in her hand. “I guess you’re right.”

“I always am,” Mycroft replied, shaking his head when Y/N turned to him with a raised eyebrow and a smile, a giggle falling from her lips.

“I’ll take your word for it, Myc,”

There was that nickname again, the one that she had been calling him for the longest time when they were alone; the one that always had his cheeks flushing. It gave him confidence, well, downing his drink also helped.

“Would you like to dance with me?” He asked, avoiding looking towards the woman, despite wishing to see her reaction.

Y/N smiled to herself. “I would love nothing more than to dance with you. And not just a single, slow dance, I just want to have fun and dance with you for the rest of the night.”

Maybe balls weren’t so bad after all.

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Warnings: mentionings of torture, injury.

Don’t Tell Him

The pain is greater and more agonising than all the beating he got in that filthy cell in Serbia, because this pain isn’t just physical. Sherlock knows that if he answered John’s insistent questions about who the shooter was, it would break John’s heart, despite what Mycroft says.

“Tell him, brother mine,” Mycroft urges. “John is far more resilient than you give him credit for, and his feelings for you…”

“Don’t!” Sherlock snaps. “The love of his life shot me in the heart. I refuse to add that burden to his confused mind.”

“I agree that he is confused, but not for the reasons you think, Sherlock,” Mycroft says cryptically.

Sherlock closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep. He’s not only in constant pain, but he’s also exhausted with all the emotions that this whole business regarding Mary Watson throws his way. It’s so much harder to stay focused and aloof when the painkillers leave his brain all foggy and relaxed. His pining for John comes to the surface, tugging at his heart.

“Go home to Mary,” Sherlock urged John before Mycroft arrived. “She needs you more…”

“I’m staying,” John interrupted in his stubborn tone. “Just fetching some clothes and stuff before I’m going with you to Baker Street tomorrow. Non-negotiable!”

He had lifted his chin in defiance, daring Sherlock to protest. His last words are a puzzle Sherlock still hadn’t been able to deduce.

“You need me, and I need…to…”

***

John has gone to Aldi to buy milk, bread and eggs, wile Mycroft stays to keep an eye on his brother, with strict instructions from the good doctor to call if anything changes regarding Sherlock’s pulse, heartrate, temperature, and several other unnecessary trifles. (Sherlock’s words)

“John, for Christ’s sake, go!” Sherlock says exasperated. “I’m fine.”

John looks sceptically at him, grabs his wrist and takes Sherlock’s pulse. When he’s satisfied, he hurries out of the bedroom and descends to the front door, probably running all the way to the shops to reduce his absence to a minimum.

“Are you still convinced that he only has friendly feelings for you?” Mycroft asks with a quirked eyebrow.

“Don’t tell him, Mycroft! He can’t know. If he’s ever to realise how much…I…I wish she had finished…”

“Sherlock!”

Mycroft rarely raises his voice but when he does, it speaks volumes.

“I would not survive your demise, brother mine. She can count herself lucky that she didn’t kill you. Even John’s plea for her life would’ve been in vain, her pregnancy notwithstanding.”

Mycroft’s voice trembles with emotions, which is odd to witness.

***

Sherlock has no sense of time anymore, but he thinks it’s been days since his conversation with Mycroft. Something is being delivered, and John’s steps are heavier than usual when he ascends the stairs.

Carrying something. Not groceries. Two bags. One over each shoulder.

When John brings his meds later, Sherlock observes that something is different. John’s face is displaying a variety of conflicting emotions. There’s determination and insecurity, sorrow and relief, anger and hope. The last deduction does something to Sherlock’s shattered heart.

“What’s happened?” Sherlock asks calmly, although he’s terrified of the answer.

John’s voice sounds mechanical, as if he’s rehearsed what he’s about to tell Sherlock.

“Mary left a note. She’s gone. The baby isn’t mine. Her name isn’t hers. She’s apparently an assassin. Worked for Moriarty. She shot you. You knew, and you wanted to shield me. I want you to stop doing that.”

He sheds his clothes down to his pants and tee and climbs carefully into bed. Sherlock’s breath catches in his throat.

Is this real, or a hallucination?

“It’s real, Sherlock,” John tells him, as if he’s the one who’s become a mind-reader.

He lies down beside Sherlock, letting his palm rest over the wound, over his heart. The heart that beats solely for John.

Does he know? If so, how?

“You’re not as subtle as you think, Sherlock. What I saw traces of before this, became clear as day when your brain function was compromised by painkillers. Am I wrong?”

Don’t hide. Tell him.

“No, John. You’re not,” Sherlock says and places his hand over John’s.

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @keirgreeneyes @raina-at

@helloliriels @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler @a-victorian-girl @peanitbear

@meetinginsamarra @topsyturvy-turtely @phoenix27884 @jolieblack @221beloved

[renx01]

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

[canigetawahoo-at221b]

Please can someone recommend some johnlock/mystrade fics that are gut wrenchingly sad or makes you cry so hard your snot bubbles sadness.

Like I want something so upsetting I could cite it as a reason to get more therapy.

I’m fine btw, I just want a cry 🤣

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Hey, my requests are open

I decided I would also like to write for other fandoms outside of f1.

I’m thinking about:

Criminal minds

Aaron Hotchner

David Rossi

Emily prentiss

Game of thrones

Little finger

Tywin Lannister

Tyrion Lannister

Sansa stark

John snow

Star trek

Leonard McCoy

Spock

Christopher pike

Harry potter

Severus Snape

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

Lord of the rings

King Thranduil

NCIS

Leroy Jethro Gibbs

Sherlock

Mycroft homes

The walking dead

Negan

Celebrities

Alan Rickman

Lee Pace

Pedro pascal

Zak Bagans

Let me know if you want other fandom or characters I’m open for everything.

Drop a request.

I would be happy to write it

[forevers-world]

Being married to Mycroft Holmes would include:

Your wedding was definitely an extravagant affair. He's the British government so he had the money to burn

His parents l o v e you. They never thought their son would get married and they were thrilled when they found out about the engagement

Sherlock and Eurus still find you kinda sus but that's okay

Your friends are Mycroft's friends, even though he thinks they're all "goldfish"

You're excited to brighten up your new home so the enormous house isn't as gloomy as it was when Mycroft was single

He's not to keen on the idea at first

Eventually he gives in tho

He's still getting used to being open and affectionate, but tries

He loves giving you flowers when you least expect

Jewelry too

He's surprisingly a really good kisser

He loves coming home to you

He knows he doesn't have to prove himself to you because you love him the way he is

He loves you too

And he loves telling you

"I love you"

[bs2sjh]

New Fic: Flatmate and a Half

What if there was 50% more Holmes at 221b Baker St?

Sherlock has a little extra secret that he doesn't tell John about immediately. There are two Holmes boys at the flat, and both would quite like John to move in.

Posting weekly on Ao3. Chapters 1 and 2 are available now.

If you'd like tagging, let me know!