#bbc mycroft holmes x you

[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/

[himegureisu]

1 | the Woman

Summary: Mrs. Mycroft Holmes. Yes. You. Most people didn't know you existed. In these years, that's about to change.

A/N: This is the new version. This can be read as a gender-neutral person. However, the pairing remains Mycroft Holmes/Female Reader throughout the story. Season 1 scenes are entirely domestic Mycroft Holmes x Reader. This scene begins at home after Season 1 Episode 1: A Study in Pink. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: There are innuendos at the end of every chapter.

Gaining weight again?

Losing it, in fact.

—————————— 🔎——————————

His stomach was pudgy. It has always been that way since he was a child. Any and every attempt at losing it was an arduous road he refused to take any longer other than the occasional jog on a treadmill at your insistence.

Could he lose it? Yes, however, the effort required to do so was significant in that he would rather accomplish several tasks of import than appease the opinion of others and his vanity.

“Mycroft?”

Your soft inquiring voice breaks through his thoughts. His attention redirected, from the mirror to the sight of you by the threshold from the hall.

“What are you doing in front of the mirror?” you ask, walking over, to stand by his side.

“Sherlock has mocked my weight again,” he sighed, patting the fat on his stomach. “I should be used to it by now, however…”

It was a sore spot from time immemorial. One his brother didn’t hesitate to pick on almost every time they saw each other.

“Are you not bothered by my weight?” he asks, you shake your head: a no, as he faces you, “Truly?”

“Mycroft Holmes, I didn’t care about your weight before we married. I certainly do not care for it much now,” you say as you cup your hands on his cheeks in all seriousness, “I’d rather you eat and overindulge in meals than skip them. It means you’re taking care of yourself. Your job is already stressful and Sherlock being reckless is the literal cherry on top. If partaking in an extra slice of cake can soothe your frayed nerves, then be my guest. However, do save a piece for me, and then we’ll find a way to lose the calories together.“

Your hands trail from his face to his body, noting every curve and contour to memory. He may not be society’s ideal man but you love every part of him. Even those parts that he hates.

“You are incomparable, my dear.” his voice wavered, as he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours. “Thank you,”

“I love you just the way you are, Mycroft,” you whispered, brushing a quick gentle kiss on his lips, “Don’t you ever doubt that,”

To Mycroft, your words were the only ones that truly mattered. Your acceptance and love are a balm to his insecurities and fears. He never thought that he’d ever experience such unconditional love from anyone except his parents. However, it seems that the world has granted him the privilege of being loved by you.

“Would you like to join me in our bedroom, my dear?” he suggested. His eyes twinkled mischievously in the evening light. “I thought of a way to lose those calories,”

“Oh, do tell then,”

“I’d rather show,”

NEXT >>

[fairybonesandstardust]

you can’t knowingly fuck a criminal and then turn around and get mad at them for doing something unethical, dubiously moral or illegal that directly involves you. what about this man made you think he follows the laws, is ethical or even moral? you knew damn well that he killed people for a living. how are you going to date someone whose probably on the FBI’s most wanted list (top 10) and then turn around and be surprised that he invaded your privacy? make it make sense. you can be mad at him all you want but shawty the man has proven time and time again who he is as a person. if this mother fucker is out here willingly killing bitches and has probably broken the geneva convention on multiple occasions what makes you think you’ll be exempt 😭? don’t be shy share with the class?

[bluecookies02]

Mycroft would not know how to flirt.

He would try to win you over with his witty comebacks and occasional compliments.

It's not like he doesn't know what the correct approach would be, but he just can't imagine himself saying such things.

You'd have to notice the subtle hints yourself. He will not poke at your intelligence(he wants to sometimes, it's a reflex, but he keeps his mouth shut when it comes to you), he won't keep the distance he usually does when he speaks to people. Sometimes he'd even brush his hand over your shoulder or waist when walking around you, or squeeze your knee a little if you're both sitting down.

To him all of these are MAJOR hints, yet you're just there, oblivious to everything for a long time.

He'd know that you like him, he isn't scared of rejection, but as you keep ignoring his efforts he does start doubting himself a little bit. Emotions are his weakest field.

When Sherlock gets sick of his unsuccessful courting, he pesters him until he invites you for dinner.

When you ask what the occasion is, he finally manages to tell you. In his own limited way.

"For the occasion of me wanting to have dinner with you, if you would be so kind"

That's all you get. You do still expect that there will be an actual, secret reason once you get there but you assume that he can't speak of it until then.

When you arrive at the restaurant and spend a good portion of the evening just talking about nonsense, you seem to catch on, finally.

"Mycroft, is this a date?" His cheeks are red, his palm covering his face.

"Obviously."

No. Not obvious to you apparently.

He is stressed. Help his poor soul.

You will mock him for literal YEARS about this. Of how the man controlling the whole country took 7 months to gather the balls to ask a girl out on a date despite knowing that she'd say yes.

[badsweetangel]

Kinktober Day 21: Power play (Mycroft Holmes BBC x reader)

BBC's Mycroft Holmes is the epitome of power play (now you know where my kink fixation came from)

Warnings: fingering, tight riding, ownership, degradation.

Tag: @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek

“I hope I don’t have to threaten you too,” he said in his authoritative voice, looking down at you from his desk in a contemptuous manner.

You let out a pleasant, youthful laugh.

“Do you really think I would talk?” You walked over to him, passing by his desk, stopping short when he quickly ordered you to do so with a gesture of his hand.

“Of course not.” He smiled proudly. “Now, I have work to do.”

“Was that all?” You asked disappointedly. “Is that just why you made me come here?”

The look he gave you shut you up immediately. It was obvious you were questioning him because he hadn’t touched you in weeks. He could see it from the rhythm of your breathing and the constant rubbing of your legs. You are so transparent. It was difficult to hide things from him. Not to say impossible.

Despite his order, you walked over to the chair and touched the back of it softly with your hand, swallowing. You didn’t want to say anything wrong, you couldn’t make mistakes with him. He was a man of cold nature. The fact that he didn’t kick you out was already a step forward for you.

“Please,” you begged, anxiously.

Once again you didn’t know what he was thinking. Would he kick you out of his office? Would he cut you out of his life forever for bothering him? Would he get upset with you and call you immature and boast of his intellectual superiority to you?

His chair moved slightly, just enough for you to get closer to him. You did, still without sitting down, and slowly took off your clothes, not caring that he might change his mind and make a fool of you.

No, you didn’t care.

Even if he made a fool of you, you would thank him for it.

You were naked in front of him, while he was dressed. However, that wasn’t the only symbol of power between the two of you, this was just a lewd representation of reality.

The truth is that Mycroft knew everything: your schedule, where you were, who you were with, the content you saw, and he could even deduce your thoughts so easily.

Nakedness was just an insufficient symbol of power.

It was the relationship they would forever have. He would do whatever he wanted with you, he would know everything about you, he would tell you your next possible thoughts and he would belittle you for being so naive. He would tell you that you should listen to him, that you are immature.

His eyes for the first time wandered over your body. He was impassive, he was indifferent to nakedness. He was not such a simple man.

But he saw the desire in your eyes, the need you had for him to possess you and show you who was in charge.

Yes, you had the perfect reactions: fear, pleasure and surrender. Total surrender.

Yes, he controlled your life. But he tried to do it with everyone. So you didn't feel particularly attacked.

He nodded a couple of times as he looked at your body once more and stood up from his chair. His fingers dug into your waist and he lifted you onto his desk.

Two fingers dipped inside you and he fingered you in a spectacular way. He hit all your spots with such easy and simple movements.

He knew your body perfectly.

Knew how to give you everything.

Your hands gripped the table, unable to believe the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you.

You felt an emptiness when he pulled his fingers away.

He shoved his wet fingers into your mouth, reveling in your submission. Yes, he had power. So much power. He could ruin your life with one call. He could do so many things and no one could do anything about it.

He had never been a possessive man, but you were practically his. You liked being under his control. Him telling you he was better than you in every way.

His clever degrading comments.

You lapped up your own fluids in desperation and hunger.

He sat back down in his seat. Directing his gaze to your wet crotch, not taking his gaze away from there. Touching your thigh softly.

He patted his lap.

You obeyed him immediately, riding his leg. Moving with passion and madness, holding on to the back of his chair, while his gaze was contemptuous.

The sensation grew inside you, taking over your body, continuing with the movement even though your body was completely sweaty.

Despite his silent humiliation.

You stained his expensive pants with your fluids.

“Tomorrow you will go see Sherlock” He ordered, ignoring your orgasm.

“I can’t” You denied, quickly. “I have plans…”

“No…” He denied your comment in anticipation.

You sighed. He was never wrong.

[unusuallysubtext]

Hey, can I request a oneshot where Y/n (Mycroft's spouse) suddenly brought a puppy home; they found the puppy on the sidewalk. They brought the puppy home, cleaned him up, and then went to the pet store to buy supplies like dog food, toys, a bed, and a pad for the puppy to pee or poop on. They returned home with all the supplies.

Mycroft finally arrived home after a long day at work. He found Y/n on the floor and was confused at first until he saw the puppy they were playing with. He was perplexed and definitely against it at first, but a few weeks later, Y/n finds Mycroft in the living room with the puppy on his lap while Mycroft reads his newspaper.

Thank you in advance!

Thank you for your request! Requests are open as of 18/06/2024. Tags at end. To be removed/added to the taglist, send an ask or DM me. Critics welcomed, reblogs appreciated! :)

Today was one of those rare days off you had from work, but as usual, it was never in sync with Mycroft's busy schedule. You had awoken to a cold bed with the sun already beaming through the crack in the curtains. With a sigh, you climbed out of bed and stretched, making your way downstairs. A vase of sunflowers stood on the kitchen counter, a card beside it on top of a box of London’s finest pastries.

Good morning, my love. 

Salon appointment at two p.m. 

Take care of yourself.

Love,

M.H.

You smiled, admiring the set up and the time taken out of Mycroft’s morning. Of course he had booked out an entire salon; nails, hair, facials, drinks…

After getting comfortably dressed (a change from your usual business attire), eager to eat more than a few pastries (it would be unfair to try only a couple, after all), you ran downstairs and popped the kettle on.

As you sipped your tea, you pondered how to spend the rest of your day until a car picked you up at one-thirty. The idea of a long walk around the estate seemed appealing, especially with the rare London sun. 

Spring coat and boots on, you set out for your walk. The streets were quiet unlike the bustling inner city, and she much appreciated the calm; it allowed for decompression after high stress days at your demanding job. As she turned a corner into a small park, she noticed a small bundle of fur huddled in the bushes fronting the blue-painted metal rails. Curiosity piqued, you approached cautiously.

To your surprise, it was a puppy, shivering despite the unusual warmth, alone. You were expecting a rabbit, likely dead after the foxes got to it, not an uncommon sight in this area. The little creature looked up at you with wide, fearful eyes. You kneeled, allowing your hand to be sniffed before you picked it up. Upon further inspection, it was only a couple of weeks old, the size of your hand, and bore no collar.

"Poor thing, you must be freezing," you murmured, stroking its soft fur as you held it close to your chest. "Let's get you home."

She made a quick stop at a nearby pet store and vet clinic, purchasing everything the puppy would need—food, a bed, toys, and a small collar, which you left unetched without a name, only your phone number on the back of the tag. 

By the time she arrived back at the house, her arms were full of supplies, and the puppy seemed much more comfortable in your breast pocket. The clinic had not detected a microchip, making you wonder how long the pup had been outside as you set up a cozy corner in the living room. You watched as the puppy explored its new surroundings, following you with tiny, tentative paw taps to the kitchen, where you poured some water and food into its bowls. 

"Mycroft is not going to like this," you thought out loud with a wry smile, imagining his reaction. But the sight of the puppy, now curled up contentedly in its new bed, made her feel certain she had made the right decision.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of playing with the puppy, canceling your salon appointment and ride through Anthea, and preparing dinner after the pup grew tired enough to fall asleep in its bed. As evening fell, you found yourself anxiously awaiting Mycroft's return, wondering how he would react to your new addition and fearing his disappointment of being unable to enjoy his planned day for you.

The grandfather clock struck once, indicating five-thirty and you arose from the dining table to head to the front door. You opened it to see Mycroft, who was pleasantly surprised at your greeting.

“Good evening, darling. How was your day?” he asked, heading in. His smile immediately turned to scrutiny as he sensed something was wrong. “You didn’t go… Why do you have cat hair on you?” Mycroft asked, looking at you.

“Dog, Mycroft,” you rolled your eyes. You weren’t anxious anymore, just keen to see Mycroft discover what you’d done. You followed him to the living room, where he froze at the sight of the sleeping puppy across from you.

“Y/N, what on earth were you thinking? How will you care for it?” Mycroft cried. He never called you by your name. Only ‘Mr/Miss/Mx L/N’ before marriage, and ‘my love’ and ‘darling’ after.

“Mycroft!” you were taken aback, but still attempted to explain your situation. “She was abandoned on the side of the road, no collar, no chip. I couldn’t leave her there!”

“Do you know how many shelters there are in London? One-thousand-two-hundred-and-twenty-seven! Any one of them would have taken it in.” Mycroft was exasperated. “Y/N, please think before making such decisions…” he trailed off, softening his tone and expression as he caught sight of your teary eyes. He walked to you, touching your cheeks and kissing your forehead. “I love you. I don’t love that,” he indicated to the puppy with his head. “I do not want this matter to cause any stress to our relationship. I’m sorry for shouting at you.”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “It’s okay. I’ll see what I can do about her as soon as possible.”

You understood where Mycroft was coming from. Both of you worked full-time, and taking care of a puppy who was rapidly transforming into a full-grown dog was like taking care of a toddler. She would need to be trained, spayed, played with for mental stimulation… it was going to be a lot.

While Mycroft showered, you heated up dinner. As the two of you ate, the puppy awoke and padded to the dining room, watching Mycroft curiously. The two of them stared at the other intently, frozen in place, and you watched in amusement. 

That night, you lay in bed on your side against Mycroft’s chest. It was a miracle that the puppy had not followed you upstairs, but was instead sleeping soundly in the living room. 

-

Mycroft had been sitting on the sofa after dinner, reading their mail while she tried to reach the seat beside him. Watching her struggle for a couple of minutes from the corner of his eye, he finally sighed and picked her up. She lay down next to Mycroft’s side, and he begrudgingly had let her. She fell asleep, as Mycroft mumbled, mostly to himself. “You don’t have a name, do you? You are rather annoying, going to places you don’t belong. Sofas are for humans, the dog bed, as implied in the name, is for you.” Mycroft thought for a moment, then chuckled in revelation. “Sheryl.” He seemed pleased with the name.

-

“Mycroft?” you say quietly, unable to see him. The curtains have been drawn for the night, the bed toasty from your combined body heat. 

“Hmm?”

“Are you jealous of her?”

There is a pause. “That is preposterous! Go to sleep,” you can feel him shaking his head as he is ripped from his near sleep.

You smile to yourself, turning around and kissing his cheek before drifting off to sleep.

-

Days went by, and you spent all of your lunch breaks and the extra ten minutes you had in the mornings at work calling animal shelters in London, despite the heartache. It would not be difficult at all to get the pup into one, just inhumane. Unsurprisingly, they were all overcrowded and underfunded. You glanced up from the website you were reading on your phone to the stack of paperwork overshadowed by your boss. You sighed.

“Working, are we, Mr/Mrs/Mx Holmes?” Ms Smallwood sneered, saying your name as if it were sour milk.

“Yes, apologies, ma’am. No excuses,” you said, grabbing a pen and opening the first file. 

Her beady eyes watched you for a moment before huffing and storming out on her four-inch heels.

You shot Mycroft a quick text.

Going to be late, sorry. Lots of paperwork, ughh. Can’t wait to get a transfer. - Y/F/I.H.

Don’t worry, my love. I’ll have dinner and a bath ready. Don’t stress, my darling. I shall see you this evening. - M.H.

You smiled at your husband’s preemptiveness, silently thanking the universe for having him to go home to. 

It was quarter-to-seven when you arrived home. You walked through the hallway past the empty study and dining room, the aroma of dinner making your mouth water. In the living room, you could see Mycroft, engrossed in reading the newspaper… out loud? Mycroft saw you, and hushed you, pointing to the sleeping puppy curled up against his belly. He finished reading one last sentence of today’s headlining news: ‘Two murdered bodies found in abandoned freezer at Wembley Sainsbury’s.’ 

“Goodnight, Sheryl, sleep well,” Mycroft said quietly, putting the newspaper down and patting her gently before picking her up and placing her in her bed. He then walked over to you. “Hello, darling, how was your day?” 

“Sheryl, huh?” you laughed.

“Too late to change it now, I have already had it engraved,” Mycroft said matter-of-factly. “I have already fed her–one cup–walked her around the estate, had her pee, and read her a bedtime story, of course.”

You squealed in joy, engulfing Mycroft in a hug. “We’re keeping her?!”

“Yes, of course we are, darling. How else will I keep in shape?”

“Oh, Mycroft! You’re already perfect. I love you! I can’t believe we get to keep her!”

Every night onwards, Sheryl lay in wait in front of the dinner table for the two of you to finish eating and take her for a walk. She would chase butterflies in the very park she was found in before returning to her home, where Mycroft would read her the headlines and let her pick her bedtime story from the papers. Some days it was stock trading tips, obituaries and juicy celebrity gossip, other days it was how her Uncle Sherlock was saving the arses of the Met Police, and gruesome murder-suicides. Every night, she fell asleep in Mycroft’s lap, even when she grew up to be a huge German shepherd. Every night, you snapped a picture of the two, compiling the photographs into an album that showed how their bond strengthened and their kinship blossomed.

-

Tagging: @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @that-ace-idiot

[specialagentlokitty]

Mycroft x reader - reminder

Hi can I request a Mycroft x reader? Just some fluff please - @marvelfunkopop101💜

Mycroft Holmes was not a man of affectionate words, or affection at all really, he didn’t like to be hugged, or to hold hands, or say how he felt.

But he showed it in the little things he would do.

He always made sure you had your favourite drink, he would always make sure you got home safe or to work safe.

He would kiss your forehead when he saw you, or when he was leaving.

But sometimes.

Just sometimes.

He would come in, like he just had, and he would get changed, and make his was over to the bed to sit with you.

Except instead of sitting, he laid down, resting his head on your stomach as he sighed softly.

Reaching a hand out, you placed it on his head, and you smiled softly at him.

“Darling?” You asked.

“It’s been a long day…”

You nodded your head, and leant down, turning his face towards you, you kissed his forehead and smiled down at him.

Mycroft smiled a little at you, and he rolled over, laying on his back, but his head still in your stomach as you gently ran your thumb along his cheek.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No, I don’t want to bore you with the events of my day, I’d just like to lay here if I can?”

“Of course you can.”

He smiled and placed his hand on your wrist, running his thumb along your skin, and you smiled, going back to watch the Tv.

He wouldn’t sat there for long, he never did, so when he began to sit up you let him go so he could.

He tapped your shoulder and you sat up as well, letting him wrap an arm around your shoulder, guiding you into his side.

And you curled into him, resting your head on his arms and he held you to his side.

There wasn’t many words needed, sometimes he just liked to sit in silence, and you didn’t mind it at all.

So, that’s what you did, you felt his fingers run through your hair, and his thumb on his other hand trail small circled into the skin of your arm.

You placed your hand on his hand and you took it from your head, holding it next to your face and Mycroft smiled softly down at you.

He was completely fascinated by you, in love with you.

“You’re wonderful…” he whispered.

You laughed softly, and you sat up.

Placed your hands on his face, you leant forward and softly kissed him before you pulled away.

“I love you.” He said.

“I love you too.”

He kissed you once more before letting you return to laying down on him.

Sometimes he liked to tell you he loved you, just as a little reminder in case you didn’t 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〕 • ♥︎ •

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

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

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

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

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✑ 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 ||

[sleep-i-ness]

MAIN MASTERLIST

Mycroft Holmes

Between Duty and Desire (39.1k - completed series) - Mycroft Holmes is the the object of all your heart's desires, your boss's boss, and the bane of your existence. And you know that he will never see you as more than a goldfish, despite Sherlock's insistence, so when Sherlock concocts some outlandish plan to make Mycroft realise that you're clearly the one for him, you decide to just go along with it. (posted on AO3)

[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.”

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When Y/N is invited to a polo tournament on Deville manor, she never expects for the Holmes boys to fall for her during the weekend getaway. Though Sherlock is keen to make sparks fly, his love for Y/N seems more and more like a competition with his older brother.

Y/N soon learns that she has more on the line than simply getting her heart broken. She might also be at the centre of a dark conspiracy. 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

"Do you see John, anywhere?" Mary peered through her binoculars, searching for her husband on the open field. “I promised him we’d pop by before the match.”

Y/N huffed in amusement. Earlier that week, Mycroft had invited John, Greg, Sherlock, and by extension, Mary and Y/N to join him for a weekend's polo tournament. The four men would play against a team of Mycroft's colleagues over the course of three days. It was a prestigious event and several higher up's in the British government would be in attendance. 

The renowned Deville manor served as lodging and camp, with the lord of the house acting as master of ceremonies. Lord Deville's property extended throughout the English countryside, its picturesque landscape making the ideal spot for a tournament.  

Y/N had been quick to accept Mycroft's invitation, only waiting for Sherlock's agreement before blurting out a sharp "yes," herself. She'd been doing that a lot lately - observing Sherlock's interactions from a distance. She ached for his approval but couldn't discern why. 

Y/N ambled past a team of rival polo players with Mary still linked to her arm. Socialites mingled in groups around her. They chatted softly, their fingers wrapped around champagne glasses. Y/N instinctively smoothed down the front of her blouse. She scanned the manor's busy plot and noticed a row of security personall in the backstands working to blend into the background. It didn't come as a surprise that Mycroft had invited them to such a shrouded event. The man dealt in secrets, even during his leisure time. 

"Have you spoken to Mycroft lately?" Y/N asked absently. 

Mary dropped her binoculars. "He's not exactly my confidant. Why do you ask?" 

Secretly, Y/N was intrigued by Mycroft's low profile, but she shrugged it off under Mary's stare. "I was just wondering. Isn't it strange that he invited us all for a weekend getaway? Social niceties aren't really his speed." 

Mary pursed her lips. "You know, I was wondering that myself. I’d say he has something hidden up his sleeve." 

“There’s certainly more to him than meets the eye,” Y/N murmured. She ignored Mary’s raised brow and changed the subject. "Anyway, I can't wait to see Sherlock in his riding gear. Do you think he's ever played polo before?" She bit back a smile trying to imagine Sherlock in sport's attire. 

"Somebody is awfully curious about the Holmes boys today." Mary's eyes gleamed with mischief. "In love with them, are you? Oh, the scandal!” 

Y/N clicked her tongue in annoyance, off put by the unwitting truth in Mary’s quip.  

"I'm only teasing, love." Mary leaned her head against Y/N's shoulder and tried to suppress a giggle. "Come on, I think I see our boys just up ahead!" 

The pair stumbled along a gravel path until they came to the main stables behind the playing field. Inside, John and Greg stood next to their ponies, both dressed in their polo whites and helmets. 

Greg was the first to see them. "Oi, ladies!" he called. "What do you think?" He gave them a twirl, showing off his garb. 

They clapped, both delighted by the outfits. "Your turn, John!" Mary called to her husband. "Give us a spin!" 

John rubbed his pony's mane. "Absolutely not." 

"Come on, mate," Greg urged. "Just a small one." John glanced at his friends and sighed. He spun in a circle begrudgingly and ended with a bow. "Are you satisfied?" 

"Don't play coy," Mary chided. She slid over to her husband's side and kissed his cheek. "You really do look quite sexy." 

"You think so?" John pressed his forehead against hers, pleased with the attention. 

Greg and Y/N shared a meaningful glance, neither a stranger to the Watsons' marital bliss. "Almost make you want a love of your own, don't they, these two?" Greg whispered dreamily. Y/N hummed in agreement. The Holmes brothers flashed in her mind. There and gone again in an instant. Though she smiled, the inspector's words brought an ache to the pit of her stomach. 

She ignored it. 

The sound of footsteps sounded from the other end of the stable. "Fashionably late, are we?" Sherlock stepped in with Mycroft in tow. His posture was relaxed and he radiated a confidence that could be perceived as hubris by those that didn’t know him. The polo whites clung to his lithe frame, perfectly creased and tailored. A red stripe ran up his rider's boots, a striking contrast against the bright ensemble. Though Sherlock had never worn athlete's wear before, if Y/N hadn't known him, she'd swear that he'd been riding since his youth. 

"Terribly sorry about the holdup," Mycroft called out. He glared at his brother with controlled irritation. He also wore the team colours, though his uniform was stitched with a gold crest on the breast pocket, marking him as Captain. He stepped forwards until he reached Y/N's side. He caught her eyes, his gaze inquisitive. "A gentleman never leaves a lady waiting,” he said. Mycroft's words were deliberate and relayed an intimacy that Y/N had never expected from him before. She studied him, surprised by the soft smile peaking from the corners of his lips. He seemed pleased to see her. 

The spell was broken when Sherlock squeezed himself between the pair. "Yes, quite right. Thank you for that rather mediaeval anecdote, Mycroft. Now, why don't you check on the ladies near the playing field instead? I'm sure they're keen to see you. Wives of your colleagues and all." Though his tone was light, a darker mood hid beneath Sherlock's words. He held his brother's gaze with steady defiance, daring him to stay. 

Mycroft spared a last nod at Y/N before stepping out from the stables. Y/N stared after him, puzzled albeit intrigued by his energy. In her bewilderment, she nearly missed the gentle touch of Sherlock's hand upon the small of her back. She looked at him, flustered by the doting gleam in his eye. 

He moved his hand lower until it wrapped around her waist. With the other, he fetched the reins of his mare, guiding it out from the stall. “John, Lestrade, I’ll meet you on the pitch. Five minutes, no more.” Sherlock dipped down until his lips were level to Y/N’s ear. "Walk with me," he breathed. 

Y/N felt a pleasant warmth at the contact. She followed him and though time didn't still, it slowed enough for her to question her affections. 

Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes. 

Two brothers with distinct sovereignty. Both intent on surpassing the other on every intellectual front. Beyond that, a rivalry existed between them, one that transcended their skills of deduction. Contention came naturally between the brothers. One need only imagine what might happen if passion were introduced to the equation. 

“Are you alright?” 

Y/N blinked. Her thoughts had raced off and now Sherlock was studying her carefully, concern creasing his brow. He had led her to a garden labyrinth, the scent of English yew unfurling around them. 

Y/N braved a smile. He was beautiful in the sunlight. She reached out and caressed the mare that had cantered alongside them. It nuzzled into her palm. “I’m fine,” she said. “I was just thinking about the match.” 

Sherlock nodded absently. He placed his hand over Y/N’s so that they both caressed the horse. She could feel his pulse, controlled but forceful against her skin. She met his eyes. She nearly shied away from his focus but he tipped her chin forwards with the shadow of a touch. 

“You’re lying,” he said. “You were thinking of me.” 

Y/N tensed and the mare whinnied. 

Sherlock took both her hands in his own and held them to his chest. “Do you think of me often, I wonder? Do you think of my touch? I know I dream of yours.” Y/N dropped her arms to her sides, numb with anticipation. Though anticipation of what, she couldn’t discern. 

Sherlock Holmes was her friend and nothing more. She couldn’t let her silly fantasies seep into their exchanges.

The overshadow from the noon sun cast darkened contours on Sherlock’s face but it didn’t harden the softness of his eyes. Y/N could no longer deny the implication of his words when she felt the push of his leg press her against the labyrinth’s hedged wall. The prick of branches pierced her back but she held her breath. 

“Is this alright?” Sherlock breathed. He had already drawn nearer, his body flush against hers. His breaths were laboured, the faint touch of his lips on her cheek electric.

Y/N nodded. 

Sherlock pulled back. “I need to hear you say it,” he said. “Otherwise…” he let the sentence linger, giving weight to his words. 

“Yes.”

He exhaled as though he were expecting a rebuff. “Thank you.”

Sherlock licked his lips before dipping forwards and catching Y/N’s kiss. He held the back of her neck, the softness of his touch suggesting a fear of fragility. Y/N tensed despite the thrill of their tryst. Her blouse dropped from a shoulder and she gasped at the sudden coolness punctuating her warmth.

Sherlock grinned as he pressed another kiss to her neck. He caught the exposed skin from the fallen sleeve and breathed in the fading scent of her perfume and the labyrinth’s flora. He pushed deeper into the crook of her neck, landing tender kisses along the delicate line towards her jaw. 

Y/N stood rigid at first, her chin resting against Sherlock’s shoulder. All she could do was grip at the back of his polo shirt, still disconcerted by his sudden show of passion. “I love you,” she heard him murmur into her neck. Her breath caught before she heard it again. “I love you.”  

Y/N let her head fall back on the hedged wall. She felt as though seeing through a veil, unsure of this new development. Just yesterday, Sherlock had treated her as a friend. Though she always wished for it to be true, she hadn’t expected to become his lover only hours later. Mycroft flashed through her mind, but she waved him away.

Why was she thinking of the elder Holmes brother when Sherlock stood there having just confessed to loving her? Mycroft had shown her a rare kindness today, but she couldn’t pretend that it meant anything. 

What had changed? 

“Sherlock, I —”

“Five minutes, nothing more, was it?” a voice called out suddenly. 

Y/N flinched and quickly straightened herself out from behind Sherlock. She peeked behind his shoulder and saw Mycroft standing across from them. He seemed bemused yet his eyes relayed vexation and hurt. 

Sherlock turned and faced his brother. “Has it been longer than that already?” he asked jokingly. “Time seems to have gotten away from me.” 

“Indeed. You’re already six minutes past the mark.” Mycroft geared forwards, his steps deliberate, his mood icy. “Hello Miss Y/N,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to be the keeper of my brother’s protraction.” 

Sherlock looked back at Y/N and grinned. “Our meeting was imperative,” he assured his brother, arrogance dripping into his tone. 

“Recreational,” Mycroft corrected. 

The tension was heavy between both brothers and Y/N shuddered at their subtle resentment. “Sherlock, lead the mare to the pitch,” Mycroft ordered. 

Sherlock stood firmly. “Can’t you?” he said innocently.

“I can’t always be the one to clean up after you. Take responsibility, brother mine. Or else you’ll lead her astray.” 

Mycroft’s words were cryptic and Y/N got the sense that the conversation had veered away from the mare. 

Sherlock tensed but did as his brother commanded. Just before he left though, he turned to smile at Y/N. “We’ll pick up on this, I swear to it,” he said, pressing one last kiss to her cheek. She smiled back but felt nervous at the unspoken truths writhing between both brothers’ obscured words.

They were hiding something and she was somehow involved. 

Mycroft watched his brother leave before approaching Y/N. “This is already a strenuous event for me,” he said to her. “Do not prolong my agony.” 

Y/N shuddered. “What do you mean?” 

He smiled, but there was a sadness to it. “You look lovely in that dress,” he said, ignoring her question. 

“Mycroft?”

“Tread lightly. There are secrets to this tournament that I fear will destroy you.” He sighed. “Take care of your heart, for it will prove your undoing.” Mycroft unclipped the stitched crest from his breast pocket and handed it to Y/N. “Maybe this will help in time.” 

Y/N watched as he stepped away after his brother. Her heart was beating fast and the labyrinth’s glamour was slowly losing its appeal.

What had just happened?

Y/N felt as though caught in a web. She couldn’t distinguish sibling rivalry from the threat of something more sinister happening on the Deville manor. She tucked the crest into her pocket, too off put to inspect the strange gift just yet. 

She thought of Sherlock. Did he truly love her? It had all seemed so perfect until those last few moments. 

Y/N tried to steady the frantic beating of her heart. She would search for answers soon enough. She would unveil the Holmes brothers’ secrets. She would decipher the ragings of her emotions. Until then, there was a polo match to attend. She hoped it would run smoothly but in the deepest parts of her, she knew:

Madness would ensue.

────────⊳⋆⊲��───────

*grabs you by the coat collar* wanna read Feels Like Christmas?

Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this!!! I'm thinking of making "Game of Kings" a three part series, but I'm really not sure. It's a maybe possibly at the moment. So, if you're wondering about the sudden click where Sherlock randomly professed his love to Y/N without any context to the nature of their relationship... I'm leading up to that (hopefully). Is it genuine??? Is he playing with her heart??? Protecting her, maybe??? I don't know. And the sitch with Mycroft will come into play too. I hope this fic wasn't too messy.

tagging: @twisted-monster ​ @starryeddie ​ @the-chaotic-cow ​ @turkisherlockian ​ @aephereal ​ ​ @andthevillainshallrises ​ ​ @baby-bloos ​ ​ @cookiemumster1 ​ ​​ @eternal-silvertongued-prince ​ ​ @bogginsreadings ​ ​ @lumosouls ​ @spencerrxids​ @serenity-lattes ​ @msseijii @classickook ​ @starstruck-loner ​    @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson ​ @lucywrites02 ​ @danzalladaggers @mrs-holmes ​ @pytharuw @antsn​ @kabubsmagga @newtsniffles ​ @cemak​ @sleepilysworld ​ @bakerstreethound ​

[himegureisu]

Hey just wanted to ask if you'll do a next part for the Mycroft x reader ff 'the woman' maybe where his sister has also captured his s/o and she gets hurt

Was actually contemplating what to do about the later seasons because I didn’t like the Eurus arc.

[distinguishedkryptonitecreator]

𝕸𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖞'𝖘 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖒

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Series: Sherlock BBC

MASTERLIST

I II

Synopsis: You discover that you are in love, unfortunately with the same man your friend loves. How will you survive that.

Note: English is not my native language, so some words may not make sense, apologies in advance.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐈

━━━━♡

The name Thomas Beckett made my heart skip a beat.

“Thomas Beckett? What’s going on with him?” I asked, trying to keep calm as I sat on the sofa. The gears in my mind began to spin rapidly, trying to understand why they were mentioning my boss’s partner.

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if my words had bothered him, though he didn’t show it openly. His rigid posture and the way he clenched his jaw revealed that something else was going on. Mycroft, on the other hand, seemed impassive, as if he enjoyed my confusion.

“Miss, it’s quite simple. We know for certain that, despite holding a position not so prominent within the company hierarchy, you have certain connections with high-ranking officials,” Mycroft commented with a tone that carried a hint of disdain. I glared at him.

A position not so important? Really? My role as a senior developer was more than relevant. It wasn’t for nothing that I had spent so much time studying, sacrificing sleep and proper meals, taking various part-time jobs with low wages to pay for my studies, and enduring the distance from my family while living in a noisy shared flat. I was proud of what I had achieved and all I had done to get there, so his words only made me boil with anger.

“You know, I’m starting to think I might not want to collaborate with you,” I replied, crossing my arms firmly. Mycroft raised an eyebrow, but before he could respond, Sherlock intervened, surprising even his brother.

“Listen, I know you got your position thanks to that intern program, and also that...” Sherlock paused, his blue eyes locking with mine as if he were unsure about what he was about to say, “that you have a history with Beckett.”

The mere mention of my past with Thomas made me feel as though the ground was slipping away from under my feet. It was true that Thomas and I had been more than friends in college. We were inseparable, and eventually, we became a couple. Thomas had always been the brilliant and attractive one, so his success with women didn’t surprise me. There was something about his charisma that drew people to him like a magnet.

However, everything ended. We went our separate ways, each with our own dreams. There was no sense in holding back. I would never forget the surprise I felt when, years later, I encountered him in one of the hallways of the place, with his immaculate dark suit and polished shoes. A smile from ear to ear that I hadn’t seen in a long time. The Thomas Beckett I knew as a student was now a man who had built his own cybersecurity company.

“What does that have to do with the case?” I asked, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

Sherlock let out a sigh, as if finding it difficult to explain the obvious.

“Everything,” he replied with a coldness that left me stunned. “Beckett is under suspicion, and we need to know how involved he is in certain activities. Your proximity to him, both personal and professional, could be key to uncovering what’s really going on.”

“Suspicion of what?” I pressed, starting to feel that what I was about to hear would not be pleasant.

Sherlock looked at me with a mix of seriousness and something I couldn’t quite identify.

“Beckett is being investigated for alleged involvement in an industrial espionage network. There are suspicions that he has been selling confidential information from several tech companies, including yours, to foreign competitors. And it’s not just about his disloyal behavior. There are indications that this data is being used for purposes that compromise national security. There have been leaks pointing to connections between Beckett and an organization called Argus, known in the underworld for handling military contracts and cyber warfare technology.”

My heart raced as I processed his words. Thomas involved in something so murky. It was hard to believe, but I knew Sherlock didn’t say these things lightly.

“And what does this have to do with me?” I asked, though a part of me already suspected the answer.

“As a developer, you have access to sensitive information, and your past relationship with Beckett could have facilitated his access to what he needed,” Sherlock replied, his words sharp but laden with a concern he was trying to hide. “We need to know if you have any knowledge of something that could incriminate him or if you’ve been used, even unknowingly, to access that information.”

“Look, I understand this is a shock to you, but we’re not here to accuse you,” John interjected for the first time, his usual calm tone. “We want your help because we know you’re not involved, but also because you could be the key to stopping this before it spirals out of control. If Beckett is innocent, we’ll prove it. But if he’s not, you need to know he could be using his relationship with you for his own ends.”

“Exactly,” Mycroft added with a slight nod toward John. “We need someone on the inside, someone who can verify if our suspicions are correct. And who better than someone who has Beckett’s trust.”

My mind was in full turmoil. I knew that working with Sherlock and Mycroft could lead to unimaginable situations, but I never thought I’d find myself in something so serious, and even less that Thomas could be involved in something like this. What would this mean for my career, for my life? The consequences of collaborating with them could be devastating. I could lose my job, and my reputation would be in ruins. But if what they were saying was true, if Thomas was really involved in an espionage network, ignoring it wasn’t an option.

“If I agree to help, what guarantees do I have that this won’t affect my professional life?” I asked finally, looking directly into Sherlock’s eyes, hoping for some sign that he understood the risks I was facing.

Sherlock held my gaze for a moment that seemed eternal before responding, this time in a much softer tone, almost a whisper:

“You have my word that we will do everything possible to protect you. But we need you.”

I knew that getting involved in something like this could have severe consequences. Not only for me but for my career as well. What would happen if the company discovered that I was helping Mycroft and Sherlock in an investigation that could involve one of its major partners? The collateral damage could be devastating. However, there was something in Sherlock’s gaze, an indication that this case was not just another for him, that made me reconsider.

And although part of me knew I should stay away, that getting involved could destroy everything I had worked for, another part, perhaps the one that still cared for Thomas or the one that didn’t want to leave Sherlock to face this alone, decided to take the risk.

“Alright,” I said finally, feeling a knot in my stomach. “I’ll help.”

John nodded with an expression of gratitude, while Mycroft simply gave a calculating smile. Sherlock, however, did not show any immediate reaction. Only a slight glimmer in his eyes indicated that he had been expecting this response. I wondered if there was something more behind that look, something more personal. But there was no time for reflection. I was about to enter a dangerous game, and there was no turning back.

As they prepared to leave, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen to see a message from Molly.

┏━━━━•❅•°•❈ •°•❅•━━━━┓

“Hey! Fancy a girls' night out? We haven’t had one in ages. Let me know!” ✓✓

┗━━━━•❅•°•❈ •°•❅•━━━━┛

━━━━♡

NOTE II:

I'm so sorry for missing out. I've been a little unmotivated and university doesn't help. But I hope you liked the chapter. You will hear from me soon, I promise.

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

Coming soon....

Send me an ask or leave a comment on this post if you want to be tagged when I upload chapters.

Want to listen to the playlist that I've created for the fic? Enjoy!

[madlittlecriminal]

Mycroft Holmes Masterlist

*DISCONTINUED*

(*) ➞contains sexual innuendos/light smut

(**) ➞contains smut

(▾) ➞contains angst/trigger warning(s)

(°) ➞authors personal favorites

(…) ➞request

(•) ➞holiday themed

(§) ➞alternate universe (AU)

(≈) ➞headcanons (HC)

(۵) ➞prompts

(❅) ➞blurbs

-Creep (▾)(…)

-Little Things Matter (…)(°)

-My Little Tease (…)(*)

-Only You (…)(*)

-Plankton (…)

-Phone (…)

-Quince (…)(°)

-There’s Nothing Holdin’ Me Back (▾)

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Infidelity (Sherlock BBC x Reader)

Sherlock BBC characters' reaction to finding out you've cheated on them.

Warnings: Toxic relationship with Lestrade, Moriarty is a threat in himself, slight power play.

Sherlock

He feels alienated. He has to deal with his jealousy, because he likes constant validation, so if you take it away from him he feels displaced. He doesn't suffer much from the deception itself, because everyone knows what it's like, but he does suffer because it couldn't be enough. Once everything is over, they just look at each other from afar, suddenly he sketches a smile, but he can't trust you anymore.

John Watson

Actually, I think you could get over it. If it was a one-time thing, he would try hard to understand if you wanted to explain (after some time alone, of course). And if he feels your reasons are valid, he would give you a second chance. However, there are never third chances.

James Moriarty

Okay, he's done it before. However, if there's a mutual agreement of monogamy, I think his revenge would simply be to take away his protection. Everyone knows you're involved with him and many might actually hate you. So, he wouldn't be there to protect you anymore. You better avoid cheating on him, he's a dangerous man.

Mycroft Holmes

You can't. Yes, that simple. You can't cheat on him. He knows where you are all the time and even if he didn't send people to follow you, he would still know. He has a very marked power over you and I really doubt you would expose yourself to something like that. In the super hypothetical case that you could, he would simply disappear from your life.

Greg Lestrade

You remain in a toxic relationship where he knows what's going on, but neither of you discuss it directly. He would just want to win your favor over and over again. Please don't cheat on him, he's a good man.