#benedict cumberbatch x female!reader

[iamsherlocked1479]

Happpy New Year

Stephen Strange x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: explicit content 18+, slut shame, chocking

Description: Stephen doesn't like that you recived a compliment, he doesn't like that somebody would even consoder they had a chance with you.

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Most people are drunk right now, you’re not denying that you were, of course nobody leaves a Stark party completely sober. All beat it, most of the guests haven’t left yet, they were currently counting down to midnight last you heard the ball will drop in 10 minutes, but you couldn’t care right now. You’re currently pressed up against the padded wall of what looks like a gym, technically you hadn’t left Stark Tower yet, with your legs neatly parted over Stephen's shoulders as his tongue glided through your slick folds. 

“Oh fuck steph- we’re gonna miss the countown, we have to- shit.” Your eyes squinted shut and your hand tightened in his hair as he drew you closer to an orgasm. Your statement was thoroughly met with a grunt and a quick “I don’t care sweetheart” as his tongue continued to lap its way around your clit.

This had all started because Thor complimented your dress, he meant no harm of course only stating that you should belong with the Asgardian gods. But like always Stephen was jealous, he hated that a man would even consider himself worthy of being able to see you the way he did, a goddess in your own right. So after that one incident, at exactly 11:49pm Stephen had enough of the looks you were getting, even though you only had eyes for him, and proceeded to pull you into the nearest empty room and show exactly how only he could make you feel.

“Shhh, sweetheart, don’t want anyone hearing those sweet sounds you make for me.” He said, snaking his hand up your body to cover your mouth as you came. He lifted your legs off his shoulder and pinned you between him and the wall. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you, your hands continued to work on the buttons of his shirt as they had done earlier before he dropped to his knees for you. “Ah, ah sweetheart” he grabbed your wrists and moved your hand to his tight trousers where you palmed him through his clothes, “we gotta do this fast, i want all the others to see me kiss you at midnight.” He purred as he spun you around, tracing his cock between your folds before pushing you against the wall with a deep thrust. 

You didn’t like jealous stephen, but you loved the way he fucked, he was normally so gentle and kind making sure to touch and kiss you everyway possible before slowly drawing out orgasm after orgasm. But jealous Stephen, he fucked hard, he wasnt one for yelling or arguing, so he would take out his frustrations by pounding into you, he wanted to prove how fast he could make you cum how only he could make you feel that good. 

“You’re mine you know that right?” He purred as he sucked and nibbled at the pulse point on your neck leaving a purple mark for all to see. His cock had the perfect curve making it rub right against your g-spot in this position.

“Steph- please, i know im yours, fuck” you cried as his hand snaked around your neck bringing your head to his. He squeezed slightly, not enough to make it hard for you to breathe, but enough for your hand to clamp onto his wrist and walls to clench around his cock.

“Did you like the way Thor looked at you?” He moved his free hand to pull your dress down just enough to expose your tits to the world. “Did you want him looking at these?” He groaned with his cock twitching inside you. He grabbed on one of your tits, roughly massaging it in his hand and pinching on the nipple. “You know you’re so beautiful, I know you know every man smart enough wants you, admit it you like the attention.” He hissed, kissing your neck and thrusting even harder causing a pile of weights to tumble to the floor. “Tell me sweetheart, do you enjoy the attention?”

“Ye- shit, yes stephen. Fuck.” You moaned, your legs shaking at the overstimulation. He spun you around so that you could see yourselves in the mirrored walls, one hand gripped your chin and pointed you towards the mirror, while the other clung around your abdomen holding you in place as he kept himself inside you.

“Look at you.” He hummed in satisfaction, you looked at what you saw, your dress creased, tits popping out over the top of your dress, mascara running down your face, legs shaking, “look at us” you looked at him through the reflection, eyes darkened, hair stuck with sweat to his forehead, shirt falling down his shoulders and his trousers down only just enough to get his cock out. It was a sight to see, yet a sight you and stephen both loved to see, he loved showing you what he can do to you, and you loved that stupid dumb sarcastic smile of his. 

His arm that wrapped around your waist slid down to your clit as he continued pushing inside you, his fingers played with your clit using his precum that dripped from you as a lubricant, adding to the pleasure. You squeezed your eyes shut as you could feel that knot tightening, threatening to break as your insides fluttered. Stephen moaned at the sensation of your walls clenching around him.

“Open your eyes” he demanded “I want you to watch as I make you cum, i want you to realise you’re a slut, but you’re my slut.” He grunted as he felt himself drawing closer to his release, his fingers now frantically swiped up and down your clit and with his cock still hitting your g-spot, the sensation became unbearable and the knot snapped, this felt different your felt yourself dripping onto him and creating a small puddle on the hard gym floor. Your knees buckled and you melted to the floor where Stephen set you on all fours, still making sure you can see yourself in the mirror. He kept himself inside you as you slumped, trying to catch your breath

“You see that, that's how good I can make you feel. Tell me what you are.” he said, giving you a single hard thrust causing the sound of skin on skin to echo through the dark room.

“Yours.” you said through breathless moans, this landed a firm yet satisfying slap on you ass as he sped up his motions.

“My what?” he said “speak up” he said moaning, following his own ecstasy

“Your slut.” you cried out, holding yourself up as you could see in the mirror that he was completely lost in the chase for his own orgasm, so you angled yourself that you were pushing yourself onto him every time he entered you. “I’m your slut stephen, yours and yours alone, my pussy is made for you.” your words only encouraged him as he moaned with the satisfaction that the lesson he had been trying to teach you had finally sunk in. 

“That's right sweetheart, your mine” His trembling hands practically vibrated as he gripped the fat of your hips turning his knuckles white. You looked in the mirror, the smell of sex filling your nostrils, you looked at the sight behind you, his biceps straining through the sleeves of that white dress shirt you loved so much, his muscular chest shining with sweat. That was the man you fell in love with, every inch of him, even his salt and pepper temples he hated so much, you loved him.

“Say it again sweetheart.” he begged, he was so close.

“I’m your slut Stephen. I want you to fill me up, make your slut drip with your cum Stephen.” you called out with a victorious smile as he came, strengthening his grip on your waist. His body caved on top of yours as he littered your shoulder with kisses.

“Did you fuck out that atitude?” you asked with a giggle

“I don’t have an attitude.” he stated, sitting back on his knees and watching his seed drip from you. “I just like to make my opinion clear.” he smiled when you jolted as he pushed his cum back into your sensitive hole.

“I think you did.” you got up and put your underwear back on, which had been left at the door, the face he pulled when he realised you were just going to keep his seed inside you almost wanted to make you do it all again, but you did have a deadline to meet. You watched as he buttoned up his shirt and tucked himself back in place. “You know I love you and only you right?” 

“Of Course i do.” he walked over and kissed your forehead “i just wished other people understood that.” he clicked his fingers and your makeup and hair neatened themselves up like nothing had happened and linked his arm into yours.

“It was just a compliment Stephen, Thor didn’t mean anything by it.” you laughed to yourself as the hum of the party grew near

“You don’t know that for sure.” Stephen joked back as he grabbed two glasses of champagne and handed one to you.

“I know you’re jealous.” you looked at him and he rolled his eyes

“So what if I was?” he smiled “Sometimes i think you prefer it.”

“So what if I did?” your brow quirked, he opened his mouth to say something when you were interrupted by the rest of the guests beginning to count down and stephen lead you to the balcony where the others where

“3… 2… 1… Happy new year!” Stephen pulled you towards him and locked his lips with yours with a passionate kiss, you had to grip your glass so that you didn’t drop it on impact, he pulled you closer to him, allowing you to rest on his chest before finally parting.

“Happy new year sweetheart.” he smiled and gave you another peck

“Happy new year.” you smiled back

“Now correct me if i’m wrong but we need to go home, i haven’t seen you naked since last year.” he pulled your wrist

“That joke wasn’t funny last year and it still isn’t” you gave him a pity laugh

“Then why are you following me?”

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A/N: I have to say i might have gotten a little carried away with some of the language there, but im not appologising, this was based of a dream i had a few weeks back and i thought i'd turn it into a lil end of year gift for you all because in january i will have bneen posting for two years which is crazy to me because this year we have grown from around 50 followrrs to 250! which is even more crazy so, hope to get back into the swing of things next and hope you all have a great new year love ypu all sm! <3

[strangesthirdeye]

ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ʜᴏᴍᴇ (ᴏɢ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ x ғᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

Summary: One last call

Warning: IT'S OG STEPHEN STRANGE, MUAH 💋, heavy angst, death, blood, last call, sad, acceptance. Dying, Major character death, snow. Pretending that everything is ok

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ring.... Ring...

Stephen woke up from his sleep after hearing the ringtone of his phone indicating that someone was calling him. Stephen sighed as he opened his sleepy eyes. He looked on his right side where you should be but he finds nothing. He remembered that you told him that you will be back late because you got a mission with Tony, Nat and Wanda.

You are an Avengers, of course you will come home late. Stephen scoffed as he reached for his phone on the bedside table. There he saw your name displayed on the screen. He slides the accept button on his phone screen.

"hey, love" Stephen murmured sleepily.

"hey, honey" you replied in a low voice.

Stephen frowned. "Are you okay? You seem.. tired?"

"I'm good.. Just a little sleepy" you replied weakly.

"Where are you really?" Stephen shuffled his position on the bed for comfort.

"Bed?" you replied.

"You should have slept, you must be tired after doing the mission" Stephen advised.

"I know, I just.. I just want to hear your voice... Before I sleep" You said lowly.

Stephen smiled to himself. "Is that why you called me? You miss my voice?"

"Yeah.."

"Well, now you've heard my voice, you can rest now" Stephen muttered, rubbing his eyes.

"I know but.. Let me just hear your voice one last time before I sleep.. Your voice makes me feel safe and calm" You replied lowly.

"What do you want me to say if you think my voice makes you safe and calm?" Stephen stared at the ceiling of his room.

"Anything.. Just say it.. Even if it's nonsense or something like Mystic Arts? Kamar Taj? Dimensional demons.. Anything" You suggested, voice faded more and more.

Stephen let out a breath. "I don't know what to say actually.."

"Oh, please.. You surely have anything to say.. Just well, whatever.. For me? Please?" you pleaded.

Stephen agrees and there goes he tells everything that happened during your absence in his presence. Not long after he finished his talks he was silent.

Somehow, he could sense that something was wrong. Not in his room or Sanctum, but the other side of the call on his phone. You. He feels something is wrong with you.

At first you seem tired and probably sleepy, but over time, you get tired and tired. At first he thought you were just sleepy after doing the mission. Tough Mission. You are probably just tired but then whenever you try to answer his conversation you just hummed and replied with short sentences which left him more confused.

"Are you sure you want me to continue?" Stephen hesitated.

"Yeah.. I don't mind" you replied shortly.

"When are you going back to the Sanctum?" Stephen asked.

"I don't know.. Maybe 3 or 4 days or maybe I'm not coming home due to this mission" You said, voice getting lower and lower.

"You sound tired, love. I think you need some rest so that you can finish this mission quickly" Stephen suggested.

"Yeah, I'm definitely tired.. You should go back to sleep too... I'm sorry if I disturbed your sleep" you replied.

"It's nothing.. Actually I was also expecting you to call me but I think you should just rest.." Stephen changed his lying position.

"... Yeah, you're right.. I should rest.. " the line became silent for a moment. "I love you, always.. Thank you for being with me, honey"

Stephen smiled tiredly. "I love you too, always.. I will always be here for you, love"

You stared at the dark sky. White snow fell heavily on a cold night. A very cold wind blew on you as you lay facing the night sky with your body covered in blood. Big wound in the stomach. Blood flows non-stop from your severe wound. A puddle of blood forming under you. The once lively face that was full of color turned pale, eyes look empty showing that your time here is not long. Life gives you enough time to make the final call. To say goodbye.

You took a shaky breath. Eyes stared at the night sky. Body temperature is decreasing.

"Goodbye, Stephen" the call fell silent.

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2024-05-30

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite BBC!Sherlock 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

✑ A Week Early￨Prt. II￨Prt. III by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: You and Sherlock are having your first children; who've thought the famously emotionless detective would be such an anxious father.

✑ A Little Love and Lots of Laughs by eurusholmmes • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "It's been five years since you met Sherlock Holmes, four since you fell in love, and three since you married. [Now], you have [two children] who... happen to love picnics, swimming and spending time with their cousin Rosie and Uncle John."

✑ Absence of You by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "[You're] away on a mission…, leaving Sherlock to wrestle mentally with his importance in [your] life and how badly he wants [you] home."

✑ Always Attract by luxwritesfanfic • 〔F᜶M〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "The strobe lights won't stop blinding him and Sherlock can't seem to shake the feeling that he's missing out, until he realizes he isn't."

✑ Bedside Manner by luxwritesfanfic • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock figures out who the father is and [a cat's got your] tongue."

✑ Brother, Annoying Brother by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 •

Summary: Sherlock's, once again, struggling to express feelings, refusing to admit he fancies you. Luckily, Mycroft knows just how to get him to confess.

✑ Champagne Problems by leftperfectionmoon • 〔A᜶C〕 •

Summary: reader turns down her boyfriend when he proposes to her as she has been in love with sherlock all this time.

✑ Closed for Today by coppercatswrites • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Sherlock closes shop to take care of you while you're sick.

✑ Date Night by writefortherain-blog • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: It had been a while since you and Sherlock had a day off…

✑ Don't Let Me Cave In by luxwritesfanfic • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: Sherlock'll never get away from the sound of the women that love him and it brings more peace to him than he could ever imagine he could possess.

✑ Don't You Dare Say "I'm Sorry" by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔M〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "Sherlock Holmes had sparred with many an intimidating nemesis. He'd faced off against the most fierce, twisted, cold, hard, calculating, fearful opponents known to man, however none of adversaries that had come before had invoked such terror and panic as the one he was currently staring down."

✑ Emotions and Experiments by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 •

Summary: …

✑ Exact Opposite by lykaonimagines • 16+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "When his brother still refuses to get dressed and take the case he has for him seriously, Mycroft calls [you in] to handle the situation."

✑ Expectant by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F᜶M〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "[You're] acting strange, and Sherlock notices. [After] confessing the truth and... He struggles to find the words."

✑ Feeling is Mutual, the by classickook • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "You've been harbouring a crush on Sherlock for quite some time now but are determined to keep it a secret for as long as [possible]. Foolish of you to think he wouldn't figure it out... and maybe he'll even return your sentiment?"

✑ Game is On, the by classickook • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You have a little surprise for Sherlock that turns out differently than you had originally planned."

✑ Good Girl by all-fandoms-fiction • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "..."

✑ Headache by bewarethecrazyperson • 〔F᜶C〕 • 🚫 •

Summary: "...While it was rare for you to get a proper headache, it wasn't unfamiliar for you or the boys when one resurfaced. They usually let you be, knowing that rest, medication and sleep would usually take care of the problem. [However,] what happens when you accidentally take one of Sherlock's pills?"

✑ Holmes, the by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 •

Summary: When Sherlock's parents invite you to dinner, mistaking you for his girlfriend, it pushes their son to finally tell you how he feels.

✑ If You're Shy (Let Me Know) by classickook • 18+ • 〔E᜶M᜶F〕 •

Summary: "When Irene won't stop teasing you about your lack of experience, Sherlock comes to your defence and maybe even proves the woman wrong."

✑ Ignorance and Lunch Dates by thepokyone • 〔M᜶F〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock was clever. Everybody knew that - especially you, considering you had been friends with him since high school. Being friends with Sherlock had its pros, but it also had its cons."

✑ Kidnapped by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ • 🚫 •

Summary: {…}

✑ Kissing Advice by imagine-by-susu • 〔A᜶C〕 •

Summary: When Irene taunts Sherlock with his sexual inexperience, the detective seeks out your advise on the matter. However, the situation does go quite how Sherlock hoped…

✑ Let's Have Dinner￨Prt. II by classickook • 〔A〕 •

Summary: "as Sherlock's neighbor and friend, you've spent quite a bit of time with the detective and developed feelings for him. unfortunately for you, however, his heart belongs to another."

✑ Make Up by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Although you never enjoy fighting with Sherlock, you love making up afterwards.

✑ Nicknames by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "4 times you used nicknames for Sherlock."

✑ On Edge￨Prt. II by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 18+ • 〔E〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock has no cases and John forbid him to smoke... [leading] Sherlock to find other ways to take out his frustration and, at the same time, showing [you] what it's like to be on edge."

✑ Other Woman, the by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 18+ • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: {…}

✑ Rest of Our Lives￨Prt. II by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock returns home late after a week long case, and contemplates the current state of their relationship."

✑ Safe Space by lykaonimagines • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "During an argument over one of Sherlock's experiments, [you realize] some events in his life have impacted him more than he usually let on."

✑ Talking Out Loud by high-functioning-lokipath • 〔F᜶M〕 •

✑ Tipsy by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: When John and Sherlock return to the flat, absolutely smashed, it's up to you and Mrs. Hudson to ensure they're looked after.

✑ Waltz by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 •

Summary: {…}

✑ White Lillies by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 •

Summary: You mistakenly confess you feelings to Sherlock, as it happens his reaction is rather sweet.

✑ Woman, the by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "[You] enters 221B and instantly notices the smell of another woman's perfume. [You realize] it's Irene Adler who is [trying] to convince Sherlock that she is a better woman for him."

✑ Woman Who Was No Lady, the by whereiputtheotherstuff • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: A tense conversation with Irene Adler makes Sherlock realize something extraordinary about you.

✑ Why Do I Want to Do This Again by imagine-by-susu •

Summary: "..."

✑ You Don't Know Him Like I Do by classickook • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You're sick and tired of constantly hearing insults thrown at Sherlock about how he handles his emotions."

✑ Your Stupid Face by gaitwae • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Sherlock is too proud to admit to anybody he likes you, but John knows."

✑ Affirmation by eurusholmmes • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ All Day by classickook • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Ambiguity of Man by gaitwae • 〔M᜶F〕 •

✑ Announcement, the by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔M〕 •

✑ Bad Day by oneshots-imagines-and-that • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Bagels by quillsandcauldroncakes • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Birds and Bathtubs by deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Blissful Morning by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Boring Days, the by thepokyone • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Cuddling? Cuddling. by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Dating and Doctors by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Do Something! by galactic-academia • 〔F〕 •

✑ Enjoy the Show Brother by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ F*ck It by coppercatswrites • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ I Love You by imagine-by-susu • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Jaw Kisses by eurusholmmes • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Keep Breathing by eurusholmmes • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Lying Detective, the by deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Made for Each Other by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Measurements by classickook • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Morning Light by lykaonimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Move in with Me? by imagine-upon-a-star • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Never Stood a Chance by luxwritesfanfic • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ New Family by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ No Flirting by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Not on the Couch by imagine-by-susu • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Our First Kiss by eurusholmmes • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Our Little Game by justauthoring • 〔F〕 •

✑ Psychology of Cute by oneshots-imagines-and-that • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Resurrection by moonlightsong • 〔A᜶F〕 •

✑ Rewritten Memory by gaitwae • 〔F〕 •

✑ Safe in Your Arms by classickook • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Stressed by generallynerdy • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Tease by classickook • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Tell It Like It Is by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ There's No One Else For You by all-fandoms-fiction • 〔M〕 •

✑ These Words Of Mine by eurusholmmes • 〔A〕 •

✑ Thinking Out Loud by quillsandcauldroncakes • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Wake Up by scribblesandimaginings • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Wedding Day by prettyxlittlexwriter • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Why Did You Kiss Me? by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 •

✑ Babysitting Rosie w/ Sherlock... by writings-of-a-british-fangirl • 〔F〕 • 𑁍 •

✑ Being Sherlock's Pregnant Wife... by tessimagines • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Cuddling w/ Sherlock... by spilledkauffie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Dating Sherlock Holmes… by dragon-kazansky • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Dating Sherlock Holmes... by spilledkauffie • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || BBC!Sherlock Master Index

Authors: @all-fandoms-fiction || @bewareofthecrazyperson || @classickook || @coppercatwrites || @deerstalkersanddangerousthoughts || @dragon-kazansky || @eurusholmmes || @gaitwae || @galactic-academia || @generallynerdy || @high-functioning-lokipath || @imagine-by-susu || @imagine-upon-a-star || @justauthoring || @leftperfectionmoon || @luxwritesfanfic || @lykaonimagines || @magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics || @moonlightsong || @oneshots-imagines-and-that || @prettyxlittlexwriter || @quillsandcauldroncakes || @scribblesandimaginings || @spilledkauffie || @tessimagines || @thepokyone || @whereiputtheotherstuff || @writefortherain-blog || @writings-of-a-british-fangirl ||

[brunchable]

We Can’t Be Friends || Doctor Strange x F!Reader.

Genre: Angst(?) || Song MV inspired

Pairings: Stephen Strange x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.2K

Quick Summary: Your relationship with Stephen Strange has been strained to the breaking point by his constant absences and mystical duties. Despite Stephen's attempts to mend your fractured bond, you decide to seek a more permanent solution.

A/N: Lisssteeen, this is not proof read lol. I haven't written in a while, I am feeling rusty so please be forgiving hehe. Every nice interactions are most valued <3

Stephen had been gone for a month for the third time, with no word, no warnings. You had spent countless nights worrying, wondering if he was safe, if he would ever return. And now, as the sparkle of the portal opened and caught your attention, Stephen stepped out, looking weary and worn from his latest mission.

You were waiting for him in the living room, feeling a mixture of anger and frustration, yet your expressions show otherwise. You had been rehearsing what you would say, but now that he was here, the words felt heavy on your tongue.

“You're back. Where in the seven hells have you been this time?” You began, your voice firm but calm, you had that motherly tone when a teen returns home from sneaking out.

“Seven hells pretty much sums it up… can we do this later? I just got back,” Stephen chuckled, rubbing his temples, the tone of your voice grating and adding up to his headache, “I’m exhausted.”

“No, I think we should address this, now,” You insisted, pointing to the ground for emphasis.

Stephen sighed, sensing the confrontation he so wanted to avoid. “Alright, I’m listening.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Stephen, you’ve been gone for a month. No warnings, no pass the message from Wong. . . What is going on?”

“Y/N, you know what my responsibilities are. The world needs me. I can’t just ignore that,” Stephen said defensively.

“A heads up would be nice. Like how you were before. It feels like I’m nothing more than a distraction to you,” You shot back, your eyes narrowing.

Stephen’s expression hardened with irritation. “You knew what you were getting into from the start. My work–my duty is important. Do I need to explain myself every single time?”

“Why are you so defensive? Is it wrong of me to at least know where you are? So I don't worry all the time? At least still show me that I matter to you. Right now, it feels like you and your missions are all that matter,” you replied, rolling your eyes. 

“This is ridiculous, Y/N. Clea and I are working to protect this world. It’s not like I’m off on a vacation. I’m trying to keep everyone safe, including you.”

It was impossible to overlook the single name that slipped from Stephen's lips. The air seemed to thicken even more with tension. Your face transformed dramatically; what had been a mask of frustration quickly crumbled, replaced by a deep, probing suspicion. Your eyes narrowed, searching Stephen's face for any hint of deceit, and your heart pounded in your chest, echoing the name that now hung heavily between you. 

“Who’s Clea?” you asked, making sure to stress the name you didn't want to say, your voice tinged of disdain.

“Fuck,” Stephen muttered under his breath. A wave of regret washed over him as he realized he should have told you who he was teaming up with sooner. He wondered why he had left out such an important detail, knowing it would have made a difference in your reaction. . . or make it worse?

“Clea is from the dark dimension, I have caused an incursion in reality and I had to go with her and fix it, okay?” Stephen explained it for what it is. . . to him at least.

“So, you were with her every time you vanished without a trace?” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm and a barely concealed resentment that felt like a knife twist in your chest.

“Like I said, I had to fix the incursion I caused,” he responded, his tone distant, as if the gravity of his words could shield him from the emotional storm brewing between you.

You stared at him, not caring what he even meant by 'incursion'. Your mind was a whirlwind, fixated on the crushing weight of this new revelation, which felt like an earthquake shattering the foundation of everything you thought you knew. 

The man who once made you feel safe and cherished now stood before you, a stranger entwined in secrets and sacrifices you couldn't begin to fathom.

Stephen ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated. “I don’t have time for this. If you can’t understand that my work is important, then maybe we do need to rethink this relationship.”

You were stunned into silence for a moment, the weight of his words hitting you like a physical blow. Your throat stings badly as you fight to prevent any tears from falling. “So, that’s it? You’re willing to throw everything away because I worry about you?”

“I’m not throwing anything away, Y/N. All I do is try to save the world. If you can’t see that, then maybe we need to reconsider,” Stephen replied coldly.

“Okay. . .so you find a new partner in crime and the first thing you could think of is to ‘reconsider’,” You nodded, a little laugh might've escaped from you and it triggered something in Stephen.

“Do you hear yourself? You’re acting like I’m choosing Clea over you. This isn’t some petty love triangle, Y/N. This is about life and death, about the safety of the entire world!” Stephen’s voice was now raised.

“Oh my god! Enough about saving the world already! You belong to the world! Alright, I get it! But don't expect me to be nonchalant when you've spent your time ‘saving the world’ with her. Meanwhile I rot in my apartment worried sick if you're even still alive because I only want to belong to you.” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the air, firmly jabbing his chest with your finger

Stephen clenched his fist tightly, the knuckles turning white, as he took a deliberate step closer. His presence loomed over you, casting a shadow that seemed to amplify the tension in the air, “You think it’s easy for me? You think I don’t miss you? I have responsibilities that go beyond us—" 

“If you're thinking I am asking you to abandon your responsibilities, I am not. I didn’t think you’d understand me.” You replied, striving to maintain your composure under his unwavering presence and the intense gaze fixated on your face.

Stephen shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “I never hid what my life was about, but you knew what signed up for when you said yes to me.”

“I did but I didn't sign up to be treated like an afterthought,” Y/N said, your voice softening slightly but still firm.

Stephen sighed and was silent for a moment, “So, what then? What do you want me to do? It is so hard to find balance with all this shit happening around us.”

“I don't know. . . whatever I may want, it'll be impossible for you to do,” You said, your voice resigned as you crossed your arms, a gesture of both self-protection and defiance.

Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “And what’s your solution? To just walk away?”

“That was your suggestion first, wasn't it?” You responded, a low, mirthless chuckle escaping your lips. 

Stephen looked down, his silence speaking volumes. The decision crystallized in your mind. You turned away, grabbed your keys from the table, and headed toward the door, needing to cool off and get your head straight. The sound of the door closing behind you echoed through the Sanctum, a final punctuation to your heated exchange.

× × × × ×

You gripped the steering wheel tightly as you drove through the darkened streets of New York City. The familiar hum of the engine and the blur of passing lights did little to calm your racing heart. Your eyes were red from preventing a single tear to shed, but the tears came after being alone, blurring your vision and forcing you to blink them away repeatedly.

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, sadness, confusion, and a deep, aching sense of betrayal. The argument with Stephen played on a relentless loop in your head, each word echoing with painful clarity.

"Maybe we do need to rethink this relationship."

"Maybe we shouldn’t be together."

You shook your head, trying to dispel the hurtful words, but they clung to you like a stubborn shadow. How did it come to this? How did your love, once so vibrant and full of promise, deteriorated into something so cold and distant?

Your thoughts drifted to the early days of your relationship. The way Stephen's eyes would light up when he saw you, the warmth of his touch, the way both of you would laugh and talk for hours about everything and nothing. You remembered the adventures you shared, the quiet moments of intimacy, and the feeling of safety and love that enveloped you whenever you were with him.

But those memories felt like they belonged to another life, another couple. Now, Stephen was always preoccupied, always focused on his missions with Clea. You couldn’t shake the feeling of being an afterthought, a secondary priority in his life. The loneliness you felt was suffocating, and tonight’s argument had only confirmed your deepest fears.

You pulled over to a quiet spot by the Hudson River, the soft glow of the city lights reflecting off the water. You turned off the engine and sat there in silence, the sound of your own breathing loud in the stillness of the night. 

You leaned your head back against the seat and closed your eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. You felt a crushing weight on your chest, the sense of impending loss almost too much to bear. You loved Stephen with all your heart, but you couldn’t keep living like this—constantly feeling like you were competing for his attention, always coming second to his duties as a sorcerer.

A part of you understood the importance of Stephen's work. You admired his dedication, his unwavering commitment to protecting the world from mystical threats. But at the same time, you couldn’t ignore your own needs, your own desire for a partner who was present, who made you feel valued and loved.

The idea asking Wong to use the Runes of Kof-Kol had come to you in a moment of clarity during your drive. It was a drastic measure, but it felt like the only way to save yourself from the inevitable heartbreak of this deteriorating relationship. If you both forgot each other, if you became strangers once more, maybe then you could find peace.

You opened your eyes and gazed out at the river, the dark waters flowing steadily under the moonlit sky. You felt a strange sense of calm wash over you as you made your decision. It wouldn’t be easy, and it would hurt like hell, but it was the only way you could move forward without the constant pain of their fractured love.

As you started the car and drove back towards the Sanctum, you knew what you had to do, and you hoped that in forgetting, you could both find a way to heal. The city lights blurred once more as fresh tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of acceptance. You were ready to let go, ready to find yourself again, even if it meant losing the man you had loved with all your heart.

× × × ×

After driving aimlessly for hours, you finally pull up in front of the Sanctum Sanctorum. The building looms before you, its ancient architecture shrouded in an almost foreboding silence. You sit in the car for a few moments, gathering your strength, knowing the decision you have made is final. The city is quieter now, the hustle and bustle having died down to a gentle hum in the background.

You take a deep breath and step out of the car, your legs feeling like lead. You walk up to the front door and pause for a moment, your hand resting on the cold brass handle. Memories of happier times flash before your eyes—moments of laughter, love, and a bond that once felt unbreakable. But those memories are now overshadowed by the reality of your fractured relationship.

Pushing the door open, you step inside. The familiar scent of incense and ancient books fills your nostrils, but instead of comfort, it brings a pang of sadness. The Sanctum feels emptier than ever, a reflection of the void that has grown between you and Stephen.

As you walk into the living room, you see Stephen sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. He looks up as you enter, his eyes filled with the weariness which mirrors your own.

“Y/N, you're back,” Stephen says softly, standing up. “I was worried about you.”

You nod, your face devoid of emotion. “I needed some time to think.”

Stephen takes a few careful steps, “I know I haven’t been around much. And I know tonight's argument was... I didn’t handle it well. I’m sorry for that.”

You feel a flicker of acknowledgment at his words, you look into his eyes, the eyes you once found so much solace in, and feel a deep sense of finality, “I need to see Wong,” you say, your voice steady and cold, “Is he here?”

Stephen steps closer, his gaze searching your face for any hint of what you might be feeling. “Are you okay now? About earlier. . .”

“I'm fine, Stephen. Really,” you say with a forced smile. “I just need to speak to Wong.”

“Wong? Sure, I'll summon him for you.” Stephen's eyes narrow slightly, sensing something is off. He didn’t think he’d get out of trouble that easily.

A few moments later, Wong enters the room, his expression pondering about what you might need him for. “Y/N, Stephen said you wanted to speak with me. What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath and glanced at Stephen who remained curious about why you needed Wong.

“Are we able to chat somewhere private?” You asked, your eyes flickering towards Stephen which Wong took notice of.

Wong turned his head towards Stephen and then you, “Of course. Follow me.” He headed towards the door to Kamar-Taj. 

He led you to the empty library, ensuring no one else was around, and gestured for you to sit across the table from him.

“How can I help?” He asked.

“I hope this isn't too much to ask. . . but can you please cast the Runes of Kof-Kol on me?” 

Wong's expression shifts to one of alarm. “The Runes of Kof-Kol? Those spells are dangerous, Y/N. What could possibly make you consider using them?”

You explained the situation, trying your best to keep your voice from breaking, “Stephen and I... we’re not working anymore. It’s too painful. I need to forget him. I want to move on quickly. I don't want to spend months wallowing in heartbreak.”

Wong listens quietly, his expression softening with understanding. “I see. But you know the risks, don’t you? The Runes of Kof-Kol only erases memories, not feelings.”

“I know,” you say firmly.

Wong nods slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “I understand your pain, Y/N. But this is a decision that cannot be undone. I urge you to think about it very carefully. Take some time to reflect on whether this is truly what you want.”

You shake your head, your decision unwavering. “I've already thought about it, Wong. I’ve thought about nothing else. This is what needs to be done.”

Wong sighs, his expression resigned yet compassionate. “Still, I urge you to give it a few more days. I suggest you stay here at Kamar-Taj. Meditate, reflect, and if you still feel the same, we will discuss it again.”

You nod slowly, appreciating his concern. “Alright. I’ll stay and think about it.”

× × × × ×

After you left the library, Wong stood silently, his thoughts troubled by your request. He knew the depth of the pain you were feeling, but the Runes of Kof-Kol were not to be taken lightly. As he pondered the situation, he sensed a presence lingering near the bookshelves. Turning his head slightly, he caught sight of Stephen, partially hidden in the shadows, clearly eavesdropping.

“Strange,” Wong called out, his tone firm but not unkind. “You can come out. I know you've been listening.”

Stephen stepped out, a mixture of guilt and concern etched on his face. “I didn't mean to intrude. I just… needed to know what she was thinking.”

Wong crossed his arms, looking at Stephen with a mixture of disappointment and empathy. “You heard what she said. She's feeling hurt. . . more than I think you realize.”

Stephen sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I know I've been neglecting her, but my responsibilities... the missions... They demand so much of me. I never wanted her to feel like this.”

Wong nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Your duties are important, Stephen. But so are your personal relationships. Y/N came to you because she believed in you, trusted you. But right now, she feels like she's lost in your shadow.”

Stephen's eyes glistened with unshed tears, a rare display of vulnerability. “I don't know what to do. I don't want to lose her, but I also can't abandon my duties.”

Wong walked over to Stephen, placing a hand on his shoulder. “The balance between your responsibilities and personal life is delicate, but not impossible to achieve. You need to make her feel valued and prioritize your time better. She asked about the Runes of Kof-Kol, so she's considering erasing her memories of you. Right now, though, she needs space to think.”

Stephen's breath hitched, the gravity of Wong's words hitting him hard. “She wants to forget me completely.”

Wong nodded solemnly. “She believes it's the only way to move on from the pain. I advised her to stay here for a few days, to meditate and reflect before making such a drastic decision.”

“I can't let her do this. I need to talk to her, to make her understand that I can change, that I can be better.” Stephen closed his eyes, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He was about to walk away to find you but Wong stopped him.

“Right now, she needs time. Barging in and trying to convince her otherwise might only push her further away. Give her the space she asked for. If she decides to go through with it, we'll deal with it then. But for now, respect her wishes.” Wong shook his head gently.

Stephen glanced in your direction with a sigh, shrugged off Wong's hand, and returned to the New York Sanctum. That night, sleep eluded him despite his restless tossing and turning. No position felt comfortable, not when your scent lingered on his pillowcases.

Anxiety ate him up, twisting his stomach into knots as he replayed the argument repeatedly in his mind. Each harsh word and dismissive gesture haunted him, intensifying his regret.

He had always prided himself on his composure and control, but now he felt them slipping away. The weight of his mistakes pressed heavily on his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“I should have been more understanding, I should have put myself in her shoes,” he thought, his mind consumed by remorse.

The thought of your hurt expression cut him deeply, more than any physical pain he had ever endured. He realized how much he valued your presence, your support, and the warmth you brought into his life. The fear of losing you was a constant ache, gnawing at the edges of his consciousness.

He was ashamed of how he had dismissed your feelings, how he had let his pride overshadow the love and respect he had for you.

Desperation clawed at him as he searched for a way to make things right, to prove that he could be the partner you deserved. In the silence of the night, he vowed to himself that he would do better, that he would learn from his mistakes and show you how much you meant to him. That is if it’s not too late.

× × × × ×

Two days later, the peaceful atmosphere of Kamar-Taj had failed to ease the unrest in your heart. Despite your attempts at meditation and introspection, the serenity of the surroundings could not calm the storm of emotions within you. Your resolve remains the same. You knew what needed to be done, and it was time to inform Wong of your decision.

You found Wong in the courtyard, meticulously tending to a small garden. The scent of blooming flowers mixed with the crisp mountain air, creating a serene environment that contrasted sharply with your inner conflict.

“Wong,” you called softly, approaching him.

Wong looked up from his work, his expression calm but observant. “Y/N, have you made your decision?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “I have. I still want to use the Runes of Kof-Kol.”

Wong sighed, setting aside his tools. “I was hoping you might reconsider, but I respect your decision. . .” he trailed off, noticing Stephen walk towards you, “Give me a moment? I'll back.”

As Wong turned to leave, Stephen entered the courtyard with his presence of authority. He had been waiting for this moment, fully aware that your decision was imminent.

With careful, deliberate steps, he approached you. The air was thick with unspoken emotions, and each passing second felt like an eternity as he stood there gathering the right words to say.

“Y/N,” Stephen began, his voice calm but carrying a hint of vulnerability, his eyes intensely scanning your face for any hint of doubt or hesitation. “Is this truly what you want?”

You jumped slightly, startled by his sudden appearance behind you. “Stephen,” you exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to—I just wanted to apologize... that it has led to this. I was wrong…” Stephen began, but his voice seemed to fade into the background as you stared at his face intently, trying to memorize every detail.

As Stephen spoke, the reality of the moment hit you hard. You felt an overwhelming need to imprint his features in your memory: the way his brow furrowed with concern, the earnestness in his eyes, and the subtle lines that hinted at the weight he carried.

Time seemed to slow down, and every second stretched into an eternity. You noticed the slight quiver of his lips, the way his hair framed his face, and even the small scar on his cheek that you had always found endearing.

Your heart ached with the knowledge that this might be the last time you saw him like this, so close and vulnerable. Each detail became precious, a fragment of a moment you desperately wanted to hold onto.

The intensity of your emotions made it hard to breathe, and you felt a lump forming in your throat. Even though Stephen's voice was a distant echo, the look in his eyes told you everything—you were both struggling with the same pain, the pain of letting this story die. 

“. . . I love you, Y/N—but if this will save you from the hurt I’ve caused you then so be it. I will cast the spell on you.”

You were taken aback, surprise flickering across your face. “You would do that?”

Stephen stepped closer, his eyes earnest. “Yes. If this is what it takes for you to find peace, then I’ll do it.”

Stephen leads you back in the New York Sanctum, heading towards the ritual chamber in the Undercroft. Each step you took echoed with the weight of what was about to happen. Stephen’s mind was a whirlwind of memories and emotions.

He glanced at you walking beside him, your face a mask of calm determination. Opposite to the storm he knew must be raging inside you. He wished he could reach out, take your hand, and pull you back from the edge of this irreversible decision. But he knew he had no right to, not after everything.

As you descended the final set of steps into the Undercroft, Stephen’s heart ached with regret. He had always prided himself on his ability to solve problems, to find solutions where others saw only obstacles. But here, in this most personal of battles, he had failed. He had failed to protect what mattered most.

Every step felt heavier than the last. Stephen’s mind raced with unspoken words, a torrent of emotions he struggled to contain.

He remembered the early days of your relationship, the way your laughter had filled the Sanctum with warmth, the quiet moments of understanding, and shared dreams. Those memories now felt like shards of glass, cutting into him with each step he took.

He glanced at you again, your determined stride a painful reminder of the distance that had grown between you. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, how sorry he was for every time he had put his duties before you, for every missed moment, every broken promise. But he knew that words would not change the course you had set for yourself. Actions had spoken louder, and they had driven you to this point.

You reached the entrance to the ritual chamber, Stephen paused, taking a deep breath. The room beyond was prepared, the symbols drawn, the components ready. It was a place of power, of ancient magic, but today it felt like a tomb for the love you had shared.

“Y/N,” Stephen began, his voice soft but heavy with regret. “I want you to know that this isn’t easy for me. I never wanted to hurt you. If I could turn back time and make different choices, I would. But I respect your decision. I hope you find the peace you’re looking for.”

You looked at him with eyes glistening of unshed tears, “Thank you, Stephen. . . I hope you find happiness, I really do.”

With that, you stepped into the center of the circle, and Stephen moved to the edge, his heart pounding in his chest. He began to chant the incantation, his voice strong and unwavering despite the storm of emotions inside him. The symbols around you began to glow, the magic swirling in the air like a tangible presence. You felt a strange sensation, a mix of warmth and cold as the spell took hold.

As Stephen chanted, your mind drifted to the memories you were about to lose. The first time you met flashed vividly in your mind—the way Stephen had looked at you with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. You remembered feeling an instant connection, a spark that ignited something deep within you. You had been fascinated by his intellect, his confidence, and the way he carried himself with such purpose.

The mornings you woke up wrapped in each other’s arms, sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your intertwined bodies. The way he would brush a strand of hair from your face and kiss your forehead, making you feel like the most cherished person in the world. You remembered the laughter, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the sound of his voice when he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

As the incantation reached its peak, a bright light enveloped you, and you felt a sudden rush of memories and emotions being pulled away. The love, the pain, the shared moments—all of it faded into a distant, forgotten dream. Your vision blurred, the light intensifying until it was all-consuming.

Then, everything went dark. You felt your knees give way, the world tilting as you lost consciousness. The last thing you heard was Stephen’s voice, calling your name out of concern as you slipped into oblivion.

When you finally stirred, you found yourself lying on the familiar softness of your own bed, the morning light filtering through the curtains. The familiar hum of the city outside your window grounded you, your arms reaching on the other side of the bed and it was empty. You shook it off, chuckling to yourself.

You sat up slowly, looking around your apartment. Everything was in its place—the books on the shelf, the photos on the wall—now mostly of you by yourself, the cozy blanket draped over the armchair. Nothing out of the ordinary and yet you feel disorientated.

You made yourself a cup of tea, the warm liquid offering a small comfort. As you sipped it, you stared out of the window at the bustling city below. The people, the cars, the rhythm of daily life—it all seemed so normal, so unremarkable. Yet, there was an inexplicable void within you, a sadness that lingered just beneath the surface but you try not to dwell on it.

Days turned into weeks, and while the feeling of emptiness persisted, you found ways to move on. You immersed yourself in work, reconnected with old friends, and took up new hobbies. Slowly, you began to carve out a new life for yourself, one that was no longer defined by the shadows of forgotten memories.

× × × × ×

Stephen sat alone in the Sanctum Sanctorum's library, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the ancient tomes that lined the walls. The room, once a place of solace and knowledge, now felt suffocatingly empty. He absentmindedly traced the spine of a book he had read countless times, but the words blurred together, unable to hold his attention. His mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts of you.

He stood up and walked to the window, looking out over the city. The lights twinkled in the distance, a stark contrast to the darkness he felt inside. He remembered how you used to stand there with him, your hand in his, both of you silently watching the world below. Those moments had been a rare reprieve from his responsibilities, a time when he could just be Stephen, not the Master of the New York Sanctum.

The silence of the Sanctum was interrupted only by the distant hum of the city's nightlife, but it felt louder than ever. Every corner of the room seemed to echo with memories of you—the laughter you shared, the quiet conversations late into the night, the way you used to tease him about his incessant need to organize his magical artifacts. Now, those echoes were all he had left, but he guesses that he at least deserved to go through this heartbreak alone.

Wong quietly stood with him, the silence heavy between them. After a moment, he cleared his throat, “Keeping yourself busy?”

Stephen nodded, his response short and clipped. “Yep.”

“She did brighten up the place, didn't she?” Wong glanced around the room, taking in the emptiness that seemed more pronounced now. 

Stephen's eyes followed Wong's gaze, a hint of a sad smile touching his lips. “Yep.”

Wong shifted slightly, turning his head to look at Stephen with curiosity and concern. "So, what's next for you?"

Stephen sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he contemplated the question. The thought of waiting was both a comfort and a torment, a reminder of what he had lost and what he still yearned for.

“I don't know... Wait for her, I guess. Wait until our paths cross again, wait until she loves me again.”

TAGS: @goldencherriess @strangeions @sobeautifullyobsessed

[vickiee-mcmuffin]

Realization

Summary: After hooking up with Stephen on the night of the full moon Kamar Taj party over a month ago, you begin to experience pregnancy symptoms. And you realise you could potentially be pregnant with Stephen's child.

Word count: 2.5k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Fluff, mentions of pregnancy, brief mentions of smut (18+ warning, minors DNI)

A/N: This is another little idea I thought of, I hope you like it. I will be doing a Surgeon Strange smut fic next.

You hadn’t planned it or anything. It just sort of happened. One minute you were enjoying the full moon party at Kamar Taj, and the next, you were wrapped up in Stephen Strange’s arms as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. It had all happened so fast. You knew it was wrong and bad—he was your teacher, your mentor—and you both should have known better, but you had been flirting with him since you pretty much locked eyes with him that night. He just looked so good and he hadn’t been able to take his own gaze off of you.

So, after a night of teasing smiles and lingering touches, the two of you found a corner where no one would find you, and he kissed you long and deep, his groans muffled from your soft lips. Then he got all handsy, his fingers grasping at your hips and waist before he brought you back to the sanctum where he took you and made you his.

He had been rough and fast with you, like he had been eagerly waiting for the moment when he finally got to have you. On his bed he had bent you over, taking you from behind as he slammed his cock into you, as you cried out his name, as you begged and pleaded with him to make you cum, and he did. He had your eyes rolling into the back of your head that night. You had no idea that he could make you feel like that, that he possessed that kind of skill. His experienced fingers and tongue and mouth had made you see absolute stars. He had been so big and thick and long, stretching you out and filling you up so, so good. There had been a smirk on his face the whole night, like he was absolutely loving every second of seeing you in pleasure. He had been the reason you went back to Kamar Taj that night just aching to have him take you again.

But when it was all over and done with, you and Stephen promised to never, ever talk about that night again. It was a filthy hook-up. It was a night of dirty actions and words and secrets with the both of you engaging in something that never, ever should have happened. That didn’t stop you from loving every second of it though.

But that was just over a month ago, and while you had been more than ready to keep that secret close to you, there was something that had been on your mind recently. Your period was late and there had been a handful of mornings where you woke up ready to throw up. You kept trying to tell yourself that it was nothing: that you were just a little sick and that the stress was the reason your period was late, but deep down, there was a feeling that wouldn’t go away. You couldn’t deny it: you were worried you could be pregnant with Stephen’s baby. And he was the only man you had been with, so it had to be his.

That same nausea you had been feeling for the last few days hit you as soon as you got out of bed. You had your training class today but that was the last thing on your mind as you ran to the bathroom to throw up. There was no way you could go to your class while you were on the verge of vomiting every three seconds, so you crawled back into bed with a groan.

The nagging feeling wouldn’t leave you. There was a good chance you were pregnant and you needed to know for sure, so after you felt well enough, you opened up a portal that took you right to a pharmacy to buy a test. You bought it and came back to your room, letting in and out some uneven breaths before you opened up the box. You followed the instructions and took the test before you flipped the little piece of plastic over, not quite ready to see the result. Instead, your eyes focused on your reflection as you wondered if your future was about to change forever. How could it be that everything had changed so quickly? You were supposed to be training and learning, not wondering if you were pregnant with a baby.

The word repeated over and over in your head. A baby. An actual baby. Stephen’s baby. You had been so careless that night with him, just seeking your own pleasure. But now that night felt like it was haunting you. What would Stephen think?

You shook your head. You couldn’t think about that. Your stomach was already filled with too many butterflies, and just wondering about what Stephen’s reaction would be would make it worse. There were days when he could be so cruel, so mean.

It took you about five minutes, but you finally let out a long breath and flipped the test over. You literally froze on the spot when you saw a positive sign looking back at you. The one you got gave you an estimate of when the baby had been conceived, and there it was: 6 weeks. That meant Stephen was most definitely the father, that the baby had been conceived that night.

The test fell right out of your hands as tears filled your eyes. What would Stephen’s reaction be? Angry, upset, elated, horrified? Either way, you would have to tell him, and you were terrified about how that could go. Then there was the fact that you were still very much training at Kamar Taj. You couldn’t just take time off. Would you even have time to look after a baby? Would Stephen? Would he want the baby at all?

You didn’t know what to do.

******

The day went by fast and now nighttime was upon you. You had been upset all day after taking the test and your brain wouldn’t stop reminding you that you had to tell Stephen the truth. You knew, but you were so scared of what his reaction would be. You just didn’t feel ready to tell him. Part of you was a little scared. There were times when he was quick to anger.

There was a knocking at your door and you sighed and let out a soft, “come in.”

It was Wong pushing open the door, a concerned look on his face. “Y/N, what’s going on? You’ve been missing some training sessions lately. I’m worried… Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

You sniffled. There were tears in your eyes that you hadn’t been able to hide. “Can you please just get Stephen for me? I need to talk to him.”

Wong nodded. “Of course. I’ll go get him for you.”

“Thank you,” you said, watching Wong leave.

A few minutes later, Stephen was at your door with raised eyebrows. “Wong told me you wanted me to come and talk to you.”

Wiping at your eyes, you let out a trembling breath. “Yes. You can come in. Please shut the door behind you.”

He followed your instructions and sat down next to you on the bed. “Why are you crying?”

Instant regret hit you. Why had you asked Wong to get Stephen? You still didn’t feel ready. You thought maybe ripping the band-aid off would have worked out in your favour, but there were so many butterflies in your stomach as you avoided his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” you muttered, your eyes all wet.

Stephen sighed. “Then why did you make sure Wong came and got me? You must have done that for a reason.”

You shook your head. “What’s the point? It’s not like you care, anyway.”

“Wow,” Stephen said quietly.

The room went horrifyingly quiet. So quiet it almost made you wince. You weren’t talking, Stephen wasn’t talking. The two of you sat there in pure silence and all you could do was wipe at your wet eyes.

“You know, I know I can be an asshole sometimes,” he muttered, “but at least I’m not completely heartless, Y/N. Will you just tell me why you’re so upset? There must have been a reason you called me in here, and there’s clearly something big on your mind if you’re crying. If you just told me…”

Finally, you met his eyes, and you were taken aback by the frown on his face. He looked worried. “I know you agreed that we weren’t supposed to talk about that night at the party… The night where we… You know…”

“Yeah…” Stephen murmured.

You couldn’t say it. You just grabbed the pregnancy test that you had kept tucked under the blankets and handed it to Stephen. You kept your eyes on him, taking in the pure shock on his face. He stayed quiet for a good minute or two before finally, in a shaky voice he said, “You… You’re pregnant.” He looked over at you. “With my baby?”

You nodded and you felt more tears forming. You could hear Stephen mutter out a low and deep “fuck” next to you.

“I’m really sorry,” you whispered. “This is all my—”

“You aren’t to blame for this, Y/N.”

A sharp gasp fell from your lips when you felt Stephen’s soft, warm hands on the sides of your face. He was forcing you to look at him, his eyes all soft and warm, and you couldn’t believe how gentle he had suddenly become. You also couldn’t quite believe that he had tears in his eyes. Could he be happy?

Stephen smiled at you. “Well, you being pregnant is partly my fault too.”

A smile stretched across your face before you laughed, tears rolling down your cheeks. Stephen used his thumbs to wipe at them, his touch soft and slow.

“Breathe for me,” he said. “Just take some deep breaths for me. Can you do that?”

You followed his instructions, your eyes closing as your breath slowed down to a more calm, gentle rhythm. That was helping. Sort of. But the nerves were still so ever-present and you just wanted to go back in time and fix everything.

“So, what do you want to do about this?” he asked. “I just want you to know that I will fully support your choice. Whatever choice that is.”

“I mean, I’ve always wanted to be a mother one day, but this is all so sudden. It’s scary and I still have to finish my training.”

“If you truly want to have this baby, then I’ll be here for you. I’ll support you and I’ll do everything I can to be the best father I can be. Being a dad wasn’t something I had ever really thought about, but I’m not afraid to try.”

You smiled at him. “Ain’t you too busy to have time to look after a baby?”

“Yes, but we’ll make it work.”

You couldn’t help it when you threw your arms around him, totally without warning. You squeezed at him as relief washed over you, a soft sigh leaving your lips. That had gone a lot better than you had expected. You could hear Stephen grunting a little as you held him.

“I know you’ll be the best dad,” you whispered. “I just know it.”

Stephen gave you a shocked sounding laugh before he finally circled his own arms around you, his hands pressed up against you tightly. “I’m glad you think so.”

Pulling away from him, you kept your hands on his shoulders. “I know so.”

Placing his hand on your thigh, Stephen gave you a comforting smile. One that made you truly feel like everything was going to be okay, that the future would be alright, and suddenly a whole less daunting. He rubbed at your thigh, the room comfortably quiet as your eyes stayed locked. A smile grew on your face simply from how sweet he was being. You loved seeing his kind, gentle side. It made your heart flutter. But then it hit you. Everyone would know you were pregnant. Very soon, you wouldn’t be able to hide it at all.

“Everyone’s gonna know,” you said. “What are we gonna do? What happens when everyone finds out? I don’t want you to get into trouble. That’s the last thing I want. Everyone’s gonna be in our business. I don’t want that either.”

He hummed, his hand still on your thigh. “I have some hoodies you can borrow as the baby grows. That should hide the bump. And if and when someone does finally find out… Well, I’ll just deal with that. I promise. Don’t stress about that. Let me handle all of that.”

“Thank you.” Leaning forward, you gave his cheek a kiss. You could have sworn his pale cheeks went a little red at the sudden act of intimacy. But he had just been so sweet, so sensitive, so caring that you couldn’t even stop yourself. You were pretty sure that you had never even seen him blush before. It felt like a bit of an accomplishment to be the first person to ever do it and the fact had your own face feeling all hot. But Stephen just looked so cute suddenly getting all nervous, and you smiled at the way his hand rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Well, I better let you get some rest then, right?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Thank you. For everything. For being so supportive and caring and kind. I really needed it.”

He smiled at you and got off the bed, making a slow walk towards your door. “You know, I’m not always an asshole. And I do care about people. I have the ability to care and I also have feelings,” he said, letting out a low chuckle.

Smiling at him, you nodded. “Noted.”

Stephen winked at you before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. You let out a long breath of air that you had been holding in for what felt like the entire conversation with Stephen. No, the entire day that gloomy feeling had been hanging over you, but that felt like it was slowly fading away by the second. You felt light, you felt happy, you felt like the future would be something good and bright instead of that darkness you had felt wash over you when you first looked at your pregnancy test in the morning.

You laid down in bed, resting your head against the pillows and letting out a long yawn. You definitely needed some rest, but there was some excitement flowing through you still. You’d be a mother and Stephen would be a father, and he’d be there for you every single step of the way, and there were definitely going to be a lot of them. And deep down, you knew Stephen would be a good dad. The best dad. The kind that would make you so proud and so happy.

You couldn’t wait.

[duvetfawn]

A Warm Welcome

- Masterlist

INTRODUCTION: After a long day, you come home to find Benedict Cumberbatch in the kitchen, cooking dinner with an endearing mix of focus and charm. What begins as playful banter quickly ignites into something far more intimate, as Benedict willingly surrenders himself to your control. In a sensual evening filled with vulnerability and passion, the two of you explore trust, desire, and the balance of power, leaving no boundary of connection or devotion untouched.

PAIRING: sub!Benedict Cumberbatch x fem!dom!reader

WARNINGS: SMUT, mdni, oral sex (reader receiving), dirty talk, penetrative sex.

WORD COUNT: 3k

A/N: Hello people! Thanks for all the reblogs and likes! I'm so happy my work is getting recognition. This one was a request from my best friend (thank you Bianca for assigning me this!) Please keep in mind the reader is dominant here and it might not be for everyone. Again thank you so much! Sorry about grammar mistakes if there are any.

The smell of garlic and fresh herbs greeted you the moment you stepped through the door, an immediate comfort after a long day. The familiar warmth of the flat wrapped around you like an embrace, but it was the figure in the kitchen that truly caught your attention. Benedict, clad in a loose gray sweater and dark jeans, stood by the stove, focused entirely on the task before him. His curls were slightly disheveled, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal strong forearms dusted with flour—a telltale sign he’d been kneading something earlier.

“You’re home,” he said, glancing up with that soft smile that never failed to make your heart flutter. His voice, deep and soothing, held a note of relief, as if the day had been incomplete until you’d walked through the door.

“And you’re cooking,” you replied, shrugging off your coat. “Should I be worried?”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, and shook his head. “I’ll have you know, I’m quite capable in the kitchen. You might even be impressed.”

You leaned against the doorway, watching him move. There was an ease in the way he handled himself, his gestures deliberate and precise yet unhurried. The sight of him like this—at home, relaxed, and completely unguarded—was one you cherished more than you could put into words.

“What are you making?” you asked, crossing the room to peek over his shoulder.

“Something simple,” he said, gesturing to a pan where butter sizzled and garlic caramelized. “Pasta with a cream sauce, a bit of basil, and, if I don’t burn it, chicken.”

You hummed in approval, standing so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off him. He turned his head slightly, and your eyes met. For a moment, neither of you said anything, the silence thick with unspoken tension. His gaze lingered on your lips before darting back up to meet your eyes, a flush creeping up his neck.

“Something on your mind?” you teased, your voice low and playful.

Benedict swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, but he didn’t look away. “Only that you’re distracting,” he murmured, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

You reached out, running a finger along the edge of his jaw, feeling the faint stubble beneath your touch. “And what are you going to do about it?” you asked, tilting your head.

His breath hitched, but instead of answering, he turned off the stove and set the spoon down. The clatter of metal against the counter seemed louder than it was, a sharp contrast to the electric silence between you. Slowly, deliberately, he faced you, his hands coming to rest lightly on your hips.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your lips curved into a smile as you leaned in, closing the distance between you. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush of lips that quickly turned heated. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. You could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat against your chest, matching your own.

“You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?” you murmured against his lips, your fingers sliding into his hair.

He nodded, his breath warm against your cheek. “Can you blame me?” he asked, his tone somewhere between exasperation and adoration. “You make it impossible to focus.”

“Good,” you said, pushing him gently but firmly until his back hit the counter. 

You pressed against him, the edge of the counter digging into his back as you deepened the kiss. His lips parted beneath yours, and you took full advantage, your tongue brushing against his, eliciting a soft, breathy sound from him. His hands gripped your hips tighter, as if trying to anchor himself to you, but you could feel the way his body softened under your touch, surrendering.

“Turn around,” you whispered, breaking the kiss just enough to speak.

He blinked at you, his expression somewhere between surprise and intrigue, but he complied, twisting to face the counter. His breath hitched as your arms slid around his waist from behind, your palms pressing against his abdomen. Slowly, you ran your hands upward, savoring the feel of his body beneath the soft fabric of his sweater.

“You’re far too tense for someone who’s been cooking dinner,” you murmured, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.

A shiver ran through him, and he let out a shaky laugh. “Well, you’re not exactly helping me relax.”

“Oh, but I plan to,” you said, your voice teasing as your fingers dipped lower, tracing the waistband of his jeans.

His head fell back slightly, exposing the long line of his neck, and you couldn’t resist the temptation. You pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot just below his ear, then another, letting your teeth graze his skin lightly. The quiet groan that escaped him sent a thrill through you, and you felt his grip tighten on the edge of the counter.

“You like that,” you said, not a question but a statement.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Too much, maybe.”

You smiled against his skin, then tugged gently on his sweater. “Off.”

He turned his head to glance at you, his eyes dark with anticipation. There was no hesitation as he pulled the sweater over his head, leaving his chest bare. You took a moment to admire him, the defined lines of his shoulders and torso, the way his chest rose and fell with each shallow breath.

“Beautiful,” you said, running your hands over his back. His skin was warm to the touch, and he let out a quiet sigh as your nails lightly scraped down his spine. “You’re so good at following instructions.”

He turned his head slightly, a smirk playing at his lips despite the flush on his cheeks. “So you want to take the lead, huh?”

Your response was immediate and firm. “You’re mine tonight. All of you. Understand?”

His eyes flickered with something that looked like both surrender and excitement. “Yes,” he said softly. Then, louder, “Yes, ma’am.”

You grinned, your dominance only spurring you further. With a gentle but firm push, you turned him back toward you and nudged him toward the center of the kitchen. His movements were fluid but obedient, and it thrilled you to see the normally commanding actor so completely at your mercy.

You guided him backward until his legs hit the dining chair that sat in the corner of the kitchen. With a light push on his shoulders, you eased him down into the seat. Benedict looked up at you, his hair tousled, his lips slightly swollen from your earlier kisses. There was something intoxicating about seeing him like this—composed yet unraveling, his sharp, angular features softened by the heat of the moment.

“Stay there,” you said firmly, your voice low and commanding.

He obeyed, his hands resting on his thighs, his gaze fixed on you as if you were the only thing in the world. You could see the tension in his body, the way his fingers twitched, like he was holding back the urge to reach for you. You stepped closer, slowly, deliberately, letting him feel the weight of your presence.

“You’ve been so good for me,” you murmured, leaning down until your faces were inches apart. Your fingers brushed along his jawline, tracing the sharp angles, then tilted his chin up slightly. “Do you want to keep being good for me, Benedict?”

His breath caught, and he nodded. “Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Whatever you want.”

You smiled, your thumb running over his bottom lip. “Good,” you said.

Your hands slid to his shoulders, and with a gentle but insistent push, you guided him lower, until he was kneeling on the floor in front of you. The sight of him like this—on his knees, looking up at you with such raw desire—made your breath hitch. He rested his hands on your thighs, waiting, watching, his lips slightly parted as if he were ready to speak but unsure of what to say.

“Do you want me?” you asked, your voice softer now but no less commanding.

“Always,” he replied without hesitation, the sincerity in his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

You reached for his hand, guiding it to the waistband of your trousers. “Then show me.”

His fingers worked quickly, yet carefully, undoing the button and sliding the fabric down your legs. He hesitated for a moment, his hands lingering at the edge of your underwear, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, silently asking for permission.

“Go on,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His hands slipped beneath the fabric, and you let out a quiet sigh as his fingers brushed your skin. He took his time, easing the fabric down and letting it pool around your ankles. You stepped out of them, and he moved closer, his hands settling on your hips.

“Smother me,” he said, his voice low and breathless. “Let me make you feel good.”

The rawness in his tone sent a surge of heat through you, and you obliged, lowering yourself onto the chair and spreading your legs just enough to give him access. His hands slid along your thighs, his touch reverent yet possessive, and then his lips followed, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

When his mouth finally reached you, you couldn’t hold back the gasp that escaped. He was slow at first, deliberate, his tongue moving in gentle strokes that built a steady rhythm. His hands tightened on your thighs, holding you in place as he worked, and the sounds he made—soft, muffled groans of pleasure—only heightened your own.

“Yes,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Just like that.”

He responded with a hum of approval, the vibrations sending a jolt through you. His tongue dipped lower, exploring, teasing, and you felt your grip on his hair tighten. You rocked your hips against him, chasing the pressure, and he moaned, the sound guttural and desperate.

“You like this, don’t you?” you said, your voice unsteady but laced with authority. “You like being on your knees for me.”

He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips glistening. “I love it,” he said, his voice rough. “I love making you feel this way.”

“Then don’t stop,” you commanded.

Your fingers tightened in Benedict’s hair as his tongue moved with unrelenting precision, each flick and stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. His hands, strong yet trembling slightly with need, gripped your thighs to keep you steady as he worked, his desperation to please you palpable in every movement.

“Yes,” you murmured, your voice breathy and commanding. “Just like that. You’re so good for me, Benedict.”

At your praise, he groaned against you, the vibration pulling another moan from your lips. You could feel the heat rising in you, your body tightening with every expert movement of his tongue. The way he looked up at you—his pupils blown wide with desire, his cheeks flushed—only added to the fire coursing through you.

“You’re mine,” you said, your voice growing steadier as your dominance took over. “Do you understand?”

He nodded against you, his nose brushing your sensitive skin as he mumbled, “Yes. Yours. Always.”

Your hips rolled against his mouth, and his grip on your thighs tightened in response, his enthusiasm only growing. The sounds he made—half-growls, half-muffled whimpers—filled the room, mixing with your own gasps and sighs. You tugged at his hair, guiding him exactly where you wanted, and he obeyed without hesitation, his submission utterly complete.

“That’s it,” you whispered, your thighs beginning to shake as the tension inside you reached its peak. “Don’t stop, Benedict. Don’t you dare stop.”

He didn’t. If anything, he pushed harder, his tongue working you with even more fervor, his hands grounding you as your body tensed. When the climax hit, it was overwhelming, your head falling back, your lips parting as you cried out. Benedict didn’t let up, riding out every wave of your release until you were trembling beneath his touch.

Finally, you tugged at his hair gently, pulling him back. He looked up at you, his lips glistening, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. The expression on his face was one of pure adoration mixed with raw hunger.

“You’re perfect,” you said, cupping his face in your hands and brushing your thumb along his cheekbone.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before snapping back to yours. “Anything for you,” he said, his voice hoarse but steady. “Anything you want.”

You smirked, pulling him to his feet. His knees wobbled slightly, and you steadied him, your hands running up his chest.

With one hand, you reached for the waistband of his jeans, undoing the button and sliding the zipper down with practiced ease. His breath hitched as you pushed the denim down his hips, leaving him standing before you in nothing but his boxer briefs. You took a moment to admire him—the way his body seemed to tremble with anticipation, the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Off,” you commanded, gesturing to the last remaining barrier between you.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red, before obeying. As the fabric fell to the floor, you stepped closer, your hands sliding over his bare skin. He shivered beneath your touch, his body responding to every little movement, every brush of your fingertips.

“You’ve been so good for me tonight,” you said, guiding him toward the table. “Now, let me reward you.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes locked on yours as you pushed him gently onto his back. His body stretched out beneath you, vulnerable yet undeniably beautiful. You climbed onto the table, straddling him, and leaned down until your lips were a breath away from his.

“Are you ready?” you asked, your voice low and teasing.

“For you?” he said, his hands sliding up your thighs. “Always.”

You lowered yourself over him, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. His hands roamed your body, reverent and desperate, fingers pressing into your skin as though grounding himself in this moment. The table creaked softly beneath you, but neither of you paid it any mind. His breath came in short gasps as you broke the kiss, moving your lips down his jawline and to the sensitive spot just below his ear.

“Benedict,” you whispered, your voice firm but dripping with affection. “Do you trust me?”

“Completely,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire.

“Good,” you said, sitting up slightly to remove the last of your clothing. His gaze swept over you, his lips parting as he drank in the sight of you. His fingers twitched against your thighs, and you smirked, leaning down to press your lips to his once more.

“Hands above your head,” you commanded softly but firmly. “I want to see how obedient you can be.”

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face—not reluctance, but anticipation—and then he complied, stretching his arms above him and gripping the edge of the table. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his vulnerability making him all the more enticing.

“You look so beautiful like this,” you said, your hands gliding down his chest, fingers grazing over his taut muscles. His breath hitched as your touch lingered on his stomach before trailing lower. “Do you have any idea how much I love seeing you give in to me?”

He swallowed hard, his voice cracking slightly as he replied, “Tell me. Show me.”

You smiled, shifting your hips until you were poised over him, your body brushing against his in the most tantalizing way. His head tipped back, a soft groan escaping his lips as you rolled your hips slowly, teasing him with just enough pressure to drive him mad but not enough to give him what he craved.

“You want more, don’t you?” you teased, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper.

“Yes,” he breathed, his hands tightening on the table. “Please, I—”

“Patience,” you interrupted, leaning down to kiss his throat, your teeth grazing his skin. “I decide when and how you get what you want.”

His entire body tensed beneath you, and you felt a surge of satisfaction at the way he responded so readily to your control. You shifted again, this time taking him fully, and the sharp intake of breath that followed was music to your ears. His hands twitched against the edge of the table, and you could see the strain in his arms as he fought to keep them in place.

“Good,” you praised, moving slowly, deliberately. “You’re doing so well for me.”

His response was a choked moan, his head falling back against the wood as his body surrendered completely. You set a steady rhythm, your movements calculated to draw out every ounce of pleasure, every sound that escaped his lips. His hips bucked slightly, a silent plea for more, but you held firm, maintaining your control.

“Tell me what you need,” you said, your tone both commanding and affectionate.

“You,” he gasped, his voice raw. “Everything. All of you. Please.”

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Then take it.”

The night unfolded in a dance of give and take, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony. You pushed him to his limits, and he gave you everything, his submission a gift that left you both breathless and utterly sated by the time the evening drew to a close. As you lay tangled together afterward, the warmth of his body against yours, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that moments like this were yours to cherish.

“Still think I’m distracting?” you asked, your voice light with teasing.

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Always,” he said. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[geeky-politics-46]

Am I getting the urge to write a last-minute Valentine's story for our OG Stephen? Yes. Yes I am.

Or should i do it for Sinister Strange?

[softestqueeen]

i can't do this anymore!

pairing: bbc!sherlock x gn!reader

summary: When Sherlock overhears you talking on the phone, he thinks you're going to leave him.

warnings: nothing really, just miscommunication and a little angst

a/n: hey, this is my first ever fanfic so please be a bit patient with me. English is not my first language, I apologise for all the mistakes I've probably made.

Sherlock and you have been in an relationship for almost two years and so far everything was going great. Well, at least that’s what Sherlock thought.

Until one day, when he overheard you on the phone talking to your best friend, Mary. It wasn’t his intention to eavesdrop, but you looked upset while talking and he just wanted to assure he wasn’t the cause for it.

You were on the phone ranting to your best friend about wanting to quit your job. It didn’t make you happy anymore and you’ve already applied for new jobs. You didn’t tell Sherlock yet, because he was very busy with one of his cases and didn’t want to bother him with something that could wait.

“I’ve noticed that in these past few weeks I wasn’t happy anymore with this situation. I can’t keep on doing this, it’s just too much. So the only right thing to do, is end it. Once and for all.”, you told her.

Hearing this, Sherlocks heart shattered. He thought you were happy with how things were in your relationship, but apparently that was not the case. He couldn’t hear what Mary said on the other end, but he could hear very clearly that your plan was to end it tomorrow.

He couldn’t lose you. You were his everything, his reason to live. You made his life worth living and managed to break down the walls he built to protect himself. He trusted you with his life, so just thinking about you wanting to break up with him, nearly send him spiralling.

He didn’t know what to do or say so hedecided to wait until tomorrow and then beg you to not break up with him. Even if he’d have to get on his knees and beg. Alone the thought of you leaving made tears well up in his eyes.

He quickly composed himself, because he could hear you saying goodbye to your best friend. Acting like he was in his mind palace when you entered, gave him some time to think about what to say tomorrow.

“Hey Sherly”, he could hear your joyful voice call for him, but choose to ignore it, keeping up with the act. You were not happy at all with Sherlock ignoring you. After all the time you’ve spent with the consulting detective you knew when he was really in his mind palace and when he was just pretending.

With a frown on your face, you bent down to be at eye level with him. You crossed your arms and lifted an eyebrow. The moment you lifted your brow you could already hear the defeated sigh from your boyfriend.

“Hello, love”, he greeted you with a tight lipped smile. Immediately a crease started to form between your brows. “Is everything alright, honey?”, you asked him. “Yes, everything is just fine, love. I just have to.. uh.. go to a crime scene. Exactly, John called, he needs my help. Now. Don’t wait up for me.”, while explaining his not really convincing plan he put on his signature coat and his scarf.

He kissed you on the side of your head and left without another word. You could just mumble a short “take care�� before you heard the door to the busy streets of London shut closed.

Not going to lie, you were worried. Why was he acting so weird all of the sudden? He seemed almost distant. Normally, when something is on the genius’ mind he talks to you. You’ve made a lot of progress since you first got together and talk about almost everything. You knew each other so well, you could always tell what’s on his mind, even if he doesn’t like to admit that. It’s his own fault, if he teaches you to deduct people. But in this case you wanted to wait until he came to you with his worries. Whatever it was it seemed to really bother your boyfriend.

Sherlock wandered around aimlessly before he returned to Baker Street. He wasn’t ready to face you just yet, so he did something he rarely did. He visited his house keeper Mrs. Hudson. He was that desperate.

He knocked twice, before the elderly woman opened the door with a surprised smile on her lips. “What do I owe the honour to, Sherlock? You never come to visit me.”, she ushered him in and set on a kettle.

“Uhm… I fear y/n wants to break up with me.”, he mumbled, not daring to look Mrs. Hudson in the eyes. “Oh, Sherlock! What makes you believe that?”, she wanted to know from the detective, that has grown into her heart and is now like a son to her. She was worried, she knew how much you meant to him.

On the other side she also knew how much you loved him and doubted that you wanted to end things. Sherlock told her what he overheard of your conversation. “But Sherlock, are you really sure that’s what she meant? Couldn’t she have been talking about her job or something?”, she wanted to know.

He just shrugged and sipped his tea.

“I think you should go and talk to her, Sherlock. Maybe it’s all just a big misunderstanding.”, she reasoned. Still unsure of himself he nodded and thanked her for the advice. “Anytime, Sherlock, anytime.”

He went back into the flat you two shared, first as flatmates and now as lovers. He couldn’t see you anywhere and softly called out your name. He went into his bedroom, which the two of you mostly share and found you underneath the blanked, hugging his pillow. The dried tears on your face made his heart shatter.

He wasn’t sure what to do, thinking he messed up. He undressed and put on his pyjamas, but instead of joining his lover in the bed, he went back to the living area and settled on the couch. It wasn’t comfortable but he couldn’t sleep anyways. At around 4 o’clock in the morning his exhaustion won and he fell into a dreamless slumber.

You woke up to an empty bed. It wasn’t something new, but you worried about your boyfriends whereabouts. A lot.

You got up and found him asleep on the couch, looking incredibly uncomfortable, his tall frame not fitting into the small space provided. You started to rub your hand up and down his arm to wake him up.

Slowly he opened his blue-green eyes and looked into your e/c eyes. He sat up, stretched and then looked at you like a kicked puppy. If you looked close enough you could even see a pout forming on his plump lips.

“Sherlock, what’s wrong?”, you asked cautiously.

After a very pregnant pause he chocked out, “Please don’t leave me. I- I- I just cant live without you, you are my everything!”

You looked at the tear that rolled down his face, taking a path over his high cheekbone to the corner of his lip, with utter shock and heartbreak.

“Oh darling, what makes you believe I want to break up with you?”, you sat down next to him, cupped his cheek and used the pad of your thumb to wipe away a new tear that threatened to roll down his face. “I love you so much, I would never leave you!”

Sherlock released a shaky breath and leaned forward, making your foreheads touch. He cupped your face and whispered with his eyes closed, “I thought you’re going to leave me. I- I was so scared I-“ “Shh, it’s alright, darling. I’m not going to leave you. You’re stuck with me now.”

The last sentence made the detective smile. You furrowed your brows. “What made you think I was going to leave you?”, you wanted to know. He looked hesitant and then admitted, “I heard you talking to Mary about how fed up you were and that you wanted to end things. I assumed that you were talking about us.” He avoided looking at your eyes.

You chuckled a bit but stopped when you saw his puzzled expression. “I want to quit my job. I’m not unhappy with us, silly, I’m unhappy with my boss and my colleagues. I haven’t told you about it because you’ve been so busy with your case.”, you reassured him, “Why did you eavesdrop on our conversation in the first place?”

“You looked worried and I wanted to be sure that I’m not the cause of it. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”, he confessed. You knew that when he dropped the words ‘I’m sorry’ he really meant it.

“It’s alright, you meant it well.”, you told him, “I wish you would have been honest with me from the beginning, but I could have asked you what’s going on when I noticed you acting weird. From now on we know better.”

“You are right. As always.”, even though he whispered the last part, you’ve still heard it.

With a soft smile you stood up, “Come on darling, let’s go to bed.”

He immediately stood up, picked you up bridal style and took you to his bedroom.

He was just glad, he still gets to call you his love.

a/n: if you liked this, please leave some notes! you can now also request fics on my page!

[strangelockd]

Hii!! How are u? 🥰

Could you write something with the prompts 7.“how mad would you be if i kissed you?” and 2.“my lipgloss is all over your lips.” from the fluff list with Stephen pls

Fates Embrace

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Pairing: Sinister Strange x FemReader

Summary: Your sick at the Sanctum and Stephen being poor with words tries to comfort you in his own special way leading to a much greater surprise.

•Im slowly chipping away at my requests and this one was so long overdue. I really tried keeping it fluff but i couldn’t help myself. There were many directions that this fic could have taken but I hope you love it. The story was inspired by Harry Styles and you can find the song on my Sinister Playlist•

“Sinister was fully convinced that if you tasted half as divine as the forbidden fruit of Eve, then he absolutely understood her succumb to the surrender of temptation”

You had been nauseous for days, and no amount of rest seemed to make it better. With a shaking hand, you reached for the bed pan, the cool porcelain a welcome contrast to your already warm skin. Setting the bed pan on the floor, you groaned, wiping the leftover vomit from your cheek. Yep you definitely were sick no doubt. Despite having everything you needed from herbal tea to nausea medication, Sinister still paced the room in a worry for your health; you are his world after all.

Leaning against the foot of the bed Sinister pawed the comforter on the four poster bed, “are you sure there's nothing else I can do for you my love,” eyeing you like a hawk he was seeking your gaze making sure you were not just playing the hero. Stephen could always see right through your poker face. Letting out a small hum you smiled reassuring him, “Babe relax, it's just a little bug. You as a doctor even said it's more than likely a common cold, trust me I will be fine in a few days.”

Sinisters chilled hands slowly slithered from the warmth of the blankets, searching for your feet, which were hidden under the many layers of blankets, “Yes yes I know my pet, it's just that I can’t help but worry for you so,” his grip tightened more around your ankles as if you would disappear like smoke. Sinister had always felt alone in the world, and he had never expected to find someone who could make him feel so connected and loved. He had believed that he could never be happy, but you knew deep down that Sinister was willing to do anything to keep you in his life. The thought of losing you was unbearable to him, and it felt like his own personal hell.

Seeing the worry laced in his eyes you shot him a comforting smile,“Stephen, trust me I'm not going anywhere. You know i'm with you forever in this life,” extending your arms outwards beckoning him to join you. Sinister for a second was taken aback; feeling a sudden warmth spread over him he couldn't help but grin, his heart swelled with your irrevocable love so much that he could burst. Letting out a soft contented sigh he couldn't help but feel unbrimmed joy for being so wanted by such a divine woman. For how could he say no to his queen, the very person he would sacrifice his own life for.

Kicking off the heavy boots they made a slight thump against the wooden floorboards as your husband manifested a beautiful purple indigo smoke. The smoke cascading around him as he opted to change into his comfiest pair of dark purple pajamas leaving you in awe. You have been with him for years and even doing basic things, Sinister was the pure definition of elegance and it bever failed to leave you breathless. Feeling the weight of his form shift on the mattress, Sinister slowly made his way across the burgundy comforter. He snuggled close to you, wrapping himself in the warmth of the covers sighing contentedly.

Sinisters scarred hands reached over to gently cup your jaw placing a delicate kiss to your forehead. He nuzzled his nose against yours adding softly, “…In this life. And the next my love. For I have crossed oceans of time to find you and I will never lose you,” his finger traced your cheek softly as his blue eyes searched yours, the sentiment making you blush a deeper red. Placing a hand above his you leaned in to his touch, batting your lashes softly you couldn't help but melt into his eyes that reflected your very own.

“And you'll always have me, Stephen Strange,” breathing in his scent you closed your eyes, “For my heart and soul are yours and yours alone,” breaking the gap Sinister leaned into your lips. The sudden connection made you moan as he traced your lower lip with his tongue tasting your skin. It was so hypnotic, so mesmerizing that you suddenly snapped back to reality pulling away not wanting him to catch your cold. Feeling your resistance his strong hands only pulled you flush to his chest.

“Babe, don’t! You'll catch whatever I got,” you protested. Sinister couldn't help but chuckle at your declaration.

“Darling, I'm a man with the power of gods. It will take more than a cold to stop me from adoring you”, feeling the brush of his goatee against your delicate earlobe. His lips were so close to yours that you could feel his heat radiating from them. His lips ghosted your collarbone, his breath sweet and warm as he continued to ghost across your soft skin, sending a shiver of pleasure through your body and a fire of desire awakening in your core. Cocking his head to the side Sinister gently pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger, eyes laced with mischief he had a better idea in mind.

“How mad would you be if I kissed that beautiful mouth of yours?” He smirked, taking note of your sudden tight grip on the crimson sheets. Hes such a fucking tease…

Pulling away once more in an attempt to resist, you looked into his eyes and you could clearly tell that all your husband wanted to do was to be there to make you feel good no matter what. “I dunno,” biting your lip you smirked, “why not find out.” The familiar feeling of his hands slithered against the back of your neck as he pulled you in slowly, kissing you once more he tasted the sweetness of your lips. The essence of strawberries sticking to his mind imprinted on his eidetic memory forever. He wanted to drown in you for the rest of his days. You both pulled away chuckling like a couple of school kids as his hands sought your face tracing your jawline, his breath welcoming against your soft delicate flesh.

“Delicious,” he cooed, giving your lower lip a gentle nip.

Damn him…

Sinister always brought you great joy even on days you were not at your best, times when you were sure he would leave after seeing your unsavory sides. You knew that deep down he would walk through fire for you, proving all too well his devotion time and time again leaving you with no doubts. Sinisters hands trailed down your curves resting at the slope of your hips guiding you to his lap. You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his once more as his hands traced your thighs gripping them firmly. Pulling away to look into your eyes he smiled brushing your cheek with unbridled admiration.

“I love you y/n,” he proclaimed, palms giving a slight tremble, “you know that right?”

Your heart swelled at the profession of his words only for them to taper, it broke your heart knowing he was alone for so long and yet still felt uncertainty about your devotion. Years if self loathing convinced him that his blackened heart was too difficult to bear, that he was a burden and needed to hide from the light forever. But here you are loving it through all the dirt to bare something of a diamond underneath the crevice of his newly alivened heart.

Heart racing you leaned in kissing him deeper, showing him how much he truly means to you. His moans drowning all thought as you pulled away looking him in the eyes. “And I love you Stephen Strange. I always have,” nibbling his earlobe in return you felt his grip tighten. You were sure there would be mark’s later no doubt, but in the moment you couldn’t care less. He growled pulling you in for another kiss, taking note of your nightgown riding up your thighs he smirked suddenly flipping you to once more your backside.

“Stephen!” You cried feeling him slither down between your thighs taking note of what's below. Or lack thereof.

“Hmm no panties?” His eyes suddenly turning dark and piercing it shot right to your center causing you to involuntarily rock your hips against his goatee.

“Mmm ya,” giving a teasing smile, “Didn't feel like it,” flashing him a cheeky wink it only spurred him on more to dig into your needy heat inhaling your arousal.

“You naughty girl,” his voice laced with a husky desire as you felt the welcoming sensation of his fingers slipping deeper into your thighs. His fingers gliding between the folds of your heat as his thumb traced circles around your clit.

“Always so wet for me my pet,” slipping two fingers inside he watched as your body writhed against his touch, “and my cock isnt even inside you yet,” he teased, pumping his digits at a steady pace. Sinister watched in awe as he felt your pussy clamp down like a vice around his fingers.

“You're such a good girl. Do you know that? Do you know how beautiful you look coming undone by my hands?” His eyes glowed under the light as he watched on, your legs trembling. He felt them spread wider, practically welcoming him to feast upon you. You get off on the praise, and he knows it all too well. Your body arched and pebbled against his touch as if you were fabricated just for him. Your reaction alone was enough to make his stiffened cock ache between his trousers. The only thoughts going through his mind were mine mine mine…like a sacred prayer only for you.

“I adore you. Your absolutely beautiful,” he purred, pressing his face into you deeper he traced his tongue over your wet folds making you moan deeper only urging him to need more. Sinister wanted to drown in your essence for this was his paradise and his alone, you locked around him wanting to be entangled in this state for eternity. Swirling your clit in a figure eight his mouth continued its assault as he felt your climax grip around his digits, you were close and nothing felt more sweeter or divine than this very moment. You moaning for him and only him alone. Your fingers laced through his ravenous strands pushing him deeper as his hands reached up, ripping the straps off your gown to expose your perfect bare breast on display. His hands immediately seeking your exposed nipples, giving them a gentle twist. It was just enough to send you over the edge as his right hand continued pumping in and out of your throbbing cunt claiming him only tighter.

Sinister takinging in the staggered rise and fall of your breath he placed his hand on the flat of your stomach in an attempt to steady yourself. For a moment he felt something…a heartbeat. But it…it can't be? His heart fluttered and flipped all at once with the sudden possible realization but there was something more pressing that demanded his attention and that was you.

“Ste-Stephen I’m gonna!”

The echo of your pleasured moans suddenly snapping him back to reality. This is the only thing he ever wants to do, be lost in you. Devoting every waking moment to your pleasure.

“That's it! That's my girl,” His thumb pressing firm circles on your clit as his lips traced yours, “your so beautiful when you come”

Your mouth shot open in a silent scream as you arched off the mattress, your heat riding his digits as he finger fucked you through your orgasm. The curling of his hand making you see stars, he truly did have magic hands in more ways than one.

Sinisters mind suddenly shot to the thought of what he felt in the base of your tummy. Tracing his palm over his chest he instinctively placed the other over your lower tummy, your elbows propped you up as your heart fluttered when you casted your gaze upon your husband.

“Stephen? What's wrong?” You asked with bated breath.

“Nothing my love,” he spoke with promise, his gaze still fixated on your belly, “hold on and let me see here”

At first the sensation was warm as if being cloaked by a blanket fresh from the dryer. A soft purple glow emitted from your abdomen as you both witnessed what was clearly a little baby in your belly no more than 10 weeks. The motions of its little arms made tears form in your eyes. You couldn't believe it, and neither could Sinister but here you are in fact pregnant.

You traced his features taking note of his reaction, noticing the swell of tears in his eyes he sniffled looking up at you, “And I thought I've seen everything,” you brushed a stray strang away from his forehead; he couldn't help but grin wide.

Come to think of it It's not like safe sex was a part of your repertoire. You both were more shocked it just took this long to finally happen.

“You're not upset, are you Stephen?” Your heart filled with sudden rising dread at the silly question. The seconds felt like minutes as you waited on for your husband's answer.

Eyes widened he practically leapt forward his hands sought yours as he paused just a fraction from your lips. You couldn't help but feel the sudden thrill of it, his unbridled excitement and joy seemed to penetrate every cell of your body. The comfort of his large hands made you lean into his touch, you took a breath as he craned his neck down ensuring you met his gaze. The calm timber of his voice was slow and smooth like the sweetest of chocolate and all you wanted was to melt into him.

“Heavens no my sweet angel. I am beyond thrilled. For you have given me all the more reason for being alive, and I couldn't possibly love you more than in this moment.”

Hearing the soft sniffles he leaned forward nuzzling foreheads peppering you with kisses that spoke of promise, you just couldn't believe that you are with child. Instinctively you couldn't help but draw his palm forward over your bare belly once more, the soft purple glow emitting from his palm glowed once more revealing the miracle underneath leading Sinister to smile.

“So much for you being sick,” he chuckled, kissing you once more. Rubbing your belly softly you placed a hand above his, joining the three of you in unison.

“Seems like the doctor is getting a little rusty with diagnosing,” you teased, feeling him give a playful yet gentle shove so as to not hurt you or the baby.

You smiled leaning in, nestling your face against his. “Oh hush now kiss me once more”

For a moment, all was still and peaceful and you never wanted it to end. Wrapping his arms around your waist you took in the warmth and familiarity of him. With a contented sigh, he whispered, "I love you."

Tears rolled down your cheek as his thumb took the liberty of wiping them away gently. Your lips sought his as you mended once more into each other like the sand meets the sea. You've kissed many times but yet somehow it feels like your millionth and first all wrapped up in one. Sinister was fully convinced that if you tasted half as divine as the forbidden fruit of Eve, then he absolutely understood her succumb to the surrender of temptation. For nothing ever tasted so sweet.

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[j-eryewrites]

The Dancing Men (II)

Part 16 of The Arbitrary Lives of the Occupants of 221B Baker Street

Previous | Next

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Word Count: (9.1k)

Author’s Note: Is this a filler chapter...? yes. Is this chapter over 9 thousand words...? yes. (This was also a chance to explore other characters besides Sherlock, John, and Y/N) 

Also, I did not realize the dancing men code did not insert the last chapter, so I went back an added that. (Thought it might be fun for yall to figure out the code alongside Sherlock.)

Warnings: Drug usage, mentions of drugs, murder, descriptions of blood and injuries, Sherlock is Sherlock (let me know if I have missed anything)

Everything was in place: buttery popcorn, fluffy blanket, lights dimmed down low, and the chosen movie on the television screen. Bjørn sat cozied up on Y/N’s lap. His brown fur was a stark contrast to the white light blue blanket on her lap. Across from the two of them was John. His back was relaxed as he sank into the soft cushion of Y/N’s couch. All worries of the workday were forgotten as they dived into the latest choice for their movie night. 

Bjørn quite enjoyed these evenings. One, John was present and Bjørn liked John very much. Second, Y/N was holding him close and petting his fur; an action the cat loved. Third, Sherlock was nowhere to be found. Bjørn remembers the first movie night they held and, unfortunately, Sherlock had been invited to that, until he predicted how the entire movie would play out, so then John had heroically banned the man from movie nights. 

Mrs. Hudson, one of Bjørn’s favourite people, would occasionally be invited to the movie nights, but those were only the rom-com nights. The cat could easily recall the woman’s fondness of the romance genre from all the soap operas and romance films she watched while watching over Bjørn for the night. Bjørn didn’t mind the sappiness of the movies at all because he was well rewarded by Mrs. Hudson with treats and baked goods that were only meant for pets. 

Bjørn purred as Y/N reached over to grab the remote to play the movie. His owner had heard of the movie from word of mouth. It was something called “The Eyes of My Mother.” Apparently, it was scary good or at least that’s what Y/N had mentioned when telling John. 

Tonight was horror movie night. It was one of two genres both Y/N and John enjoyed watching together. Bjørn preferred horror movie nights. It meant that the people in the room would be fighting to find comfort from the cat as the jump scares and loud scary noises crept up in the scenes on the screen. Bjørn liked to provide comfort. He loved to protect those he loved. Which was why the cat was glad Sherlock was not here. There was something about that man that Bjørn didn’t like. Maybe it was the way his black hair bounced atop his head. No one should have that dark of curls. It could have been the piercing blue eyes that reminded Bjørn of a predator or the man’s peculiar aura. Bjørn could see auras and there was something strange about Sherlock's.

The movie had begun. The two humans in the room jumped at certain jump scares. Bjørn was almost knocked off Y/N’s lap at one point. The cat began to wonder if it would be safer to sit on John’s lap, so eventually he crawled out of his seat on his owner's lap and settled onto John’s. John welcomed the warmth and comfort that Bjørn presented. In trade for the cat, Y/N got the popcorn bowl. The woman was forced to, instead, find comfort in the plastic bowl that carried the buttery goodness. 

Bjørn had just settled into his seat on John’s lap (well, of course, the man had an excellent lap) when he felt a petulant buzzing from underneath him. The movie was quickly paused and Bjørn cracked open his eyes to watch Y/N and John search for the noise. Bjørn contemplated helping them search and putting an end to the noise, but the source was soon found under the mound of blankets. 

Once uncovered,  a horrendous ringtone began to play from John’s phone. A ringtone that he had set years prior, that he meant to change but just never got around to it. John retrieved his phone and Bjørn caught sight of a pellicular look on the man’s face. 

“Hello?” John answered. 

Bjørn, with his excellent hearing, could make out the sound of a woman’s voice. Now, the cat hadn’t gotten used to the British accent. While the cat could understand Mrs Hudson, John, and reluctantly Sherlock, everyone else was a mystery. He blamed his understanding of the human language and the voice of those who found a home in 221B to be a matter of proximity. He willingly got used to John and Mrs. Hudon’s voices. He loved Y/N’s. Sherlock’s? Well, Sherlock’s was like screeching. Bjørn hated it. He hated everything about the man. Hate wasn’t a strong enough word. Bjørn loathed Sherlock entirely. 

“Hello, is this John Watson?” The voice asked over the phone. 

John’s face turned to shock. He was surprised to hear a voice he hadn’t heard in years. It belonged to one Kate Whitney. An old friend of his sister’s (and the girl he dated in his Secondary Educational years, but John prefers to use “a friend of his sister”.)

“Kate?” John asked.

“John? Oh, thank heavens! I don’t know what to do John!” Kate cried to him over the phone. 

John waited for Kate to finish talking. 

“It’s about Isa. He hasn’t been home for about two days and I’m getting worried. I heard from your sister that you were working with that detective now…” She sobbed. 

Isa Whitney. Right. Kate’s husband. Also an old friend from Secondary School. Bjørn looked up at John. The man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as Kate cried over the phone. Bjørn’s ears began to hurt from the whining. 

In the back of John’s mind, he knew what Kate was going to ask next the second Sherlock had been mentioned. So John took the preemptive step to ask if she knew where her husband would be. 

Kate answered immediately. “The opium den on the east side of the city. At a place called Bar of Gold on Upper Swandam lane.”

Bjørn could feel John’s actions before they came and the cat regretted choosing to find a seat on John’s lap. The cat quickly hopped off and back onto Y/N’s lap just as John’s body groaned. John’s muscles expanded and contracted shooting into motion as he stood up to fetch his things by the door. 

Kate was overjoyed. “Oh, John. Thank you! I would go myself but that place is not safe for a woman like me.” 

Of course, Kate continued to ramble on as John grabbed his keys and stumbled down the stairs and out of 221B. 

“Yes…Kate…” John tried to conclude the conversation. “I’ll have to…Kate…”

Now, John liked to think that he was a kind man. If one compared John to his friend Sherlock, he would most definitely be the “kinder” out of the two of them. John made sure to thank Mrs. Hudson whenever she brought up tea for him and Sherlock and apologize to others (clients, police officers, Greg, Y/N, Bjørn) whenever he could. Since John made the active choice to be kind, he found himself having a hard time saying no. Well, unless it was Sherlock. Sherlock was easy to say no to. 

Even with this kindness that has seeped deep into John’s bones, he knew he had to end the call soon. While Kate was talking, John cleared his throat and spoke up. “Kate. I’ll go out to find Isa. I’ll bring him home. Got to go.” Without another word, the phone call was over. 

As John tugged on his jacket and shoes by the door. Once he was all set, he turned around to Y/N to apologize. He mentioned she could continue the movie, but the woman refused and insisted on waiting for him to return to finish it. Bjørn could sense the man began to feel guilty about the whole scenario and seemingly so could Y/N.

“John, go. Help your friend. I’ll be fine,” Y/N reassured. 

That’s all it took for John to bid goodbye and leave 221B in search of Isa Whitney. Bjørn hopped up from Y/N’s lap once more and settled on the section of the couch John once sat on. The cat was not content with the idea of being thrown off another lap. As if on cue, Y/N stood up from the couch and moved to the kitchen to make herself some tea. Once the water was boiled and the tea poured, Bjørn watched his owner pick up her phone. 

Y/N scrolled through her phone looking for a worthy distraction. Of course, she could just find something else to watch, but it felt wrong. Instinctively her finger found itself drifting to the messages. There were two messages from Jim asking about their date later that week. She hovered over the messages reading them over and over again, before sending a short reply confirming the time. 

Part of her felt bad. Jim was her boyfriend after all. However, there was something deep within her that wanted someone else. It was a secret she could never admit to herself for fear of the emotions coming up front and centre displaying for all to see. Those very emotions the man in question would sense in an instant. That very man she found herself calling. The phone rang. It rang. Then it stopped. Sherlock’s voice box message played over the speakers and then Y/N hung up. 

She groaned and dropped her head into her hands. She needed to stop. Sherlock was out for a business trip, whatever that was. She and John didn’t press, but Y/N began to think she should have. She missed him. Her finger tightened around the roots of her hair. This was bad. She missed Sherlock. Missing someone was the step just before you had to come clean with yourself; because you could only miss someone if you cared for them. 

_______

It wasn’t the first time John had been called to help Kate. He was well aware of her and her husband’s troubles. At first, Kate had gone to Harriet, John’s sister, until she realized that Harriet and Isa shared similar afflictions. As one does with comfort, Kate found someone who was in a similar boat as her; that someone had to be John Watson.

At the beginning of John’s journey, he hadn't had much of an issue finding a cab that would take him to Upper Swandam Lane. Although he got a few judgemental looks from his cab driver on the way to the location. When John did arrive at the street, that was when things started to take a turn. 

Upper Swandam Lane was a vile place to be. It was an alleyway that lurked behind the high wharves on the north side of the river just to the east of the London Bridge. The alleyway itself was between a slop shop and a gin shop. There was a set of stairs that John had to climb up to reach the alley. There was litter, burnt-up cigarette butts, and mysteriously gooey substances that adhered to the ground. Overall a place that screamed germs, something that just so happened to be a doctor’s worst nightmare. 

As John trekked up the stairs, he was glad that he had chosen to wear his thick boots. He’d prefer it if he didn’t end up with a contaminated needle stuck in his foot. The further John walked through the alley the more addicts he had to step over. People who had come for the high were now suffering the after-effects as they lay on the ground. John’s eyes carefully scoured the area looking for the familiar face of Isa Whitney. 

Eventually, John reached a wooden door. Above the door was a flickering lamp that only added to the alley’s chilling ambience. John could hear the sounds of muffled voices, laughter, and cheers from the other side of the door. He thought it over and assumed that it’d be best to try his luck inside the building. As John reached for the door handle, he prayed that Isa Whitney would be in there. 

The door creaked open to reveal a long, low room. The air was thick and heavy with the smoke of opium and other drugs. The lights were gloomy as they tried to shine through the dark smog. Through the gloom, John could make out figures of all sizes and shapes. They were all lying in strange poses as they all turned their heads to glance at the newcomer. Scattered amongst the haze were little red circles of light at the end of metal pipes. Occasionally a figure would reach out for the pipes and lift it to their lips before inhaling. 

There was a hushed conversation in the building as John made his way around the room in search of Isa. As luck would have it, John found the man. Isa was in the back of the room. He sat on a three-legged stool with his back hunched over a pipe. His fists were clenched tightly around the object as he raised his arms up to shakingly bring the pipe to his mouth. 

John tried to make quick work of reaching Isa but was stopped numerous times along the way. Attendants and other addicts would offer him a smoke or try to lead him in another direction in their delirium. 

“No thank you,” John would reply before returning to his chosen path. Eventually, the crowd and temptation grew too much, so John called out to Isa. “Isa Whitney!” The room fell silent and the people around John drew back from the man. Like the parting of a sea, the crowd moved and John eased his way over to Isa. 

Now that John was closer to Isa and without the presence of the smog, John’s eyes could see clearly the state of the man. Isa was in a haggard state. His eyes narrowed so that they were tiny slits. His clothes were wrinkled and dishevelled. There were even a few brown spots scattered across, what John assumed, was once a white button-up. Isa lifted his head to peer up at John. 

There was a moment of silence before Isa spoke. “My God! It’s John!” Isa said. The man’s demeanour completely changed. There was a spark of life in his eyes as Isa took sight of John’s face. “Why are you here?” The man spoke joyfully. 

John tried to take in a deep breath, but from the smoke, he ended up entering a coughing fit. Once John had collected himself and once Isa stopped hysterically laughing. John explained his appearance. 

At the mention of his wife, Kate, Isa’s expression paled. “John…what time is it?” Isa hesitated. His once joyful expression was now one of guilt and worry. 

“It’s nearly eleven at night,” John said. 

“...What day?” Isa continued with his questions. He seemed more and more sober the longer John and him spoke. 

“Friday, October 19th.” 

Isa dropped the pipe from his hand and started patting his body up and down as if he was looking for something. “No–It’s Wednesday. It is Wednesday,” he phrased it more like a question than a statement.

John sighed and shook his head. “It’s Friday.” He pulled out his phone to show Isa the date. Again Isa paled at the sight. “Your wife, Kate, has been worried sick. Isa, you should be ashamed of yourself.” 

Isa narrowed his eyes at John in disbelief. “I’ve only been here a few hours…I’ve only had two–four, no six pipes? I forgot how many…” Isa began to trail off as he wondered about how many pipes he had smoked. 

Before Isa could spiral any further, John reached for the man’s arm and yanked him up to his feet. “Let’s get you back home,” John muttered before lugging Isa to the door. 

Isa stumbled into John, nearly knocking him over as they scuffled over to the exit. “I’ll go with you, John,” Isa said as he wrapped an arm around John before leaning his entire body weight on John. 

John grumbled as he tried to get solid footing underneath Isa. 

“Kate must be so frightened–poor little Kate…my love.” Isa gazed off into the distance thinking about Kate. 

By some miracle, John had led Isa out of the building and the two of them were now walking down the alleyway back to the street. 

“John! Give me your hand!” Isa exclaimed. 

John cried out as Isa lunged for his hand and was now holding it hostage. “Isa!” 

Isa ignored John’s outcry. “Do you have a cab?” 

“Yes, Isa. I have a cab.”

“Good!” Isa squeezed John’s hand. “I owe you, John. I owe you!” 

“Yes. I heard you the first time, Isa,” John said. 

Then John continued to lead Isa out of the alley and to the cab that was waiting for them. The alleyway seemingly got darker the longer they walked. It was a narrow lane that made it hard for two grown men to walk side by side. In turn, John walked behind Isa making sure that the man didn’t trip over his feet or stop moving forward. 

Even though they were outside and no longer in that horrific building, John felt his lungs begin to burn from the smoke. He found it hard to breathe. Instead, John took to holding his breath. He deemed that it would be better to not breathe in the smog than to breathe at all. That was until he heard a voice speak to him. It was a voice that was too low to have ever come from Isa. 

John reluctantly took his eyes off of Isa and looked around the alleyway when the voice spoke again. 

“Walk past me, and then look back at me.” 

John froze before doing as the voice said. He turned around and looked down. His brown eyes fell upon a tall figure hunched over. There was something familiar about how the figure on the ground sat. John would have expected someone who sat upon the vile ground of Upper Swandam Lane to not sit with an air of arrogance. 

The whole scenario piqued John’s curiosity. He found himself leaning over and getting a closer look at the man who had spoken to him. It took all of John’s self-control to not grab the man and cry in astonishment. 

It was Sherlock Holmes. The man who had told both Y/N and John that he’d be away for a business trip. Sherlock turned his head so that John could see him clearly now. There was no doubt about it. There were the striking blue eyes that seemed to glow in the dark of the alley, the curly black hair, and that wicked smirk. 

“Sherlock!” John harshly whispered. “What on earth are you doing here?!” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes at his friend’s concern. “Speak as quietly as you can. I have excellent hearing. Also, get rid of that…” Sherlock turned his head to look at Isa who was now leaning up against the wall of the alley. “...friend of yours. Then I’ll talk.” Sherlock said it with such pompousness that John scoffed. 

John was considering just leaving Sherlock there and taking Isa back, but then John thought of Y/N. He knew he wouldn’t be able to face the woman without spilling the news about Sherlock. 

“I have a cab, Sherlock,” John whispered. 

“Good. Send him home in it.” Sherlock’s eyes flashed with disgust as he looked Isa up and down. “He won’t do anything mischievous. He appears to be limping to hold his own body weight up.”

“Which is why I should make sure that he gets home!” 

Sherlock tsked. “Quietly John.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose tightly. This was a moment where he should have said no. He should have taken Isa home in the cab. John should have arrived back at 221B and then spilt the news about Sherlock to Y/N. That’s what any good friend should do when they find someone they care about in a compromising position. But John knew Y/N had too much to worry about. He was her friend too. John clenched his jaw tightly before huffing in agreement. This time, he’d agree with Sherlock. He’d save Y/N some worry. It was the least he could do. 

It was surprisingly easy to place Isa Whitney in the confinement of the cab before sending him on his way back home to his wife Kate. Out of courtesy, John texted Kate telling her that her husband was on his way home in a cab. As John finished the message, Sherlock appeared beside him. 

The two of them didn’t speak a word as Sherlock led John down the street. It seemed the two of them were going for a stroll. The longer the silence progressed, the longer John grew worried. He knew of Sherlock’s addiction. The nicotine patches. The side comments from Mycroft offered a brief picture of Sherlock’s past. 

About two streets later, Sherlock stopped moving and let out a light chuckle. John whipped his head around to look at Sherlock like he was insane. (Although, John did think that Sherlock was partially insane most of the time). 

“I suppose, John, “ Sherlock said. “You’re imagining that I have added opium smoking to my nicotine patches.”

John’s jaw was slack and his eyes wide at his friend’s words. “What the hell were you doing there Sherlock?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Sherlock replied. 

John placed his hands on his hips and stared at Sherlock. “I came to find a friend.”

Sherlock raised his brows letting John know that he already knew that. “I came to find an enemy,” Sherlock stated. 

John was unimpressed. The last ‘enemy’ of Sherlock’s that John had met was his brother. It was more likely that the said enemy was someone else from Sherlock’s past. A cousin, a friend, another relative of some sort. “An enemy?” 

“Yes; one of my natural enemies.” Those words from Sherlock’s mouth sealed the deal in John’s mind. This was another Mycroft situation. “John,” Sherlock continued, “I am in the middle of a case and I hoped that I could find a clue from the incoherent ramblings of these addicts. Something I have done before.”

“What case, Sherlock? Cause if I remember correctly, Y/N knows about every case you take and she made sure that you’d be free so you could go on this business trip.”

It seemed like the mention of Y/N’s name ticked off something in Sherlock because the man began to walk again ignoring John’s question. 

John sighed. “What case, Sherlock?!”

“Follow me, John!” Sherlock called out as his long legs took him farther and farther away from John. 

_____

It seemed like the place Sherlock took John was back to Baker Street. How the two of them walked all over London to get back to their flat that late at night astounded John. He was sure how exhausted he was feeling while watching the horror movie with Y/N that he’d have enough energy to travel all the way back home physically. He knew Sherlock had the energy. The man seemed to have a never-ending reserve of energy. 

Once the black door of 221 B Baker Street closed, Sherlock began to strip off his coat and scarf. He marched up the stairs with a passion beckoning John to follow. John winced as the stairs creaked loudly underneath his and Sherlock’s steps. If Y/N and Mrs. Hudson weren’t already awake, then they would be now. 

“Sherlock!” John hissed at his friend. He was careful of his own volume. 

Sherlock turned around to John as he flung his coat and scarf on the hanger by the door. 

John stood expectantly in the doorway. His hands crossed over his chest as if he was urging Sherlock on for an explanation that was due long ago. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes before answering John. “A few years ago, a man named Neville St. Clair came to London. Not long after he got married to the daughter of a local brewer, someone he has two children with now. I have been told that he’s a good husband and affectionate father and that the family is in a good financial situation. This means that there is no reason for him to be worried about his family or money troubles.”

John pursed his lips and raised a brow at Sherlock. In all honesty, John had no idea where Sherlock was going with this. 

Sherlock tilted his head as he remembered something. Suddenly he pulled out his phone to show John a photo of Neville. John peered at the picture. Neville was a man with flaming red hair and sad-looking eyes. His face was filled with freckles and covered every inch of skin. Yet the thing that drew John’s attention the most was the long scar that ran from the tip of Neville’s forehead down to his chin. 

“Last Monday,” Sherlock continued, “Neville went into town to run a few errands. Meanwhile, Mrs. St. Clair had her lunch near Upper Swandam Lane. Afterwards, she did some shopping, and at exactly 4.35, she was walking back through Swandam Lane on her way back home. Are you following me, John?

John’s brow raised higher as he continued to stare at Sherlock. He still had no clue as to why a certain Nevill and Mrs. St. Clair had anything to do with a case. In fact, John was positive that there was no case. 

Sherlock took John’s silence as a yes, so he proceeded. “If you remember, Monday was a cold day, so Mrs. St. Claire took extra care in looking for a cab. While she was walking around Swandam Lane she heard a loud cry from above her. She saw her husband frantically waving at her from an opening in the window. She also described him as being terribly agitated before a force from behind him tore him away from the window. She tried running after her husband and soon found herself in the same building you were in tonight. She tried making her way up the stairs but was stopped by an attendant and forced back out onto the street. Filled with fear and concern, the woman called the police.”

John finally took a step forward and closed the door behind him. His intrigue was piqued. 

“They arrived and searched the place but there was no sign of him there. In fact, there was no one to be found. The police were determined that Mrs. St. Clair had been delusional. That was until they stumbled upon a watch that belonged to Neville. Mrs. St. Claire confirmed that it was her husband based on the engraving on the inside of the watch. After further inspection, the police found some blood as well as all the clothes of Neville St. Clair. There were no signs of violence and there were no more signs of Neville. According to witness accounts, the last one to see Neville St. Clair was a man named Hugh Boone.”

By now John was sitting in his chair. His hand rested underneath his chin as he watched Sherlock pace back and forth as he recounted the information about the case. 

“Boone is a professional beggar. He claims that he was not the last one to see our missing man. Detective Gavin–”

“Greg,” John corrected. 

“-searched Boone and found traces of blood on his clothes, but the man told Lestrade that it was from a cut on his hand. One that was still bleeding. An injury from the window, where the traces of the blood had been found. Lestrade also took the opportunity to have the nearby area checked. Neville’s coat was found in an alleyway. Inside the pockets was the man’s wallet.”

“So then where’s the body?” John asked. He was sure that finding all of Neville’s clothes and blood but no wallet meant that the man was dead.

“There was nobody, John.” There was a sparkle in Sherlock’s eye as he said it. “However, Boone was arrested and taken to Scotland Yard, but there was nothing against him. The blood had been his own. The only thing that could be used as evidence were Neville’s clothes, but even so, that is substantial enough.”

Everything clicked in John’s brain. “That’s why Y/N didn’t know you had a case. Greg called you himself.” 

Sherlock halted his pacing and looked at John. John was right of course, so Sherlock nodded. 

Now that John was satisfied with that answer he asked another question. “Why was Neville St. Clair was at an opium den and what does Hugh Boone have to do with the disappearance?”

Sherlock smiled at John. “Now you’re asking the right questions.”

“Sherlock…” John began to fiddle with his hands. “Do you think Neville is dead?”

“Yes–” 

Suddenly there was a banging on the door downstairs. John and Sherlock made their way downstairs. It seemed like the knocking had woken up the other residents of 221B for Mrs. Hudson and Y/N were peering out of their doorways at the noise. Mrs. Hudson was in more of a dazed state than Y/N with her overnight hair curlers and cosy pink pyjamas. The elderly woman’s tired eyes quickly acknowledge John and Sherlock making their way down the stairs. Satisfied with what she saw, Mrs. Hudson crept back into her flat and shut the door. 

Y/N, on the other hand, seemed to grow more conscious the longer she looked at the scene in front of her. She thought that her mind was tricking her. It couldn’t be Sherlock. Could it? Sherlock caught sight of the woman from the corner of his eye. He could help how his brain tuned out the sound of the banging door to look at Y/N. 

She had that same tired look in her eye as she did when she slept over in his flat. Her hair was slightly ajar from sleep and her pyjamas were scrunched up in just the right way. She looked comfortable and for a moment Sherlock felt guilty about waking her up. 

“When’d you get back?” She mumbled. Her voice was filled with sleep. 

Sherlock smiled and took a step towards her. “Not long.”

“I called you…” Y/N said. She nervously ran a hand through her hair. Internally scolded herself for acting like a schoolgirl. So much for not showcasing her newfound feeling. No, Y/N couldn’t have feelings for Sherlock. She couldn’t. She was dating Jim. Jim was perfect. He was kind, gentle, witty, and handsome. But Jim wasn’t Sherlock. She winced. She was screwed. 

“You called?” Sherlock replied a little too quiet for his liking. He hadn’t checked his phone. His mind was too busy with the case. His mind was a little too preoccupied with a case that was purely a distraction from the chemical defect called sentiment. 

John cleared his throat reminding Y/N and Sherlock that he was also present and so was the knocking on the door. Sherlock and Y/N turned to look at him, both of them hiding a blush that crept on their faces. John took that as a sign for him to be the one to open the door. 

In front of him stood a woman. Her dark hair was a frizzy mess and two dark circles underneath her eyes made her look like a skeleton. John peered at the woman with a confused look but before he could ask her anything, Sherlock pushed him to the side letting the woman enter. 

“Mrs. St. Clair,” Sherlock stated. 

John’s eyes widened. Y/N wore a confused look on her face. One that John pitied. She still had no idea. Without another word, Mrs. St. Clair was ushered up the stairs into John and Sherlock’s flat with Y/N in tow. She was curious as to why a strange woman appeared on their doorstep in the early hours of the morning. 

“ He wrote me a letter,” was all Mrs. St. Clair uttered before shoving the letter into Sherlock’s hand. 

_____

Lily, 

Do not be scared. Everything is fine. There is a huge error which may take some time to fix. 

Love,

Your Neville. 

_____

Sherlock took the letter and scoured over the letter. His blue eyes took note of every detail. John looked over Sherlock’s shoulder trying not to notice, Y/N’s puzzled look. He could see the gears in her head turning as she put the pieces together. 

“Whoever addressed the envelope had to go and ask about the address.”

This caught Mrs. St. Clair’s attention. “How can you tell?”

“The name is written perfectly in black ink. The rest is in a greyish colour which means that the paper was blotted. Whoever wrote it was not familiar with the address. Are you sure that this was your husband?” Sherlock asked. 

“There was a ring. His wedding ring.”

Sherlock nodded. “And this is his handwriting?”

The woman nodded. 

Sherlock’s brow pursed at the confirmation. This didn’t make sense. He was so sure that Neville was dead, his body missing. “If Neville is alive, then why has he not returned?” Sherlock asked. 

“I…I don’t know.”

Before Sherlock asked another question, Y/N cut him off. “Hold up, what’s going on here?”

“Not now Y/N–”

“Sherlock–” Y/N warned. 

“I’ll explain later. Mrs. St. Clair. On Monday your husband said nothing about leaving you?”

“What do you mean you’ll explain later? Sherlock a strange woman showed up on our do–” Y/N hissed. John shot her a look letting her know that he'd explain later if Sherlock didn’t. 

“No.” Mrs. St. Clair replied. 

“Were you surprised to see him in Swandam Lane?” Sherlock questioned. 

“Yes.”

Sherlock looked to the side before coming up with another question. “He only cried out to you?”

“Yes.” Mrs. St. Clair nodded. 

“A call for help?”

“Yes. He waved his hands at me.” The woman explained. 

The longer the interrogation continued the more confused Y/N grew. She was much too tired to deal with anything right now. 

“Couldn’t have been a cry of surprise? He could not have expected to see you in such an area.” Sherlock noted. 

“That’s possible, but…” 

“And you thought he was pulled back?” Sherlock continued. 

“He disappeared so suddenly.” Mrs. St. Clair’s voice began to grow quiet as Sherlock’s questions intensified.

“He could have leapt back. You didn’t see anyone else in the room,” Sherlock noted. His height towered over the woman and he began to lean over her small figure. 

Mrs. St. Clair shook her head. “No, but that horrible man confessed to having been there.”

“Right. Your husband was wearing his clothes?”

The woman gulped, unsure of where these questions were going. “Yes, but he wasn’t wearing his tie. I remember seeing his throat.”

“Has he ever spoken of Swandam Lane?” 

“No.”

“Has ever shown signs of taking Opium?”

Mrs. St Clair looked from Sherlock to John and then to Y/N. She bore a nervous and confused look on her face. 

“John. What are the symptoms of some who have taken Opium?”

John had been startled by Sherlock’s sudden question that it took his mind to process what he had been asked. “Mood swings, irritability, changes in appearance, risky behaviours, dizziness…”

Sherlock cocked his head to the side. “Well?”

“Um…no. No Neville hasn’t,” the woman said. 

Sherlock snapped back into his upward position. His back was tall and straight as he walked to the door and swung it open for Mrs. St. Clair. 

“Very well, Mrs. St. Clair,” He looked to the door and then at the woman before flashing a tense smile. 

Mrs. St. Clair took that as her cue to leave for the night. Once she removed herself from the flat, Sherlock shut the door and turned around to face John and Y/N. 

“John, Y/N. Pull out your phones.” Sherlock instructed. 

“Sherlock you haven’t explained–” Y/N began. 

“Phones.”

John and Y/N grumbled as they did as Sherlock asked. Once that was complete they looked up at Sherlock. They were half expecting he’d take their phones and do whatever he liked to them. So when they saw that Sherlock had his own phone out, the two of them were confused. 

Before they could ask any questions, Sherlock continued his instructions. “I’m going to call Grayson. Then John. Then Y/N. We will continue to do this until he picks up.”

“Sherlock, it’s 1 o’clock in the morning. Greg is not going to answer,” Y/N said. 

“Call,” Sherlock commanded as he dialled Greg’s number.

______

Greg quite liked his days off of work. Typically he would start it all off by sleeping in. A luxury he was not used to having in his everyday life. Then he’d wake up and lie in his bed for a moment, sometimes he used the time to read a book or scroll through his phone checking the daily news. Then maybe he’d make himself breakfast or go out to a local cafe. He had all the time in the world and he had the power to choose what he did with it. 

However, this was not Greg’s ideal day off. It seemed like the world was out to get him as his phone deafeningly rang on his bedside table. He was sure he silenced his phone before falling asleep last night. Blinded by his tiredness, Greg let the phone ring until it eventually ended about thirty seconds late. Again it was silent and Greg was well on his way to fall back into a deep sleep. That was until the phone rang again. Greg groaned and rolled over in his bed. His eyes peeled open to look at the time displayed on the alarm clock next to his bed. It was 1.15 in the morning. His mind began to fumble around thinking about who could be calling him at such an hour. It couldn’t have been Scotland Yard. It couldn’t have been…. Greg would have finished the thought if the phone continued to ring. Once again it stopped and the man’s body came crashing back down on the mattress. 

There it was again. That boisterous ringtone. Greg shot out of bed and grabbed his phone, yanking the charger out of its socket. 

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing calling me at one in the morning!” Greg grumbled into the phone. He hadn’t bothered to check the caller ID, so when a soft voice from the other end of his phone started speaking he felt incredibly guilty. 

It was Y/N. She hardly ever called and whenever she did it was always for a good reason. 

“Sorry Greg,” She whispered, taking into account the early hours of the morning.

From the sound of her voice, Y/N wasn’t fairing any better than he was. 

“No…forgive me…sorry. Why are you calling?” Greg began to rub the sleep from his eyes. 

There was a pause as Y/N thought of the best way to say it. “...Sherlock needs you to meet us at Scotland Yard.”

Greg groaned. He should have known that it was Sherlock’s doing. Only one man would have the audacity to call Greg this early in the morning, especially, on his day off. 

“Sorry, Greg, but he says it’s urgent. Something about the St. Clair case.”

Now this caught Greg’s attention. The case that had been plaguing his desk ever since he received the call a few days earlier. He would have been glad that Sherlock wanted to see him. It meant that there was a breakthrough. However, Greg was tired and had been woken up from a deep sleep. 

“Couldn’t this wait until tomorrow morning?” Greg voiced. 

Sherlock’s voice spoke over the phone loud and clear. “It is the morning Lestrade.”

“Oh, Sherlock it’s you,” Greg said with disdain. 

“Of course, it’s me. Meet us at Scotland Yard in twenty minutes. I’ve solved the case.”

With that, the phone hung up. Greg had no choice but to remove himself from the comfort of his bed. He had to forgo any thought of a nice morning sleeping in topped with a warm breakfast. He knew Sherlock had commanded that he be at Scotland Yard in twenty minutes, but that was the same amount of time as the commute there. If anything, Greg wanted to take as much time as he could before having to confront Sherlock. 

As Greg changed and prepared himself for the day, he prayed that the coffee machine in Scotland Yard had been fixed like it should have been weeks ago because Greg knew that he could not deal with Sherlock without a little help from caffeine. The praying was more for Sherlock’s sake (Not that Greg was contemplating murder or anything.)

_____

One of the first things Greg took notice of that morning was that the coffee machine was still broken. However, it seemed like an angel was smiling upon him that morning, that angel was Y/N. She handed him a warm cup of coffee that she had made herself. He couldn’t help but smile at the woman for her kind gesture. A smile that seemed to sour Sherlock’s mood. 

“You’re a godsend, Y/N.” Greg thanked her. 

“Oh, Greg there’s–” Y/N tried to reply. 

“You’re late,” Sherlock stated. 

“I know that, Sherlock,” Greg said. “It wasn’t physically possible to arrive here in twenty minutes. Speaking of, why am I here?”

“I need to see Boone.”

Greg took a sip of the coffee. The warm, quite frankly delicious drink made quick work of waking Greg’s body. He raised his brow at Sherlock’s request. 

“The beggar?” Greg asked.

“Yes. I know he’s here.” Sherlock replied. 

“He is,” Greg confirmed. 

“Is he quiet?” Sherlock questioned. This earned a few strange looks from his friends. 

“Quiet? Yeah, I guess so. He is a dirty scoundrel though…” Greg trailed off thinking about how dirty the man was. 

“Dirty?” John asked. 

Y/N looked between the three men. She was beginning to think that this was all an elaborate prank Sherlock was pulling. She had been dragged from her flat and still had not been told what was going on. “Hold on. Before anyone says anything else. What is going on?!” She exclaimed. 

Sherlock sighed and looked at John, causing John to sigh as well. It seemed to the job of an explanation landed on John’s shoulders because Sherlock couldn’t be bothered when he was on a roll. So as John pulled Y/N to the side to let her know what was going on, Sherlock and Greg continued their conversation. 

“He’s dirty?” Sherlock repeated. 

“Yes,” Greg scoffed. “All we can do is make him wash his hands. His face is covered with soot and dirt. The man needs a bath.”

“I need to see him.”

Greg raised a brow as he took note of Sherlock’s seriousness. “Alright, this way–” 

“Sherlock Holmes!” Y/N yelled. “You were in an opium den?!”

Sherlock winced at the noise and turned to glare at John. In Sherlock’s mind, explaining things meant the case, not the whole situation. Hesitantly, Sherlock turned his gaze to Y/N who was staring right at him. 

“For the case.” It was all Sherlock could say. 

“For the case my–” Y/N grumbled as she marched up to Sherlock. 

“Y/N! Sherlock! It is too early for this.” John stepped in as the voice of reason. 

Greg looked at the scene before him. Then he took a long and loud sip of coffee in an attempt to diffuse the tension. After a few moments of silence passed, Greg deemed it safe enough to speak again. 

“As I was saying, Boone’s this way,” Greg said. The group followed him as he led them to the back of Scotland Yard where the holding cells were. 

It was a very whitewashed corridor. On each side of the wall, there were barred doors as far as the eye could see. A large majority of the cells were empty, something that Y/N noted as Greg led them down the hallway. 

Soon the group's pace began to slow. “Here it is.” Greg pointed to the sleeping figure behind the bar doors. 

Boone was huddled on the cot in the room. His legs were held close to his body. His chest rose and fell slowly. The man was in a deep sleep just like one would be this early in the morning. But from what Y/N could see, he was dirty. The man was covered in dirt and soot from head to toe. The grim did little to hide the broad old scar that ran across his face. Y/N scrunched her nose. She couldn’t fathom how someone could stand to be covered in such filth. 

“A beauty, isn’t he?” Greg said sarcastically. 

“Certainly needs a bath…” Y/N mumbled. 

Suddenly, Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out a large bath sponge. 

“Sherlock! Where’d you get a bath sponge?” John asked. 

“Don’t you recognize it?” Sherlock questioned as he tilted his head in John’s direction. 

John’s face turned red as he tried to control the sudden wave of anger. 

“Lestrade, open the door very quietly. We’ll make him much more… tolerable.” Then Sherlock turned to look at Y/N. 

Y/N’s eyes widened. “No, Sherlock. There’s no way I’m–”

“Greg, the door,” Sherlock commanded. 

Greg’s mind was in shock at how quickly he opened the door for Sherlock. It seemed as if his body was moving on its own. Once the door was open, all of them made their way into the cell. Sherlock quietly turned on the sink in the cell to wet the sponge before raising the sponge to Boone’s face. 

Y/N was surprised that Boone had not woken up from how vigorously Sherlock rubbed the grime off the man’s face. Once Sherlock was satisfied with his work, he stepped back and dropped the wet sponge to the floor.

“Let me introduce you to Neville St. Clair.” 

John and Greg’s faces all bore the same expression of shock. Y/N, on the other hand, was a bit puzzled as she looked at the sleeping man. Before them lay Neville. The scar from the man’s face, one that his wife declared was his most identifying trait, was present. 

“Christ, Sherlock. It is him,” Greg stated. His voice was much louder than a considerate whisper. 

This seemed to wake up Neville. The man took one look at the four people standing over him, and he yelped out in fear. 

“Lestrade, don’t you think it smart to let our missing man go home?” Sherlock asked. 

Neville gulped, waiting for Greg’s answer. 

Greg sighed. His coffee was all gone. “We have no case if the missing man was Boone all along…which brings me to ask. What happened on Monday?” 

Neville looked down at his feet. “I’m an investigative journalist. I write about what it’s like being a beggar, addict, or anyone suffering from the poor conditions of life. My alias is Hugh Boone…” Neville’s voice grew quiet as he admitted his secret. 

Greg pursed his brows. “Great, but that still doesn’t answer my question about what happened on Monday.”

“I had finished work for the day in Swandam Lane when I looked out my window and saw my wife. I cried out before covering my face and running away from the window. I ran to my confidants in the building asking them to hide me just as I heard my wife downstairs. In a hurry, I threw away my clothes and once again entered my persona of Boone. Doing so, I cut my hand on a nail in the window sill. Before I knew it the police were involved and I was arrested as my own murderer,” Neville explained. 

Sherlock stepped forward. “What about the letter?”

“We were told we could contact someone. I was too ashamed to call my wife. She’d hear my voice and know where I was. Instead, I wrote a letter and placed my wedding ring inside.” Then Neville buried his face in his hands. “She must have been so worried. I need to get home to her and the kids.” 

Greg hated seeing how guilty Neville felt. It was too much for one morning. “Alright, up you go,” Greg motioned for Neville to stand up and follow him out of the cell. Without another word, Neville was let off. The case was solved and everyone went their separate ways: Greg back to his warm bed to sleep the rest of the day, and the case-solving trio back to Baker Street. 

_____

A few days later, a thank you email appeared in Sherlock’s inbox. Of course, Y/N was the one to find it as it was part of her job to search and organize Sherlock’s emails. It was a heartfelt message thanking Sherlock for his work. Not very many clients thanked Sherlock after the case was solved, although Neville’s case wasn’t a normal one. 

Speaking of emails. That was the worst and probably the most entertaining part about Y/N’s job. Yes, she was also hired to clean, organize, and follow Sherlock around on death-defying cases, but emails were the bane of her existence. Dealing with her own emails was enough, the inbox filled with incessant ads and subscriptions she never remembered signing up for. However, Sherlock’s emails were much worse. There were the subscriptions: newsletters from all over the world, daily notifications about new updates on bizarre websites that would concern even the best of people and ads for the strangest things that would somehow eventually end up in Sherlock’s flat. There were also emails about potential cases, those tended to be mundane things or crazy outlandish stories to get attention from someone online, or people asking for favours.  In fact, the hardest thing was finding a job that Sherlock, John, or Y/N couldn’t solve the second the email appeared in the inbox. 

Y/N groaned as she swore to God that she’d gouge her eyes out if she had to read another email from a concerned elder about their missing cat or jar of cookies that mysteriously went empty. 

Ding!

Clenching her eyes shut and whispering hopes and prayers that this wasn’t a bogus email, Y/N opened her eyes and peered at the screen. It seemed that God or some angel watching over her liked her eyes right where they were on the screen was an email from Hilton Cubitt. The visitor from Ireland, who stopped by two weeks ago. Y/N couldn’t help the triumphant cheer that left her mouth. 

“Did you win the lottery?” Sherlock asked without peering up from his latest novel, 100 Ways to Kill Your Employees. A book of many that displayed his loathing of the whole scenario. His tone matched the underlying threat of his choice of light reading, unamused and with a pinch of disdain for his imprisonment. 

This confinement began the moment Y/N discovered where Sherlock’s business trip had been. Upon returning to 221B, John began to scold Sherlock. The man in question stood in the doorway to his own flat without a care in the world. John’s words of concern and fear never reached his ears. However, it was when Y/N began to speak up, Sherlock began to listen. Eventually, it was agreed that Sherlock would be watched over just to make sure that he had not been taking opium. (Something that was proposed by Mycroft, but Y/N had been under strict instructions to not tell Sherlock that.)

“No, Sherlock. I didn’t win the lottery, but it looks like Cubitt did,” Y/N said. Sherlock froze in his seat. He gradually moved his gaze up to look at Y/N with a burning fire of curiosity in his eyes. He looked down at the computer in her hands and looked up at her once more. In the blink of an eye, the novel in Sherlock’s hand was replaced by his computer. 

Front and Center on the screen was an image depicting more of the code Cubitt had presented Sherlock with two weeks prior. Along with the message of urgency. 

______

Come to Clifden. It may be worse than I thought.

Hilton Cubitt

______

“Y/N pack your bags and book us a flight to Ireland,” Sherlock began as stood up from his seat to grab the paper Cubitt had given him of the code. 

“Sherlock–” 

“Cubitt needs us there to solve the case. Time is of the essence.”

“Sher–”

“Oh and call John and tell him to prepare a bag as well.”

“Sherlock!” Y/N yelled. 

Sherlock froze in his step as he turned around to look at her. He raised his brow up as if saying “Why are you not doing what I asked?” 

“Sherlock…” Y/N cleared her throat. “We’ll go to Ireland, but only…”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed at the woman. 

“Only if you promise to never lie about a business trip again.”

Sherlock scoffed at Y/N. “I don’t know what–”

“Yes, you do! Sherlock. You’ve been grumbling about being kept here in your flat, so you know full well why. I…” Y/N’s voice grew quiet. “I was so worried, so just promise that you’ll take one of us with you.” Sherlock winced at her words, “ OR at least tell us where you are going. Please.”

Sherlock closed his eyes and took a sharp intake of breath through his nose. His mind was in torment. This whole scenario was ridiculous. He was being treated like a child. Everything from Y/N’s, not so secret, hovering, Mrs. Hudson’s checking in, and John’s horrific attempts of spying on him all put Sherlock on edge. In his mind, he had done nothing wrong. But she had said please. She said she was worried. She cared. Now, if Sherlock had been given this treatment two months ago when she first came on board as his assistant, he would have fired her on the spot and uttered something about her worry being misplaced. However, time is a funny thing. Now, all Sherlock wants to say is yes. But a singular yes is too harsh, too noticeable, and an easy entrance into the hard-kept secret in Sherlock’s heart. So he settled for a simple…

“Alright.” 

It was enough for Y/N to order three tickets to Ireland and transportation to Clifden. In a moment, bags were packed, an inn was booked, Bjørn was placed in the care of his great-grandmother, things were settled, and notice was made of their departure. The game was afoot. A new case was brewing, and Sherlock couldn’t wait.

_____

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❀ fluff

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[iamsherlocked1479]

Admit it

Word count: 1.9k words

Description: Sherlock believes that lingerie is pointless so y/n decides to prove him wrong, no matter the costs.

Warnings: 18+, very angsty, BJ, P in V sex, choking, slut shame

A/N: this is my apology for not posting as much hope you like it! But chapter 11 is about halfway done atm.

“I don’t get it!” Sherlock shouted at the television screen, jolting you awake with his movement, you had fallen asleep on him again, which of course he didn’t have a problem with.

“W-what now?” You ask dazed from your sleep

“These adverts look at those women.” He pointed to the ad you had seen thousands of times for a designer company showing off their new lingerie.

“Its just an ad?” You say confused, this is your punishment for letting him get to intrigued in the reality tv shows you watch, his attempt of proving he could be a normal boyfriend.

“Yes but I don’t get why lingerie is so amazing.” He turned to you

“Because its a way to feel pretty, seductive almost.” You laugh

“But you don’t need lingerie to look beautiful.” He added

“You know you should use that line more often.” You laugh

“I really don’t understand society.” He sighed and turned his head back to the screen.

“So you wouldn’t care if i wore something like that?” You ask

“I prefer you in nothing, we both know that.” He squeezed your thigh

“No but its meant to make their partners want them more. A treat i would say.” You thought how you ended up explaining the use of lingerie to your boyfriend who was very much experienced by now in the arts of physical relationships with you.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does.” You laugh “its like when you wear that purple shirt that’s slightly too tight for you” you smirk as his brow raises

“That actually explains a lot.”

“Never mind the show is back on.” You point to the screen

“You’re just going to fall asleep again.” He smiled

“Would that be a problem?” You ask

“Never.” He added, and as usual he was right. You woke up the next morning in you shared bed trying to work out how you’d gotten there but then remembered your conversation from last night, maybe he would like it if you wore lingerie. You hadn’t exactly tried that before, you knew he was probably out on a case so you got dressed with your mission clear. Finding the perfect lingerie to seduce the great Sherlock Holmes, who also happened to be the man who never had physical relationships with anyone, in a physical relationship with you.

You started out with a few common clothing shops with nothing really taking your fancy so you decided it would be better to look in the expensive shops, like the one from the advert. You browse the isles being amazed by the different styles and colours in all shapes and sizes before finally seeing the perfect set.

On a mannequin in front of you was a purple laced bra and panties set. It was almost the same colour as his shirt so you knew it would be perfect, the bra was lace and obviously see through and the panties would fit your figure just right.

It was early evening by the time you got home, and Sherlock’s violin could be heard throughout the apartment. He smiled when he saw you, but didn’t stop playing. It was obvious whatever case he was on was really toying with his mind mind.

“I’m just gonna take a shower.” You yelled not expecting a reply, it was time to put your plan into action. You showered and washed your hair, whilst also performing for the various bottles of shampoo that probably wished they didn’t need to hear the same verse from careless whisper three times over. You towel dry your hair enough so it wouldn’t be dripping wet, without getting too frizzy the next day and slipped on the lingerie. And god it was perfect, there was no way in hell even Sherlock holmes could deny you didn’t look good, you weren't one for loving yourself too much but this made it difficult.

You left the bathroom wearing only the lingerie and Sherlock was still playing, but upon hearing you enter the room he began playing a careless whisper mocking your singing.

“Was I really being that loud?” You laugh

“I’ve heard worse.” He still hadn’t turned around, dam his stupid mind palace.

“So what case are you stuck on?” You ask moving to the kitchen and ignoring the severed human limbs to make tea.

“A soldier was murdered, found dead in the shower, no way in, no way out and no signs of a struggle. Just dead, it appears as if a ghost killed him.” He still hadn’t turned around, god he was arrogant sometimes.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” You ask

“Yes and is there any biscu-.” He stopped and finally laid his eyes on you. Your back was to him, your ass clearly showing.

“Everything okay back there?” You smirk

“W-what are you wearing?” He asked, you could have swore you heard a gulp.

“Oh this little thing? I picked it up today. What do you think?” You tapped the tea spoon on the cup and turned around, he watched your every move as you entered the living room. You place the tea on the table and walk over to him, now he was intrigued. It was time to play your game. “Sit please” you push him back into his chair and he falls back with a huff his eyes scanning every part of your body.

“I- I think its n-nice.” He watched as you teased him moving your hips as you turned around allowing him to look at everything.

“But you see I’m not sure about it, could you have a closer look?” You step towards him, and place yourself in his lap straddling his legs, with your chest in his face, his hands slid up your legs towards your hips, but you pushed them away. “Ah ah, remember I thought you didn’t see the point in clothes like this. In my opinion i’d say they’re pretty effective.” You could feel him twitching beneath you,

“Maybe they are helping a tad bit.” He shuffled in his seat trying his best to do as you said but he wasn’t going to admit you were right.

“Pitty, I thought they were working.” You began circulating your hips, grinding yourself against his growing length, letting out small moans of pleasure. You watched as he gripped the arms of his chair tightly at the sensation of you rubbing against him. You moved your hands to his chest and unbuttoned his shirt. His fingers moved closer to you tracing along your leg, but you stopped your movements and tutted. “Admit I was right and maybe I’ll let you touch.”

He grunted frustratedly he wasn’t one for admitting he was wrong, but here you sat in his lap grinding against him and he couldn’t even kiss you. “Shit” he sighed “fine you were right” you smiled at your win and pushed your lips against his and began moving faster.

“I can’t help myself around you, fuck baby.” He trailed his lips along your neck going in between the crevice of your breast with his tongue, he pulled down the straps of your bra and pulled your tits free. He took one into his mouth, nibbling the nipple slightly while gripping the other with his hand.

You gripped his hair pushing him further into your chest letting out more moans edging him on. You pushed your soaked cunt harder on him, making his cock rub against your clit beginning to causing the knot in your stomach to grow tighter, growing closer to your release. He purred into your chest as your wetness soaked through his trousers, which grew ever tighter with your work. You couldn’t hold it back any longer your hips jolted as you came,

“Oh fuck Sherlock yes, fuck you’re so hard its s-so good.”

“Mmm fuck i can’t wait any longer.” He stood up and carried you through the hall towards your bedroom, his lips still locked to yours as he kicked the door open and carried you to the bed. He dropped you there watching as you knelt below him, wiping the hair stuck to your sweaty forehead.

“Want your cock, baby, I need it.” You whimpered as you unbuckled his belt. You pulled down his boxers and watched as he moaned as you licked a stripe down his length before gently sucking on his balls as your hand pumped him slowly. His head knocked back with a sigh of relief as you reached his tip again, and slowly began bobbing your head down over it, working your tongue around him before sinking down a little farther. You tried your best to swallow around him he helped by pushing himself in gently letting out deep moans the further you got. His hip’s jolted again as you pulled back and worked on the tip again, he was becoming too sensitive and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. He pushed your mouth away and brought you to his gently gripping your throat.

“Don't think I forgot you wouldn’t let me touch you, I won’t let that go unnoticed. I’m going to make sure you can’t walk for a week.” He pushed you onto the bed and positioned his frame over you, he practically ripped off the panties and entered with a hard thrust causing you to yelp and grip to the bed sheets. He pushed hard into you the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room accompanied by your moans, you clawed at his back as he fucked you

“Look at you so cock drunk, you think you can parade yourself around like a little slut in my apartment and get away with it. Do you?” He asked

“N-no.” You whimpered, leaning your head back as your back arched

“No what?” He grabbed your chin making your eyes level with his dark blues

“N-no sir.”

“Good.” He flipped you over and knelt over you, slowing his pace, taking more time to push harder into you. “Now say you’re sorry.” He slapped your ass, hard smiling as a pink gleam appeared

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered

“Good girl, now we can enjoy this.” He sped up his pace and placed one hand under you, his thumb rubbing your already swollen clit. The pulse of you clit sent waves through you as you squirmed, he fucked you hard through your orgasm

“Oh fuck, sherlock just there, thats right!” Your voice was muffled as you buried yourself in the sheets pulling them from the corners.

Sherlock groaned, he loved the sight of you being this way around him, so cock drunk you couldn’t even hold yourself up. He too was reaching his end the way your pussy clenched around his cock was enough to set him off, spewing thick white ropes deep inside of you and collapsing onto you.

He took a moment to cat his breath, his cock still inside you before pulling himself off the bed,

“Looks like you need another shower.” He held out his hand as you turned and sprawled onto the bed

“I can’t, too tired.” You say breathlessly

“I told you you wouldn’t be able to walk.” He smiled while wiping the hair stuck to your forehead.

“Hmm” you groaned as your eyes fell closed. Sherlock fixed the sheets around you before wrapping your body in a cover and allowing you to sleep. He showered before going back to his violin, this time thinking only of you. Though he would never tell you, maybe just this once you were right.

[strangesthirdeye]

ᴅʀᴜɴᴋᴇɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ( sʜᴇʀʟᴏᴄᴋ ʜᴏʟᴍᴇs x ᴡɪғᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

Summary: Don't touch me, I have a hubby

Warning: SHERLOCK HOLMES SJDHDJDJX, drunk reader, William is four years old now, love, fluff, nonsense talk, bed, confusion, don't drink alcohol people.. Alcohol is bad unless it's for medical reasons, sweet, Husband and wife moments, flirting, mention of naked, Ooc Sherlock, vomit, hangover.

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late at night in 221B, Sherlock and William were usually still awake even though it was late. Well, for Sherlock but William is usually the one who falls asleep first because his father said so. Stating that he is still young and today's children need enough sleep in order to have a lot of energy for tomorrow even though adults like him also need enough sleep to not shorten their life... According to Google.

Sherlock who was still awake and not sleepy was flipping through the files in his hands solemnly. He sat cross-legged on his chair for comfort as his back ached from having to sit for a long time. The reason he was still awake at 1 in the morning? Well, you see Y/n has a reunion with her old classmates at a bar, somewhere in London and Sherlock is worried that she hasn't come home yet.

As a very good husband he of course has to feel worried about his wife who hasn't come home yet. I mean, if Y/n didn't give him a warning not to worry about her being in a bar somewhere in London, Sherlock would probably be on a mission to find his wife right now. But well, the wife has given a warning and him being a good husband does not want to disturb her reunion with her old classmates.

(Sherlock is actually afraid of his wife) Because, if he obeyed his wife's warning, he will get a reward.. What reward? Don't know. Sherlock huffed a breath before turning his gaze to the clock on the wall. 1:11 in the morning and his wife hasn't returned yet. William already had dreams in his sleep, so he didn't have to worry about that. His heart feels heavy without you.

Suddenly, a knock was heard. Mrs Hudson who was still up due to her watching her favorite show came out of her flat and checked the flat door outside. The lock is opened and there is Y/n who is leaning heavily against the shoulder of an old friend of hers named Dhani who is holding Y/n's waist in order to support her better.

Y/n's eyes are glossy while her face shows how drunk she is with her dreamy face. Y/n smiled at Mrs. Hudson.

"Ahh, Hudders" Y/n slurred before hiccups.

Dhani who still supports her looks at Miss Hudson apologetically. She's sober, thankfully because she doesn't really like alcohol in fact she wants to avoid drinking alcohol even though she's in a bar. Her purpose there is to celebrate the reunion with her old friends and drink fruit juices while listening to music.

"Sorry, Mrs. H. Y/n drank too much. It was a bit difficult to bring her home. I had to wrestle with her to get into the car" Dhani said, apologetically.

Mrs. Hudson smiled gratefully. "It's okay, at least she's home safely." She paused. "Sherlock has been restless since she went out, mind you." she added while bringing a drunk Y/n into the flat. "I'm sure you can return safely, dear. It's getting late"

Dhani waved her hand. "aye, don't worry about me, Mrs Hudson. I'm good at taking care of myself. Besides, I think Stephen will also be restless if I don't come home yet." she chuckled. "right, I'm going home now. And told Sherlock to standby any paracetamol for her in the morning. She sure she'll have a hangover later"

"bye bye, Dhani" Y/n waved her hand drunkly at her friend.

"Bye bye, Y/n." Dhani waved and walked towards her car.

Mrs Hudson said her goodbye before she closed the flat door and locked the door. She turned her gaze on Y/n who was now sitting on the floor and leaning heavily on the wall with droopy eyes. She will pass out once she's on the bed.

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson called the young man.

Footsteps were heard and Sherlock Holmes came out of his flat and went downstairs. He who was wearing a light blue dressing gown, gray shirt and pajama pants stopped on the stairs once his eyes focusing on his wife.

"What happened to her?" he asked once he was kneeling in front of you who's face looks like you've been on the moon.

"Her friend said that she drank a bit too much tonight, so she brought her home. Also, standby medicine for her in the morning. She's going to get a bad headache." She said to him. "now, I'm sure you can handle her now, right? I'm going back to my flat." and Mrs Hudson entered her flat.

Sherlock stared at you longingly, not sure what to say instead he tried to support you by taking your waist with his strong arm but you slapped his arm sluggishly.

"No, noo.. don't touch me" you slurred and tried to get up but then you sat down again.

"come on, love. It's me your husband" Sherlock tried to knock some sense into you.

"no, my hubby is at home" you said.

"You're at home" Sherlock muttered.

"Am I?" you looked at him through your half lidded eyes.

"yes. It's me Sherlock, love" Sherlock tried to help you get up and this time you let him pick you up.

"My Sherlock will be angry if I'm in another man's arms" you mumbled sleepily.

"You're in my arms, love" Sherlock replied as he let you step up the stairs slowly due to you still being in a drunken state.

You chuckled. "I like the wallpaper of this place, i want to install the same wallpaper in my house"

"This is our house, love" Sherlock replied before he pushed open the door.

You suddenly pushed Sherlock hard and glared at him with your glossy eyes. "aye, you have no right to take me to your house. I have a husband"

Sherlock massaged the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Y/n, I'm your husband. And this is our house."

"You are my husband?" You widen your eyes before laughing out loud.

Sherlock approached you while trying to shush you into silence while covering your mouth with his palm.

"no, love. William is sleeping now. You don't want to wake him, right?" Sherlock looked at you, fondly.

"William, ohh! my baby." you covering your mouth with your hand. "he's sleeping" you whispered to Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded. "yes, he is sleeping. Now let me help you change your clothes and refresh before going to bed"

"you're going to see me naked. Ohhh, you're going to fast, handsome" you traced your fingers on his arm seductively. "I like that"You suddenly hugged him. "and you're my husband! I'm so lucky"

'Oh god, just how much did she drink?' Sherlock thought before he took his wife's shoulders and pushed her into the bathroom.

"right, let's get you cleaned up before bed" Sherlock muttered.

"ohhh, shower" you staggered into the bathroom.

Sherlock then striped all your clothes leaving you naked in front of him before he took you into the bathtub. Warm water is placed before he rinses your body and hair. You shivered.

Sherlock then gently shampooed your hair as he massaged your scalp.

"i like this.. can we do this forever? pretty please" you pleaded.

"You can do this whenever you want, love" Sherlock said before he rinsed your hair. "done" he said before he took you out of the bath tub and covered you with a towel after he dried you off.

He makes you look like a child when he bathes you. You looked at your wrinkled fingers.

"I'm old" you mumbled, showing him your wrinkled fingers due to being in the water for so long.

"No you're not, that's because you've been in the water for a long time, that's why it's like that" he explained.

"oh" you looked at him in awe.

"yes, oh. Now let's get dressed" he said before he opened the door of his room which was connected to the bathroom.

Sherlock made you sit on the bed you two shared before he walked over to the dresser drawer. He brought out dark red t-shirts and black plaid pants along with your undergarments.

And you finally fell asleep on the pillow after you finished putting on your clothes. Sherlock sighed with relief. You are not very difficult for him to handle. At least all the nonsense you said he can reply well even though it's a bit nonsense. He got up and walked to the kitchen to retrieve hangover medicine along with a glass of water.

Before he even stepped back into his room, William came out of his room sleepily while rubbing his tired eyes with his hands.

"Is mommy back yet?" he mumbled sleepily.

Sherlock softened his look at his son. "yes, she's back. Now go back to sleep"

William tiredly nodded and closed the door to his room without any comments which Sherlock assumed he was just delirious in his sleep.

Later in the morning, you wake up with a bad headache and throw up in the toilet with Sherlock holding your hair back before you return to your original self after swallowing two paracetamol tablets.

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2024-10-28

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite BBC!Sherlock 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

✑ A 'Cold' Case by theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "[Dealing with] Sherlock could be... difficult, [and you] were about to learn just how [difficult he could be] when he comes down with an illness."

✑ A Queen for a Mindpalace [Victorian!Sherlock]￨by strangelockd • 18+ • 〔E᜶A〕 • ♡ •

Summary: "You and Sherlock have a past, but before you attempt to move on. You stop by to make amends, only for a realization to take place. The question remains, will you stay or go?"

✑ A Wedding Dance by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F〕 •

Summary: After walking in on the boys rehearsing Watson's wedding dance your eager to tease them. However, your excitement quickly turns into regret when Sherlock unexpectedly asks you to dance.

✑ Admit It by iamsherlocked1479 • 18+ • 〔F᜶E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Sherlock believes that lingerie is pointless; you decide to prove him wrong, no matter the costs.

✑ An Unconventional Love Story [Victorian!Sherlock]￨by imagines--galore • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: "Ever since you had met Sherlock at a Ball your parents had been hosting, you had been intrigued. He had no invitation, but had been able to fool all the guests into making them believe he was invited. Even your parents. You, however, had been suspicious and had trailed after him every step of the way…"

✑ Awkwardness and Revelations by ladyalicesbookstore • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "After working at Scotland Yard with your father, you met the world's only consulting detective. When feelings start to blossom between you and Sherlock, how will your dad find out about your romance with the clever detective?"

✑ Ballroom Blitz by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "John and Mary suspect a spark between [you and Sherlock]… they just can't… [prove] it."

✑ Bar Fight by bitternessismyname • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "[After finishing a case,] you, Sherlock, John, and Mycroft go to a bar [where] a man puts his hands on you. Sherlock doesn't take it lightly."

✑ Beg for Forgiveness by a-cup-of-earl-grey-please • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Your fiancé, the great Sherlock Holmes, comes back from the dead — just when you were ready to move on. Can you forgive him?"

✑ Brother Dearest by stark-hero • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Mycroft had never considered himself to be overprotective. However, he isn't overly pleased with how smitten his little brother is with you..."

✑ Date at a Crime Scene￨Prt. II by megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Half impressed and half irritated, Sherlock glared at John. The two hadn't had a new case in weeks so when John told Sherlock that he had found some new clients, Sherlock jumped at the chance. Now he found himself on a date!"

✑ Dear Jealousy by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔M᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "When [you] reconnects with a former lover on a case, Sherlock is overwhelmed with jealousy. [However,] by doubting [your] relationship, he might just be the one who destroys it..."

✑ Different by stark-hero • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "After a night in together, you find that Sherlock Holmes is rather endearing whilst drunk."

✑ Drunk Comfort by imagines--galore • 〔F〕 •

Summary: …

✑ Drunken Love by ladyalicesbookstore • 〔F〕 •

Summary: After you had an argument with your flatmate, Sherlock, you end up in a pub, drinking your sorrow and anger away. But when Sherlock found you, things started to get amusing. Did you confess your feelings while being in your drunken state?

✑ His Love for Her by imagines--galore • 〔F᜶C〕 •

Excerpt: "You had had your heart broken one too meany times in the past. The most recent heartbreak had occurred in the form of your almost fiancée disappearing off the face of the Earth..."

✑ Hold It Together by iamsherlocked1479 • 18+ • 〔F᜶E〕 •

Summary: "..."

✑ Innocent by futureplayboibunnie • 18+ •

Summary: "..."

✑ Iridescent: A Composition by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F〕 •

Summary: Sherlock's compositions are straight from his heart, a depiction of his most secret thoughts. What will you discover when he dedicates a song to you?

✑ Jealous, Love? by annesthaeticc • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♡ •

Summary: "Sherlock Holmes doesn't get jealous. Well, that was until you volunteered to help him out on a case that puts his feelings for you in jeopardy."

✑ Jealousy by iamsherlocked1479 • 18+ • 〔A᜶E〕 •

Summary: "You don't want to get caught up in a friends with benefits situation with Sherlock so you attempt to go on a date. Key word attempt."

✑ London Eye, the by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "[You've] a problem; [you're] in love with Sherlock Holmes [and] decided to bury her feelings, but we all know that nothing gets past the consulting detective and his deductions. [However,] could he be hiding something himself?"

✑ Master Mind by a-cup-of-earl-grey-please • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Truly a mastermind, Sherlock outsmarts himself and you; at least he thinks so. How will he ask you out, though?"

✑ Meet the Parents by stark-hero • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Whilst visiting 221B, you finally get… to meet Sherlock's parents. Embarrassment ensues."

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

Summary: Sherlock has no issue with you accompanying him and John to crime scenes; however, he has a massive problem with seemingly every officer slobbering all over his girl.

✑ Puppy Luv by annesthaeticc • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: While on a case, Sherlock stumbles upon a new friend… He brings her home, and fluff ensues.

✑ Romantic Stupidity by ladyalicesbookstore • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Summary: When Sherlock and [you have] to share a... bed in... Baskerville, will [your] friendship get sprinkled with… romance? Or are [you] both blind enough to not notice the signs of love?"

✑ Sentiment by goldencherriess • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock finds himself entranced by Lestrade's best friend and co-worker."

✑ Sentiment by stark-hero • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock says something he regrets... can you forgive him for it?"

✑ Sincerity by a-cup-of-earl-grey-please • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Your boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes realizes you are feeling insecure — how does he remedy it?"

✑ Spiraling by stupidthoughtsinwriting • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ • 🚫 •

Summary: "After an accident during a case, a hostage situation leaves you in a coma for a week. During that week in the hospital, things are going horribly in Baker Street."

✑ Weak by futureplayboibunnie • 18+ •

Summary: "..."

✑ A Bit More than Friends by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F〕 •

✑ Adorable Otters by bakerstreethound • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Always on My Mind by stark-hero • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Babysitter by megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Bedside Manner by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Bet, the by poppyisnotaflower • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Brother? by way2geeky • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Comfort by stark-hero • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Confessions by worldofheroes • 〔F〕 •

✑ Desperation Calls by bakerstreethound • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Drunken Confessions by sherlocks-blanket • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ First Time by fandom-puff • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Fixation by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F〕 •

✑ Forever Yours by bakerstreethound • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Good to You by specialagentlokitty • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Hair Pulling by bakerstreethound • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ His Remedy by stark-hero • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ I Love You by strangelockd • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ I Took Care of It by stark-hero • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Keeping Track by specialagentlokitty • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Love Notes by bakerstreethound • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Lust by geeks-universe • 16+ • 〔E〕 •

✑ Mind Palaces by way2geeky • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Miss You by sherlocks-blanket • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ More Important by specialagentlokitty • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ My Type by specialagentlokitty • 〔F〕 •

✑ Pancakes by aephereal • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Pregnancy Hormones by thranduilsperkybutt • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Sherlock by make-me-imagine • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Stuck with Me by specialagentlokitty • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Thursday Thrill by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Trying to Tie a Tie by theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction • 〔F〕 •

✑ Dating Sherlock Holmes... by make-me-imagine • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Getting into Trouble w/ Sherlock... by geeks-universe • 16+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Sex w/ Sherlock… by fandom-puff • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Sherlock Being Affection… by fandom-puff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || BBC!Sherlock Master Index

Authors: @a-cup-of-earl-grey-please || @annesthaeticc || @aephereal || @bakerstreethound || @bitternessismyname || @fandom-puff || @french-vanilla-in-the-clouds || @futureplayboibunnie || @geeks-universe || @goldencherriess || @high-functioning-lokipath || @iamsherlocked1479 || @imagines--galore || @ladyalicesbookstore || @make-me-imagine || @megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms || @poppyisnotaflower || @sherlocks-blanket || @specialagentlokitty || @starks-hero || @strangelockd || @stupidthoughtsinwriting || @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction || @thranduilsperkybutt || @way2geeky || @worldofheroes ||

[brunchable]

Mini Series

All I Ask - Part I - Part II - Part III Devotion or Delusion - Part I - Part II - Part III Can't Love You in the Dark - Part I - Part II - Part III Into The Looking Glass - Part I - Part II A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be

Not Safe for Work (18+)

Dirty Laundry - Part I Part II Poisonous Touch - A Touch of Jealousy 5 More Minutes Same Ol' Mistakes Sweet

Oneshot

We Can't Be Friends Untamed Chaos I'd Choose You, No Other Way, Glimpse of Us, To Be Close To You, Till There Was You, My Girl HALLOWEEN SPECIALS

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Pulling them into another kiss before either of them could catch their breaths. Defender/OFC of your choice, please

So, I started to fill this Ask three times, with three different scenarios, until I was able to finish this one. Not sure if I even like how it turned out, for it doesn't have the charm or ease I was hoping for. Still, at least it's written! Oh, and though you asked for one of my OFC's, I ended up using the same Sorceress that appears in my No Defense for the Heart series. Thank you so much for your patience and constant support, my friend!🥰🥰

Defender Strange x Sorceress Reader

edit by @doctorstrangeaskblog

Well this was not the way you'd planned to tell Stephen your life altering news. He had only arrived home from his latest mission with the Defenders twenty minutes ago, and you had hoped to allow him a while to acclimate to normal Sanctum life. Take a shower, see to any dings he may have suffered in whatever battle he'd endured, then sit down to one of his favorite home cooked meals (you'd learned once you'd moved to Bleecker Street, the necessity for a stasis spell; as Sorcerer Supreme and leader of the Defenders, his schedule was far too unpredictable to plan meals--so that you always had a couple set in stasis for when he had actual time to sit down and enjoy one). But all had been upended when you broke from his arms as you greeted him home, to rush to the bathroom before you lost your lunch all over him.

Stephen rapped firmly on the door again, his voice calm but clearly anxious. "You okay in there, honey?" You sat on the edge of the tub, breathing deeply while trying to calm the roiling in your tummy, not sure how to answer just yet. "Can I come in, baby? Maybe there's something I can do to help..."

You cleared your throat, then stood up on shaking legs. "Um...I'm alright..." You gave a quiet belch, hoping he didn't catch that. "Just give me a couple minutes and I'll be right out."

"Alright, Y/N...if you say so." Your heart gladdened at the concern and healthy skepticism in his reply. "But I'm not going anywhere until I can see for myself that you're okay."

"Yes, of course." You tried to sound lighthearted as you stepped to the bathroom sink and slathered paste on your toothbrush. "I just need to make myself presentable, darling." Plunging the brush in your mouth, you began to scrub your teeth and gums with the dedication of a newly minted dental hygienist. Once done, you splashed your face with water, noting how pale your cheeks appeared. Can't be helped, you thought, but maybe he won't notice. Following up with a double rinse of mint mouthwash, gargling each time. Hoping it would be enough to allay any suspicions Stephen might have that you weren't merely sick.

Taking one last look in the mirror, you fluffed your fingers through your hair and gave your cheeks a quick pinch to try a raise some healthier looking color. It would simply have to do. Composing your face to reflect a serenity that eluded you at the moment, you opened the door. The relief on Stephen's face at the sight of you made you smile sincerely.

"What happened, honey?"

You took his hand, leading him to the divan at the foot of the bed. "Nothing much, darling. I've just been...um...a little under the weather the past few days..."

His reaction was immediate; seeing that you were seated first, he laid a palm across your forehead. "Have you been feverish? Wong tells me there's a nasty bug running its course through Kamar-Taj - did you visit there while I was gone?"

"No...no," you assured him gently while urging him to sit, "Not since we were there together the week before last."

"Good," Stephen nodded, "Though you look really pale. Do you think it was something you ate? I know a charm that can help with that..."

"Yeah...no, I'm pretty sure it wasn't." You lowered you eyes, suddenly shy that the moment had come, and come so abruptly. Sensing your reticence, Stephen traced a finger along your jawline, stirring you to shiver, so that he immediately pulled you into his arms. You murmured against his neck, "And it may be a while until I'm gonna feel back to my old self..."

You felt him stiffen a little, his apprehension piqued by your cryptic reply. "Wait...is it something serious? Something requiring traditional medicine?" You realized you'd tripped Stephen's fierce protective instinct - something you had come to adore about him, especially when he directed it at you. "I knew the best doctors in every field in my days at Metropolitan General," he went on, a grim edge to his voice, "More than a few of them owe me favors..."

You shook your head against him, smiling despite how serious he'd become. "Darling, now as always, you're the only doctor I need." Moving enough to face him, running your fingertips across his furrowed brow, you added, "And you're the best medicine a woman... this woman...could ever hope for." Sighing hard, you twined the fingers of your left hand through his right, the diamond of your engagement ring softly glinting. "It's only that I've muddled up the order that we planned for ourselves...if...if you know what I mean..."

Now Stephen looked perplexed, for though you thought he had clues enough to reach the proper conclusion, this was one of those times when the answer was staring him in the face, but his prodigious mind failed to grasp the simplest of realities. "You know, the long-term plan. Engagement. Move in together. Tie the, uh...knot. And then, when the time is right..."

His eyes went wide as saucers while he gasped his surprise. "Start...start our family..." Stephen sputtered, "...when the time is finally right..."

"Uh-huh," you shrugged, feeling both sheepish and contrite, " I got a little ahead of schedule..."

"Oh, my baby doll," he grinned, "My sweet, sweet girl!" Barely leaving you a moment to draw breath, Stephen pulled you to him, planting his lips on yours, murmuring your name as he kissed then kissed and kissed you. Dazed and dazzled as you drew away, you had only a second to memorize his euphoric expression before he pulled your face to his again, for a deeper, more enduring kiss - which was all the assurance you needed to know that even the best laid plans of the most formidable Master of the Mystic Arts could be happily laid waste for sake of the woman who had laid her gentle, loving claim upon his heart.

tagging: @groovyqueer @mousedetective