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cherryclxud · 7 months ago

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Catch me if you can Lord Holmes pt2

(ENOLA HOLMES)!Sherlock x BRIDGERTON! reader

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Description: a writer by the name of Marcus Bradford has taken the Ton by storm with his weekly edition chapter of a crime story, Sherlock is tasked with finding Marcus Bradford and solving the case of the abominable bride. but what if meeting a certain Bridgerton girl distracts him from the case?

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: none

Taglist <3 : @frost-queen @siannaplmn @annesunlight @jolixtreesunn @probabydeadbynow @chloepluto1306 @gayandfairycore @queenfairyfangirl @viylikescats @hipsternerd9 @delusional-4-fake-people

read below for credits.

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SLEEPING AT 221B BAKER STREET USUALLY came easy to Enola. Seeing as there was quite literally very little for her to do, however, for the past 2 nights it has become increasingly difficult for her not to get out of bed and shout at her brother to put the violin down.

Sherlock was stuck, and Enola could tell by his incessant playing of the violin, the notes he was playing were all gloomy grey. With a sigh, she put her head under the pillow and slammed her hand over it to cover her ears in the hope of respite from the sound. Of course, for the first 4 hours he was playing Enola felt sympathy, but when his playing started to get in the way of her sleep that's when her sympathy towards Sherlock turned to contempt towards the violin.

She had reached the point where she imagined scenarios of her grabbing scissors and cutting the strings, or of her taking the violin and throwing it out the window.

Somehow the music playing seemed to penetrate through the pillow, making the girl move the pillow, turn to her back and glare at the ceiling. She got up and stomped the the drawing room where her brother sat there playing the insipid instrument.

“SHERLOCK” she shouted over the music causing her brother to play a wrong note before stopping and turning to her. “Enola? Shouldn't you be asleep by now?” he looked out the window and saw the moon still high in the sky.

Enola crossed her arms while rolling her eyes, “geez Sherlock that's a great idea, i was getting quite tired and had no idea how to remedy it, you have truly opened my eyes” Her voice was full of sarcasm yet Sherlock paid no mind to it as he was distracted.

“Hmm yes well I suppose you should get to it”.

Enola scoffed as she saw her brother pick up the violin about to resume his playing once more “Sherlock! I can't if you insist on playing at this time.” she pointed to the instrument as the older Holmes looked down at it with a sigh.

“Ah, I see, my apologies sister I seemed to have gotten carried away” he places the instrument on its stand before slamming it down on the settee with a sigh and closes his eyes as he continues to think.

Enola turns around, happy that the peace and quiet has finally infiltrated the home, she goes on her way to her room and just as she was about to go in she stops. She turns to look to her brother, she really felt pity for him at this point, losing sleep over looking for this man who could quite literally be anywhere in England.

“Sherlock, what's wrong?”

Sherlock opens his eyes and lifts his head to look at his sister. “Nothing Enola you should go to bed, I promise I won't play anymore”

He watches as his sister walks across the room only stopping at the coffee table to pick up his tobacco pipe and hold it in between her lips in thought. “Oh look at me I'm Sherlock and I must find out everything about everyone yet never let anyone find out anything about me” she spoke in a mock deep voice as she sat next to him.

HE leaned forward and snatched the pipe from her mouth before wiping the mouthpiece with his shirt. Enola watched as he lit the pipe with a match and smoked in silence, a frown etched on his face. She decided to change the subject hoping it would get her brother to open up more about what was bothering him.

“Y/n and i have been writing to each other”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow “y/n Bridgerton? The viscount's sister?” Enola nodded

“Yes we have been speaking since we met Nonestop, she is actually quite amusing.” Enola smiled recounting the letters they both shared. Sherlock rolled his eyes but deep inside was happy that his sister had found someone to be friends with. He was worried that his taking care of her had caused his disinterest in forging real connections with people had spread to her. He didn't want her to lean on him and not connect with anyone else.

He found himself grateful for y/n's sudden but effective presence in his sister's life.

“She's quite like you, you know?” Enola spoke looking nowhere in particular. This caught Sherlock's attention as he looked back to his sister, “How so?”

“Well for starters she's smart…well not as smart as you, no one as smart as you” Enola rolled her eyes before grabbing a small rubber ball she found lying on the floor and bounced it up and down a few times, “She reads a lot, she told me when her brother would return from oxford for the summer she would take the books he'd read and read and study his essays and annotations”

Sherlock, who was staring at the floor where the ball was bouncing, chuckled quietly remembering one year at Oxford when Anthony had returned from his stay with his family missing the book he was meant to be studying for the semester and sheets of essays he had worked on during the time off, and how frazzled he was trying to rewrite what he could from memory, only to have it delivered to him with a letter of apology from his sister later that night.

“You know she even read that boring book you wrote on like the two hundred and forty types of tobacco” she offhandedly spoke not noticing her brother's smile dropped “Two hundred and forty-three”

“I believe that that was the only copy sold brother mine,” she smirked

“I'll have you know I sold three copies” he grumbled looking away.

Enola laughed “That's because Mycroft and I each bought a copy in support of you”

Sherlock scoffed and stood up walking to the window and looked outside pretending to be angry at his sister.

“Oh don't sulk brother you know that doesn't work on me, the print shop refused to print any more copies of your books in advance, that's how bad it did.” She leaned back in her seat with a smirk, “She invited me to breakfast at Bridgerton house tomorrow, can you take me there?”

Sherlock turned with a nod “I can drop you off and th-” he stopped mid-sentence as an idea struck him, “what did you just say?”

Enola looked at her brother worried that he was too busy to take her “She invited me for breakfast tomorrow and I wish for you to take me there. If you are busy I can take a carriage so no worri-”

“No no before that”

Enola tried to replay the conversation “I told you not to sulk, then that the book you wrote won't get printed in advance any longer”

Sherlock then turned to face away and walked to his desk that was placed in the drawing room and picked up one of the many newspapers that were turned to page 4, turned to the back of the paper and read down the page till he reached what he was looking for.

‘Tibalt's Printing Press

5th Northumberland street

London’

Sherlock smiled looking down at the paper, “Of course, Minnie always ends up in the kitchen when she's hungry.”

Enolas eyes turn the the left as she racks her brain trying to think what in the world her brother is going on about, “pardon?”

She watched as her brother scribbled some writing on a piece of paper before marching to his pin board on the wall and sticking a pin through the newspaper set on the last page. He stepped back with a smile, Enola stood up from her seat and walked to her brother's side.

“Sherlock, is everything alright?”

The brother looked at her and nodded “It's perfect, all back on track thanks to your friend,” Enola raised an eyebrow.

“Y/n? How did she help? Wait where are you going this late?” She watched as her brother picked up his coat and the paper he scribbled on. He walked up to her and gave her a kiss on the top of her head.

“Don't worry dear sister, assuming all goes to plan I'll be back in time to take you to break your fast with the Bridgertons, sleep well!” And with that, he walked out of the flat door closing it behind him leaving Enola alone in the drawing room.

With a sigh she blew out the remaining candle that illuminated the room, her eyes stopped at the violin that stood defenceless in the room. A smirk found its way on her face as she looked back at the door making sure her brother wouldn't be back.

………….

THE CANDLE BURNED LIGHTING ONE corner of y/n's bed-chamber, her eyes fled over words on the page of the book she was reading, a new author writing under the title ‘A Lady’ had written a book named ‘Pride and Prejudice’, y/n was completely infatuated with the idea that the author had so boldly revealed that whoever she was, she was a woman.

Unlike Lady Whistledown, this writer resorted to writing harmless fiction that was incredible to read, and unlike y/n she was courageous enough to reveal she was a female, and yet it was a complete shame in y/n's eyes to see that the books didn't do as well as she thought it deserved.

She pulled her knees to her chest as she relaxed against the window, sitting on the window seat to be able to look outside easily. It had become her routine to sit at the window every night, therefore to anyone else seeing her wouldn't warrant any suspicion, but y/n wouldn't sleep until something in the scenery outside her window changed.

She just about turns to a new page when from the corner of her eye she sees a light flickering outside her window facing the garden, turning to look outside, she sees the figure of the personal valet of Anthony walking in the garden with a candlelit lantern, stopping mid-walk he turns to her window direction and then blows out his candle.

Y/n gave a smile and blew out her own candle, drowning out the last shred of light in her room, and stood up from her seat, shutting the book and placed it on her dresser. And with that, the valet walked back into the house leaving the girl to go to sleep peacefully.

…….

THE CARRIAGE WHEELS STOPPED IN FRONT OF THE printing shop letting Sherlock step out before paying the driver. The windows were illuminated by the candles inside the print shop, he watched as two men worked on the printing of the weekly newspaper.

Sherlock walked over to the door of the print shop and tried to push it open only to find it was locked closed, however, the attempt to open it had gained him the attention of the two men who looked at each other before turning to Sherlock.

The older one of the two motioned to the younger man to go deal with him as he went back to work. The younger man rolled his eye as he walked to the door and unlocked it before stepping out to stand face to face with the detective, “You know we don't get many people coming here that don't know how to read, this being a print shop and all”

Sherlock stared blankly, the man then pointed at the sign hanging in the window “It says closed, there I read it for you, come back in the morning” he then walked back inside but as he went to shut the door Sherlock stopped it with his foot causing the man to turn back to him.

“I'm here to find out about Marcus Bradford!”

The man tried to push Sherlock back “If you're a fan then you have no luck here, we only print what we get given.” managing to push Sherlock's foot out he went to slam the door only to once again get stopped but this time by his hand. Once the door was open again then holmes pulled his hand back in pain, shaking it to relieve the soreness.

“I'm a detective, I just have a few questions regarding Mr Bradford and I'll be on my way.”

The printshop employee scratched his chin before motioning for Holmes to follow him inside, he took him to the older man who had previously sent him to deal with the problem.

“Theo? I thought I told you to deal with it” the old man spoke, Theo, however, sighed “yeah well he's a detective, won't leave”

The old man's hands stopped working on the press as he turned to meet Sherlock Holmes’ eye, “Aye, yes I recognise you, you're that Holmes guy, to what do I owe the honour?”

Theo spoke up before Sherlock could “he says he's looking for Bradford, Mr Tibalt.”

“You a fan Mr. Holmes?” Tibalt spoke, prompting Sherlock to glare in his direction.

“I assure you quite the contrary, I have been just tasked with looking into him and his background” Sherlock made sure to walk up to the elder man and stand about a foot away from him, standing taller than him he was trying to add an intimidation factor “I would appreciate your cooperation”

Tibalt stood staring at Sherlock for a good 10 seconds before speaking “I'm not sure if I can actually be of help, I haven't met the man, and neither has Theo, he doesn't deliver the stories himself”

“Then who does?”

“It really depends.”

“On?”

“4 men rotate in delivering the story every week, each one wears a mask so I don't see their faces. They don't say a word, all I get is the story and a letter with instructions on what to do along with the payment.”

Dead end.

“And when was the last time one of the men?” Sherlock asked.

“About an hour before you graced us with your own presence. He'd be long gone. All I can tell you is I have never met mr Bradford or had any personal contact with him.”

Sherlock nodded in thought, his only chance of unveiling Mr. Bradford had quite literally beat him to the chase. Tibalt turned and faced away from Sherlock grabbing a freshly printed newspaper copy, “I can't help you much about Bradford but I can tell you this” he handed Sherlock the new concept that was due for release in the morning, “Something has changed, he's introducing new characters in the midst of the story, and it's clear that this chapter has shifted it all to focus on this character. I assumed it would interest you seeing as for the past couple of copies he had been facing what I assume is a dry spell of ideas”

Sherlock looked at Tibalt before opening the paper to page 4, his eyes skimmed over the paper and suddenly stopped in his tracks, “Detective Sherrinford?” He looked up to the print shopkeeper who shrugged his shoulders and turned to get back to printing the rest of the papers.

Understanding that he most likely wouldn't be able to get more information, he left his address and told them to let him know if there were any updates, then thanked them and left to go home.

……..

LONDON WAS BUSTLING THAT MORNING, the weekly paper distribution brought by an onslaught of arguments and opinions about the new chapter in the story. The introduction of the character Detective Sherrinford had brought about mixed feelings.

Some believed that Bradford was losing his touch and was doing what he could to keep the story going, others believed that this was just a long-winded way of Marcus telling them that the real story was about to begin, especially with the way he ended off this week's chapter.

“The game is afoot?” Enola put down the newspaper against her lap, she looked towards Sherlock who sat across from her in the carriage on the way to the Bridgertons. He shrugged his shoulders as he moved the curtains to gauge how far along they were until the house, “A change I presume, seems Marcus Bradford has decided to take the story in a different direction” he replied, there was a tinge of frustration in his voice.

The carriage stopped in front of the Bridgerton house and Sherlock stepped out before helping Enola out next, the footman took them into the house where they were allowed into the drawing room where Anthony, Benedict, Eloise, Gregory and Violet sat.

Anthony being the first to see them stood up in surprise when he saw the Holmes sibling there, “Lord Holmes what a pleasant surprise this morning” he stood up and walked to them and shook their hands before inviting them further into the drawing room in the direction of his family, “this is my mother.” Violet stood from her seat with a smile, as Sherlock took her hand and placed a light kiss on it, then Anthony introduced the rest of his siblings in the room before turning to Sherlock “To what do I owe this fine visit to Holmes?”

“I invited Enola for breakfast brother” y/n who had just walked into the room spoke as she approached the group. Sherlock watched as she and Enola hugged, then as she turned to him and shook his hand, “Good morning Lord Holmes, it's very nice to see you again”

“Likewise Miss Bridgerton” he nodded to her. “I presume you have read the new chapter out today lord holmes, He added a new character what was his name” y/n put her hand the her chin as she pretended to have forgotten the name which Sherlock could of course detect however decided not to call her out on her actions and played along “detective Sherrinford i presume is the name you are trying to remember miss Bridgerton”

“Ahh yes, you are quite right lord holmes, I'm quite forgetful when it comes to these things” she lied jokingly as she spoke, making a small smile play on Sherlock's own lips.

“It's a shame seeing as the author has now added this character, who is a recluse detective who will possibly that forever to solve a case with already many plotholes, the only way the story can go is down.”

y/ns smile fell for a second but she made sure to replace it quickly enough to not be noticeable, “I don't know, I have come to take quite the liking to Detective Sherrinford, I think he will do great to solve this case, I think this story is getting better” she spoke with a smile.

As Sherlock and y/n spoke no one really paid any mind to them. Anthony and Benedict were busy talking, Enola had struck up a conversation with Eloise and Gregory was reading the story in the paper, and no one was paying them any mind…

But violet, she could see it.

Her daughter never took the time to talk to a man for this long about anything, not even about books or stories there was something there. And she was adamant about helping it grow.

“I don't know lord holmes, I would have thought you’d like the character, I think Sherrinford is exactly like you.” y/n’s words caused Enola and Eloise to look towards them in shock, “y/n! You are completely right, how could I not make that connection earlier myself “Enola spoke as she walked to the pair quickly.

“What are you two on about, the man is nothing like me”

And there stood the three arguing about why Sherrinford is or isn't like Sherlock until inevitably, a maid walked into the drawing room and called out that breakfast was ready.

“I guess this means I should take my leave not, Enola ill pick you up in 3 hours” Just as Sherlock was speaking about leaving, Violet interrupted his farewells “Lord Holmes please do join us for breakfast”

Sherlock just about shook his head and was about to decline before Violet spoke again “I had the cook prepare extra just for you” and with that, he couldn't refuse, no matter how much he wanted to.

….

The family and the Holmes siblings filtered into the dining area, Enola and y/n sat next to each other, and just about when Gregory was about to sit next to y/n on her other side, his mother motioned for him to sit elsewhere leaving Sherlock no other seat but that one, not that it really bothered him.

The families started eating and exchanging conversation, the atmosphere was delightful, and Enola was aglow, it had been a long while since she sat down for breakfast with a family seeing as usually she and Sherlock wake up at different times and end up eating anything.

“Lord Sherlock, it really is a pleasure having you and your sister here, I must say I'm surprised I havent seen you in the ton more often, no soirees nor balls” Violet spoke as she cut another piece of the omelette in her plate. Sherlock swallowed the food in his mouth before nodding to Violet “That is indeed true viscountess Bridgerton, I simply haven't found the time to integrate into society, there's too much work and research and clients. In fact it is my fault Enola has yet to debut, I had been meaning to help her this season however i got sidetracked.”

Violet nodded her face full of sympathy towards the two siblings, it was a known fact around the ton that the Holmes family had lost not one but both parents in the same year, their father had been taken ill for months before suffering through an unfortunately painful exit and their mother had been so in love with him and followed him mere months after due to a broken heart.

Since then little has been known about the Holmes family, they had become reclusive and barely interacted with the rest of the ton. Sherlock and Enola, who were 9 and 2 at the time, were put under the care and sanction of their older brother Viscount Mycroft who himself was 15. It was like the Holmeses ceased to exist any longer, that was until a few years ago when Viscount Mycroft got married and Sherlock moved out to a flat in Central London, it was widely believed that Sherlock found the Viscount Holmes’ new wife to be unappealing to share a mansion with, sooner or later in a visit back home he decided he would take his younger sister to live with him.

“Well better late than never I say” Violet spoke softly with a smile targeted at Sherlock. Her eyes flicker to y/n who was eating her food quietly while listening to the conversation then back to Sherlock. “you know, there is a soiree tomorrow night at the Dunphrees,”

Anthony stared at his mother in shock understanding what she was doing “Mother!”

Violet of course ignored him knowing Anthony really is only good for ruining her plans. “We shall be attending, I say you should come”

Enola looked up from her plate excited “Oh can we brother, it sounds like so much fun” y/n snorted quickly while holding back a laugh. Sherlock glanced at her before looking to his sister whose eyes was practically begging him, “ Enola you don't had a dress for the occasion and I doubt one can be made in time”

Y/n smirked as she looked at him, “That is no worry at all lord holmes i have 4 daughters surely I have a couple of dresses to spare that will be her size.” Violet interjected. y/n and Enola looked at each other excitedly, Sherlock's lips pressed together in a semi-frustrated smile before looking at his sister and y/n. Enola looked very excited as she shared a hug with y/n, and for a moment his eyes lingered on the Bridgerton girl, he was thankful for her existence in his sister's life, she was in fact a very interesting person to talk to, and maybe having her around would make him feel less guilty over not always being there for his sister. The said Bridgerton girl turned to face Sherlock awaiting his decision, only to be met with his own eyes looking at her, he quickly looked away while clearing his throat embarrassed at having been caught staring at her, but this action did not elude Violet’s eyee, she smiled softly at the bashfulness of sherlock.

With a sigh, he nodded albeit quite a bit reluctantly but part of him knew that Enola needed this, and in fact he needed a break, so maybe he needed this too. “I don't see why not, God knows we require a chance for respite.” Enola gleamed at the thought of attending her first soiree tomorrow.

The families continued their breakfast and their endless conversations, many topics including the breach of secrecy of Anthony and Sherlock Oxford days, they even told stories of the Duke of Hastings from their days living together. Enola revealed quite a bit of her childhood activities, and the two siblings shared their distaste for their sister in law, hyacinth chatted about how their elder sister Daphne would have almost been married to the prince of Prussia had it not been for her love for the duke, this conversation managed to segway into Eloise talking about Lady Whistledown and who she may be.

“Speaking of hidden writers,” y/n spoke as she turned to look at Sherlock “How has your hunt for Mr Bradford lord homles, someone of your calibre must have reached some conclusion.”

Sherlock nearly choked on the tea he was drinking, everyone at the table went quiet actually quite curious about his findings. “Lord Sherlock you found Mr. Marcus Bradford?” Gregory exclaimed, having been quite a fan of the writer's weekly updates.

Wiping his mouth with a handkerchief the detective shook his head “I'm afraid I'm still looking, he has proven to be quite a difficult man to find. I went to the printing shop that prints and distributes the weekly paper, unfortunately, they have no clue who he is either, seems he doesn't deliver the chapters himself for all I know he is on the other side of England.”

y/n’s eyes moved to the side in thought as everyone sighed in frustration expressing their disappointment in the possibility of not knowing the writer behind the book.

“Well that would make no sense” y/n spoke up causing all eyes to move to her.

“It makes perfect sense miss Bridgerton, there are other places in England a man can live other than Mayfair” Sherlock spoke sarcastically, confused as to why y/n would find such a simple ordeal strange, his words caused both Anthony and Benedict to chuckle.

y/n glared at her brothers then directed her glare to Sherlock “Laugh all you want men, I have a point to make. Tell me Lord Holmes why would a man on the other side of England write a story only for it to be published in Mayfair only? Surely he wants to see the fruits of his labour in person, even if he doesn't take the credit for it.”

“What makes you so sure that the man only has it published in Mayfair and not all over England?” Sherlock spoke, now completely serious, of course, he was quite upset that a point like this could have fled his mind. He had been too busy looking for the man himself when the actual paper held most of the clues he would need anyway. He thought it would be best to listen to y/n seeing as it was her words that triggered him to find the first clue in the first place.

Something told him that she knew much more than she let on about this case.

“Simple. We receive two different newspapers per week, one is the English paper, and the other is the Mayfair weekly paper, and yet the story only appears in the Mayfair weekly. That means your elusive writer is either an idiot-” Violet scolded her daughter for her use of an insult, however y/n brushed it off with an apologetic look aimed at her, before facing Sherlock again “-and is sending a copy of his writing to every separate town and city in England rather than just placing it in the English paper that goes all over England, or he is walking among us here in Mayfair”

The two stared eye to eye for a good 10 seconds in silence that even Colin had to clear his throat to almost ease the tension. Sherlock was the first to speak, “Well deduced Miss Bridgerton, you seemed to have caught on to a point I seemed to have missed” he smirked, “This is the second time, one more time and I may just have to engage you.” y/n’s smile dropped at his words and her face heated up as violet and Enola let out a quiet gasp. Sherlock cleared up his throat and quickly went to fix his wording.

“Engage you in other cases i mean, sometimes I could use an outsider's eye on the matter” he spoke while avoiding y/n’s eyes, his fingers tracing the rim of the teacup in his hands. y/n was in a similar situation but had a small smile that danced on her lips.

“Holmes doesn't jest” y/ns smiled as her eyes shot up to look at Anthony who had made a habit of ruining the moment “Y/n is a young lady and shouldn’t really be exposed to some of the cases you deal with, don't you agree” she glared at him. “And what of it brother? What does my being a lady have to do with a case? It’s not like crime stops when I walk in the room just because I'm a lady.” she spoke while rolling her eyes, she knew her brother meant well but sometimes he was overbearing.

“y/n-”

“Actually viscount Bridgerton, I completely understand your argument” Sherlock's words caused y/n to look at him disappointed “However as Miss Bridgerton has worded it wonderfully, crime doesn't stop because the fairer sex exists. I truly believe there is no such thing as protecting them from the truth, only hiding the truth. I think Miss Bridgerton would benefit from being challenged by a few questions, no need to see a crime scene herself. I do this with Enola all the time, and she doesn't seem to mind at all.”

Enola quickly nodded at her brother's words in agreement “It's true Lord Bridgerton, it’s quite fun, like solving puzzles, it keeps me occupied and gives me the ability to spend time with Sherlock.”

Violet interjected before Anthony could speak again,” These are quite bold ideas you share lord holmes, not many men would agree with you.”

“And not many women too” Eloise muttered with an eye roll.

But Sherlock kept his resolve and looked to y/n and his sister before looking back to Violet, “Well viscountess Bridgeton, I am quite a fanatic of what many may call strange ideals. I believe that a day will come, when a war will break out,” the whole table gasped in shock at his words, “one half of the human race against the other, the invisible army always standing by the men's shoulder, there has to come a day where us men stand back and view women as equals who deserve respect and demand to be heard”

“I think it's a wonderful idea lord holmes, you letting y/n help out in your cases that is.” Violet broke the silence as she clasped her two hands together, she met eyes with y/n who smiled at her, she smiled back and gave her daughter a wink.

If he were to be the man her daughter would love, then she would rather back her up than be against her and cause her daughter to abstain from the thought of love or marriage in general.

Gregory sat up excitedly “Lord Holmes! When you do find Mr. Bradford do you think you can get him to sign a copy of his books for me?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow with a smile at the excitement in his voice “Thats IF, but I don't see why not”

“No, it’s WHEN, Lord Holmes, I’m sure you are much closer to the man than you think” y/n spoke while motioning to Anthony valet to fetch her more tea with a smile. Sherlock looked at the teacup in y/n’s hands in confusion “I’m not sure im any closer to finding him, no one in the ton knows him”

The valet held the teacup as he poured tea for y/n as she spoke “Who says Marcus Bradford is the writer's real name?” it was like clockwork, Sherlock looked at y/n as she spoke, and the teacup slipped out of the valet's hands dropping some of the contents of the cup straight into y/ns lap. Sherlock quickly grabbed a tablecloth from in front of him and started dabbing the tea on her lap, them action caused her eyes to widen and for her to stand up quickly and move away, Anthony and Benedict stood up, both rushing to their sister, countless apologies were spewed from the valet's mouth. It was actually quite chaotic.

“It’s fine, I'm fine” y/n spoke with a nervous smile. “ one of the downsides of being a girl is wearing many layers, though I suppose in this case it is an upside” she let out a giggle while looking at everyone, her eyes moved to the valet who was still apologising “no harm no foul Hudson, I'm fine”

“I may have to get changed though, Enola,” she turned to face her friend, “Why don't you join me, we can look for a dress for you to wear for tomorrow's soiree”

The younger Holmes got up with a smile and joined her as the two rushed off to y/n’s room.

Everyone returned to their seats and slowly continued on with their conversation, however, Sherlock felt uneasy now in his seat, looking up in front of him his eyes met with Anthony’s eyes, who almost seemed to be glaring back at him. The eldest Bridgerton brother hadn't missed how Sherlock reacted to the tea dropped on his sister, he wanted to diminish any feelings that may be growing from y/n towards Holmes as fast as possible, to him Sherlock wasn't right for his sister.

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AN: First of all I am absolutely blown away by the number of likes and requests for tags I have gotten, I love you all, literally thought this story was going to flop. I'm sorry it took a while for the second chapter to come out hopefully next chapter won't take as long. TRULY LIKE WOW.

This chapter has so many easter eggs feel free to let me know which ones you found out through my ask box or comments, and if there is smth you would like me to add in any upcoming chapters let me know too<3

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I do not own Bridgerton

I do not own Sherlock or Enola Holmes

and I most certainly don't own the abominable bride story

I do not own Sherrinford

they belong to their rightful owners

I only own the fic idea.

#bridgerton #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #enola holmes #enola and sherlock #bridgerton reader #bridgerton x reader #sherlock holmes fanfiction #crossover #fanfic #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock #imagine #bridgerton x enola holmes #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x female reader

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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 1 year ago

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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.

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✑ 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 ||

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wibblyv · 26 days ago

Text

LARA PULVER as IRENE ADLER | Sherlock - 2.01' “A Scandal in Belgravia”

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socratezeuxis · 2 months ago

Photo

Photographer Thomas Holm

Model Lilith Etch

(via LOCATION NUDE)

#thomas holm #lilith etch #black and white #female nude #photography #outdoor nude

151 notes · View notes

ladylaviniya · 11 months ago

Text

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 3 || Masterlist || Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: Sherlock fulfils his husbandry duty and desires to play some more with your weak resolve.

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Period Sex, Blowjob, Bondage, Pet Names, Fingering, Forced Orgasm, Forced Pubic shave, Humiliation.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: This chapter involves description of period blood and sex, please be warned!!

Inspiring Song: "Copy Cat." Billie Eillish classic cover

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

6:39pm Tuesday 6th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

You had no choice. Not really...he was your husband and you were his wife. His threat of infidelity brought a great fear to your mental strength than your threat to murder him without a solid plan.

Oh how you hated him for this. You despised him with every sense. You weren’t sure how you’d be able to forgive him.

You knew he wasn’t a good or kind or even gentle husband, but a husband is meant to be faithful. And if humiliating yourself to pleasuring him with your mouth kept him straying in sin; by god you would obey.

You crept closer to him and slowly lowered yourself on one knee, then the next. Your eyes could not leave his face. A sick and twisted smile spread over his rosy cheeks.

In his palm was his half hard cock. His large hand made it appear smaller. The memory of its violent entrance had not been forgotten however.

It stared you back in the face. The pink head peaked up and out of his pale skin. His thumb rubbed over the pink head.

You felt cold and strange in comparison to your usual jitters. You fluttered your eyes closed. Your hands sat in your lap on your thighs.

‘He just wanted a kiss. I can kiss it...’

You leant forward and puckered your lips. His skin was feverishly warm. You pulled back fast and blinked up at him with wet eyes.

He chuckled meanly and touched your damp cheek in his other hand before moving his fingers under your jaw and guiding you closer to his cock.

“Lick the top with the tip of your tongue.”

Your lips trembled nervously. You weren’t sure if this was worth it. The thudding of your chest made you forget what he had asked.

Visions of the lewd novel in his chest flashed in your mind.

“P-pardon?”

His thumb pressed against your mouth, forcing its way past your lips and teeth. You knew better than to bite him. You weren’t an animal...you didn’t want a repeat of the night before where you had bitten his tongue.

“Stick out,” he pulled your tongue out with his thumb, “this little tongue.”

He pulled you closer by the chin and held his cock upwards.

“Lick.”

You whined softly and batted your eyes. Did you have the guts to do this? To truly perform fellatio? You didn’t really have the choice. You had to do this.

He let you go and waited patiently. He undid his cuffs and rolled the shirt off his shoulders.

“Are you so dim witted?” he gruffly asked, his fingers grabbed at your jaw after you took too long,

“Need I repeat myself once more?”

You shuddered and shook your head side to side. It was just so scary. Why did you have to have such a cruel husband!?

“No,” you licked your chapped lips, “I am sorry Mr Holmes.”

His eyes widened, his face softened but his lips smirked, “So polite, little lamb...”

Your lower half tingles with delight at the warmth of his sudden praise...

‘Little lamb, how do I despise it...yet feel warmth within?’

You pushed your face closer. You stuck out your tongue again and this time, glided it over his hot red tip. The gleam of your saliva and his desire shone in the soft candle light of a kerosene lamp on his bedside table.

You tucked your nose quickly back to your chest. You flushed.

Fluttering his eyes, Sherlock clenched the covers. His gasp on his breath was a sound of pain you originally believed.

“Again,” he said clearing his throat, “Come now, I grow tiresome to your reluctance.”

You wanted to spit at him. He knew you didn’t want to do this and yet still made you do it. You licked him again. His hand clapped on the back of your neck, forcing you closer and blocking you from pulling away.

You fell into him slightly, forced to need to grab his pant covered knee and thigh. Your fingers squeezed his trousers to stabilise your balance on your knees.

You looked back up into his eyes. Perhaps it was easier to look him in the eye instead of looking at the brutal beast between his thighs.

You opened your mouth and licked his cock little by little...his thumb pushed up your nose, opening your mouth wider. He pushed his cock into your mouth. His eyes were glued on you. He appeared relaxed.

His skin lacked any flavour. It was like licking your palm...but after a while there was a hint of salt in the taste buds.

You kept your mouth open, you kept your tongue out as he moved his hips in and out. His hand pushed you down and pinched you back up.

Your eyes remained only on him. He was grunting and sighing. A twinge of triumph tickled your heart. You were pleasing him! He would not want to seek out the unsavoury company of whores or any other woman overall.

He paused and leant down. He grabbed at your wrist and picked up his hand and rested your fingers around his length of his cock.

Your blinked and stared at the placement.

“Squeeze, and rub me up to the tip, down to the sack.” You nodded, his cock still rested on your tongue.

He chuckled and rested back on his hands. He waited for you to take over.

This was it. This is what would bring him pleasure. You cupped his shaft and moved the way you were instructed. You did it at a pace where he appear to struggle how to breathe. His words were nothingness under his breath.

He looked to the ceiling and moaned.

The skin was hot and twitched under your finger tips.

He let out a choking groan. The back of your mouth felt that harsh slapping squirt of his release.

You pulled back in horror. Your bottom slid across the rug. You weren’t sure what it was really. In fact you feared he had the audacity to piss in your mouth. You spat on the floor and coughed.

“Ugh!”

He cackled at the mortified look you had written over your sweet face.

He sighed and chewed his bottom lip. He slowly clapped his hands.

“Well done... Forgive me, I had intended to finish myself over your sweet breasts, little lamb.”

He cocked his head to the side and hummed, “Take off my shoes.” He lifted his foot to your direction.

You thought he was entirely despicable! You wiped your mouth with a growing glare. It didn’t go unnoticed by him, in fact, he took glee in your narrowing look..

“You wish to be a wife? Act as a wife. You want my loyalty? Well, you must be my whore...and whores suckle their johns cream with pretty smiles on their painted faces. Wives help their husbands undress from long days of work.”

You felt...weak and disgusting. You felt like an idiot. In your grumpy defeat you crawled back to him and began to unlace his shoes. In the corner of your eye you saw his hand reach back to his front and touch his thick meat. The looser the laces, you lifted your hands and rocked his heel out of his shoe.

Demurely you sat both his shoes aside. His socks smelt of his sweat and the filth of London street ways. You gagged and pinched the wool socks away from his calves and flung them from his toes.

A cramp waved through you and forced a grimacing groan out of your quiet misery.

Sherlock stopped laughing, his smugness dissipated. His face fell. He tucked his cock away with an annoyed sigh.

His hands unexpectedly tucked beneath your armpits and lifted you off the floor. He pushed you lightly onto his mattress onto your front. You felt your breath hitching, worrying what he would do to you. It wouldn’t be right for him to have sex with you during your menses.

He palmed his giant hand over your bottom. Hoisting your night dress up your thighs and over your back. He slapped one cheek lightly and chuckled at your cry and hiss. He grabbed your shoulder and held you down slightly. Your fingers gripped the covers of his top blanket. You had washed and changed this set. They smelt of a sweet lemon citrus.

His lips touched your bare shoulders. His hot breath tingled in your ear.

You flushed and squeezed your eyes shut. God it felt strange and ticklish.

“Look at this perfect little arse,” he admired, groping at the flesh, “Plump and ripe for a needed disciplining. Your grandparents let you get away with far too much.”

He slapped you harder. A scream bellied from you. Your spine curled up and you desperately reached back to scratch his bare arms.

“Stop it! Or I will bite you again!” you shouted.

The detective smacked his lip and hummed, “Ah that reminds me, thankyou little lamb.”

In two fingers he held in front of your eyes his cravat. He stuffed the material deep into your mouth and slapped you swiftly when you tried nipping his hand. Tears poured like boiling water.

He tied the rest of the fabric tightly behind your head. You violently shook your head and fought against him, you tried pushing away only to be shoved down by his strong hands.

He rolled you into your back and used your nightgown to tie your wrists together, over your hands. Your claws were contained from clawing his eyeballs out.

The bonds were pushed above your head. He attached a loose part of the arm of your clothes to the headpost.

He smacked your thighs apart hard. You shrieked behind the gag.

He tore the sanitary apron away and tossed it across the room. You turn your nose into your arm, too embarrassed to look at your husband who played with your body.

You twitched and tried to kick at Sherlock as his hand tickled down your side and between your thighs. The wicked man smirked as he watched your pleading eyes water. He pushed two fingers inside your red hot messed cavern. You felt ill. This was an abomination! He fingered you and held your upper body down, watching you like a hawk as you struggled.

His digits within you flexed and curled. You felt them touch along the top of your walls while his thumb rubbed down into your forbidden button. You whined and shook your head. He removed his hand all together. You clenched your legs back together.

“Oh my, Mrs Holmes,” he purred, glancing down, “You secret slut...this isn’t blood,” he held his fingers up to the light, “Why...this is arousal...”

His lips curled, flashing those pearly white gnashers.

Your eyes widened with horror. You were humiliated. Surely it wasn’t possible that you could be enjoying this? Why did he have to be so handsome. Why did your fear mix in with attraction so easily.

With the clear gleaming on his hand, with little pink streaks, he kissed your cheek and pinched

your nipples.

You shook your head and whimpered. Your legs were buzzing at the pain inflicted increased a desperate certain warmth within you.

“My was that a moan? Interesting,” he whispered cheekily.

“and if I...do this...” he asked as he shoved his hand back onto your snatch, rubbing in fine circles ontop of your clit. Your hips lifted and your thighs trembled. Your toes curled hard and your head rolled back. God it felt delicious and evil.

Amongst your lustful whines, Sherlock chortled happily, “How perfect you might be dear wife...I had no little hope for this morning, but now,” his nose shoved into your ear, “...oh you’ve just gone and damned yourself for good.”

He tugged at your pubic mane lightly, it didn’t matter, it made you squeal and howl in pain.

Your husband sat up and left the bed. Your arms were still bound above your head. You lifted your knees protectively to your chest.

“All this hair...” He tutted, “it shall not do.”

You heard him wonder across his bedroom. Out of his personal drawers he found a straight razor. He also brought forth the basin of water he had near the door way. With a cloth napkin and tiny sliver of soap, he returned and forced your legs down on to the bed. He knelt on your spread ankles and lathered your nether curls.

It was when the soap started to foam that you realised what he was intending to do. It was impossible to word the begging but he knew...you knew he knew what you were pleading out.

You knew how sharp a razor could be. What if he mutilated you!?

He glided the cold metal over your wet sensitive skin.

He licked his bottom lip as he scrapped away your mass of pubic hair.

“Hold still wife or I will cut you,” he scolded sarcastically as he went through the white bubbles.

Cleaning the razor in the water before returning it back between your thighs he hummed, “I am displeased you didn’t confer with me about the states of my accounts before deciding to pay them all off yourself. That dowry was meant for dresses, and necessary accessories such as calling cards...” he tapped the razor on the basin bowl, “now we must both rely on Mycroft and my cases for wages...stupid girl.”

The way he stared into your eyes as he held the blade up to the light...was he threatening you...was this...a warning.

You squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep shuddering breath. Tied to his bed and at his whim you were significantly helpless.

His hands took the towel and wiped your cunt clean of the hairs and soap still left behind. He whistled dramatically and smirked.

“My, my, what a pretty pussy you have.” He mused as he tossed the razor into the basin and moved the water bowl under the bed, out of the way.

His middle finger pushed inside. You gasped. The stretching intrusion took you off your guard.

“So tight still. I might need to train you to take me.”

He tore it back out and touched your naked clit lightly.

You gasped and choked behind the cravat. With deep moans, you wept pathetically.

“Oh look at that reaction,” he cooed condescendingly, he caressed the skin with his knuckle, “and all I’m doing is touching your clit. So sensitive.”

He licked his bottom lip and smirked, he pulled his hand back and slapped his palm across your labia. You squeal as the hot fiery pain rose up under your skin and spread out a dark shade with the rushing of your blood.

“Splendid responses to the nerves,” Sherlock noted before running the stinging flesh, you whined and turned your face into your arm.

“Bit sore I gather?” The man mocked, “Poor Lamb. All mine and bloody for sacrifice.”

A horrid in taking sound came from him. He spat on his fingers and pushed the wetted digits against your labia, dragging them down before sliding in home.

“There we are, squeezing so tightly around my finger, feels filling?”

He paused and listened to your heavy breathing behind the man made gag he had over your mouth. Listening to your ragged gasps and wheezes made his cock stir. You were so innocent and confused, he could see through your prudish and proper demeanour so easily. He fingered you until you were on the brink of insanity. Your eyes were becoming hazy, strained and almost crossed.

He thought it incredible...a true virgin. Not some pretender whore that his friend Miss Adler supplied. You were the authentic innocent.

“Now that you are properly tied up and without risk to harm me,” he whispered wetly, “-And decently groomed... I will complete our union.” He removed his fingers slowly out of you.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You needed to compose yourself. You wanted to pretend you were back home with your grandparents. You imagined yourself in the gardens with your cousins playing balls. Oh back then life was a struggle but comparing to this...it was truly childsplay.

You yearned for your girlhood once more before you felt him move off the bed a moment only to shove your thighs wider apart and sit the head of his cock on top of your naked hairless lips.

Here the devil had come to steal all girlhood for good and inflict the agonising curse of

womanhood.

He entered slowly. Clearly he had learnt from yesterday that this task would only be accomplished with patience.

Indeed yesterday would’ve been considered a consummated marriage...so why he cared so much to refer to this as a completion of union alluded you.

You whimpered softly and peaked through your wet lashes to see his invasive entrance breaking into you.

To say you were full was placing it lightly. This man stole all possible space inside. He left no pocket of air as he pushed along and settled within.

His hands were tightly holding each ankle apart.

You now understood why he touched you with his hands before...your slickness welcomed and slid him deeper into you.

“Oh, my poor little lamb, taking in her masters thick cock so bravely,” he praised and then laughed as you struggled against your own nightgown binded to the headboard, “unable to nip or kick back at him.”

You grew silent in defeat. You submitted to the chance of zero hopelessness. Your legs fell limply.

He released your ankles.

You were plagued in your own paralysis.

You felt like he was pausing before pushing more inside. He was huge. There’s not many you could compare it too as a recently deflowered woman but you were confident his size must’ve been abnormal. Even he winced every so often at the tight squeeze.

When his pelvic bone pressed against your cunt, he sighed, “There...truly man and wife...at last...” A small scoff was heard.

You said something behind the gag that caught his ear. It was too muffled.

He pulled the gag harshly down your chin.

“What was that?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and huffed stubbornly, “Hu-husband and wife. Not man and wife.”

You wanted to remind him exactly who he was doing this to and why he could do it...because you allowed it.

“Correct you are, my darling,” he let a laugh escape him before he moved back, “Now if I just pull and twist my hips like this.”

He re-entered and this time he put his thumb on your clit as he went inside. Your eyes blew wide and you began to babble.

“Oh oh oh! Wh-what wait, please!” You started to moan and whine.

Your husband cackled proudly, “It feels good doesn’t it?”

You foolishly nodded in truth. Something sparked a flame that flooded your insides.

He did it again and again. He repeated and rubbed down into you. The filling of his member rubbing against all parts of your inner skin made you clench and groan.

You felt increasingly needful to collect the same high feeling he had delivered on you before. You were climbing an imaginary hill. The urge to release your bladder made your eyes widen.

Desperation took you into the most needful begging, “N-no! I need to use a bedpan please

Sherlock, please, I am going to make a mess! Stop! I’ll do anything.”

Your little gasps and desperate moans spurred your husband on.

His hips were making a fast speeding pace that made you dig your knees into his sides.

You wanted him to stop. You were scared of pissing over him, especially in his bed.

“I want you to let go,” he moaned and shoved his nose against yours. His breath entered your mouth as he raggedy groaned, “Release, trust me...it will feel good.”

You didn’t trust him. You didn’t know what he meant. How could this behaviour be acceptable.

“No, no, no, no, ugh, ugh, stah-, Sher-, ugh, pl-please!”

He slammed himself harder and licked at your chest, “Such a pretty beggar, dear lord, I predicted you to be a homely creature, I have been proven wrong. In this light, you are rare gem of the seas of Venus. Oh sweet lamb, give me your release.”

You couldn’t hold yourself in containment any longer. You let your lower half go. You clenched hard down onto him.

You found your spine curl and your mouth wordlessly wailing.

“Breathe dead, breathe,” you heard Sherlock call above your silent choking before unleashing a brutalising scream. It was like taking your first breath, being reborn.

When the air released, your chest burned. You gasped and cried out as some mighty string was torn within and drowned you in a flooding dam of pleasure.

Sherlock followed your desirable agony and let his mind go. His grunting was feral and full of need.

Your muscles released and you cried with the feeling of warm melted gold ran through you.

You weakly called out, “Sherlock...”

His hot lips kissed against your sweaty skin. He kissed your neck up to your chin and cheek and engulfed your own mouth in a sloppy sensation of saliva and soft lips.

When your eyes focused and found a semblance of sane sight, you beheld a pleased man. You felt his fingers touching along your arms and wrists.

“I am going to untie you, hush you are safe...”

You shut your eyes. The last tears to come derived from pleasure and a overwhelming sense of joy that was foreign to you. You trembled, still drinking in the vibrations of your body.

You were stuck in a blanket of bodily pleasure. You had never been so relaxed and warm in your entire life.

You enjoyed what he had done and you didn’t know why especially since you heavily disliked your own husband.

Was this what Mrs Hudson referred to? Screaming followed by smiles?

‘Oh’, you thought, ‘never again will a woman have what I just claimed. This is mine and always shall be.’

“I...need...um...I...words...I...you’ve...I can’t think...I am spent,” you mumbled dumbly.

A part of you wanted to thank him and have him leave you alone to wallow in sleep. Another wanted him to do it all again.

“Pretty Lamb,” he cooed in your ear as your hands limply fell to the mattress, “I am going to carry you now.”

He had tucked himself away and scooped his hands under your legs. He moved your arms around his shoulders and pushed you to sit up before clamping his arm beneath your back. His nose tucked into your neck where he left another kiss.

Carefully he lifted you off his bed and stepped out into the dining parlour where he turned and took you to your room beside his.

He pulled the blankets and sheets away before sliding you down beneath them.

He pulled the cover up to your chin and you whimpered, “I...am sore.”

His hard face softened, he pressed his lips to your cheek and asked, “You are?”

You nodded your head, “I...feel...light...tired.”

He left your side to shut your door. The light disappeared completely. Only the moon that casted light over his face helped you see as he faced you again. He wondered over and invaded your bed space.

He climbed in along side you. The wood creaked with his added weight. You were slightly alarmed he was coming into your bed and not returning back to his room.

You were drowsy and moaned.

“Sleep, in my arms,” He said as you weakly tried rolling away.

You turned back and stared at the shadows of his face. His eyes were black with only small specks of the light reflecting.

His skin was sticky and hot... But tonight it was cold and windy...you needed him...he wanted you...you succeeded.

In the darkness, you decided to reclaim some small pride...you pushed your face up and kissed his lip. Breathing him in you could finally smell him and taste him. Chalk, blood, and tobacco.

You shut your eyes and imagined the joy of your grandmother if you could tell her how you finally became the wife of Sherlock Holmes before the rites of Godly flesh.

He was silent and still. He said nothing. Did nothing.

When you pulled back from the kids he rested his head softly back on the pillows with a light hum. His fingers tickled up your naked back, holding you close. You rubbed your cheek into his bicep and listened to his heart beat and breathing until you passed into the dreamlands of sleep.

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

6:04am Wednesday 7th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

You dreamt of your father and mother. Two people who never married, but at some point were in love. You never had the chance to see them together in happiness.

They were well dressed and strolling in the park pushing a perambulator. And as you followed them it had not struck you that this was a dream. Inside the baby carriage was nothing at all...it was odd.

Yet your parents smiled and both leant in to kiss each other....their hands both held wedding bands.

If you had never been born, you suddenly thought, would they have been able to marry and be happy?

Your mother as she loved upon your father shoved the perambulator away. It rolled fast down the path and you followed it for a moment before hearing a terrible wail of a baby inside. A baby that wasn’t in the carriage before suddenly appeared, pulling back a blanket that covered it.

You chased after the carriage as it sped up and went down a hill. Your heart ached with terror. You struggled to keep up and reached out your hand to the handle bar. It was rolling just out of your reach!

You sobbed as the carriage crashed into Tree and fell to its side. Out rolled...a bleating lamb...the creature rose up on its four wiggly legs and bleated again. It’s long wagging tail flickered around anxiously.

You landed on your knees before the lamb and kept crying. Not even you knew the reason for your tears. You held the small animal to your torso, checking it over for any broken limbs. The baby sheep was fine.

A tap on your head made you look up and standing above you was a dark faceless shadow of a man. The shadow sucked you in and you screamed at the darkness before waking up.

Above you was a face you did know...your husband’s. His eyes danced around your features. His lips curled into a smirk, “Good morning Mrs Holmes, how did you sleep?”

You blinked and peered up at him warily before slowly you sat up and away from him. His hand touched your shoulder, your hand grabbed his wrist.

What was he doing in your bed? Why were you nude!? Ah the revaluations if the previous evening re-established back into your memory. He had fully fucked you. He had claimed you...and in your drunken sleepy state, you kissed him. You flushed.

“I slept fine...” you lied, “Please let me up,” you glanced between him, the door of the bedroom and your wardrobe, “I need to start my day.”

You swallowed hard as you looked over his broad chest.

“Nonsense,” Sherlock stated before dragging you closer to him by your waist, his hands were huge and warm, it would be too much to say even comforting.

“We have plenty of time before Mrs Hudson climbs up the stairs.” His lips touched your jaw and peppered down your neck..

“Mr Holmes...please,” you cleared your throat as your hand pushed his chest to force a pause. You flushed with embarrassment. He noticed very quickly at your strained tone.

“Oh...I see...you recall the events of last night...your self deduction?”

His hands under the blanket slid downward to your thighs. He touched the soft shaved skin of your pubis. You felt twice as sensitive...

“H-humiliated, st-stupid and angry,” you shuddered.

You had let him hurt you again...and yet this time it came to a pleasant conclusion. You were disgusted in yourself for obeying him so quickly, so willingly I’m regards to giving him fellatio.

His fingers pressed your clit and he smiled at your gasp.

“And now?”

You gulped and turned your face into the pillows away from his eyes.

It was hard to deny how much you enjoyed the jumping buzz in your lower belly.

His laugh was crude to your ears, “See how easy it is to feel that sweet entrapment?” He rubbed his hand between your legs and marvelled at your heightened reaction, “My goodness look at you, your cunt is pulsing against me, hot and hard in my palm.”

Your breath hitched and your hips accidentally rolled into his touch. Your body craved the addictive buzz. Your thighs parted for him...he accepted the invitation and moved a finger inside while he ground his palm against your bundle of nerves.

“Oh, are you going to release again?” he whispered proudly.

He chuckled at your shaking head. Your pathetic attempts to mentally deny it. You were close by how tightly you fluttered around just his lone finger. Your knees shook and clamped together. His finger continued jerking in and out.

“Oh ride the sweet death, come to be me, come, come, come to me little lamb.”

His mouth ducked down to your nude chest. He licked across your nipples and suckled them into his cheeks loudly.

Your hand grabbed the blankets and his wrist. You rolled your head back and sighed as whatever that spell was took over you.

“Did you know,” he smacked his lips across your breasts, before tonguing a single nipple, “you’ve the most delicious teats?”

You groaned and blushed. You were trying to catch your own breath.

He pressed his cock against your leg before taking your hand and forcing you to hold him.

“Touch me, hold it and slide your hand up and down like a silk pole.”

You did as he asked while he kissed your mouth openly. Your eyes fluttered shut and jerked him off until you felt a wetness glide down your hands, he moaned.

This is the kindest he has ever been to you presently.

You pulled your hand away and up to the light of the morning. Your eyes widened at the white goop stuck on your fingers and back of your hand.

“Wha-what is this?”

He chuckled and kissed your cheek proclaiming, “My seed.” Seed...to make children...but it was so...

“Its...liquid,” you disagreed, “and wet and sticky...it’s like mucus.”

He raced his fingers along your hip and patiently explained, “When drained inside of you,” his hand touched your lower belly, “it goes up and impregnates. But you are still bleeding so it washes out and won’t catch in your womb.”

You blinked and let your dirty hand fall back on the top of the covers.

“Oh...”

You felt him sit up and you mirrored him. You slid out of the bed as his warmth left you. Watching him pull his trousers properly back up over his hips and waist made you fluster from the sight of his bare arse.

It was such a plump bottom.

He pulled away your blanket, unveiling your nude self to the cold morning.

He turned around and brought back your water basin and a cloth. He soaked the material in and pressed the wet cloth to your thighs.

“Stay still,” he said softly, “I’m just washing you.”

You paused before you spread your legs for him and awkwardly nodded, “Thankyou...husband.”

Surely you could’ve cleaned yourself. You hissed as he scrubbed the dry blood and release from you thighs. The cold water on your hot dirty skin was soothing.

You stood out of your bed finally and hurried to your dresser to find either some padding tubes or a sanitary apron.

Your rolled the bandage up quickly and turned away from Sherlock as you inserted the material.

You felt...strange doing this in front of him. A part of him you were sure might be repulsed at the sight.

Except he had his back turned to you, he was washing himself in the basin while he asked, “How did you find the carnal pleasure?”

You froze and felt your mouth dry up. Had he forgotten that he had tied you up?!

It was hard to meet his eyes. You wrapped your arms around yourself. Your husband turned to you.

You felt the need to cover your privates with your hands.

“Strange, it...felt correct...but...wrong...” you cleared your throat, “forbidden, despite our vows.”

He smiled and nodded to the bed while he passed you to your wardrobe and investigated the contents, “Many young ladies new to it have expressed the same condolences...that is sex. That is coitus. That is what husband and wife do. To make babies, and to feel pleasure.”

Your nose wrinkled. Sherlock was significantly older than you. You trusted this wisdom. He was clearly an experienced man from the prices spent at Mayfair.

“Why did it hurt so much the first time?” you asked.

No one had prepared or explained why having sex with your husband would hurt. He was so brutal the first day. And last night it hurt but not as much...

He sighed and pulled out dark navy blouse and a skirt to match. You felt the urge to correct his choice as he held them up. It was an outfit for outside outings. You weren’t meant to leave the home during this delicate time.

He asked over his shoulder, “Have you ever ridden horses?”

“I have,” you answered honestly.

“Side saddle?” His left brow raised.

“Sometimes,” you pursed your lips and watched him lay out your clothes on your bed, “It was easier for balance when riding as men do.”

He nodded and went to collect a pair of your boots, “And that hurt your thighs the first time?”

“First few ride like that yes,” you agreed, huffing impatiently, “Where is this conversation leading?”

He pulled you closer by pinching your hip. He pushed a chemise over your head. Your eyes widened, this wasn’t his role...to help you dress. It was your responsibility and Mrs Hudson if you were inclined to ask for her assistance.

“How did the pain go away?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes and answered the obvious explanation, “Because my body accommodated and my muscles for the riding evolved to accept the saddled position.”

He passed you a pair of open crotch bloomers. You pulled the material over your legs and tied the strings to your waist over the corset.

He smiled and pinched your chin, “The same is said for sex. The more you practice, the better it will be for you and...your health.”

You flushed and turned your face away from him...you felt foolish with the way his eyes ran over your bare body. He turned you around and helped pull a corset over your head and began fighting the strings in the back.

“I...it hurt and felt good...I felt...suffocated...I thought I saw a bright light,” you grunted as he tugged.

Your husband shut his eyes and with a smile he hummed pleasingly, “La petite mort.” “The Little death?” You gasped.

He flicked his eyes open. He sounded amused, “ah you know French little lamb?”

“of course I do,” you scoffed lightly, “any self respectable lady must learn French.”

Not his sister, “I suppose so.”

He pulled more of the ties closer. The corset grew taunt and supportive of your chest. His fingers tugged down further.

“Why did you go to Scotland yard yesterday?” You asked him as he finished tying the laces together.

“And who did you have a fight with?”

You tapped your face with a soft finger. He passed you a hose suspender belt. You clipped the hooks behind your back while the belt sat on your waist.

“There’s now a bruise under your chin that I most certainly did not cause Mr Holmes...” A part of you wished you had. He would’ve deserved it from you. He rubbed the dark spot and smirked.

Your husband sat on your bed and plucked your stockings. He pat his thigh and opened the stockings up. You lifted your leg and rested it on his thigh. You clenched the wooden canopy pole to steady your balance.

You were embarrassed. At this angle he would be able to see your cunt stuffed with the white fluff soaking up your menstruation.

He showed no care or disgust. He slid the soft cotton up your leg and kissed your knee cheekily.

He clipped your stocking to the suspension strings.

“I inquired upon the Pennicott case,” he claimed,” his thumb rubbed dangerously over your thigh...

God, you felt a spark at the touch.

“I thought you said it was obvious,” you stuttered, “He ran out from his wife.”

“I did, and...I rethought it,” he admitted, he slid the other stocking up your other leg, “Pennicott is a Baron and a owner of many warehouse factories. His wife comes from a well off family too and she is pregnant last heard, baby number six now. Why would he disappear off the face of the earth?...”

He stood up straight and forced your arms above your head before he slid a petticoat across your waist.

“A lover?”

He smiled as he tied the strings at your waist and shook his head, “No, men like Pennicott would just keep their arm candy and refer to them as a niece of a distant cousin. And if he was attached so lovingly, he would just move to another country but to completely eradicate and leave all his finances? To leave his wife in her state? It makes not much sense. He was making a fine quarter profit! So why is he missing?”

He passed you the blouse and skirt.

“Well,” You pulled the skirt over your arms and buttoned the buttons up to our neck “Perhaps he’s been kidnapped, for ransom?”

Sherlock hummed, “Maybe Watson, but I do wonder still.” You blinked...

“Pardon?” you gawked.

He raised his brows to your exclamation.

“You called me Watson.”

“Oh dear god,” he chuckled and passed you your skirt, “it’s already happening.”

You slid on the final layer and wrinkled your nose at him, “What is happening?” Sherlock stood up from the bed and clapped his hands.

“Come with me,” he softly begged, “Today I will be visiting his wife. The Baroness. I am investigating the case.”

Your eyes fluttered. Your thoughts couldn’t keep up. You sputtered as you tried to find sensibility. “Sherlock, it is our honeymoon and I am bleeding,” you whispered, “It is improper. I need to conduct laundry. Both our bedding must be soaked in...” you cleared your throat, “the blood.” He winked at you and pulled you close to his nude chest by your covered waist.

“Isn’t it marvelous that we have a housekeeper for such things?”

You narrowed your eyes... “A housekeeper is not a maid and I would not subject Mrs Hudson to cleaning that. She has told me herself that linens is not of her department.”

The tall man bent down and offered, “Mrs Hudson will clean the laundry, trust me..”

Despite his assurance, It wasn’t right for you to be out and about in public like this.

“And what would I be doing,” you tested, “Running after you as you speak to the Baroness?”

“Sitting pretty,” Sherlock stated, “And looking for clues.”

Your eyes sharpened, “Clues?”

Your husband tapped your nose, “Yes, you seem to have a hint of talent in that department. You just don’t know where to deduce the end results for the clues.” You blinked....

With a soft mutter you stated, “I suppose it would allow me more insight to your profession and a chance to bond and learn about each other...”

Before you could continue anymore questions you heard a soft knock on your bedroom door.

“Mrs Hudson,” you both whispered, glancing to one another.

Helplines:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

#dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes x female reader #sherlock holmes x poc!reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes #enola sherlock #henry sherlock #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #wowb

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imyourbratzdoll · 2 years ago

Note

Hi Cheleah😌❤️

drunk sex with Sherlock(Henry) pls👀👀

hi baby! another request done, hehe. I hope you like it even with how short it is.

summary - your husband fucks you after a few drinks.

warning - smut, intoxication, swearing, creampie.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You moan, feeling his slow but rough movements against you. Sherlock moves inside of you, whispering slurred drunken words into your ear. “So fucking tight and warm, my best darling.” He groans, gripping your hips roughly, thrusting harder and deeper. Your mind is fuzzy from the intense pleasure mixed with the alcohol. The feeling of his thick member sliding in and out of you feels excellent. Everything felt so electrifying, so raw and passionate. Your husband looks deep into your eyes, smirking as he notices your glazed-over look matches his. “My precious little darling, letting me have you even while intoxicated.” The scent of whiskey on his breath causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head and your walls to clench around his throbbing member.

Sherlock cups your cheek, instructing you to wrap your legs around him as he picks up the pace, slamming into your sweet spot deep inside. You cling to him, not daring to let go of the man you love, the man currently splitting you open over and over again. You feel shivers roll through your body, a bliss washing over you as your back arches and your juices flow out of you. Sherlock snaps, becoming feral in his drunken state, pinning you down into the mattress and pounding you into it. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream.

He buries his face into your neck, grunting when his balls tighten and his cock throbs wildly, thrusting as deep as he can before he lets go. Thick spurts of cum fill you to the brim, leaking from your full cunt. You whimper, trembling underneath him as his cum continues to shoot out of his mushroom tip. “Good girl, such a good girl.”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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frost-queen · 1 year ago

Text

Outmatched epilogue | (Reader x Anthony Bridgerton)

Requested by: @noirrose21-blog, Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve,

@queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @meyocoko,��@bubblybrianna, @october-leaves, @m-rae23,@kazbekkarluvbot, @freyathehuntress,

@kneelforloki, @mamaj-right, @queensgirl718, @abaker74, @thescooby-gang, @readers-posts, @randomstory56, @aureolinb, @fictional-hooman,

@nyenye, @loliakeoghan23, @heyheyheyggg, @aizawash0e, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @novas-dreamworld, @preciousbabypeter, @magical-spit, @heyheyheyggg, studioreader, @wonderlandfandomkingdom, @misscaller06, @dracoflaco, @nikithepuff, @child-of-of-the-sunshine

Summary: Anthony and you are married with kids. Something has reached your ears for you and your husband to be interested in meeting the lady who appears to have caught Sherlock's eye. Not only do you meet her, but you meet another interesting gentleman as well on the tracks. Read part 1 & part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 8 & part 9 & part 10

You squealed soft whilst stretching your arms. They bumped against the frame of the bed making your effort unsatisfying as you wanted it to be. The matrass ducked in when a body came rolling over closer to your side. You squealing ended up in chuckling when Anthony moved his upper body over yours. – “Morning Y/n Bridgerton.” – he said in his deep sleepy voice. You lowered your arms, flicking your finger against his cheek. It startled him for a moment.

“I told you, you can only call me Y/n Bridgerton when you are utterly cross with me!” – you reminded him. Anthony’s brief look of surprise and worry faltered into a smile. – “Apologies love, it just feels so right to call you that.” – he replied as you wrapped your arms around his neck. – “Are you cross with me?” – you teased him tilting your head a bit. – “Not the slightest.” – Anthony answered with a smirk.

“Then kiss me Anthony Bridgerton.” – you spoke seeing Anthony tilt his chin a bit down. Looking at you with an expression that you really went there. Copying his words simply to tease him. Laughing loud you loved it how easily he was teased or offended.

Anthony silenced you by pressing his lips hard on you. Making your head disappear into the folds of the pillow as he laid half on top of you. Smothering you with his kisses. You weren’t complaining. His kisses made you smile against his lips, feeling flustered by his passion. Anthony brought his hand up, touching your chin delicately as he let his lips brush carefully against yours.

Taking it slow to enjoy every little detail of your lips. The loud tripling of footsteps in the hallway made your eyes widen. Anthony stopped kissing you, lifting his head up. – “One… two… three.” – he whispered with half a smile. Just as he pointed towards the door it opened. – “Mommy, daddy!” – Charlotte busted into the room. Anthony removed himself from you as your daughter stood happily and jumpingly at the side of your bed.

Her maid appearing in the door opening out of breath. – “Apologies Viscount and Viscountess.” – she said with a low curtsy. Anthony reached to grab little Charlotte and hoist her up in the bed with them. – “It is alright.” – you told her. – “Will you check on Edmund please?” – you asked of her.

The maid curtsied again before taking her leave. Charlotte was jumping on the bed, Anthony holding her under her armpits to make sure she wouldn’t fall. – “Mommy! Daddy!” – she called out overexcited. Charlotte jumped down landing with her feet on your stomach as you flinched from the pain. – “Oh no! Mommy is hurt.” – Anthony said calming Charlotte down.

You dramatically pretended to faint, laying with your hand on your forehead. Anthony gasped playing along as he looked at Charlotte. – “We must heal mommy with kisses.” – little Charlotte nodded as she leaped onto you. Having her full weight on you made you groan softly from the impact. She then threw her arms around you, kissing your cheek repeatedly. – “Alright, alright mommy is healed.” – you called out laughingly as she had her arms tight around your neck.

“Is she now? I think she needs more kisses.” – Anthony teased resulting in you casting him a glare. Anthony joined in changing his kisses from your forehead to Charlotte’s. Charlotte laughed loud. You pulled yourself up to get some breathing area. Your cheeks flushed with heat from their smothering.

“Time to get up.” – you announced, throwing the covers away. Both Anthony and Charlotte groaned. Anthony held his hand up, mouthing five more minutes. You laughingly shook your head. – “Charlotte needs to get dressed. In case you forgot my brother is coming over.” – you reminded your husband off with a teasing glance. – “Uncle Sherl?” – Charlotte said making you laugh. You had always found it funny how she couldn’t fully pronounce his name yet.

Resulting into Sherlock being Sherl for her. Something you loved to tease him with. – “Yes Uncle Sherlock.” – you told her picking her up from the bed. Charlotte laid her head against your shoulder as you turned around with her. You opened the door seeing her maid having returned. You set Charlotte on the ground, telling her to get dressed. You were about to set a step when you got pulled back by your nightgown.

You bumped against Anthony’s chest as he wrapped an arm around your waist. With his other hand he closed the door. – “Five more minutes.” – he whispered bringing his head down to kiss the fold of your shoulder. His touch fluttered, his body swaying against yours. You spun around, jumping at him. Wrapping your legs around his waist as he stumbled back, directing himself back to the bed before falling backwards on it with you on him.

Soon you were all in the Parlor. Charlotte playing on the ground with her dolls. Her one year old brother sitting on your knee. Anthony was reading the newspaper in await of your brother. – “Let’s not bring her up immediately.” – you told your husband. Anthony lowered the newspaper. – “Why not?” – he asked with a teasing smile. – “Because!” – you made clear letting Edmund bounce a bit on your knee. – “You are far from subtle.” – you finished.

Anthony rolled with his eyes. – “I am subtle.” – he defended himself. Anthony looked down at his leg. Charlotte had been tugging his pants. She held up one of her dolls to him. Anthony placed his newspaper away, taking the doll from her. Charlotte got up to her feet, leaning a bit against his legs. – “Her hair isn’t nice.” – she said holding a tiny brush up to him. – “Let us lay it neatly then.” – Anthony answered taking the tiny brush from her.

He started combing the dolls hair as Charlotte laid her head down on his knees, watching him. – “There.” – Anthony said after finishing. Charlotte squealed excited taking the doll from him. She then showed the doll to you. – “She looks beautiful.” – you told her. Charlotte sat back down, taking a second doll in her hand to play with.

The door to the Parlor opened. – “Lord Sherlock Holmes.” – the man announced. Sherlock appeared in the opening with a grand smile. Charlotte gasped loud. – “Uncle Sherl.” – she called out. Sherlock lowered himself when the little girl came running over. – “Ahh look at you, how’ve grown you are.” – he told her, having picked her up and hugging her. – “How old are you now?” – he asked as you knew it was to test her intelligence.

Charlotte looked down at her own fingers, hesitating a bit to show the right amount. She then held up two fingers. Sherlock laughed overjoyed hugging her tighter. – “And six months.” – you reminded him. Charlotte your oldest was two and a half. While her brother Edmund was but one. Sherlock set her back down as you had gotten up, holding Edmund in your arms. Sherlock went over to you, kissing your cheek. – “Sister.” – he greeted. – “Sherl.” – you greeted back with a teasing smile.

He gave you a playfully annoyed glance in return. Hating it but secretly not minding it. He then went to Anthony bowing at one another. – “How are you?” – you asked sitting back down. – “Nothing unusual. How are you dear sister.” – Sherlock responded. – “Nothing unusual are you sure about that?” – Anthony spoke as you shot him a glare.

Sherlock frowned. Observing the glances between Anthony and you, he came to a conclusion. Anthony turned to look over at you with a hint of trying to hide his smile. You glaring at him for teasing the snippet then also unable to hide your smile. Sherlock had picked up a spyglass to occupy himself. – “I’m assuming by the look of you two that Mycroft has spilled something.” – he spoke lowering the spyglass. – “How so? Is there perhaps something we should know?” – you asked as Sherlock saw right through your façade of trying to sound oblivious.

He took a deep sigh. – “It was only once.” – Sherlock released. – “To our account two.” – Anthony replied holing up two fingers with a smirk. Sherlock looked up with a heavy sigh. – “Fine two.” – he corrected himself. You set Edmund on the ground with his sister. He immediately slapped his hand towards one of her dolls, interested in the toy in front of him.

“Sherlock! As your married sister I am deeply wounded that you did not consult me on this matter.” – you spoke with a hint of teasing. – “It is not like that.” – he made clear. Anthony and you shared a smirking glance. – “Sherlock a lady came over by our house not once… but twice.” – you had gotten up joining Anthony on the sofa.

The two of you quirked your eyebrow at him. Sherlock pointed the spyglass back at you. – “I don’t like how the two of you are conspiracy against me.” – he spoke. – “Well it runs in the family.” – you replied moving your hand down on Anthony’s lap. Anthony took your hand, giving it a soft squeeze. – “When can we meet her?” – you questioned.

He saw the delight in your eyes, making him regret ever engaging in the matter. – “What is her name?” – Anthony wanted to know. – “Is she polite? Well-mannered?” – he continued. – “Is she intelligent? Resourceful?” – you asked knowing the right questions. Sherlock looked at the two of you, seeing how truly you two were matched for each other.

He took a deep sigh. – “Her name is Irene Adler.” – he explained. Anthony and you looked at each other teasingly. – “Who is Irene?” – Charlotte suddenly asked out of the blue. It made Anthony laugh loud. – “Uncle Sherl is in love with her.” – you told her. – “I am not!” – Sherlock protested. Sherlock’s cheeks puffed up with annoyance as it made you laugh loud.

Charlotte ran up to Sherlock. – “Uncle Sherl do you like her like mommy and daddy do?” – she asked making Anthony and you have the time of your life. Sherlock glared over at you. – “See what your foolishness brings.” – he bit at you. – “Oh Sherlock we are only teasing you.” – you told him getting up. You went up to him, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his forehead. – “I’m only doing you a favour.” – you whispered to him. – “I rather have it that you do not.”

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Anthony and you walked arm in arm onto the grass. Both of you were holding a pamphlet. – “I told you to bet on Lucky boy.” – Anthony said. You rolled your eyes on him. – “Lucky boy is overrated. All you men do is bet on that horse because of his heritage.” – you told him. – “Lucky boy comes from a family of winners!” – Anthony made clear. You laughed loud making Anthony quirk his eyebrow annoyed at you. - “Who have you betted on then?” – he wanted to know snatching the pamphlet from out of your hands.

He quickly read down the name you had betted on. – “High flag?” – he called out. – “He is but a youngling.” – Anthony went on. – “Oh darling Y/n you have made a mistake there. There is not a chance High flag can win this race from Lucky boy.” – he finished with a smug face. You ripped the pamphlet out of his hand. – “Let us see then!” – you threw a witty glance at him removing your arm from him. Anthony gaped at you as you went on without him.

“Y/n.” – he hissed out lowly as he came jogging after you. You went towards the stands at the side-line of the tracks. – “Excuse me.” – you said wanting to get passed some people already sitting down. – “Y/n!” – Anthony shout-whispered after you. He smiled uncomfortable at a lord who raised his eyebrow at the intention of his voice. You went further down the line, blinking surprised upon seeing your brother. – “Sherlock?” – you said. Sherlock got up in a haste.

“Sister.” – he responded, his voice a tone higher. Was he perhaps embarrassed of seeing you here? Or was he hiding something? A man’s posture came in vision from behind Sherlock. It made you shift your gaze to him curiously. Sherlock cleared his throat, turning his posture more so you could see the fellow better. – “Mister John Watson.” – Sherlock introduced.

“Watson, my sister Viscountess Y/n Bridgerton.” – he introduced you with a smile. You felt a warm on your shoulder followed by a loud breath. – “Don’t run…” – Anthony began before he noticed your brother. – “Oh Sherlock, how pleasant to see you here.” – Anthony breathed out tipping his hat to him. – “Sherlock was just introducing me to his friend.” – you told your husband. – “More like business partner.” – Sherlock corrected you.

Sherlock introduced Anthony as well to Watson. Anthony and you sat down along with the others. John Watson sitting beside you. You were looking at the tracks, lowly arguing with your husband about the horses. A lady came in view making you stop your friendly bickering. Sherlock jumped up, straightening his jacket. – “Miss Irene.” – he said taking a bow. Anthony and you looked at each other, first surprised then full of mischief.

“Is that seat taking?” – she asked pointing at a spot near Sherlock. – “Of course not!” – Sherlock declared making more room. Which resulted in John being pressed closer to you and you to your husband to make room for her. Irene sat down as you watched Sherlock be out of himself. Fumbling nervously with his hands. He was so smitten with her, she had made him default.

The bell got rang as it announced the start of the race. You got on the edge of your seat looking to the left from where the horses would come. Their hooves trampled the grass, gripping out earth as they ran. They came closer as you got up out. – “That’s it Lucky boy!” – Anthony called out beside you. – “Come on High flag, steady!” – you said loud. – “Yes!” – Anthony declared. – “Steady! Steady!” – you shouted loud cheering on for High flag.

The horses came racing almost right in front of you, sprinting for the last few yards. Everybody else on the seats were getting up as well. – “Come now High flag!” – you yelled followed by loud whistling. Having put your fingers between your lips to whistle. You kept whistling as it caught Anthony’s attention, making him stare bewildered at you.

Irene furrowed her brows, looking at Sherlock. – “All in the good of sport.” – he told her giving an explanation for your enthusiasm. The horses passed as Anthony was getting agitated. – “Come on! Come on!” – he kept shouting over at Lucky Boy. – “Yes! Yes!” – you cheered over his words to High flag. The horses neared the finish as you were beyond yourself.

Jumping up and down knowing you have won. There was no way Lucky boy could gain on High flag now. The flag swirled in the air the moment the horses ran over the line. You cheered loud as Anthony wanted to throw his hat on the ground out of frustration. You took a hold of your husband, continue to jump and cheer. It made him turn his head to you with a grand smile. This was what made him love you so much. You weren’t afraid to show your enthusiasm and never back down for any man.

“How does it feel to be a sore loser.” – you told him. Anthony breathed out a laugh wrapping an arm around your waist. – “I may be a loser in betting, but I am certainly a winner with having you.” – he expressed. You smiled at him before kissing him. John beside you took a deep breath. – “The adrenaline is high here.” – he chuckled out. Slowly you all descended down the seats joining your brother and his business partner. Irene still standing near him.

“Miss Irene Adler I presume?” – you asked her. – “Yes.” – Irene spoke. Anthony came by your side keeping his hand on your lower back. – “A pleasure to finally meet you. I am Sherlock’s sister.” – you told her. Irene curtsied before you. – “I am very excited to see how this season will end.” – you said with a chuckle. Looking over at your brother, you winked at him.

Sherlock rolling with his eyes. Anthony kissed your cheek before speaking to your brother. – “After all we have experience of scheming. How does a carriage ride sound darling?” – Anthony spoke looking over at you. – “Thrilling.” – you responded with a smile. Sherlock swallowed nervously afraid of what you and your husband would be cooking up. Perhaps a way of revenge on what he had inflicted on the both of you. Irene and John both looking confused at each other. For only the three of you knew the story behind the words.

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