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lisbeth-kk · 10 months ago

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Oh, Mycroft 💔

Take My Hand

As a toddler Mycroft Holmes’ parents understood he was not fond of touch. He especially did not like to have his hands held. He constantly tried to have something in at least one hand to have a reason not to touch or be touch beyond necessities.

A repair was needed to a fence in back acreage. Now a curious aged seven, Mycroft followed his father and the groundskeeper across their land. Accustomed to the young boy’s presence, neither thought anything of it as hopped random stones to cross the wide creek. Mycroft easily hopped the first few stones, but nearly slipped into the water with his last attempt. He realized his young legs were not a match for the length of the adult men. It was not deep water, but it was nearing winter and he did not want to fall.

“Da!” Mycroft, carefully balanced on a stone, called to his father.

Mr. Holmes turned in surprise at his very independent son until he understood the problem. He reached out, Take my hand.

Mycroft reluctantly put his hand out, the chagrin of having to do so evident, even on his young face.

----

Mummy heard when the front door slammed. Her husband was about to yell when she held up a hand as two sets of footsteps ran up the stairs.

“Sherlock. Leave. Me. The hell. ALONE!” was bellowed from upstairs.

The insulting tones of a younger brother, who knew a lot- but not yet enough, followed.

“Of course he’s mad, you’re stupid! You kissed him; I saw it! And with your tongue in his mouth? Nasty! That’s why he hit you!”

Mummy was on her way up when something heavy in Mycroft’s room hit the floor and shattered.

“Sherlock! Go downstairs and help your father.”

“But Mummy…”

“Now, Sherlock.”

She entered the bedroom, closed the door gently behind her and carefully stepped around the shattered CRT monitor on the floor. Mycroft laid with his back to the door. He curled further in on himself, but did not otherwise acknowledge her. Still, she knew he was aware of her presence. She silently sat on the edge of the bed and waited.

“I didn't know it could hurt so much…” a muffled voice sniffled.

“Unfortunately, the first one almost always does, son.”

“There will not be another,” a broken voice snarled.

She had known it was going to end badly with her son and the closeted boy, but some things cannot be avoided in life, and one’s very first heartbreak was at the top of the list. Her own heart broke as Mycroft sobbed into his pillow.

Knowing he would never ask, after a while she simply put an open palm beside him. Take my hand.

She knew he would know it is there. Moments later an awkward hand silently reached out barely touching hers.

----

Hands on his umbrella, Mycroft said nothing as his -no longer a baby- brother’s Red rimmed verdigris eyes slowly fluttered open and tracked the hospital room until they met his.

“How…?” Sherlock’s normally baritone, a raspy shadow of its normally mellifluous self. He groaned as he tried to sit up.

“Why ask questions you know the answer to, Sherlock?”

Mycroft had flicked his eyes away, but knew Sherlock caught his wince. The beating had been brutal. Sherlock had deleted the details of how they got there from himself, but Mycroft dig not need Sherlock to tell him; he had already deduced it.

“This OD was accidental, a miscalculation…”

“Miscalcu-!” Mycroft nearly thundered before he stopped himself. The sudden silence, was one thing, but nothing could have prepared Mycroft for the tears that slipped from his own eyes. “Promise me, Sherlock.” Mycroft angrily wiped them away, “Promise you won’t do this again…” Mycroft’s voice broke piteously. “Please?”

Sherlock placed his hand on the guard rail near him.

Mycroft knew it was not a promise to stop, but silently asking: should he fall, again, would Mycroft be there.

Sherlock’s hand lingered there for a while silently begging, Take my hand.

Only when it seemed Sherlock was about to pull away, did Mycroft lay his hand over Sherlock’s.

“I’ll always be there for you.”

----

It was less than two hours since his parents left his office after a tongue lashing that Mycroft had not been privy to since A Levels. It helped to know Sherlock did not hate him for the keeping the secret of their little sister all that time. Still, his parents’ words had stung. With Sherlock taking their parents back home and Anthea still at Sherrinford straightening the mess left in Eurus’ wake; for the first time in a long time, Mycroft felt utterly and completely alone.

Even more so than when he woke up trapped in Eurus’ old cell.

He had sat on the floor because Eurus had destroyed the bed taking away the only comfort in that space. The floor was cold and he was not exactly young anymore. He was grateful when rescue arrived in the form of Greg Lestrade.

“Here.” Greg offered to help when Mycroft’s cold stiffened bones protested rising.

“I’m fine.” Mycroft used the bedframe to pull himself up.

“You're not alone, just so you know.” Greg had sighed as they walked out.

At the time Mycroft thought Greg referred to the eyes and ears that were always in that room.

Mycroft told Anthea she could go home and he was on his way home himself.

Somehow, he wound up in the carpark of NSY instead.

He does not know who, if anyone, told Greg he was there. He was just grateful when the man acknowledged his driver, then quietly slid into the backseat next to him.

Greg said nothing as the car pulled into traffic; just his presence was enough to chase the demons away.

Only then did Mycroft understand what Greg had truly meant that night.

“I’m not alone, Greg.” Mycroft laid his hand on the seat between them, his pinky grazed along Greg’s then stilled. “I know that now.”

Understandably unsure, Greg tentatively slid his hand closer so that their respective pinkies fully touched, but nothing more.

“And just so you know; neither are you.” Mycroft turned his palm up on the seat in offering, Take my hand.

“I know that now.” Greg smiled as he slowly slid his hand over Mycroft’s and grasped it.

@flashfictionfridayofficial

#take my hand #flash fiction friday #bbc sherlock #mycroft holmes #sherlock holmes #greg lestrade #mummy holmes #daddy holmes #heartbreakingly beautiful

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kahuunknown · 1 year ago

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The "Rebellious" one - BBC Sherlock sibling fanfic

!NOTE!: Male-reader/insert, inspiration from SHERLOCK TV Show

~~~

The rebellious one

Sherlock absolutely loved you; you were by far his favourite sibling by a long shot. You were the eldest of all your siblings, 1 year older than stuck up Mycroft and 8 elder than dear little Sherlock Holmes.

You were the troublemaker, mischievous without a doubt. You saw little reasoning behind Mummy dearest’s desires for you to become something great, like a doctor or lawyer. You hated the private piano lessons, the pointless tutoring sessions and eventually school altogether. It was easy to guess what you did, but dropping out of school was by far one of the best decisions of your life, and one of the easiest as well.

You were rebellious by nature.

Mummy and Daddy weren’t quite sure where the behaviour stemmed from as it was definitely not inherited from either of them. It was obvious to you however, the stress of being the first born, the expectation to be the most successful and therefore grand of your siblings. To be able to support yourself with ease and help your siblings if the need arises.

While you respected the ideal. You ultimately rejected the pathways your parents provided, paving a new one and building everything from nothing. It was satisfying seeing your parents reaction when you visited one Christmas dinner, they were horrified at the ink adorning your right arm. Sherlock however quite liked it, in fact he wasted no time gifting his present early, he wanted you to get his pirate sketch tattooed. And who were you to deny him?

That cute little face was irresistible normally, but with added intent and desire behind them? God, you were putty in his hands.

Together you went to a tattoo parlour, Sherlock was rambling furiously to the tattoo artist whilst the ink was being stained onto your skin, it was adorable, the passion in his story as he explained the intricacy of his design and the meaning behind it. ‘The adventures of Yellowbeard’. Sherlock called it, or something similar at least.

It didn’t quite match the other tattoo’s you’d gotten, as those were all grey-scale realistic designs, but Sherlock was adamant that colour was non-negotiable. The young Holmes was a hyper little bean as he jumped around in joy at the completion of his masterpiece. You couldn’t stop chuckling at his antics; the innocence was overloading your system.

Of course, Mum and Dad were horrified once the two of you returned, though they seemed less upset at the tattoo and more with the aspect of Sherlock in a ‘biker’s tattoo shop’ of which it was absolutely not. You weren’t an idiot, you’d made sure Sherlock was as safe as could be.

Mycroft thought you a moron the majority of your life. Growing up he strived to pass you at everything he possibly could, interestingly enough, it took much longer than expected. He thought you were just another goldfish, swimming around dumbly just like all the others. But of course, you were more than that he later realised.

You were a sponge. While you hated your mother’s insistent lessons and tutoring, you had an eidetic memory and couldn’t help but memorise absolutely everything ever taught to you. You would have been a prodigy, everything your parents ever dreamed you to be. But unfortunately for them, you had slightly different plans.

Mycroft thought he’d finally done it when he joined the British Government, there was no way you could outshine him now. Yet, despite not having achieved a high standing career, it was obvious that whenever the two of you met, who was smarter ultimately. You were the opposite of what you parents dreamed you to be, yet you were the happiest having done so. Mycroft admired that.

He’d admit that of course, you would win in physicality. Always. You loved going outside, working out, playing sports, and eating healthy. It was one of your passions, something that ultimately benefitted you quite greatly as your appearance remained younger for much longer than if you had of neglected fitness and health. Sherlock teased Mycroft relentlessly about it as well, how young and fit their elder brother looked in comparison. Of course it was playful teasing, but it was definitely something to respect.

It was only more recently that all three brothers started getting along quite nicely. Sherlock of course never thought ill of you, he just assumed you were an average idiot like John. You played the part quite well, snickering behind Sherlock back while explaining things to John, whom believed you to be his favourite of the Holmes children. You were fun to be around, the most human and emotional of all. It was refreshing to be around.

When you finally decided to reveal your hidden superpower, he was dumbfounded but also instantly relieved.

Mycroft however was a very different story. It started slowly, you invited him randomly to a gig, of which he was pleasantly surprised when he arrived to a wedding, you adorned in an unfamiliar suit standing at the stage and singing a sweet lullaby to the lucky couple. It wasn’t your usual style, sure, but you wanted to ease Mycroft into your life, and what better way to do it?

Over the years, Sherlock had subtly provided you with more tattoo designs he’d wish for you to get, all his own of course. You were still a sucker for those eyes; it seemed their affect never dimmed as the detective aged.

Eventually one day Mycroft approached you on the matter, rather shyly you’d point out as well, you were open and encouraging as he mumbled the reluctant request to add to your collection of ink with one of his own. Stating through hidden messages within his speech that he’d been feeling a little left out. Of course you were ecstatic, more than happy to agree.

It was then that Mycroft realised no matter what he’d accomplish, you always have the upper hand in the end. Not because of intelligence nor deducing skills, but because of your raw compassion and commitment to your beliefs and dreams, it was awe inspiring. Beautiful even.

Perhaps those brothers of yours might do a little rebelling of their own.

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thalialunacy · 6 months ago

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[for the @calaisreno May Prompts Squad; in which there are many Holmeses and parenting is a contact sport]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) 20: do-over (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

It's a new week, and John declares on Monday he's certain it's going to be easier than the last one.

What an idiot.

---

By the time they reach Wednesday, they've not been back from hospital twenty-four hours when Sherlock's dear mama orders them onto a train.

'Mother,' Sherlock hisses into his mobile, glancing across the room to where John is firmly planted on the sofa with his daughter tight in his arms, watching Peppa Pig. 'Rosamund just got out of A&E. We don't want to go down the street, let alone out to a place so far from an adequate hospital that--'

'Oh, poppycock'

'I'm sorry?'

'Now, don't be angry at me, darling. I know you must be frightened to bits for your little girl--'

Sherlock turns away from the sofa again, chest clenching for the approximately thousandth time in the past two days. 'She's not my little girl,' he says between his teeth, trying to keep his voice steady and quiet.

'--but I'm only trying to help.'

Sherlock knows it's one of those times John would be a much better fit for the task at hand. Unfortunately, she's stuck with her son instead. 'Mummy. Clearly, that would not help.'

'You're not planning on feeding her peanuts again, are you?'

Sherlock closes his eyes. 'I won't dignify that with an answer.'

'Then pack an epipen and come see your mother. I want to kiss that baby.'

---

John is doing his best, Sherlock observes once they're gathered round his parents' kitchen table, but he's clearly still feeling scads of parental guilt. He refuses to let Rosamund out of his sight, and his jaw keeps doing that jumpy bit that means he's repressing something. Several somethings, obviously, because he is John Watson.

And Sherlock almost abhors how much he cares for John Watson.

---

His mother, naturally, can't hold back for long.

'Oh, John, I do hate to see you like this.'

John freezes like the proverbial deer in headlights, then carefully puts down his fork, stiff upper lip firmly in place. 'Thanks, Mrs Holmes, but I'm all right.'

Sherlock, who knows better, shares a Look with Rosamund, who blurps his name(ish) then happily stuffs more pickle into her mouth. John's face softens momentarily, and she notices. 'Want some, Daddy?'

It's not a question; John is immediately handed a chubby fistful of globby green.

'She not a fan of spoons, then?' Sherlock's father says with a chuckle.

'Only as a weapon,' Sherlock replies without thinking, but luckily it's the correct audience, because beyond an eye roll, the reaction is mostly laughter.

Except for John, Sherlock notices immediately. Oh, dear.

His mother notices, too, and her lips purse. 'John, I know we're all very English, but I'm old enough that I can speak plainly.'

'As if you hadn't already,' Sherlock mutters.

She ignores him, instead reaching out to touch John's right hand where it rests on the table. 'You mustn't punish yourself. You've done nothing wrong.'

John's extreme discomfort would be crystal clear to anyone in a ten mile radius. 'Mrs Holmes…'

'I mean it.'

He puts down his fork, and Sherlock sees him inhale purposefully. 'All due respect, ma'am, but my daughter nearly died. She nearly died because I insisted she eat something she clearly and repeatedly did not want to eat.'

'And?'

John's mouth opens, then shuts, before he speaks again. 'Are you joking?'

'Everyone makes mistakes with their children, dear.'

'Not that sort of mistake.'

She makes a noise close to a ladylike snort, if such a thing existed. 'We almost drowned Sherlock when he was her age.'

Sherlock's front chair legs drop back to the floor with a thunk. 'Beg pardon?'

'Yes, you came frightfully close to dying, it was very unpleasant.'

John's facade breaks enough to give Sherlock a slight smirk. 'And you didn't recognise my facetiousness on that train?'

'Yes, yes, thank you, now what is this about me drowning, Mother?'

'We left you with another child, a girl of maybe twelve.' She shakes her head. 'That poor girl. She's never forgiven herself.'

'But I didn't die!'

'Sherlock,' his mother chides. 'Don't be unkind.'

'Wait. Why didn't I die?'

A curious silence falls over the group.

Sherlock's chin drops, and he sighs. 'Mycroft.'

His mother nods. 'He was in the deeper end, and you were in the shallow end. Where you were meant to stay.'

John huffs a laugh. 'Right, good luck with that.'

She tuts. 'He's lucky his brother was watching.'

'You don't remember any of it?' John asks, clearly curious.

Sherlock thinks. 'I remember a pool, several pools, from childhood. Various ponds. I remember-- Yes, I think the first time I ventured into the deep end, I blinked and I was at the ladder.'

'Indeed,' his mother says.

'Right,' John says, bemused. 'So you've always hated pools, even before we nearly got blown up in one.'

His mother blinks. 'Beg pardon?'

'Oh don't fret, Mummy.' Sherlock waves a hand. 'It was ages ago.'

And worse things have happened since then, no one needs say.

Except his mother says it, sort of. 'She's going to have such unusual stories to tell,' she says, turning to Rosamund and touching her tiny nose briefly. 'Aren't you, darling?'

'Any hope of a normal childhood was gone long ago, I'm afraid,' John says, his voice only a little strained.

Sherlock's father, unexpectedly, speaks up. 'Perhaps, but what she's got is better.'

'I agree,' his mother says. 'John's normal enough for the three of you, anyway.'

Sherlock smirks privately. Yes, absolutely normal, building-jumping, gun-toting, life-saving John Watson.

As if he'd ever fall in love with "normal."

That's the end of the discussion, apparently, because his mother turns back to Rosamund with a smile. 'Now, precious girl, let's see if you can say "grandmama" yet.'

---

John, still feeling slightly sour, pulls out his phone once he's put Rosie down. 'Mycroft.' His tone borders on Captainy, but he's too bloody tired to be polite. 'What are you playing at?'

'Couldn't possibly have any idea what you mean, Dr Watson.'

'First my daughter is calling you her uncle, and now your mum is teaching her "grandmama"?'

'I fail to see the problem. She's very intelligent.'

John pinches the bridge of his nose. He can't shout, because Rosie is asleep in her cot next to him, and though Sherlock is outside smoking, Sherlock's parents are somewhere on the other side of the guest room door.

'Your brother,' he finally says lowly, 'cares for Rosie a great deal, but has most definitely not voiced an interest in being her father, nor should he feel obligated to.'

'With all due respect, John, I must disagree.'

'How.' It's not a question.

Mycroft's voice isn't hard, but he enunciates every word very, very clearly. 'She is my niece. If you can't see it, then God help you... Although I am aware my brother has inherited more than his fair share of the Holmes reticence. But,' he concludes, implacable, 'lest you forget: He said it himself. You are family. And therein lies the obligation.'

John's heart does a little twitch in his chest. 'Yeah, but--'

'No.'

'But--'

'Not to sound too much like my dear brother, but John?'

John exhales. 'Can't wait to hear this.'

'Don't be an idiot.'

'Oi--'

But the call is already over. Of course it is. Because Mycroft Holmes is a bastard.

He might also, maybe, just this once… be right.

[ <3 ]

[pool story lifted from my childhood: I literally remember nothing bad about nearly drowning; my five-years-elder brother saved me and I have loved swimming ever since]

#BBC Sherlock #MayPrompts2024 #Parentlock #Johnlock #It's gonna be MAY 2024 #Yes i know it's over but I'm stubbornnnnnn and will be finishing in June #May Prompts 2024

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strangelockd · 1 year ago

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Till The End Of Time

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader

Summary: After years of living a busy life and being the worlds only consulting detective. Sherlock Holmes basks in the glow of fatherhood. Together you opt for a movie night, leaving Sherlock with other ideas in mind for the two of you.

Warning: - Heavy Fluff & Smut, Fingering, Pure Mutual Admiration, Praise Kink, P In V Sex, Hair Pulling.

•This came to me as I was organizing my music. I hope you all enjoy it. (Who wouldn’t enjoy Sherlock as a father 🥹) I am slowly returning to my inbox requests so please bare with me. If you like the song you can check out my Sherlock Holmes Playlist. As always likes, comments and reblog’s are always welcome•

Stroking Sherlocks soft brown curls between your fingers you couldn't help but give a joyful sigh. It was the perfect day, and Sherlock wanted nothing more than to enjoy the weekend with his girls. After retirement, it took a while for your husband to live a slower life amongst people.

For decades all Sherlock Holmes knew was solving criminal cases, chasing one high with the next. The Consulting Detective was never one to admit that he would become the ‘settle down’ type of man. But after time and great patience, Sherlock Holmes grew to fall in love with what normal people would call human domesticity.

Resting your arm around his neck Sherlock craned his head bringing your hand up, kissing each finger gently as your daughter continued sleeping in his lap. His free hand continued playing with Amelia's curls while his eyes trailed to yours. That piercing green gaze that always sent flutters through your stomach. To most Sherlock wasn't an easy person to read, but this look said it all as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks.

“I love you both so much y/n,” he broke the silence, “You and Amelia have brought me more happiness than anything could ever give,” his lips went back to your hand as he glacially made his way to your wrist. Placing a delicate kiss on your pulse point you released an impulsive groan bringing your legs closer in a foolish attempt to hide what the heart truly desired.

“And I love you S-Sherlock, we both do more than anything in the world,” you quivered, trying to maintain your composure. Nearly waking Amelia you both paused giggling only for her to continue back to her soft snores. She was always a deep sleeper like you and at times like this it served its benefit. Leaning in slowly you kissed Sherlock, feeling him moan against your soft lips, his free hand cupping your chin as if you were porcelain glass. His thumb stroked your skin softly as you leaned into his touch, soft and secure.

“How about we put Amelia to bed and we can have a movie night? I'll even let you pick the film,” you smiled.

Sherlocks hand trailed down resting on his navy clad leg as he sat contemplating your idea. The edge of his lip formed a familiar smirk as he quickly stole another kiss.

“That sounds more than fair,” he agreed.

Sliding your arm off, Sherlock stood up opting to carry Amelia to her room. Her small delicate limbs clung to her fathers frame like a tiny koala as his long fingers played with her soft auburn hair. Tucking her in gently, Sherlock kissed Amelia's forehead whispering sweet nothings, stroking her soft curls that strikingly resembled his own. Next to you, she was perfect in his eyes.

“Good night, my dearest Ameila. Mummy and Daddy love you with all of our hearts,” the timber in his voice spoke with promise, closing the door behind him. With a satisfied sigh he rolled his shoulders back with a feeling of confidence. Like the familiar thrill of solving a case Sherlock Holmes couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear.

The two of you brought him more pride and joy than he ever could imagine. All these years he always felt like a pariah, destined to wander this world alone. Sherlock kept convincing himself that he wasn’t worthy of anything good. But with you, it changed the course of his life for the better. With Amelia, life just became more plentiful.

*****

Making a quick change into your pajamas, you sat at the foot of the bed unaware that Sherlock was standing by the door frame on the side safely assuming he was watching this whole time. His eyes glowed in the low light as he took strides closer, wedging himself between your legs opening them wider, his expression drinking in your lovely features. The curls draped over his forehead as he slowly leaned into you, feeling his breath on your skin sent goosebumps up your flesh.

You pulled away, eyeing him with suspicion playfully taking him in, “penny for your thoughts?”

Sherlocks body towered above you, his big hands cupping your face softly bringing you in for a deep kiss. The feeling of his lips ever inviting as his tongue grazed across your lower lip begging for entrance. Together you moaned in sweet unison as he slipped inside, holding your frame up for support as you kissed with heated passion. Feeling his strong legs between yours you couldn’t help but bring your fingers up to his waistband pulling him closer. It was enough to spur him on as he continued kissing you. All that could be heard was your shared moans as you suddenly pulled away suddenly remembering the plans for tonight.

“Wait. S-Sherlock. What about the film?” You pleaded, his lips trailing your collarbone. The flecks of his tongue against your skin made you release a sharp hiss. His tongue continued nibbling your ear as you melted under his hypnotic touch. Powerful and strong, he was able to read you better than anyone. He pulled away leaving the both of you breathless as he rested his forehead against yours smiling sheepishly.

“I had another plan besides a film my darling. Much more pleasurable plans. And beside,” taking his fingers he slid off your top leaving your top half exposed, “you said I got to pick what I wanted to watch,” throwing the garment on the floor he gave a soft groan. He couldn't help but stare in awe, “and I choose to watch you come undone by me.”

His baritone voice dropped an octave as he was left stunned, “So perfect,” leaving his mouth agape you stood up to kiss him softly. Your bare chest pressed against his form fitting white shirt that was begging to be ripped off. Sherlock leaned in to kiss you once more as you leaned into his touch. The feel of his large hands pressed against your bare skin left goosebumps in their wake. All that could be heard was the sound of Sherlocks whimpers as your fingers threaded through the curls that crowned his head. He always had a weak spot when you grabbed or played with his tresses.

Sherlock was all too eager to accept the guidance as your hand led him to suck on a nipple, followed the other he traced each bud with delicate care. Knowing all the tricks to make your knees buckle. He was feeling you getting impatient as you pulled his head away, leaving him smiling. The sound of his labored breath only turned you on more as your fingers fumbled with the button of his white dress shirt.

You slowly removed his buttoned shirt leaving his top half exposed. The way the moonlight kissed his alabaster skin made your pussy ache. Before you could comprehend Sherlocks palms rested beside you on the bed as you felt the weight shift on both sides of your hips, he wanted more of you as he slowly slid two of his fingers around your waistband. Biting your lips you locked eyes as he slid your bottoms off finally freeing you from your pajamas. He could see the glisten of your eager entrance aching for his attention.

You took a quick hold, grabbing his waistband once more in a desperation to have him closer. Your lips returned in a feral fury as you removed his trousers and boxers in a swift motion. His hands returning to your entrance, you cried a soft moan as his fingers pumped in and out, the feeling was pure ecstasy as you felt your orgasm blossom. It clearly spurred Sherlock on because it made him pick up the pace as his thumb teased in circles around your tender bud.

“Darling you're so beautiful. I love the way you look with my fingers inside of you,” he purred curling his finger in that spot. The sweet spot that always had you see stars. Before you knew it you cried out in pure pleasure as Sherlock watched on, grinning with pride.

Coming down from your high Sherlock paused, bringing a foot up he placed a kiss on your ankle. Hearing you giggle his green eyes glowed as he locked into your gaze. He slowly crawled on top of you kissing up the length of your body, his arms cadging you in as he leaned down kissing you softly. Sherlock was always a passionate person deep down and to find himself lost in this moment was something of a dream. The look of your pebble flushed breasts accompanied by the look in your eyes of pure satisfaction. He wanted this moment etched in the walls of his mind palace forever.

He kissed your forehead trailing down to your nose, his lips found yours as he melted into your touch. The great detective was immensely turned to putty by the one thing he can't live without. You. For you fit him better in more ways than one. He brought himself up aligning his cock at your entrance. Giving a few steady pumps with his hand you took in the glisten of pre cum beading off the tip making you bite your lip once more. Bracing his shoulders for support as he asked, “Are you ready my love?” Sherlock's eyes never left yours as he scanned you for absolute permission.

Taking a hand you cupped the back of Sherlocks neck, bringing him close and kissing him gently. Showing assurance the kiss was soft and bared your heart filled trust. No words were needed as Sherlock slowly thrusted himself in. You both shared a groan as the kiss never broke. Allowing yourself to adjust before he pulled away gently, he locked on your gaze once more purring into your ear.

“Promise me one thing y/n,” he went even slower, itching himself deeper as he slowly bottomed out. Savoring the moment of feeling his cock stretching you so unbelievably full. You clenched slightly causing Sherlocks hands to suddenly dig into your hips knowing damn well it will leave marks.

“W-what's that,” you stuttered as he kept up his thrust, determined to make you feel complete.

Sherlock caged his arms around you as he paused leaning into your ear his voice purred against your ear, “that you're mine. Forever,” returning to his pace your nails dug into his back. Your hand laced the nape of his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss. A kiss that spoke of untimely promise. He kept up the pace as you moaned once more in pleasure.

“Always!,” feeling your climax blooming, your nails dug into his pale back even deeper, “I promise Sherlock. Now please go faster,” you begged, feeling your heels dig deeper, spurring him on as it only took those words for him to start thrusting into you at such a pace; A pace you will know you'll feel the next day.

“Jesus Sherlock!” You groaned into his neck, his curls sticking to his sweat glistened forehead as he kissed you. Stifling all moans as you rode your climax. The feeling bloomed as his hips moved at this new angle that made you suddenly see stars. Whatever god you were chanting was wasted as Sherlock slammed into you one last time. Your orgasm hit you, making your eyes practically fall into the back of your head as you drenched his cock with your nectar.

“That's my good girl,” he smiled, feeling the praise go right to your solar plexus. You were always a sucker for admiration. He pulled out gently making you wince, you couldn't help but miss the feeling of him. Throwing the blanket iver Sherlock quickly returned with a tray full of essentials. Even after lovemaking he always believed in aftercare. The tray consisted of two sleeptime teas, massage oil and a small stack of what looks like steaming towels.

“You always take such wonderful care of me Sherlock, how did I get so lucky?” He traced a warm towel over your center as he was careful not to overstimulate. He reached for the glass bottle of oil, pouring it over his elegant digits as he signaled you to lay on your stomach. The feeling of his strong hands worked every aching nerve as you sank into the mattress.

“It's not luck y/n I just love taking great care of what is precious to me,” he spoke softly rubbing every part of your skin. The oil felt amazing as he finished with your shoulders sealing the gesture with a kiss he rubbed his hands dry on a towel before reaching for your tea. Covering with the blankets you snuggled closer together as you both sipped your beverages in complete happiness enjoying the moment shared between you both. For life could not be any more satisfying than having you and Amelia at his side.

Masterlist

Sherlock Holmes Playlist

@withalittlehoney @deepbatched @bakerstreethound @thealleydog @sassenach-on-the-rocks @blxckdragonfly @asherloki @pinkthick @stewardofningishzida @cumbrbatchbenedict @geeky-politics-46 @lokidokieokie @strangesgirls @silversword7000 @newavenger @icytrickster17 @lucimorningst4r @lady-harvey @evelyn-kingsley @battledress @budugu @kentucky-criedfricken @hunterofshadows04 @km-ffluv @datauthorress @azu21 @cemak @sobeautifullyobsessed @aphroditesdilemma @huxs-waifu @strangesslut @butchers-girl @dino-fart @meeom @strangesthirdeye @vickiee-mcmuffin

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aveline-amelia · 11 months ago

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"But the thing is, while your parents may always see you as a child, that’s supposed to mean that they love you like one, as well."

I usually do commentary in the tags, but this sentence is heartbreaking.

The Final Problem 2

I can’t stop thinking about Mycroft, I kinda wish I could watch a show with him as protagonist, I’m kinda obsessed with him. You see, the moment he apeared in the first episode was and still is one of my favorite moments of this show, the dialog between him and John was amazing, the two actors play each other wonderfuly and I wanted to see more of Mycroft, I wanted to know him. I did get to known little bits through the series, but last episode had so much info about Mycroft that I can’t stop thinking about him. I’ll start with the way Mycroft smiles when he sees that little bit of the old family video, the way he smiled IN the video when Sherlock jumped over him. I start with these because they tell me that Mycroft isn’t an unemotional person at all!!

I guess what happend with Eurus changed him too, maybe even more, because he does remember everything and what is worst he had to take care of the matter later on.

Think about it… he was a child himself, but even back then he was the second most intelligent person in that family, he was the one asking Eurus the poignant questions, he understood what her answers meant. We see in the family video that he clearly loved Sherlock so I have to asume that he loved his little sister somehow, and he was the first to see that she had some kind of problem or ilness.Then his little sister kidnaped his brother best friend and killed him, “she started calling him drowned Red Beard, so WE made our assumptions” he says WE. How old was he then, twelve, thirteen? He was A KID! “Sherlock was traumatized” he says… I bet Sherlock wasn’t the only one! After all Mycroft, unlike Sherlock, remembered everything!

I can’t shake the way he so easily maintains the lie: John: “Red Beard?” Sherlock: “My dog” Mycroft: … total silence. Actually, have Mycroft ever said that Red Beard was a dog?? (I’ll have to watch the serie again)

After what happened with Victor, and I don’t how many years latter, he starts working with the goverment and he learned that they want to use Eurus gift the same way they use Mycroft’s and Sherlock’s. So they used her, but Mycroft become the goverment at some point in some way and then is HIS job to use his sister! Remember the “I worry about him. Constantly”? I bet something that he worried about his sister as well.

Oh and how Mycroft worries about Sherlock, how he loves him, how he wants Sherlock to hate him so it would be easier for Sherlock to kill him. THAT IS LOVE!

And.. and… can you imagine the terror Mycroft must have felt the moment Sherlock killed Magnussen? I imagine Mycroft was always afraid of his little brother becoming a murderer like their sister and there he was, in direct line of view of the moment his brother DID become a murderer. And that’s not all, nooooo, because he was the one responsable to tell Sherlock what his punishment will be, he had to send his brother to a death sentence!!

Then we have the way his parents treat him at the end, it hurts me so much, it also serves as a mirror I think, they treat him almost the same way Sherlock has been treating him all through the series, but this time Sherlock has an inside view of his brother motivations, this time Sherlock comes to help him, when always has been the other way around. But most importantly here, to me, is that their parents look quite unqualified as parents. For all we know they didn’t take care of their daughter, uncle Rudi did, whoever the hell he is, and when he couldn’t (who knows why) take care of the situation anymore, Mycroft did. And he truly thought it was a kindness, Mycroft’s life is all surrounded by secrets he keeps in orther to make other peoples lives more easy… all the fucking country if you think about.

It is no wonder that he tries not to feel anything at all, the simply amount of responsabilities he has are suffocating, he can’t doubt himself, he can’t drowned in gulty, he has to be practical and cold, he has to close himself to everyone. To the point that no one knows him, no one, not even his family.

And there are his parents: Mother: “You should’ve done better” Sherlock: “He did his best” Mother: “Then he is very limited” YES! Yes he is you fucking cow! He has always been, provably since your daughter killed a kid he knew!! And aparentely you did NOTHING!! You had an ill girl and two traumatized boys and you did NOTHING!! One of your sons even rewrite his own memories and you DID NOTHING!! And Mycroft was concern about Sherlock’s memories, he was always fishing to see if his brother was remembering, he was even conscient that Sherlock’s life choices were in part due to that repressed memory, how many times had Mycroft thougth about how much of his brother’s problem with drugs was in part consequence of his traumatic past??

How came that these parents never did a thing about it?? We don’t see them until season three, but they knew about Sherlock not being dead, so once again I “asume” that they have all their news about Sherlock through Mycroft, because we never saw them in 221B, and we never heard them call, so… very caring parents.

Then it comes this: Mother: “Sherlock? Well? You’ve been always the grown up, what do we do now?”

Oh oh OF COURSE!!! Now that you don’t trust your older son you turn to the youngest to do your FUCKING WORK! YOU ARE THE PARENTS! The obviously incompetent parents! And since when is Sherlock the grown up? He was a drug addict that mostly didn’t cared for more than a puzzle and not being bored! While your other son was running the fucking country. Yeah, surely Sherlock was ALWAYS the grown up! FUCK YOU! Are you going to blame Sherlock when the next problem arrive? FUCK YOU!!!

And the tragedy in all of this is that Mycroft, in his own way, has been trying to protect them, all of them. We have to asume that he had a very good reason to let Moriarty see Eurus, Eurus have had to help him in some very serius matter to give her that gift. We might never know exactly why, but we can’t forget that he has the safety of millions of people over his head.

His parents are all judgemental there when they have three kids in problems and did nothing about it, NOTHING! To the point that Mycroft was the one monitoring his brother in case Sherlock finally remembered what scared him out of FEELING! We see Mycroft, albeit in a weird way, trying to protect Sherlock, trying to save him time after time, we never see the parents doing that.

Now I understand why Sherlock didn’t want anything to do with his parents, they are fucking hypocrites.

Mycroft is far from perfect and even more repressed than Sherlock and I do believe that most of that came from trauma and early responsabilities, but at least he was there for Sherlock, even when Sherlock didn’t want his brother there.

By the end Sherlock started to see his brother under a new light, to see the man behind the ice, and I think that that is a very lonely man, a man buried under secrets and decisions, a man who doesn’t dare to feel, but still can’t stop himself from doing it.

I think that was the Lady Smallwood thing all about. A little show that deep inside Mycroft IS human, and that he may want the same things other humans want, like some basic human conection, and I also think that those changes started when Sherlock start to act more human, because to that point there were two of them, they were different but different together, and then Sherlock started to change and Mycroft started to change too, because he began to question himself the same way Sherlock was doing it.And funny enough Mycroft and Sherlock end the show being more close than ever, with Sherlock really starting to see his brother, and with both of them really in the same side. Another thing I love about the series finale.

About their parents I did like the little gesture when Eurus and Sherlock were playing the duet and the mother touched Mycroft’s hand, even if the surprise of Mycroft and his smile killed me a bit more.

This never was a show about Mycroft Holmes, he even wans’t in the original pilot, but I’m so grateful that they put the character there, and they explore him and make him complex and enough intriguing that I totally would watch a show about Mycroft Holmes.

PS: in a little corner of my mind, there’s a tiny little voice that wants to play with the idea that Mycroft knew what Eurus was doing and let it all unfold so Sherlock would be returned to England and therefore saved. I wonder if Mycroft has it in him to let innocent people die to save his little brother, I think he might.

#mycroft holmes #anti mummy holmes #anti father holmes #anti daddy holmes #anti holmes parents #sherlock holmes #eurus holmes #the holmes family

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imeternallylove · 1 year ago

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Secret - S.Holmes; part six

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Genre: purely angst, upcoming age and some smut

Warning: none

Word: 4.8k

main mastetlist | request & ask | prompts | theme song

Chapters index

"Zoe, the movie is about to start!" You yelled through your apartment, popping a handful of popcorn into your mouth as the opening credits of another Disney picture flashed over your TV screen. You spent your Sundays with Zoe being lazy and watching films while the weather outside grew colder. It was undoubtedly colder in London than in your hometown.

Your daughter entered the living room huffing and puffing, her lips pursed into a frown. "We can't watch the movie. I can't find Mr Snuggles," she grumbled, jumping onto the couch to search behind it.

"Have you looked in the bathroom? You were giving Mr Snuggles a bath in the washbasin this morning," you recalled, holding her hand so she could safely jump off the couch and race out of the room.

Zoe's voice echoed from the restroom five seconds later. "I finally found him!"

You laughed to yourself and ate another handful of popcorn as your daughter came back into the room carrying Mr Snuggles and bouncing into the sofa alongside you, cuddling up like a tiny puppy against your side. "Did I miss anything?" She asked innocently, her beautiful wide eyes looking up at you.

"Just the Disney castle," you reassured her, brushing her hair and adjusting the popcorn so that both of you could enjoy it. Then you cuddled up with your little one and delightfully lost yourself in the Hawaiian delights of Lilo and Stitch. It wouldn't be long before she wouldn't even want to be in the same room with you, let alone watch a movie with you. You had to cherish these moments.

You paused the movie halfway through to restock on food and drinks. You entered the kitchen, Zoe following you like a shadowy figure "Mummy, can I ask you a question?" She asked quietly, hugging Mr Snuggles to her bosom as you went to get a bottle of water and a carton of juice out of the fridge.

"Of course, little one," you said, beaming brightly as you headed to the snack cupboard for the sweets you had to keep out of Zoe's touch.

There was a rare moment of silence for your daughter.

When you looked down at her, you noticed her nervously biting on her bottom lips, her grip on Mr Snuggles strong. You frowned deeply, wondering what was going through her gorgeous mind. You dropped the treats and hoisted Zoe up onto the counter to meet your level. "You know you can tell Mummy anything, sweetie? Even if you think Mummy will be angry or upset," you said gently, turning her head up to see your eyes.

Her eyes darted around your face, avoiding direct eye contact. "Where is my father? He didn't come to see me at the parade with you." She questioned softly, almost above a whisper.

It wasn't the first time Zoe brought up her father subject, but it still made your heart slow down. She had been interested since she was a child, perplexed as to why all the other children in the community had a mummy and a daddy but she just had one. You didn't want to lie to your little girl, so you told her as little as you could, just enough to keep her interested until the next wave of question hit.

You swiftly drew your daughter close to your chest, buried your face in the silky locks and sighing into the tropical-scented strands. "Your daddy is off following his aspirations," you said serenely running your fingers down her spine to comfort her.

"But why isn't he here?" The little girl's voice was filled with anguish as she continued.

Hearing her pleading made every fibre of your body throb. It was your fault your daughter was clinging to you, presumably blaming herself for not having a father in her life, believing she was unwanted and unloved by her father, despite the fact you were the one whose fault it was. You were the one who drawn the line with Sherlock. You loved him too much when he couldn't love you back in the way you desired, and in the long run you had to let him go while you handled the situation that you were dealt.

You would not take anything back. Your daughter was your whole world, and you couldn't picture being alive without her.

But perhaps you should have told Sherlock. Perhaps he'd be here now, and your daughter wouldn't be in tears, wondering why she only had half a family.

You leaned back and crouched slightly to look at Zoe properly, noticing her eyes moist as you planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head. "Your daddy was my best friend when I was in school," you stated slowly, carefully picking your words. You didn't want to say something that would make her weep. "And he had to leave one day so he could do what he loved, which Mummy tells you all the time, isn't it?"

She nodded, her bottom lip protruding in a mournful way.

You tenderly cradled her face and rubbed your thumbs across her delicate red cheeks, smiling warmly. "When your daddy left, I was so sad, but then I got you, and you made me happy again," you said, kissing the tip of her nose and making her chuckle slightly. Just hearing her laugh for a few seconds was enough to make your heart sing. "Because of you, I was empowered to do what I loved: I was able to be your mother!" You spoke up, your fingers going through her hair and settling on her shoulders.

Zoe snivelled into Mr Snuggles and stared up at you with the same wide eyes as Sherlock. "Does that mean my daddy doesn't love me?" she asked, tentatively.

"No, no, no, no, no, no一" you rehearsed shook your head harder each time you said 'no'.

"It's complicated, little one; your daddy left before I even realised you were here. But I know if he met you, he'd fall in love with you," you promised, pulling her hair over your fingers to soothe your fears.

"So daddy doesn't know me?" She asked another query, her lips pressed together in a harsh line.

Lifting Zoe up, you wrapped her legs over your hips and hugged her back in a warm embrace. "He doesn't," you admitted, bringing her close to your chest to comfort her. "It's all Mummy's fault. I should have found him as soon as I knew you were coming," you continued. Hot tears were forming in the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You wanted to be strong for Zoe.

"But one day, little one, when you're a little older, Mummy will try to find faddy and introduce you to him," you promised, holding to the secret just a little bit longer. You wanted to tell Zoe everything, but at an age when she could grasp it all and make her own decision. "And until then, you'll have to make do with just mummy's love," you added quietly, clutching her tight and pressing your eyes shut to keep the tears at bay.

Zoe wriggled in the grasp of you. "Did I make you sad, mummy?" She questioned innocently.

When you opened your eyes, your daughter was staring at you with light ocean eyes like her father that were on the verge of tears. Your emotions were immediately thrown out the window, and your attention was drawn to Zoe in the blink of an eye. "Mummy isn't sad," you protested, bending your head to dot kisses across her tiny nose bridge. "How can I be sad when I have the best daughter in the world?"

You placed your lips against her cheek and blew a loud raspberry, causing her to burst out laughing. Only then did you begin to relax, appreciating Zoe's brilliant laughter echoing around you like music to your ears. You squeezed her harder, tickling her sides as you pushed her back onto the counter.

"Do you have any more questions for mummy?" You didn't want Zoe to be left with additional nagging questions she didn't want to ask because she was afraid of making you sad.

She tightened her arms around Mr Snuggles and smiled up at you, cheekily. "May I have some sweets?" She murmured this cutely, tipping her head to the side and fluttering her eyelashes at you.

You criticised and laughed, rolling your eyes. "As long as you promise to brush your teeth properly tonight!" You teased, taking a small bowl from the cupboard.

Zoe cheered and flung Mr Snuggles up in the air in excitement, blissfully pleased as if the talk had never happened. She was far tougher than you gave her credit for.

You, on the other hand, felt as if you'd just escaped a bullet that had left you with a terrible headache.

Sherlock was waiting for you in a quiet area of the café, his coat collar pulled up. For a few second, you doubted if it was really him, until then he looked up and caught your gaze, calling you over with a bright smile. When you got to him, you tossed your belongings on the floor and dropped into the chair, immediately tugging your coat off. "I can't believe I'm only halfway through this day," you groaned, hanging your coat off the back of your chair and tossing your hair away from your shoulders.

“Rough day already?” Sherlock responded with a chuckle, pushing a huge mug of coffee in your direction.

You frowned as you clutched the steaming mug in both hands. "I thought I was the one who was taking you out to lunch." You took a little sip, surprised that he remembered your favourite hazelnut latte.

He smothered his chuckle in his coffee. "I only ordered, you can still pay," he instructed you across the table, a cheesy grin on his face. "How are things going at florist shop?"

"Where do I start?" You huffed, slumping back in your chair, exhausted. You had finished your design of sketches of dessert with flowers and sent them off to be converted for the images to be uploaded to your website, you knew you worked with delicate details but it was slowly becoming a source of stress for you because you're a perfectionist.

Sherlock leaned forward, his elbows bracing him. "Why don't you just do what you always do and put on your headphones and blast music?"

You grinned as you remembered. You'd always listen to your old iPod and shut out the rest of the world when you needed to concentrate on school and block off Sherlock. It used to be the only way you could focus.

"I only did that in school because you were so annoying," you smirked into your latte.

"Annoyingly cute," he corrected, a goofy smirk on his face.

You tilted your head with a soft, “duh,” from your lips, making him start laughing.

Before you could disagree with him, the waitress arrived with the toasted paninis Sherlock ordered. While the two of you were eating, Sherlock discussed how it felt to have finished another serial killer case at the underground train. Listening to him talk about deductions and hearing the obvious excitement in his voice, you couldn't help but smile at his satisfaction. It simply reinforced your choice to keep Zoe a secret from him. If you hadn't, he wouldn't be where he was today, and the brightness in his eyes wouldn't exist.

However, keeping Zoe a secret was easier said than done.

Your phone rang loudly during lunch, and you hastily apologies to Sherlock while mentally preparing for the call from the workplace. But when you took your phone from your purse, it wasn't from work. Zoe went to that school.

Your heart rate sank as soon as you saw the caller ID, your thoughts racing through every worst-case scenario. If nothing had happened, why would the school be ringing? “Hello?” You responded swiftly, scrunching up your free hand into a nervous fist to keep it from shaking.

“Hello, is this Zoe’s mother from Class 1B?” The woman on the other end of the line, her voice being shaken, asked.

You were startled, sensing that something horrible had happened.

Spinning in your seat, you turned away from Sherlock and lowered your head so your hair covered your face. "Yes, it's me. 一Is Zoe all right? Has something happened?" You questioned frantically squeezing your eyes shut and secretly hoped that your daughter had just received an award or anything.

"I'm sincerely sorry for calling in such a hurry, but Zoe just collapsed in the lunchroom and had a seizure. It was only a short seizure, but we called an ambulance, and they want to take Zoe to the hospital," the woman explained urgently.

Meanwhile, your entire world collapsed around you. All you could see was your precious daughter lying alone on the floor, out of reach and helpless.

You jumped out of your seat, stumbled back, and gazed blankly in front of you, tears streaming down your cheeks. "Is she awake? Oh my goodness一 Is she speaking?" You stutter aggressively your palms sweating and your brain spinning dizzily. You had to get to her immediately away. Your daughter needed you.

"She is conscious and communicating with the paramedics, but they really want to take her to the hospital. Mrs Harris are you going to be able to meet them there?" The woman soon answered.

You sprung into action right away, pushing yourself from the wall and snatching your coat, attempting to tuck your arms into the sleeves while juggling the phone. "I'm leaving now. Where are they taking her?" As the panic fell in, you questioned, tears welling up in your eyes.

You hung up after the woman from Zoe's school told you which hospital she was being transported to, throwing your phone back into your bag and staring up at Sherlock with hazy eyes. "I'm really sorry, but I need to go," you said rashly, fighting back tears and shaking hands as you put on your coat and pulled your purse from your bag. "I just gotta go now."

"What happened?" He asked quietly, reaching out to place a soft hand on your arm.

"I just need to get to the hospital," you answered blankly, not even reacting to his touch as you tossed down some money for lunch and began to gather your belongings. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. Zoe needs me right now."

When you tried to move away, Sherlock stood beside you and drew you back. He forced you to stare directly at him with both hands on your shoulders, and it shattered your heart because all you could see were the little pieces of him that your daughter had inherited. "There's no way you can drive like this," he said severely as your eyes welled up with tears. This was a waste of time when you should have been with your daughter. “Did the school call Zoe’s parents?”

And then the dam broke.

"I am Zoe's parent," you cursed back, your cheeks flushed with heated tears. Your breathing grew shallow and rapid, and you could feel panic setting in. Everything had taken place at the same time, and you couldn't process anything because all you could think about was getting to Zoe. "She's my little girl, and I need to go to the hospital to be with her," you sobbed, your knees trembling beneath you.

Sherlock stared at you in bewilderment. "Is Z-Zoe your daughter?" He stammered, showing an expression filled with complete and utter disbelief on his face. And you didn't give any thought to anything. You would later, Sherlock, however knowing you had a daughter didn't important right now.

"Yes, she had had a seizure, and I need to get to the hospital," you responded, tugging yourself loose of his grasp and fumbling ahead of the tables towards the entrance.

"Y/N, wait, wait. You can't drive like this," he claimed behind you, and you felt his grasp tighten around yours. His contact made you pause for a second, keeping you in the café's entryway. "Let me drive you to the hospital," he begged softly, his enchanting eyes asking you to listen to him.

Snivelling back more tears, you accepted and let him lead you out of the café and down the street to where your car was parked. You throw the key, and he immediately opens the door and helps you inside before sprinting around to the other side and sliding into the driver's seat.

Without saying anything, he started the car and pulled out onto the road.

You looked out the window, watching the world go about its business, while your heart ached to hold your precious little one in your arms, to see her beautiful face and know she was safe. Fresh hot tears streamed down your cheeks, only to be brushed away by the back of your palm. You needed to gather yourself before going to the hospital.

"Thank you," you say quietly to Sherlock, understanding he was correct when he stated you wouldn't be able to drive. Your hands were trembling uncontrollably from anxiousness.

He didn't say anything in return; he simply reached over and wrapped his long fingers around your hand, reassuringly squeezing to let you know he was there for you.

As soon as you arrived at the hospital, you leapt out of the car and left Sherlock behind, dashing into the large stone building and rushing to the front desk, virtually shouting your daughter's name at the receptionist. "She had a seizure at school and the paramedics said they'd be bringing her here," you stated frantically, watching as the young woman behind the counter began typing on her computer.

Sherlock caught up to you after a couple of seconds. "Have they told you anything?" He asked, concerned, as the receptionist answered the phone and talked gently down the handset. You were fairly certain you heard Zoe's name spoken.

Shaking your head, you took a shaky breath and shifted slightly into Sherlock's body, putting your head on his shoulder to hide the tears that threatened to flow again. You promised yourself that you would be strong for Zoe.

The receptionist hung up and looked up at you. "Your daughter is in A&E waiting to be taken for an MRI scan," she stated calmly as she stood up from her desk. "If you go down that corridor, you'll see signs that will direct you to the department," she continued, bending across her files to gesture in the right direction.

"Let's go," Sherlock encouraged, slipping his arm around your waist and leading you down the corridor, his palms on your back comforting you. You opened your lips to tell him he didn't have to stay, but you forgot he was your closest friend and was frighteningly familiar with you. "And, yes, I'm staying. I want to be there for you."

You wanted to argue, but your want to see Zoe right away, so you didn't.

A nurse led you in the direction of Zoe's cubicle at the A&E department. Sherlock promised to wait outside as you ducked under the curtain and finally saw your daughter.

Zoe’s eyes brightened up as she spotted you, and relief swept over you like a tidal wave. "Mummy!" she exclaimed, breaking down in sobs and sitting up straight, arms reached for you.

You went forward, scooping her up into your arms, putting her little head under your chin and stroking your fingers over her soft hair while she wailed fiercely. "It's all right, little one. Mummy's here now," you said quietly, swaying from side to side and gradually calming her down.

"I don't feel very well, mummy," she wailed, her tiny little arms clinging to your body.

You squeezed her even tighter and sprinkled small kisses on the top of her head. "I know, but you're in the best place. The doctors here will make you feel better," you reassured her, bending back to examine her face and wipe the tears from her puffy eyes.

"That's definitely the plan," someone from behind you said, making you jump. "You must be Zoe's mother, I'm Doctor Jonathan," he said, stretching out his hand for you to shake.

"Is she all right? Can you tell me what caused the seizure?" You burst out hastily, barraging the poor doctor with new questions before he could answer the prior ones.

He smiled at you while holding his hands up. "We don't know what caused her seizure, but we're running tests right now. In a few minutes, some nurses will arrive to take little Zoe up for an MRI scan, and hopefully once we get some results back, we'll know what's wrong and how we can make this brave little girl all better," Doctor stated thoroughly, assuaging your fears and calming Zoe's sobbing.

"Thank you, doctor," you said with a brief bow, glancing down at Zoe and kissing her again in the centre of her forehead.

"Will Mummy be able to stay with me when I go to the MR thingy?" Zoe questioned quietly, her bottom lip sticking out as it often did when she cried.

"She can go into the room with you, but when they turn on the machine, she'll have to wait outside." Zoe, judging by the pout on her lips, didn't like the sound of that.

You pushed back her hair and tucked any stray strands behind her ears. "You'll just have to show mummy what a brave little girl you are, alright, Zozo?"

She hesitantly agreed and pushed herself back into your lap, buried her face in your jumper and clutching you tightly.

The doctor quietly left, and you concentrated on getting Zoe back into bed while you could still convince her of everything. Soon after, the nurses arrived and prepared her to be transported for her scan. You assisted her in changing out of her school uniform and into the hospital gown, holding her hand tightly as they threw back the curtains of her small cubicle.

Sherlock was still outside, leaning awkwardly against the wall, clutching your belongings. "Hi, little Zoe," he whispered quietly as he walked to the other side of the bed and smiled at her.

Zoe just looked up at you, a puzzled expression on her face. "Before your school called, I was having lunch with your Uncle Detective. He drove me here," you said hastily, gesturing to the nurses who then began to move her. You and Sherlock strolled side by side beside the bed, your hand never leaving your daughter's.

"Is Grandpa Johnny here, too?" She asked, her eyes shining with excitement.

"No, but if you're a brave little girl, you can call him after the scan," he said, catching your gaze and smiling at you.

His comments, though, appeared to be effective. Zoe was incredibly brave and walked into the MRI machine without sobbing, despite her obvious fear. You kissed her on the forehead as you saw them fix her head in the small vice that would keep her head in place, then waved farewell, vowing to meet her outside.

When you left the room, Sherlock was already sitting on a pair of plastic chairs outdoors. You slumped into the seat next to him, fatigued and sighed wearily.

"So, you're a mother?" Sherlock whistled impatiently.

“Yes.” You were too exhausted to elaborate, especially given where this line of questions could lead him.

He blew a small breath and stretched his arms out in front of him. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? How come you lied at the mall?" He kept going, and you could feel his gaze on your face.

You buried your face in your hands and rubbed your eyes. "It's complicated, Sherlock," you whispered, standing up in your seat as a nurse approached you with a clipboard.

"We don't have a full medical record for Zoe, so if you could fill this out as best you can and return it to us, that would be most appreciated," the nurse remarked kindly, handing you a clipboard and a pen and leaving you to it.

While you filled out Zoe's full name and date of birth, Sherlock asked the question you had silently hoped he would just skim over.

“Who is Zoe’s father?”

Your stomach stiffened and you immediately felt nauseous, rendering you shut your mouth for a long moment. You didn't know what to say to him. You didn't mean for him to find out that Zoe was your daughter today!

You read over the details they already had on Zoe, ticking the correct information and amending the wrong. You didn't have to look at Sherlock when you told him your darkest secret this way. "It was just a random guy. He's not in the picture," you explained gently, skipping the box on paternal information and leaving it blank.

"Who then?" He persisted, reluctant to let the topic go.

You focused your attention on the form. If you looked up, you'd see his lovely aquamarine eyes and melt beneath his gaze, and you'd probably divulge everything to him. "You won't know him, Sherlock, just leave it alone," you snapped, anxiously chewing on your bottom lip.

"Just give me a name," he said, grabbing the clipboard from under yours and step out of your grasp. You gazed up at him with expectation, only to see him frown. "It's blank."

"I told you to leave it alone," you responded with rage, rising to your feet and reaching for your clipboard.

Sherlock took another step away from you, his hand raised. "Wait a minute," he said, meticulously reviewing the form on the clipboard. "It says Zoe's birthday is September 21st, 2006, so fast forward nine months... Who were you with at the start of that year?"

Oh no…

“Sherlock, it doesn’t matter!”

"You weren't dating anyone that year," he said, plainly thinking aloud.

Oh, no, please… His sharp mind was so close to figuring it correctly. You wanted to say anything, anything to keep him from seeking out the secret, but your thoughts went blank.

"That was the year we..." The clipboard clattered on the floor as he realised what was going on. He moved his eyes between you and the door where Zoe was getting her MRI, his lips slightly open. "I-I-I'm her father?" He stuttered, looking at him gripping the wall for support.

"一I, yeah. I'm so sorry Sherlock. I didn't mean for any of this to happen," you hastily informed him, your gut knotted with guilt and remorse.

Sherlock raked his fingers through his hair as he paced the length of the corridor. “What? You didn't mean to get pregnant or for me to find out! How long were you going to keep fooling me?" He shouted back fiercely, flinging his fist on the wall with the kind of venom that was unusual for your best friend.

"I'm sorry," you said slowly, attempting to keep yourself together when all you wanted to do was break apart.

He shook his head, slowly backing up with his hands in his hair. "I can't do it. 一I can't be here right now," he grumbled, turning on his heels and fleeing up the corridor.

You collapsing as a new batch of tears soiled your cheeks. You didn't want to end things like way, especially because Zoe was about to walk out of her scan and expect him to be waiting for her. He made a promise to your little girl.

“Fuck it.” Wiped your tears away and picked up the clipboard from the floor, not wanting Zoe to come out and see you in a state. While filling out the rest of the form, you fought back tears and tried to suppress your feelings. It was not the time to cope with your grief.

Zoe was pushed out of her bed after five minutes of silence, her face brightening when she spotted you and frowning when she saw you were alone. "Where did Uncle Detective go?" She asked with glittering eyes.

As you returned to your seat at the head of Zoe's bed, you swallowed past the knot in your throat and tried to smile. "He had to leave for something important, but he promised he'd try and visit later if he could," you lied to her, squeezing her tiny hand.

What was one more lie in the midst of the shambles you'd created?

tag: @bunny-skz00 @zen003xx @cemak

#bbc Sherlock #bbc sherlock x you #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock imagine #Sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlock imagine #Sherlock Holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes x you

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mizjoely · 2 years ago

Text

I have no idea where this came from. I will probably polish it up and put it on AO3 at some point. Enjoy!

The Entity spoke. "If I do this, change his past the way you so passionately wish me to, Sherlock Holmes will be utterly changed. He will no longer be the traumatized man you know." Molly started to speak, but the Entity gave the impression of raising a hand to silence her, without so much as twitching a finger. She closed her mouth, heart pounding, and waited.

"He will live the life he was meant to live. He will never become the Sherlock Holmes you know, the man you fell in love with, the man you've devoted yourself to. He will never become 'the world's only consulting detective', he will not fall into drug abuse and be rescued by a perceptive NSY detective who sees past the junkie and into the keen deductive mind behind the defiant façade. He will never be introduced to Mike Stamford, will never have worked with you at St. Bart's. He will," the Entity concluded, "never have met you there at all."

Molly swallowed, then raised her chin. When she spoke, her voice was steady. "That's fine. If he gets the life he was meant to have, then I don't care what it costs me. I love him." Her voice broke, just a little, then steadied again. "I love him," she repeated. "I want him to be happy."

The Entity once again gave the impression of movement, of a nod showing neither approval nor disapproval.

Then it vanished, and Molly Hooper's world returned, utterly altered. She looked up Sherlock Holmes and John Watson and Hat Detective and Reichenbach and every other way she could think of and found nothing.

She did, however, find information pertaining to a Professor Sherlock Holmes of the University of Cambridge. The picture was of him, smiling and comfortable looking in a tweed suit, and she wept even as she smiled. She didn't bother to read past the brief blurb on the search engine, describing him as a chemistry professor at the prestigious university, married with three children...

That was enough. He was alive, he appeared to be happy, and that was all she needed to know.

She closed her eyes as she rested her hand on the keyboard of her laptop. The sound of footsteps behind her startled her; she started to turn when a curious voice, that of a young child, asked, "Mummy, why are you looking at Daddy on the computer? He's in the kitchen, silly!"

As Molly completed her turn, her expression turned to one of joy, then puzzlement as she wondered why, indeed, she had the browser open to her husband's university bio. "Sometimes I just like to look at his picture, John," she finally said, reaching out so her five-year-old son could clamber into her lap. She ruffled the mop of auburn curls atop his head and kissed his upturned nose, so like her own beneath his father's eyes. "Just like I like to look at pictures of you and your sisters when you're at school."

Then she kissed his nose again, closed the laptop, and carried him, giggling, into the kitchen in order to see what exactly her husband had prepared for dinner this time.

As they left the room, she glanced back, brow wrinkled. Why had she opened up that browser, anyway? Such concerns - and even the memory of those concerns - vanished when she reached the kitchen and saw Will at the stovetop, John's twin sister Martha busy with violin practice, and baby Mikey banging away at the tray of her high chair, babbling her baby demands for dinner.

Molly Hooper-Holmes smiled broadly at her husband as he turned to greet her with that well-loved smile of his own, met his kiss with one of her own, and sighed contentedly at the wonderful chaos of the life they'd created together.

#sherlolly #mizjoely writes #mizjoely's fics

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valuunit · 2 years ago

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Cornerstone. ii

Part i

Inspired/based by Arctic Monkeys’ song.

Content: Angsty to Fluff (don’t get tricked by this).

Disclaimer: English is not my first lenguaje so if there’s any mistake i’m sorry, i’ll try to correct it. Also, some dates are mixed up, so the real life time line would be a little bit affected. Hmmmm… This turned out longer than i thought, so if i how many parts will end up being.

3rd person narrator

2018

Y/n was back in Holmes Chapel with her parents and sister. And her whole family will arrive soon to their home for the December holidays.

If you’d ask her, she would tell you that this wasn’t her plan of passing the christmas holidays. She wanted to go out, but she already promised her mum that she’d be there to help.

Right now she was, like a teenager, planning in escaping through the window of her childhood bedroom and go to a bar.

She was having a hard time pretending to be okay. After the her split with Harry, they only talked once, to agree how to lift her things from their home to sell the it. She paused her work activities, her whole life was in pause for this horrible situation.

“Y/n?” the voice of her mum muffled through the door.

“Now i go.”

“We need some stuff from the store.”

“I’ll go, don’t worry” she got up quickly, wanting a distraction from her overthinking, also not wanting to be help in the kitchen. She found her mum at her door.

“Thank you, darlin’ ”she said sweetly and hugged her before accompanying her to the front door. Y/n was mummy’s girl. And also a little daddy’s girl…

When Y/n finally arrived to the market she saw a pair of familiar silhouettes, she hoped to the universe that it was just a vision trick and tried to continue her shopping.

“Y/n/n?”

“Shit…” she whispered to the cereal in front of her, then turned around giving a sympathetic smile. “Hi!”

“How are you darlin’?” Anne said giving her a hug.

“I’m good, thank you. What ‘bout you?”

“Oh, i’m good as well, with the last minute shopping.”

“Yeah. I get it” Y/n laughed pointing to her cart.

“Is your mum with you?”

“No, i’m on my own”

“Oh, that a shame, i was hoping to say hi to her, we haven’t had time to talk.”

“I’ll tell her”

“Thanks, sweety”

“No problem” A not so awkward silence settle in the group of women. “Oh. Am… I must rush, my mum‘s gonna be mad. It was great to see you girls.”

“It was great seeing you, darlin’ ”

“Yeah, nice seeing you, Y/n/n.” Gemma said clearly uncomfortable, same.

And then she wanted to cry, this was probably the last interaction that she was going to have with this women, that she saw as sister and second mother respectively.

“Yes. Great. Have a nice day, amm, and happy christmas.”

“You too!”

Harry’s POV

2018

I was waiting in the car, listening to the new sample of a new song from the new album.

It’s been probably an hour and i don’t see my sister and mum wanting to leave any time soon. I’m bored. I’m sad. I’m feeling like shit, basically.

I didn’t expect that i’ll be sitting all alone in an almost empty parking lot in christmas eve. What i expected was watching my family creating chaos trying to have everything set for the dinner, with laughs, jokes, anecdotes and fun.

I expected to be with Y/n, talking about the wedding plans, our projects, us. Then i started crying, for second time of the day.

Now this is my life like. Wake up, cry, being forced to do something by Gemma, cry again ‘cause i do everything wrong and sleep.

The muffled voice of my sister and mother passed gently through the car.

“She looks sad.”

“Mum, i love you, but stop it. We don’t know what’s going on.”

“Yeah, but, i wanted to tell her how… is. They could talk”

“Anne. No. They are adults, they’ll know what’s the best for them.”

“They clearly don’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“Shh… we’ll talk later.”

They entered the car. “Everything’s okay?”

“Yes.” Gemma said simply.

“What was that?” I asked.

“What was what?” my sister let out a nervous chuckle. “Can we go?”

“Am… well. What were you talking about?” I started the car.

“Oh, that… It-It’s nothi-”

“We found Y/n/n on the market.”

“Mum!” Gemma yelled looking back at her.

“Oh. Y/n/n like… Y-Y/n Y/n?”

“Yeah, that’s not important right now. We have to start preparing the food. Let’s go.”

“I didn’t know she was back home.”

“You knew it well, Harry.”

“D’you think’s a good idea to go to talk to her? You know, for our- uhm, the apartment situation.” I ignored the comment, understanding how stupid my question was in the first place.

“No.”

“Yes!”

“Why not Gemma?” I said, slightly offended, i don’t know why.

“We know you do not just want to talk about the apartment.”

“What’s the problem with that?”

“That’s gonna hurt you, and her too.”

“What?”

“I just think the wound it’s still very fresh.”

Just when i was about to give her the reason, mum interrupted.

“It’s good for you guys to talk, alone.”

“Yeah…” I said.

“No! What would you talk about?”

I didn’t responded.

“Exactly, mum, let him make his decisions on his own.”

“You just told me to not go to talk to Y/n/n.” I argued to my sister.

“Alright, then do whatever you want, i was just giving you some advice.”

“Me too.” said mum.

I sat there for a moment, thinking what would be the best option, i understood and kinda agreed with Gemma, but also wanted to see her.

A girl with two bags was walking to the only other car in the lot, a guy was following her with two other tote bags.

I could definitely tell who the girl was, even if i only saw her back.

“Now i come.” I quickly took off my belt and got out of the car.

“Thank you, Matt.” I haven’t heard her bounce in so long.

“There’s no problem. It was nice to catch up. Nice day, Y/n/n” he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“You too!” He started to walk away.

I walked closer to them. Her back was facing me.

“Hey mate! How’re ya?”

Now I recognized him. He is Matt, we were in school together, with Y/n too. He gives me a friendly hug.

“Hi man. Good, you?” I said nervous.

“I’m great! Heading to home to help. The dad life’s tough.”

“Woah, congratulations, i’ll have to meet them.”

“Of course, will be great. We should also have a drink one day, like a double date.”

“Sorry?”

“You and Y/n/n and me and my girlfriend.” he said confused, pointing her with his thumb.

“Oh. Y-yeah.” I was about to tell him the truth, but it was too much, not the time. “Sounds great.”

“Perfect. Have to go, see you?”

“Definitely. Bye, nice day.” He gave me a slight slap in the back and walked away.

I was taken aback by the conversation, it was a signal that i shouldn’t go after Y/n?

“Harry?”

Or maybe not.

“Yeah?” I said stopped overthinking. I saw her, she looked tired but so angelic at the same time, the light behind her definitely helped that image.

“A-am… hi.”

“Hi.” I smiled.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm…” she looked at me with concern. Did i looked bad? “y-yes.”

“D’you want me to call your mum o…or Gemma?”

“Uh… no? They’re in t-the car.”

“Oh, okay. Well.” she said awkwardly, great. “I should get going. Goodbye, Harry.”

“Am… Can we talk? Not now if you don’t want to, b-but maybe later? I’ll be here for some weeks…” I offered her an smile. She reciprocated it.

“Uh… I’ll check my agenda” She doesn’t have one. I let out a giggle looking at the floor, she must’ve notice. “Don’t be surprised, Styles, i have one.”

“I didn’t said anything.” I smiled again, she did too, wider this time. God i missed this.

“Your number’s still the same?” Bold. Just like i remembered.

I nodded.

“Okay, i’ll call you then.”

“I’ll be waiting for it.” She nodded again.

“Happy christmas to all over there.”

“Thanks, same for your family”

“Thanks.”

“Bye” I smiled even more.

“Bye.” she muttered with a little smirk.

She got into her car and before starting her car she said goodbye with her hand, then she left.

I punched the air in bliss spinning in my feet. It was the same reaction that i had when we had our first kiss. Thing could be like before… no. Are going to be better.

“What happened?” my mum asked exited.

“I think i have a chance to make up everything.”

“Another one?” Gemma laughed sourly.

“Gemma.”

“Okay. Good for you H. Don’t mess it up this time.”

“I won’t.” My smile was not going to leave my face anytime soon.

Y/n’s POV

2018

Stupid Harry and his charms.

“What took you so long?” Was the first thing i heard when i entered the house, my sister groaning.

“She’s here. That’s what matters. Honey, help her with some bags.”

My dad grabbed the two bags that i had in my hands and offered me a smile.

“It must been very busy.” Said my mum when we were going to get the other two bags.

“No, just, some… unexpected encounters. Ah, Anne says hi. And uh… Harry says merry christmas.”

“Harry?” she said shocked for obvious reasons.

“Yeah…”

“How?”

“Uh… the faith?”

“Oh, sweetie. That must been pretty hard.” she hugged me.

“It was really good actually. We probably talk soon.”

My mum gives me a look that i can read. “Oh, okay.”

“D’you think it’s not a good idea?”

“No… you know what you do and… if that makes you happy it’s okay to me.”

“But i want your advice.”

“I honestly don’t trust him anymore.”

“Why?” I asked genuinely curious.

“I just… think that he takes you for granted. It has happened more than once.”

“Being honest, i’ve thought about that as well.”

“I think he has to do some reality check.”

“Okay. Well, he probably has done it now?”

“I don’t know honey. I really hope so, i do think you two are soulmates.”

I nervously chucked. I’ve thought that too.

“Maybe.”

“But, it’s not time for that, now, help me here.”

We entered the house with everything.

“How can i help?”

“Go to the office and wrap the grift, please” answered my sister.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Ugh, you have become way too american.”

“I know, it sucks.”

“Go.”

“ ‘Right, on my way.”

This is depressing. Maybe it was not the best idea, but i don’t care, i have the christmas melancholy.

“Hello?”

“Am… hey Harry, It’s Y/n.”

“Oh, hi. How’re you there?”

“Honestly, a little bored.”

“Yeah, me too. I can’t help in anything.”

“Why? You’re a great chef.”

“They won’t let me, I’m here in the couch.”

“Uh, great. I’m wrapping some presents.” i left a small chuckle.

“You?” He said with disbelief.

“What do you mean with by me?”

“You’re not the greatest with crafts.”

“Ouch? For your information i’m doin’ a great job.”

“That’s good to know… Am, don’t to sound harsh but can i help you in anythin’?”

“Well, distract me from the boredom…” I’m so stupid.

“I’m always glad to help.”

“And to ask you when you are free to… talk.”

“I’m always free fo’ you.”

“Too flirty, Styles.”

“No! I wasn’t trying anything…”

“It’s okay. But really, when?”

“We could go to the cafe down the street of the church on Wednesday?”

“Perfect, in the morning’s good for you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a plan.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Great.” i laughed quietly. Probably neither of of wanted to hang up.

“Am… would you mind accompanying’ me in this nightmare? I just ripped a whole sheet of Peppa pig patterned paper. Kara’s gonna kill me.”

He laughed out loud. “Kara’s too sweet for that, plus she hates Peppa.”

“But loves George and now a multiple of them don’t have a head.”

“It also had George?”

I wish that I could get this everyday of the rest of my life, and maybe i could still happen. I really want that.

3rd person narrator

2018

Y/n was up very early in the morning casually jogging around a few neighbor houses, concentrated in dissect the new album she recently bought.

Meanwhile, Harry was coaching himself and also practicing every possible answer he could use in the mirror.

The two of them were nervous about their appointment not so later that day, non of them really knew what was it for.

“I’m going out, I’ll be right back.”

“Be careful, Harry.”

“I know mum. Love you.”

“Love you.”

Harry walked at a leisurely pace, knowing he was almost half an hour early. He thought of all the possible inputs for a conversation about their relationship, but also overthinking about what would you want to talk about.

«What if she doesn’t want to go back? What if she's over it? Does she is tired of me?»

“Mornin’! How can i help you?” a guy on the other side of the counter.

“Hi, uh… i would like a dark coffee…” should i order for Y/n/n? “And an iced coffee with oat milk please.”

“They’ll be ready in a minute.”

“Thanks.”

He waited one of the benches sitting outside of the little place, bouncing his leg up and down. There was only a few people around at this hour, all of them minding their own business. He had nothing better to do, so he was watching them although didn’t recognized a lot of them. A few waves later the coffees were ready, and his date if you want to call her like that, arrived.

“Hi”

“Hey… do you have a lot of time here?”

“No…” Yes. “I jus’ arrive.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Here, uh, i ordered for you. I hope doesn’t bother you.”

“Thanks! Ah, does it has oat…”

“Oat milk? Yes.”

She smiled looking to the ground.

«You’re making it a difficult task to play it cool, Styles.»

“Do you want to take a seat, there’s a table for two.”

“Yes please, i’m exhausted.”

“What’s that for?”

“The daily run, remember?”

“Yeah, you still do it? I thought you hated it.” he smiled.

“I hated to always have paparazzi around.”

“Me too, sorry.”

“It’s not your fault…”

“Kinda.”

“Well, yes.” she smiled too.

“How was your christmas?”

“Ah, I can’t really tell you, i had a whiskey bottle in my bedroom, don’t really remember much of it.”

“What? Really? But weren’t you on med…”

“I’m joking Harry. Jesus… Do you really think that of me.” She faked an offended tone, Harry’s worries want partly gone.

“I don’t know…” he chuckle as a gasp scaled the lips of Y/n. “Mines were okay.”

“Yeah, that’s the perfect description.”

“Our call made it better, though…” Harry muttered while he was watching his coffee cup as if it was super interesting.

“Ah… We already started with the hints.”

“Well…”

“What do you wanted to talk about.” Y/n pressed her knee up to her chest.

“About the apartment.”

“Really? I already told you to take it, do whatever you want with it.” Her tone had some disappointment aside with annoyance.

“Okay, I also wanted to talk about us, i don’t think we even make our… break up official?” those words broke him, he didn’t want to make it official.

“You wanna make it official?”

“Uh…” Was she giving him a chance? “No.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ve thought about us. I would also want to try it again… I mean… I guess you want it too.”

“Of course.” Harry leaned on the table and put his hands on it. He never left her eyes.

“But i want you to promise that you’re a hundred percent sure that you’re gonna be as invest in this as me, i think that’s what failed…”

“Definitely.”

“I want you to answer me more than monosyllables. We both failed in something not just one of us, I already told you what i think went wrong, tell me what you think, i want to know, please.”

“Well.. Uhm. I think out schedules have been rough since, you know, the band and your degree… We could organize our lives together, and the commitment as well.” He was nervous, didn’t know why.

“Okay, thanks for telling me…” she grabbed her hand around his. “I agree with you…”

“So… would you like to work in this, together.”

“Yes.”

The rest of the days, no, weeks, no, almost months. They passed their days like the teenagers they once were, but always having in mind to have more maturity, or that’s what they said.

It was undeniable that they still love each other with all their hearts.

“H…” Her lips were attached to his.

“Yes?” He mumbled against her gloss covered lips.

Y/n moved her head and lay it on his chest, hugging him.. “We should go.”

Her hair smelled like his shampoo. “Why? It’s so calm here…”

“You sound like a child.” She laughed.

“I’m feeling like one.” He looked it the sunset.

“It’s a nostalgic day…”

“Also. But this, being here, with you, the view, everythin’. I would like to freeze in this moment forever.”

“That so cheesy…” She could felt the vibration from his chest by his laughter.

“Thanks, love.”

“No problem, bae.”

“Okay, you officially ruined it.”

“Wu! Let’s go, i want to go to the new pub.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

@tiaamberxx @lomlhstyles if you want me to tag you for the next part just tell me!

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles #angst #harry styles angst #arctic monkeys #harry styles fluff

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