#mycroft x fem!reader

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Answer The Phone (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader) *PARENTAL

Characters: Mycroft X Daughter!Reader, Sherlock X Niece!Reader

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: mentions of being drugged via gas (fun story, this happened to me once lol), bomb, explosion, burns, unhealthy relationship with parent

Request: Hello could you do mycroft x daughter reader. Final problem the two have really broken father and daughter relationship and they haven't express themselves and because of it sherlock is kinda the father figure of the reader. So instead of Sherlock doing the phonecall its the mycroft who did the phonecall and reader almost said 'I love you ' to mycroft but its time up and mycrift witness the explosion in reader apartment and the Holmes are broken as they heard the shrill scream coming from the reader. Its up to you if you wanna turn out to let reader died. 😊

It had been a long time since you had actually gotten along with your dad. A long time since tensions weren’t running high when in his presence, well aware that things were one thoughtless comment away from a bicker or an argument. Whether it was wanting something from one another- more affection from him, or a more agreeable personality from you- or just not agreeing on things in general. He often commented on how you were more like your uncle Sherlock, even when you were young. Back then you took it as a compliment, seeing your uncle as a genius who adored you and was by far the funnest uncle in the world, but in your pre-teens you realised he meant it as an insult.

You could never forgive him for doing that, even if he didn’t mean it, or didn’t even realise what he was saying. Everytime he said it, it made you pull away from him even more. Spend more time with the man he compared you to, the only person who seemed to actually care about you. Of course, that was until you met Mrs Hudson and then John moved in with Sherlock. Mrs Hudson kept you company when your uncle was busy and you were avoiding your dad, and she’d softly poke into your home life and your relationship with your dad and try and give advice. John thought you were Sherlock’s assistant for a short while before Sherlock corrected him, acting insulted that he thought you were ‘just an assistant’. When he met Mycroft, he immediately began to understand why you weren’t close, and tried to be a responsible adult you could turn to. In the end, when you became a legal adult, you moved to an apartment much, much closer to Sherlock than your dad, and never in the 3 years you’d had it, had your dad stepped foot inside of it. He wasn’t allowed to. 

You had a lot of feelings towards your dad from childhood to now. Anger, resentment, distrust. A disconnect you never thought and come to accept could ever be fixed. Whenever you needed support, you went to Sherlock. John. Mrs Hudson. Never him. But this time was different. 

You were currently trapped in the said apartment. The one place you were supposed to feel safe no matter what, yet here you were, eyes focussed on the bomb that had been planted in the middle of your living room, the heart of your apartment, with several wires linking to it all across the apartment like spiderwebs. Linked to every possible escape route- the windows, the fire escape, and the only door in and out. You didn’t remember what had happened- you vaguely remember an odd smell as you wet to sleep last night, and when you awoke, you found yourself laying on the floor of your living room, and sitting up and seeing the device. Whoever had done this, had been nice enough to leave your phone right beside the bomb. You didn’t call anyone or even turn the phone on for several hours, scared that it had been tampered with as well and that was also a trigger, but you grew desperate. The first person you tried to call was your dad. You didn’t get through, so then you called Sherlock, and he picked up almost immediately, and you told him what was going on. 

That was about two hours ago now. The police cars littered the streets outside, the complex and surrounding buildings completely evacuated. It was just you and this bomb within a 50 foot radius. Well, for a period of time, both Sherlock and John were on the other side of the door, asking you a billion and one questions about what you could see, and you described everything to the best of your abilities, and it was useful. One, Sherlock was able to piece together it was well made, and whoever made this was an expert and had experience with this- probably a military man, working in a bomb squad or something, and that this was purely explosive, no nails or anything to cause more damage, and due the size, the blast wouldn’t go far past the walls of your home. However, after demanding his honesty, he admitted he also had no clue how to diffuse it, or if that was even possible. It seemed too fragile, that even a light breeze could set it off. That solidified your decision to remain perfectly still within two of the wires attached to your windows, too scared to even touch the glass or move to quickly, remembering his comment on a breeze, and didn’t want to risk vibration. 

You still hadn’t been able to reach your dad. 

“John?” You had asked over the phone. The phone was often being in call between people, mostly Sherlock and John, though Mrs Hudson had called when neither were available to try and keep you calm. It was John’s turn as Sherlock was following leads. 

“Yeah? Is something happening?” John asked. 

“No it’s just… I can’t reach my dad. I keep trying to call him but he won’t pick up… I… I just want to hear his voice.” You admitted. It sounded ridiculous, childish, but you were tired, hungry, and the adrenaline had drained your energy a while ago now. “Does he know what’s happening?” You asked. He was silent on his side for a minute. 

“I don’t know, but I tell you what, I’m going to personally find him, and drag him here, and make him answer his phone, okay?” He promised, and you could hear the anger oozing over the phone, which you couldn’t help but smile at. “In the meantime, I think Sherlock is going to call you later, I think he’s onto something. Hang on, alright?” He said, before handing up. You placed the phone on the floor, carefully standing up, and with distance between yourself and the window, you peered out of it, able to see John as he dashed off towards Lestrade, telling him something, before the pair got into a car and took off presumably to go and find your dad. Looking around more, you spotted Mrs Hudson peering up. She waved when she saw you, and you waved back. With nothing else to do, you sat back down in front of the bomb, trying to examine it to the best of your ability, seeing nothing of importance, before you laid down on the floor, closing your eyes, and waiting.

You flinched when your phone rang. You flinched every time it rang, even if someone had told you just a minute prior it was coming. You reached over, picking it up and placing it to your ear, remembering what John had said. “Sherlock?” You asked. 

“How many pieces of furniture in your flat can you crawl under?” His question was far from reassuring, as you bolted up, on high alert. 

“U-Um, I don’t know, why? Do I need to hide? Take cover? What’s going on?” You panicked. 

“The wiring to the bomb is far too fragile for someone to be able to rig it from the outside after escaping. They must have either found or made another way inside, somewhere where you wouldn’t have noticed. If we can find it you can get out yourself, or we can get inside. Think. Lay on the floor and look around for anything, furniture that you can get under, or furniture light enough but large enough to cover an escape but be able to move from below. Be. Careful. Watch the wires. Call me back if you find anything, I’m on my way back.” He said before hanging up, leaving you alone with silence and overwhelming pressure. You looked at the wires around you, before trying to think of the best places for someone to hide a hatch- under the coffee table, the recliner that you knew was easy to move, your wardrobe in your room which had some crawl space underneath, and for you, the most creepy- under your bed. You quickly checked under your coffee table in front of you, of course finding nothing, because of course that would be too easy. Your recliner was across from you, so after a deep breath, you got down on the ground, and carefully crawled under the wires, spotting a wire that was too low to crawl under, and you stood and carefully stepped over it. You then carefully moved your recliner, checking underneath, and found nothing. That left your bedroom. 

Your phone rang again, and your cursed yourself, realising you left it beside the table, and you hurriedly but carefully moved back, grabbing it and answering it. “Hello? Sherlock?” 

“Y/N?” Your dad’s voice caught you off guard, and you gasped in surprised. “What’s going on? John told me to call you and said it was dire.” He asked. A relief came over you just from hearing his voice, your eyes burning as you sniffed. 

“Dad… it’s bad.” You started, getting silence on the phone. “There’s… someone put some sort of sedative gas into my flat when I went to bed and broke in- they moved me into the living room and- there’s a bomb. There’s a bomb in the living room and it’s wired up to every escape and I can’t get out and I’m scared and I don’t want to die-” You rambled to him before you heard him finally repeating your name to try and interrupt you. 

“Y/N, Y/N, breathe. Is Sherlock working on it?” He asked, that last sentence sound a little distance, and you faintly heard John confirm in the background, before he returned to the phone. “Alright. Sherlock’s working on it. What has he told you?” 

“He um… He said that he thinks there’s a secret entrance somewhere- and that’s how the person who did this escaped after rigging everything. He told me to look for it- I’m going to check in my bedroom next.” You explained to him, looking over, being relieved when you saw no wire attached to the door. 

“Is that door rigged?” 

“No. Hold on, I have to crawl under the wires.” You explained, getting back down, crawling under the wires, before reaching it the door, and holding the phone to your ear. “Okay, I’m at the door.”

“Do you feel like a secret agent?” He asked, catching you off guard. 

“What?” You asked, pausing in your plan. 

“Crawling under and over the wires. It’s like the laser lights and those agents avoiding them. You used to love those movies when you were little. You thought that was what Sherlock did in his cases.” He reminisced. A faint smile met your lips. You’d totally forgotten about that. 

“Yeah… I remember one time when I pulled out all the red thread from a jumper you had gotten me, pinning it all over the house so I could pretend to be a secret agent and then using it to make an information board… you were so mad when you came back home because the jumper was some expensive brand and I’d made the board on a wall and wrote on it and everything… sorry about that.” You told him, somehow finding the energy to chuckle pathetically. 

“Don’t apologise.” Mycroft told you. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. You were 6, you were just being a child.” He pointed out. “I’m… I’m also sorry that I didn’t answer your calls. I should have known something was wrong when you kept trying to reach me.” He apologised. You hummed, before you realised something. 

“This is the first time we’ve been able to actually talk without bickering or arguing in years.” You pointed out. You heard him sigh. 

“When this whole mess is over, I promise you we’re going to have a proper family dinner, catch up, and actually talk. No bickering. No arguing. A genuine conversation. How does that sound?” He asked. You smiled to yourself. This was the best thing that had happened all day, not like that was hard. 

“Yeah. Let’s hope the escape is in my room.” You said, remembering your task. You reached out, grabbing the handle of your bedroom door, and opening it, and pulling the door open. “Hey, you know, despite not really getting along my whole life, I want you to know that I do love-” You looked up to search your room, but the sound of a beep made your eyes focus on the bomb attached to your bedframe, this one a lot bigger, that was rigged to your bedroom door, that you had just set off.

Mycroft heard you gasp, the sound of you running, hearing you muttering repeatedly ‘no, no, no, no”, the sound of you trying to open a door before the call ended. “Y/N?” Mycroft asked. He heard nothing. He tried calling you back, and it didn’t even ring. He got an awful feeling in his stomach and he wanted to be sick, but he looked up at John who looked confused at what was happening, having not heard what he’d heard. “Get me to her flat right now.” 

By the time the pair arrived on your street, it was already blocked off and there was more than one firetruck trying to subdue the fire that was blazing where your flat used to be. Mycroft didn’t speak as he approached, seeing the sight, realising what it was exactly that he heard. He heard his daughter realise she triggered an explosive. He heard his daughter run across the one place she was meant to be safe to the front door. He heard his daughter try and open the door, and realise it was locked and she was trapped inside.

He heard his daughter die, terrified and alone. And for what? Why? Why not him, or Sherlock? He wanted to be angry, demand answers, find who did this and get revenge even if it isn’t lawful, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry right now. Only guilty. He should have spent more time with you. He should have tried harder to be a better parent to you, he should have been kinder, more understanding. He should have been there. 

“John! Mycroft!” Mycroft didn’t hear Mrs Hudson at first as she dashed over as quick as she could- she was sobbing and sniffling, clutching a handkerchief to her face as she approached. 

“Mrs Hudson, what happened?!” John asked alarmed and out of breath. 

“There was a second bomb in the bedroom, when she opened the door it set it off.” She explained. Mycroft finally looked away from the blaze to look at the woman. The call had ended only 20 minutes or so prior, and since the flat was still in fire, so there was no way to examine the scene. 

“How do you know that?” He asked her. She didn’t say anything, simply grabbing his arm and pulling him down the street, pass the firetrucks, past the police who looked defeated, and towards an ambulance. The back doors were open, and inside he was able to see two paramedics tending to someone in the bed. He felt his heart leap into his throat as he sprinted to the edge and jumped inside, able to finally see your face, an oxygen mask over your face, burns littering your body, and you were unconscious as a paramedic was placing bandaging on one of your burns. “Is she okay? Is my daughter okay?” He demanded answers, one of the paramedics looking up at him. 

“She’s suffered burns and blunt force trauma from the explosion. She was conscious when she was able to get out, but she fell unconscious, and we need to get her to the hospital now. Please sit down if you’re coming with her.” He instructed, and Mycroft followed and sat down. He turned, seeing John and Mrs Hudson stood, staring at you. 

“Please make sure Sherlock finds out who did this. They need to pay for this.” Mycroft demanded. John nodded firmly, before the doors shut, the sirens turned on and the ambulance began to move. Mycroft put his whole focus on you, making sure your chest moved up and down, looking for any sign of you waking up, and more importantly, any sign you were in pain. He only saw you breathing, and he decided for now he should be thankful for that. He didn’t know what exactly he was going to do, but he knew that somehow, someway, he was going to fix this. He was going to make everything better. He had to.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @holy-tea-cup-blog @sassy-specter @keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey @courtneychicken @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines@huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[multific]

Destiny

Mycroft Holmes x Reader

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

Destiny.

A simple word yet it held so much power.

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

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

A true love story.

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

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

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

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

In many ways, you thrived in your life.

Expect your love life.

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

Until you met Mycroft Holmes.

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

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

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

You blamed Stockholm syndrome for your feelings.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you eat?"

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

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

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

He paid attention to you.

And you realized your feelings for him were real.

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

But little did you know, he felt the same.

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

He wasn't ready for a rejection.

Yet, your rejection never came.

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

Not when he kissed you.

Instead, he let you guide him.

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

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

But he also didn't reject it.

He embraced it.

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

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

But it was your destiny.

And you were okay with it.

Taglist: 

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

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

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

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Fireball - Hamish Mycroft (Merlin) X Female Reader

Title: Fireball

Hamish Mycroft (Merlin) X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Eggsy, Harry, Ginger (Mentioned), and random guards and other random characters for the plot (Mentioned)

Requested by Anon!

WC: 2,674

Warnings: Reader is from Statesman, mention of alcohol, bombs mentioned, love at first sight (sort of), teasing, taunting, nervousness, embarrassment, anxiety, guns mentioned, murder mentioned, flirting, confessions, bets, slight angst, and fluff

Stepping off the small helicopter, you held down your hair as you ducked under the blades; holding your briefcase tightly in one hand. A little ways away, stood two men in suits, hands clasped behind their back. You mentally rolled your eyes. Kingsman always seemed so... Extra. Them in their perfectly tailored suits and framed glasses. Brushing down your hair, you stood in front of the two men, letting out a sigh. 

"Welcome to Kingsman, Fireball." The older man greeted you. 

The younger man turned to his partner, an eyebrow raising. "Fireball? What? They ran out of names?"

"Yes." You spoke up, "In some senses they did. You two must be Harry and Eggsy." The looks on their faces were priceless. Eyes wide, Eggsy's jaw dropped.

"How do you know our names?" Eggsy asked and you shrugged with a grin.

"I'm a hacker. That's what you wanted when you contacted the Statesman, correct?"

Harry was quick to recover, clearing his throat before he said anything else.

"Yes. we need you to locate someone." His voice hardened, his expression darkening slightly as they led you into the Kingsman mansion.

"Mmm, my favorite activity. Anyone fun?" You asked, wiggling your eyebrows teasingly at them. As you followed them inside, Eggsy nudged Harry with a slight smirk. Harry gave him a stern look.

"They have codes to a bomb," Harry replied and Eggsy grinned.

"And we need them so we can disarm it." He finished, and your eyes lit up in recollection.

"Oooh! Mr. David Frizzle. We've been monitoring him for some time."

"His location has been locked down pretty well though. Even our wizard couldn't track him." Your lips curled upward slightly as Eggsy spoke.

"Mmm, and you think I can't? Watch and learn, boys. Take me to your hacking room."

Harry and Eggsy looked at one another briefly before leading you through the fantastic mansion. Walking down long hallways with large paintings, you took your time looking around, until you stopped in front of two doors. Harry opened the door for you and you looked around. The room was clean, white floors and dark wood walls. Along the back wall were rows and rows of electronic cases of blinking lights and other do-dads. It was a bit smaller than your office, but you could make it work. Looking over to the desk in the room, it faced a bunch of screens. And, in a chair, was a man. He turned as the three of you entered, standing. You couldn't help but stare at him. You have seen a lot of people in this line of work. But not like him. Bald, clean-shaven, dark eyes that glinted with intelligence behind his glasses as he stared right back at you.

"Fireball," He addressed you formally, pulling you back to reality, "Merlin." He offered his hand out to you. With a smirk, you shook it.

"I know. A pleasure to meet you." 

"You know?" Merlin asked, and you nodded, taking in the man before you.

"Of course, I'm a hacker." You shrugged, before realizing you and Merlin were still shaking each other's hands.

He cleared his throat, dropping your hand as you brought your hand back to your side. “So tell us about David Frizzle.”

Your face fell. "We've been tracking him for years and his computer systems are always top-notch."

"What have you learned?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, this... Frizzle is only the middle man it seems. Ginger and I think his boss is the real target here."

"Can you find out where he is?" Merlin asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Most likely." You agreed, before moving past Merlin and to his desk. Sitting down in his chair, you pulled up your briefcase, setting it down before you. Harry, Eggsy, and Merlin watched as you clicked open your case, revealing the various pieces of equipment within. "Alright, let's get this party started." You said, before rapidly typing on your small keyboard.

You smiled as you began to scan the screen. There were files everywhere, but you weren't having trouble reading it all. As you navigated through the servers, you found several pieces of information regarding the specific individual. You quickly pulled up a map and began working your way through the different locations. As you worked, you felt a presence beside you. Glancing quickly, you spotted Merlin leaning next to you, his dark eyes staring at your screen. Biting your lip, you tried to calm your racing heart and flushing cheeks. You glanced back at the screen, trying to ignore the close proximity of the both of you. "Done!" You exclaimed, your screen displaying a map of England, a red blinking dot placed over Glasgow. "The best guess is that he'll probably stay put somewhere near here." You pointed to the screen.

"Wow," Eggsy laughed out from the other side of you, almost startling you. "That was quick."

"Three minutes quick," Harry spoke up, glancing up from his watch.

Merlin swallowed thickly, looking down at your screen, at you, and back. Merlin would admit it, he was impressed. You were incredibly fast, more so than any other hacker he knew. Not only did you have the skills necessary to access multiple systems, but also you could handle them. He had thought you were just a normal hacker. Not a master hacker, who was practically immortal and could take on entire governments by herself. But you proved otherwise when you're hacked into the MI6 database, bypassing the firewall, and hacking into national security databases. "Good job, Fireball. I'm sure he won't expect us to track him directly."

"No, he won't." You confirmed, before beginning to type away again, "I think I'll be able to find out exactly where he's residing as well. Just give me... Five minutes." You typed away furiously, ignoring the fact that Merlin was watching you intensely and that Eggsy and Harry were now chatting. You didn't care if he was watching. It wasn't hard to see your mind whirring, analyzing every detail as you narrowed your map closer and closer to where Mr. Frizzle was located. In about 15 seconds, you had figured out where he was being kept. "Got it."

"Where is he?" Harry asked immediately.

"A penthouse apartment in the city."

"Do you know his address?" Merlin questioned.

"Yes."

"Let's go. Now." Eggsy ordered as he and Harry ran out of the room. 

Letting out a sigh, your eyes widened in realization as you scooted the chair back, standing up. "Sorry for stealing your chair like that." You apologized to Merlin, who only shook his head.

"No, it's fine. You can have mine." He spoke, accent thickening slightly as he walked past you as you sat down again, pushing a chair to sit beside you.

"So," You began, watching the screens before you to see Harry and Eggsy already driving. "This is what you do? Hack and lead the team?"

"Something like that," Merlin said simply, staring up at the screens.

"Well..." You paused, thinking, looking at him. "Do you also go out into the field?" You asked, tilting your head towards him and he hummed lightly, turning to face you.

"I used to." He answered, his voice soft.

You smiled, nodding. "Me too." You let out a sigh, before looking back at the screens, "But that darn Tequila took my place when he joined."

"Yeah?" Merlin asked, turning to face you.

"Yup." You replied, popping the 'p', "They're a pain in the butt."

For the next four hours, you and Merlin conversed with each other, even sharing lunch together while you watched Harry and Eggsy enter the apartment. And in that amount of time, you had grown to like the Scottish hacker quite a bit. He was nice, polite, kind, and intelligent. He was quite handsome too. Sharp jawline, dark piercing gaze... You found yourself becoming very fond of his company. He was extremely attractive. And, for whatever reason, made you feel safe like there was nothing to fear when you were around him. It frightened you slightly... How quickly you had fallen for the man before you.

~~~

It had been three months since you joined Kingsman temporarily and you were loving it. Working with Merlin was something entirely new and exhilarating. The two of you had begun working together fairly regularly, helping one another with missions, and even talking at length on occasion. Merlin was a smart man, and you found yourself getting to know him rather quickly. Well, minus his real day-to-day life outside of Kingsman. And he had grown quite fond of you as well, unknowingly to you. He told you stories of times when he went on missions, and you told him yours. You loved when he spoke, and you often found yourself smiling at everything he said. You loved the way his eyes lit up and the way his mouth curved upwards in amusement.  You found yourself falling more and more in love with him every day. 

Merlin thought you were incredibly intelligent, talented, and funny; And as the days went on, it grew harder and harder to hide his smile from you. He loved your cheeky grin and the way you laughed; it sounded like music to his ears. He loved your eyes, which were always bright and a bit mischievous. It was like you were a magnet, drawing him into your orbit, and he couldn't stop himself from being affected by you. It didn't help matters that you were absolutely gorgeous; not only your appearance but your personality and everything about you seemed to make his heart beat faster. 

"Merlin, sugar, you're staring." You spoke up, snapping him out of his thoughts, making him blink. He quickly turned back to the screens.

"Am I?"

"Yes." You laughed, sitting back in your seat. "I know. I look cute today. Very distracting." You teased, making Merlin chuckle lightly.

He wasn't affirming or denying. Instead, he continued typing. "Have you located the address yet?"

"Yep! Here we go…" You muttered, your fingers flying across the keyboard as you scanned through various documents and data to find the address you were looking for. By tapping 'enter' you sent the address to Eggsy. You then looked up, noticing how closely Merlin was watching you. He quickly averted his gaze, his cheeks tinting pink as he focused on the monitors in front of him. You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile as you looked down at your lap. You were hoping your mind wasn't playing tricks on you. And you hoped you weren't reading too much into the way he was looking at you. The look in his eyes, it was like admiration at most, but there was something else underneath. Something deeper. Something... Hidden.

Merlin sat frozen in his seat, forcing himself to stare at the screens before him, and forcing himself to remain focused on the task at hand. It was hard though, especially because his focus would drift to you every once in and while, watching you from the corner of his eye. He watched as you fiddled with your hands in your lap, chewing on your bottom lip, seemingly lost in thought. And Merlin found butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the sight, causing him to avert his gaze. He cleared his throat softly, trying to suppress his thoughts. This isn't the time to think about this right now, Merlin. Focus! 

"Merlin?" Your voice pulled him out of his trance as he glanced towards you. "Where?" You repeated, and Merlin looked away from you, biting down on his lip.

"Um, yeah. Right here." He stated, pointing to the screen. "Here," He pointed to a large white building surrounded by an impressive array of guards. "You have to find a way in, Eggsy. There are guards at each entrance." Merlin spoke through the mic.

You pursed your lips as you looked at him, "Uh, Merlin, uh... He’s already in." You spoke and Merlin froze before you spoke again, "He doesn’t know which way to go, you have that information." You told him and Merlin nodded his head, before swiftly getting back into business.

He swallowed before speaking, "Alright, take a right down this hall." He spoke through the mic before turning to you. "Fireball... Uh, I was wondering-"

"Which way now?" Eggsy spoke through the speakers, interrupting Merlin. "Any guards I should know about inside?"

Merlin turned back to the microphone, "Take the next left and up the stairs, no guards on the second floor." He said before turning back to you, as you looked up at him curiously. "I was wondering if you'd like to-"

"Merlin! Where to now?" Eggsy asked as he ran up the stairs, gun in hand.

Growing frustrated, Merlin turned back to the mic, "Third floor, keep going, guards are stationed at the office door." He spoke impatiently before turning back to you, "I was wondering-"

"Merlin!" 

Merlin swirled in his seat, pressing his hand down on the mic, "Yes, Eggsy?" He asked, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Hurry up and ask her out already, mate." Eggsy taunted as Merlin's eyes widened slightly and he froze. You looked at Merlin with those same wide eyes, confused and more so surprised as Eggsy continued to talk, "Ask her out and focus on the mission." You could tell Merlin was embarrassed by Eggsy's words, as he shifted in his chair, avoiding your eyes; his cheeks and tips of his ears tinted pink.

After a moment he sighed softly before turning back to you, "Right, sorry..." He mumbled quietly. You watched as he adjusted the knot of his tie from beneath his sweater, eyes glancing everywhere but at you. "Do you... Want to have dinner with me?" Merlin asked nervously.

"Like a date?" You asked, trying to sound calm and collected. But your heart was pounding and you knew the blush growing rapidly on your face gave it away. Merlin just nodded, looking away from your eyes.

"If you wanted." He answered simply, his voice soft as a gentle smile appeared on his features.

You let out an infectious laugh, "'Bout time you asked me." You teased, "I'd love too, Merlin." You breathed out.

"Finally!" Eggsy spoke from the speakers, gaining both yours and Merlin's attention, "Harry owes me thirty quid."

"You bet on us?" You asked and Eggsy laughed again, stepping over the bodies of the men who had been guarding the office door.

"Yeah, either Merlin was going to ask you out, or you were, once you were done waiting." He said, "Harry voted on you."

You hummed, shifting awkwardly in your seat as you glanced down, feeling embarrassed. Merlin just sighed, "Eggsy. Enter the office." He commanded softly.

"I'm just saying, I better be invited to the wedding." Eggsy continued to tease.

"Go into the office, agent," Merlin stated, his tone growing irritated. "Merlin out."

A few moments passed and you felt your heart flutter at the silence that fell between you and Merlin.

"So... Dinner?" You finally spoke, clearing your throat as you tried not to stare at Merlin.

"Dinner, yes, of course. I know this nice diner." He asked, and you finally turned to look at him. “If you’re interested?”

"I love diner food.” You gushed before you shifted in your seat, biting your lip briefly, “And, since we're going to go to dinner together, you might as well know my real name." You spoke, before scooting your chair closer to his. Leaning forward, you cupped the side of your mouth with a hand as you whispered your name into Merlin's ear.

Pulling away, Merlin smiled, a real genuine smile. "That's a beautiful name." He complimented, and your stomach fluttered.

"Thanks." You murmured shyly, both yours and Merlin’s hands finding each other’s.

"Y/- I mean... Fireball." Merlin uttered quietly, gazing deep into your eyes, and your breath hitched as he leaned forward, whispering in your ear, "Hamish Mycroft." He pulled back as you stared up at him. 

"Beautiful name." You hummed with a smile.

[frost-queen]

The finest teacher (Fem!Reader x Enola Holmes)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia , @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko , @bubblybrianna , @justanothercoco @idkwhatmyusernameis,  @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampthing07

Enola’s laugh was heart leaping. You cracked up a smile of your own, holding your cup of tea gently in your hands. – “I promise you I didn’t leave Sherlock dry.” – she chuckled out, looking briefly out of the window to any passing people. You chuckled nervously, bringing your cup to your lips. Enola had been telling you a fun story of her when they were little. Playing near the lake where Sherlock and Mycroft pushed her into the water for fun.

She splashed Sherlock wet as Mycroft had sought safety behind a tree. Enola quirked her brow up, noticing how quite you were. – “Was my story not of any interest?” – she asked of you. Setting your cup down, you shook your head. – “Oh no… it is not that. It was very interesting.” – you answered quickly. – “Alright then…” – Enola doubtfully said picking up her cup. Nearly taking a sip when she sat her cup back down. – “Say Y/n we should go swim together.” – she called out making you nearly choke on your drink.

Coughing loud and patting yourself on the chest. – “Did I say something wrong?” – Enola wanted to know. Once more you shook your head. Then hesitantly bopping your head to the side. Enola moved her hands under her chin, leaning in closer. – “What did I say wrong. Do you not want to go swimming with me?” – she questioned innocently. – “Do… do you not wish to do something fun with me… do you feel uncomfortable around me in a lake?” – she wanted to know.

“No…no!” – you called out waving your hands across. – “It is not that.” – making clear to her. – “It is just…” – you sighed deep, shoulders slouching forwards. – “I…I…” – turning your head away, you felt embarrassed. – “You should be the one feeling uncomfortable around me.” – you outed with pity. – “As if I ever could.” – Enola spoke reaching for your hand. She took it, moving it down the table in the middle. – “What is the matter Y/n.” – she asked rubbing circles on your hand with her finger. – “I…I…I’m afraid I can’t swim.” – you outed with shame.

You expected Enola to start laughing loud, but she didn’t. She kept staring at you with her big doe eyes, caught off guard. She pulled your hand closer to her, your stomach bumping against the edge of the table. – “Why didn’t you tell me?” – she called out. You gently moved your hand back for some breathing area between the table and you. – “Because… it is shameful.” – you responded, looking down. Enola reached out to tilt your chin up.

Wanting you to look at her. – “It is not.” – a warm smile spreading across her lips. – “I’d be happy to teach you.” – she spoke. Your eyes widened. – “You would?” – Enola nodding vigorously. Before you could respond she jumped up, pulling you up with her. – “You mean right now?” – you asked worried. Enola nodded, holding you firm by the hand. She pulled you out of the tea shop with her out onto the streets.

The two of you came to a stop at the cobble streets. A carriage arriving as Enola whistled loud between her teeth. You stared baffled at her how she called over the carriage. It rode her way, coming to a stop. Enola opening the door as you got pushed inside. Enola sure wasn’t going to let it slip. She came sitting beside you in the carriage. – “Don’t be scared Y/n. I’ll always be close and be very gentle.” – she reassured you, feeling how your palms were getting sweaty.

You swallowed nervously with a nod. The carriage rode off as the ride was bumpy from the cobble stones. The carriage came to a stop. Enola and you getting off. She took your hand once more, running up to the lake behind her estate. – “Wouldn’t your brothers notice…” - you asked cautiously. Enola shaking her head. – “We have the estate for our own.” – she winked your way, flushing your cheeks.

The water was shimmering from the sun’s reflection. Enola was the first one to undress till her undergarments. You could only stare with wide eyes at her. – “Do you plan to go swim with your cloths on Y/n?” – she laughed out, pointing at you. – “Undress Y/n!” – she insisted as you did. Enola peeking over her shoulder to you slowly stepping out of your dress. Her heart beating just a bit faster.

Enola stepped into the water, shivering a bit from the chill. She got in waist deep, offering you, her hands. – “Come in gently Y/n. I’ll hold your hands. No worries you can still stand here.” – she said out loud. You bit your lip nervously. With a few encouraging words from Enola, ventured you into the waters. Hands holding Enola’s as the water rose up till your waist. Your breathing was slightly panicky as Enola calmed you down.

Shushing you and brushing her fingers down your cheek. – “I’m going to let go of your hands, but I promise you, you won’t drown.” – she said already seeing the panic in your eyes. You slowly started trusting the water as Enola let go of you. – “Now watch me.” – she spoke moving her arms. Gesturing at you, you copied her. – “Good.” – she spoke. – “Now keep doing that.” – so you did as she moved closer to you.

You panicked a bit when her hand came sliding around your waist. – “It is alright Y/n, I’m not doing anything yet.” – she called out. You swallowed calming yourself. Heart thumping louder at Enola’s touch around you. Cheeks flushing with heat at how she held you. – “Now keep doing what I thought you. I’m going to gently lift you up and you’ll kick around with your feet.”

You nodded putting your trust in her. Enola picked you up as you started kicking your legs. The water reaching your mouth making you spew it back out. Enola held you higher as you kicked around for your life. – “Excellent Y/n. Keep going.” – she encouraged you. You kept doing it feeling her hands slowly release from you. Calling it out, you panicked splashing around. Feet setting back on the ground, grasping for air.

“You were letting me go!” – you called out, turning around to Enola. Enola wiped her face as you noticed how wet her hair was. Snorting loud, you laughed at her. In your panicky splashing, you accidently splashed Enola wet. Enola swept her hand in the water, splashing at you. You sputtered loud, shuddering with cold. – “How dare you?” – you called out as Enola laughed loud. You silenced her by splashing her in return. Enola did it back as a battle of splashing emerged. Looking away you pushed your hands into the water, splashing Enola.

Enola send big waves of water over you, making you sputter out water. She laughed loud, taking you by the waist. – “You still alive Y/n?” – she asked pulling you closer. Wiping your hand over your face, you nodded. – “I think so.” – catching Enola staring at you. Heart thumping loudly in your chest as Enola’s eyes fell upon your lips. Without thinking she pressed forwards, putting her lips on yours. It took you by surprise, pulling quickly back.

Blinking rapidly, you settled your mind. Taming the chaos. Enola smiled when you cupped her cheek, pressuring your lips on hers. Nearly falling back in the water with her if Enola wasn’t holding onto you.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[j-eryewrites]

A Study in Pink (Final)

Previous | Next

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Kidnapping, Guns, Murder and Crime, My cringy ass writing because I hadn’t written in a while (I Promise I’m going to edit it)

______________________________________________________________

When they arrived back at 221B, John and Sherlock were still out of breath. They had decided against taking a taxi back home and instead walked. They are immediately greeted byMrs. Hudson. Her hair was slightly out of place, and she appeared to be extremely stressed. Her eyes began to water. 

Mrs. Hudson, what’s wrong?” Asked John, as he quickly made his way over to her, giving her a hug to help calm her down. 

Mrs Hudson began patting John on the back as she struggled to find the words. “Sherlock, what have you done? They’re all upstairs. Say it’s a drug bust!” By the end, she was practically yelling at him. Immediately John and Sherlock dashed up the stairs. 

Exiting her flat, Y/N rushed towards her aunt. “Auntie M, what’s wrong?” Mrs. Hudson could only point up to 221 B. Deciding that her distressed Aunt was more important than whatever was going on upstairs, she guided Mrs. Hudson back into her apartment. Bringing her over to the sofa, she placed Mrs. Hudson down, wrapping a pink and green hand-knitted blanket around her shoulders. Y/N made her way over to the kitchen where she began heating a cup of tea for her aunt all while Mrs Hudson was nervously chatting about what Sherlock gets up to in his apartment. She cared for Sherlock as if he was her own son. The same went for John. “I tell him that he should stop with all those strange experiments!”

“I’m sure you do Auntie M,” reassured Y/N, handing Mrs. Hudson the steamy cup of herbal tea. Sitting down, Y/N intently listened to her occasionally nodding her head in agreement. Loud footsteps and occasional yelling, mostly done by Sherlock, could be heard from upstairs. It was hard for Y/N to determine what they were saying since the sound was muffled by the walls.  The ringing of the doorbell interrupted Mrs. Hudson’s worried rant and they both rose to answer the call. Y/N, not wanting to disturb her aunt’s calmed state, told her, “I’ll get the door”.  Making her way out of her aunt’s apartment and into the hall she paused trying to see if she could hear the conversation upstairs better. The doorbell rang again, and she turned to open the door. She was greeted by a familiar smiling face of an elder man. 

He slightly pulls down the front of his hat in greeting. “Have we met before Miss?” His smile grows wider. 

Y/N’s eyes widen in realization. Her grip on the door tightens as her jaw clenches. “No… we haven’t.” She shakenly says.

“Righ’ your the American from the airpor’ who turn’d down my offer.” Y/N gulps. “The cab Mr. 'olmes called is here.” He looked down towards his hands and Y/N’s eye followed till it landed on a gun pointed directly at her. “I suggest you get in the car, while we wait for the famous detective to come. It’s quite cold outside.” Y/N shuttered and took in a deep breath. 

Not once breaking eye contact, Y/N called out, “Auntie M, can you tell Sherlock the cab he called is here? I’m going out to make sure the cab doesn’t leave”. 

Mrs. Hudson came out of the apartment with the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders. “Of course, dear.” Y/N slightly closes the door, so her aunt doesn’t see the firearm as she makes her way up to Sherlock’s apartment. Once her aunt was out of sight, she grabbed her jacket from the coat rack and made her way out the door. The man latched onto the arm and pulled her in close so that the gun was pointed directly between her ribs. Y/N winced in pain. Once they reached the car, he opened the door and Y/N stepped inside. 

________________________________________________________________

“We’ve found Rachel, Sherlock.” States Greg as he straightens his overcoat. 

Sherlock turns towards the man, “Who is she?” 

“She’s Jennifer’s daughter. Well, dead daughter,” He replies, looking quite proud of himself. 

Sherlock frowned, causing his forehead to crease. “Why? Why her deceased daughter’s name?”

Just then, Anderson comes into the room holding the pink suitcase. “We found the case. Even better, we found it in the hands of our favourite psychopath.” Anderson turns to Sherlock, giving him a smug smirk. 

Sherlock glared back at Anderson. “I’m not a psychopath. I’m a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research, Anderson.” Turning back towards Lestrade he questioned, “How long has the daughter been dead?”

“Dead for 14 years, was stillborn.” Explained Lestrade.

John chimed in with an idea of his. “You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he made them take it. Well, maybe he ... I don’t know, talks to them? Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow?”

“That was ages ago, why…” As if a lightbulb went off in Sherlock’s head, “She was clever. Jennifer Wilson was trying to tell us something.” 

Before he could continue, Mrs. Hudson had entered the room explaining to Sherlock that his taxi was there, and that Y/N was waiting in the taxi for him. “I didn’t order a taxi, Mrs. Hudson. You can tell Y/N to let it leave.”

“But Sherlock,” pleaded Mrs. Hudson.

“Shut up, everybody, shut up! Don’t move, don't speak, don’t breathe. I’m trying to think.” Sherlock brought his hands to the sides of his face and began to rub his temples. “Anderson, turn the other way. You’re putting me off.” Anderson was about to snap back at him, but Lestrade shot him a glare. Like a puppy with its tail between its legs, he complied with Sherlock’s wishes. A few minutes passed by in silence. Then Sherlock began to smile. “Ah! Clever! She was cleverer than you lot and she’s dead. She planted her phone on him. Planted her phone on the killer.” He began pacing around the room, occasionally stopping in random places. “She knew she was going to die, so she left us a clue to her killer.” Everyone in the room shared a look of confusion, none of them having the courage to ask. Sherlock noticed this and continued. “Rachel!” Lestrade looked at John for some answers but found none. John was just as clueless as everyone else. “Rachel is not a name,” Sherlock explained. “John, there's an email address on the luggage label.”

 John goes over to the luggage and reads it aloud. “jennie . pink @ mephone . org . uk”. Sherlock nods, pulling out his computer and opening the Mephone website, and begins typing the email in. John comes up behind him as Sherlock is about to type in the password. “It’s Rachel, isn’t it?” inquires John. Sherlock nods.

Scoffing Anderson remarked, “So we can read her emails, impressive Sherlock.”

Not taking his eyes off of the screen, Sherlock retorted, “Anderson, don’t talk out loud. You’ll lower the I.Q of the whole street.” Then looking towards Lestrade as he began to explain, “We can track the GPS on her phone. She’s led us right to her killer.” Pressing some buttons he continued, trying to track the phone. 

“Sherlock, dear. Y/N…”

“Mrs. Hudson, isn’t time for you to take your hip soothers?”

When the computer finally loads the location of the phone Sherlock and John can’t help but be confused. “How can it be here?” mutters Sherlock. He stands out of the chair and begins pacing the room again. Discussion between John and Lestrade occurs, but Sherlock zones them out. “Who do we trust, even if we don’t know them?” muttered Sherlock. Glancing out the window, he saw a black cab. Who do we trust? Someone’s missing. Y/N...Where’s. Sherlock’s eyes widen and his breath hitches for only a moment. He turns around and dashes towards Mrs. Hudson. “Where is Y/N, Mrs. Hudson? Where’s your niece.” His voice grows quieter. “Please, it’s urgent.”

Mrs. Hudson repeated, “I’ve tried to tell you. She’s waiting in the taxi for you. The one you called.” Without another word, Sherlock heads towards the door. 

Sensing something wrong, John rushes after him. “Are you alright Sherlock?”. Sherlock stops and looks over his shoulder back at John. 

“Just popping outside for a moment.” Without another word, Sherlock was gone. The uneasiness in John’s stomach did not disappear. Reluctantly he returned to the apartment. 

The cab was freezing, despite the thermometer stating that it was 21.6 degrees Celsius. (70.88 degrees F) Y/N was facing straight ahead. Her face was filled with worry. She fiddled with her hands to distract her from the gun pointing at her.  Inside she was panicking. Her whole body is stiff as a board. Her knuckles turned white, as she clenched her hands into fists. Her mind had gone into defence mode. She noticed how the driver kept his stare on her from the corner of her eye. His face contorted into a spine-chilling smile. A stray tear escaped her eyes as they waited and waited for Sherlock to come downstairs. 

“If Mr ‘olmes doesn’t make an appearance. At least I have you. Fate has a funny way of fallin’ into place.” The man chuckled. “An’ ere I thought you were the one who got away.”

Eventually, the sound of a door could be heard. Followed by the sound of footsteps. Y/N prayed to God that it was Sherlock, but she knew having hope in these situations was never a good thing. To her luck, Sherlock opened the side door and entered the cab. Taking the seat behind Y/N. Sherlock acknowledged the driver and the cab took off. Turning his head to look at Y/N through the rearview mirror, Sherlock noticed she was extremely distressed. Multiple iridescent tears coated her now pale cheeks. Sherlock didn’t know why, but he felt guilty. He felt guilty for leaving her in the care of a serial killer. He felt guilty for pushing her away. Maybe if he had been a little more kind, she wouldn’t be in this mess with him. He felt even more guilty thinking of the possibility of what could have happened if he had waited even longer to reach the cab. 

Jeff, the cab driver, became more comfortable as his newfound power over the two in the cab increased. Sherlock noticed this. He also knew that he would get cocky. Discreetly he pulled out his phone and hit the record button, then placed it back in his pocket. Again, Sherlock was right. “No one ever thinks about the cabbies. You’re invisible. A proper advantage for a serial killer.” Jeff smugly explains. 

Sherlock urged Jeff on. “Is this a confession?”

Jeff took his eyes off the road. “Yeah. An’ I’ll tell you what: I didn’ kill those four people, Mr’ olmes. I spoke to them. One on one...an’ they killed themselves.”

“I want to understand. I want to know what you said to them,” demanded Sherlock.

Jeff chuckled, “Alrigh’ Mr’olmes. I’ll talk to yer…”

“And then you’ll kill me?” inquired Sherlock.

The car came to a red light and Jeff turned back to look directly at Sherlock. “No...you’re gonna kill yourself.” The stoplight turned green, and Jeff turned back to face the front. 

“What’ll happen to her? Are you going to have her kill herself as well?” Sherlock asked. Y/N’s eyes grew watery at the thought, and she took in a shaky breath. 

“No…after you’re dead. I’m gonna shoot her wit’ this gun. Righ’ here,” Jeff said as he brought the gun up to Y/N’s head. 

Y/N’s hand turned completely white from her grip. Sherlock looked in the rearview mirror making eye contact with Y/N.  If his blue eyes could convey a message, they would be saying “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you” Even if she was still angry with him earlier, the gesture was all she had. 

Feeling his power slowly disappear, Jeff blurted “I was warned about you.” 

Sherlock raised his eyebrow in intrigue. “Who warned you about me?”

Looking at Y/N, Jeff replied, “Just an old friend.”

Leaning closer to Jeff, Sherlock asked “Who?”

Jeff chuckled, feeling an air of power being restored to him. “You’ve got yourself a fan.” 

_______________________________________________________________

Looking out the window, John reports on what Sherlock is doing. “He just got in a cab. Now he’s driven off in the cab.” 

Having enough Donovan bellowed “He bloody left again! We’re wasting our time!”

An idea pops into John’s head as he reaches for the computer. Silently praying to God that he isn’t right. He presses the reload button on the GPS. Grumbling stirred the quiet atmosphere of the apartment and Lestrade let his tired officers go home. 

“Why’d Sherlock do that? Why’d he leave?” interrogated Lestrade. 

John shrugged his shoulders, “Don’t know, but I have an idea. Just hope to God that I’m wrong.”

Lestrade approaches him, a wave of concern washing over him. “What is this idea?”

“It involves tracking the phone.” 

The computer beeps signally that the site had reloaded. Upon further inspection, the GPS was on the move. John clenches the bridge of his nose. “God Sherlock. I swear you’ll be the death of me.”

Lestrade looks at John and then at the screen, then back at John. “What is it?”

John looks at Lestrade, frustration seeping from every pore. “He got into a cab with the killer.”

 ______________________________________________________________

Arriving at their destination, Jeff escorts the two out of the car, grabbing Y/N and jabbing the gun into her side. Sherlock follows Jeff, his eyes locked onto the gun in Y/N’s side. “Where are we?” He asks, trying to distract Jeff’s focus on the silent brunette. 

“You know exactly where we are Mr’olmes.”

“Roland-Kerr Further Education College.” States Sherlock. Jeff nods as he and Y/N enter the building. Sherlock follows close behind. The college was empty, just like any school during the breaks. It was cold. The air was dry from all the air conditioning. The architecture was quite old but it was modernized by all the technology found in the rooms. Eventually, they arrived at their destination which was some sort of study hall. Jeff dragged Y/N and sat her down, then took a seat beside her. Sherlock stayed by the door, observing the situation. Taking out two darkly tinted bottles, Jeff placed them on the table. One in front of him and one in front of the seat that Sherlock was supposed to sit in. Walking over to the table, Sherlock snatched up his bottle and took the seat opposite Jeff. His blue eyes locked onto the woman who kept glancing down towards the gun in Jeff’s hand and then back at Sherlock.

“What do you think? '' inquires Jeff as if he’d just invited a friend to his home. Sherlock shrugs his shoulders in response, his gaze not leaving Y/N. “Gonna give you some time to think this o’er while littl’ lady and I have a private chat.”

A cry leaves the woman’s mouth. Sherlock’s voice becomes firm, “She stays here.” Jeff sensing Sherlock’s challenge brings the gun to Y/N’s head. “I hate to mess up my plans, but she ca’ go first.” Reluctantly Sherlock backs down as the cab driver escorts Y/N out of the room. 

Y/N’s composure breaks the further away she gets from Sherlock. All she can think about is the gun jabbed against her back. Eventually, they enter a classroom. From her blurred view, Y/N sees that all the desks and chairs have been pushed up against the walls. There were many windows present in the room and under the windows were heaters. The man dragged Y/N across the room, shoving her to the ground. Y/N couldn’t help but yelp in pain as her wrists made contact with the hard floor.  Afterwards, the man grabbed her wrists and handcuffed them to the heater. Tears were now falling freely down her face and she began to cry. 

“Now now, littl’ miss. We can’t have that.” Then he pulls out a gag and covers her mouth, muting her cries. “Sit there and be a good littl’ girl.” Crouching down in front of her, the cab driver took a minute to wipe the hair and tears from her face with the gun. In response, Y/N shivered, and the man smiled. He stood up and with that left. Leaving Y/N alone in the dark with the hanging threat of death looming above her. 

It had been 5 minutes since the man had taken Y/N. There were times when her cries and whimpers could be heard and Sherlock so desperately wanted to rescue her. Though he knew if he did he would have to explain to Mrs. Hudson why her niece was shot in the head because of his impatience. Eventually, the man returned to the room; without Y/N. 

Sherlock stood up and demanded to know where Y/N was. The cab driver smiled.  He motioned to the pill bottles in front of them “It’s up to you, you and this pretty littl’ lady are who’s gonna die ‘ere.”

“No we’re not,” informed Sherlock.

“That’s what they all tell me, Mr’olmes.” 

“Bit risky, wasn’t it? Taking me and Y/N under the eye of probably a dozen policemen and women.”

“Nah. You call that risk?” Jeff motions to the bottles in front of them with the gun, “This is a risk.” Sherlock cocks his eyebrow at Jeff. “You’re gonna love this Mr. ‘olmes.”

“Love what?” Sherlock narrows his eyes at Jeff, “Oh, I see. You’re telling me that you’re a proper genius too. Right, Jeff?” Jeff only smiles in response gesturing his arms out wide, practically waving the gun in Sherlock’s face. “Two bottles. Explain.”

“There’s a good bottle and a bad bottle. You take the pill from the good bottle, you live; take the pill from the bad bottle, you die” explained Jeff.

“But both bottles are the exact same.”

“In every way. It’s a game you see.”

“A game?”

“Of course, you’re the one who chooses. Whatever bottle you choose, I take the pill from the other bottle. Then we take the medicine together. As I said, it’s your choice.”

“How’s Y/N come into this? Why'd you drag her along?”

Jeff leans closer toward Sherlock, “Pretty littl’ lady saw my face. When I saw her with the good old Mr. ’olmes, I couldn’t just let her get away, now could I?”

“You said that I’d kill myself,” states Sherlock.

“Well, it’s all part of the game. You see, in one of the bottles, there’s a good pill and a bad pill. You take the pill from the good bottle you live; take the pill from the bad bottl,and  you die. Your choice, Mr ‘olmes.” Sitting comfortably back in his chair, Jeff smiled. “Take your time. I want your best game. Don’t worry, you can’t see through the bottle.” 

Glaring Sherlock hissed, “It’s not a game. It’s chance.”

“I’ve played 4 times Mr. ‘olmes. If it was chance, I’d be dead. No, it’s a game of chess.” Jeff licks his top lip as he observes Sherlock. 

“Are you ready Mr ‘olmes? Ready to play?” cackles Jeff. 

“Still just chance. Those 4 previous times, just luck.” Remarks Sherlock. 

“I know ‘ow people think, Mr ‘olmes. I know ‘ow people think, I think. I can see it all. Everyone is so stupid, even you.” Sherlock crinkles his nose. “I think it’s time to play, Mr. ‘olmes.” smiles Jeff motioning towards the bottles. 

Placing his elbows on the table, Sherlock enters his signature thinking pose. “I am playing, and now it’s my turn. There’s shaving foam behind your left ear. Nobody’s pointed it out to you. Obviously, you live on your own; there’s no one to tell you. There's a photograph of children. The children’s mother has been cut out of the picture. If she’d died, she’d still be there. Estranged father. She took the kids, but you still love them, and it still hurts. “Jeff winces and his grip on the gun tightens. “Three years ago – is that when they told you? Told you that you’re dying?” Jeff chuckles in response. “You didn’t kill those people out of bitterness. This is about love. Your children.” 

“You’re good, Mr ‘olmes. My kids won’t get much when I die, but I have a sponsor.”

“Sponsor?”

“For every life I take, money goes to my kids.”

“Who’d sponsor a serial killer” interrogates Sherlock.

Jeff leaning forward whispers to Sherlock, “Who’d be a fan of Sherlock ‘olmes?” 

“Who?”

Who’d be a fan of Sherlock ‘olmes?.” Jeff nods towards the bottles. “Choose.” Sherlock’s gaze looks between the bottles. 

Standing up out of his seat, Sherlock remarks, “What if I don’t choose either? I could just take Y/N and leave. Walk out of here.” 

Sighing, Jeff brings the gun to face Sherlock. Jeff smiles, “You can walk out, but I get to shoot you and littl’ miss in the head.” He makes an explosion sound. “Or you can take your 50-50 chance.” Sherlock’s jaw tightens as he sits back down. “Play the game.” Sherlock swipes up the bottle in front of him. 

“Oh, interesting.” chuckles the man, motioning for Sherlock to take the pill “Go ahead, Mr ‘olmes. You know, you’re not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There are othersoutt there just like you, except you’re just a man…and they’re so much more than that.” Sherlock’s nose twitches in distaste for the cab driver. 

Sherlock looks at the bottle and picks it up. “What d’you mean, more than a man?” 

The cab driver chuckles, “I bet you get bored, don’t you? I know you do. A manlikese you. What’s the point of being clever if you can’t prove it? Take the pill, Mr. ‘olmes.” Sherlock lowers the pill down eyeing the man. “You’d do anything…anything at all…to stop being bored.” Then Sherlock glances at the pill bringing it closer to his mouth, Jeff, the cab driver follows. 

 A gun fires. A body falls to the floor.  Sherlock looks in the direction of the shot. Finding John holding a gun. John dropped the gun and ran out of the room. Coughing from beneath Sherlock erupts.  A pool of crimson-red blood flows out of Jeff. Something in Sherlock snaps and he grabs the collar of Jeff’s shirt. “I was right. Wasn’t I?” Jeff doesn’t respond. “Who was it? Who’s the sponsor? Who’s my fan?!” he demands. Jeff just chuckles, coughing up blood. “Give me a name.” Jeff just shakes his head. Sherlock responds by squeezing the injured shoulder and Jeff gasps. 

Sherlock’s eyes grow dark with fury. “The NAME!” bellows Sherlock. 

Giving in to the immense pain in his shoulder, Jeff gasps “Moriarty.” It’s barely loud enough for Sherlock to hear, but he’s satisfied and drops the dying to the floor. Blood stains his right hand. 

________________________________________________________________

At some point in time, a few officers entered the room, Greg comes forward asking Sherlock where Y/N is. They eventually find her tied up and gagged a few rooms down, Her face stained with tears and her wrists red from her struggle.  Sherlock just stands in the doorway as they free her. One of the officers wrapped an orange blanket around Y/N’s shoulders and took her outside, taking her away from the high-functioning sociopath. Placing her inside an ambulance for her to be checked out. Sherlock approaches the ambulance. Sitting only a few feet away from Y/N in the back of the ambulance. An EMT places a blanket on him and He keeps taking off the orange blanket and an EMT keeps replacing it. 

“I’m not in shock!” Exasperated Sherlock. By now the news reporters had shown up. They always seemed attracted to crime like mosquitoes to blood. Their flashing lights caused Y/N to wince. Rising from his seat Sherlock moved to sit next to Y/N. “I’m sorry,” was all he could muster. To say Sherlock was ashamed wasn’t enough. Y/N could only nod in response. “Are you alright?” 

“No, I was kidnapped, held at gunpoint and had my life threatened,” explains Y/N. A pregnant silence fills the air. “I thought that he’d…I thought that he shot you.” It was Sherlock’s turn to be silent.  Then she shivered. Noticing this Sherlock took off the orange blanket from his shoulders and places it around her. Y/N looked into Sherlock’s eyes giving him a soft smile.  Then she brushed her hair away from her face and wiped the salty, dry tears off her cheeks. 

A cough interrupted the two of them. It was Lestrade. “We’ll bring you two in tomorrow. You can go when you’ve recovered.” They nod. They sit there for a while longer. Sherlock glances over at the woman noticing her eyes getting heavy. 

“Would you like to return home?” asks Sherlock. She nods and then reluctantly Y/N removes the blankets from her figure and the two exit the ambulance. 

John was waiting for them on the other side of the police tape, away from all the reporters. “Donovan’s just been explaining everything, dreadful. Are you alright Y/N?” asked John in concern. 

“I’m not dead.” She replies quietly.

Sherlock looks at John for a moment, then quietly replies, “Good shot.” John slightly blushes from embarrassment, failing to look innocent. 

“Are you alright?” asks Sherlock. 

John slightly nods, placing his hands into his pockets, “Yes, of course. I should be asking you two that.” 

“Well, you just killed a man,” comments Sherlock. 

“Well, yes, I…” Knowing that his friends have seen through his horrible attempt at a lie he sighed, 

“That’s true, isn’t it? But he wasn’t a nice man.” 

“No. No, he wasn’t really,” reassures Sherlock. Turning towards Y/N he placed his hands on her shoulders. Causing Y/N to slightly jump. “Let’s get you back to 221b Baker Street.”

“No cabs,” mutter Y/N.

“No cabs” repeats Sherlock offering her a sympathetic smile. 

John couldn’t help but smile. His eyes crinkled at the corners. The three of them make their way back to Baker Street, and a comfortable silence fell across the trio. They were oblivious to the fact that someone was watching them from a black car down the street. The windows of the car were tinted so darkly, no one could see inside.

“They could be the making of my brother. We’d better upgrade their surveillance status. Grade Three Active.” Ordered Mycroft. 

His assistant looked up from her phone. “Sorry, Mr. Holmes. Whose status?” 

Mycroft’s eyes squint at the three figures as they grow smaller and smaller, eventually turning on a street, and disappearing from view. “Sherlock Holmes, Doctor John Watson, and Miss Y/N L/N.”

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That’s the end of the first episode! Next week will be a new story that I’ve adapted to fit the BBC TV series. I hope you enjoy it. Please comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list. 

Tag list: @starlightaurorab @biggerthancalli13 @themartiansdaughter 

Previous | Next

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[chihoshisai]

A Lonely Flower Amidst a Garden

Chapter 2

Pairing : Mycroft x Reader / Word count : 1395 / Genre : Fluff and lighthearted

A/N : I recommend listening to "everyday is a gift" by Yuki Kajiura (it's quite short so put it on repeat!) / you can find Chapter 1 here / the amount of time I spent looking up pastries let alone furniture name is embarassing oops / i'm turning this into a full fic so there will be more parts :)

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You remained as a simple yet pleasant memory in Mycroft’s mind as the young lady he met on a rainy day - Mary Poppins - surprising himself by watching the movie that same night. From time to time he found his mind wandering back to this day, replaying the conversations over and over. However, time can be evil. It didn’t take long for him to fall back into his work routine whilst dealing with the stunts his brother Sherlock pulled here and there. 

That day, Mycroft sat in his office, taking a look at a flyer advertising a limited edition of multiple exclusive bavarois’. Under normal circumstances, he would have tasked Anthea to fetch it for him, not being fond of frequenting such places. Though, as it was a high end tea room, he convinced himself that it wouldn’t be too bad. He would simply have a tranquil afternoon tea after work and leave. On his way, the already ashen sky of London started to darken even more. It seemed as though rain was on its way. 

As expected, the line was quite lengthy. Mycroft didn’t need to concern himself with the way of the common people - waiting in line -  as he exited his car, making his way towards the entrance. At this moment, you came running, a look of desperation on your face, being late to an event you had been looking forward to for so long, dreading the long line that was ahead. 

“Why did matters at home had to take so long?!” You complained without noticing the man that was currently stepping out of his car. You abruptly stopped in your tracks, almost bumping into him. 

“I’m so sorry.” You glanced at the tall figure standing who, also taken aback, shot an annoyed look in your direction before his expression changed to that of surprise. At this moment, the feelings Mycroft felt on that rainy day came back to him. Curiosity. There you were, standing right in front of him, looking just as startled. 

“Well, hello again. Fancy meeting you here.” Mycroft couldn't help but give you a warm smile. Suddenly getting to know each other didn’t seem entirely impossible. 

“Ah… yes.” You hadn’t forgotten him, but didn’t feel thrilled to see him again. After all, it was naught but a chance encounter. Given the circumstances in which you met, you would have done the same for anyone. You turned your head away, fiddling with your fingers, looking at the fancy tea room exterior, remembering what you were here for. “Are you also here for the limited edition bavarois?” You inquired, slowly pointing towards the property. 

Seeing as you were not returning the same energy as him, Mycroft suddenly felt himself becoming a little disheartened. Well it had been 2 months since your last encounter so it was to be expected.  

“Indeed I am. If you’d like, you could enter with my company so as to avoid this tremendous line. It just so happens that I have a special VIP access to the event. Unless of course, you would like to wait in line?” He made his way to the door, opening it while giving you a look so as to know your answer. You did not waste a second and followed him inside to the many grunts and protestations of the people who had to wait. 

A chandelier was hanging from the ceiling while the place looked extravagant in velvet colors. You learned his name as he presented himself and his reservation to the reception, not thinking much of it. VIP rooms were upstairs, as you followed Mycroft. “Looks like we both have something in common.” You said from behind him as a matter of fact. Mycroft smiled to himself before turning his head in your direction. “It appears so.” You both entered a square shaped room that had two chesterfield sofas with a freshly polished knee high wooden table and various yellow lights arborhing the walls.  

You both sat down as the menu was brought to you. “Order anything you like. It’s on me, as thanks for last time.” He gave you a polite smile. You curled your lips into something that resembled one while uttering a thank you. 

You looked at the menu seriously, pretending to decide between the 5 bavarois flavors offered. You already knew which one you wanted ; the problem was that you could feel Mycroft’s stare at you. Used to such behavior from people, you decided to ignore it. To Mycroft, in this lavish room something stood out to him. You didn’t seem out of place. In fact you seemed to fit right in, as he took a closer look at the pale red knee-length dress you were wearing, the ankle socks and Mary Jones shoes, he realised that everything was expensive. You didn’t seem bothered by the extravagant look of the room either. You weren’t part of the popular mass and that intrigued him more. Which part of high society did you belong to? He was itching to know. 

“Have you decided?” You raised your eyes from the menu, wanting to put a stop to the scrutinizing. 

“Indeed I have, it will be chocolate for me. You?” Mycroft closed the menu, having already decided from the start too. “Strawberry for me.” As usual, your manner of speaking was flat. Both of you ordered, and your dessert came almost as soon as the waiters left with your orders. 

“How is your arm? Healed by now I suppose?” It was the only thing you could possibly think of. You were almost inhaling your bavarois as you spoke - almost as if you were eager to finish it - giving furtive looks to Mycroft from time to time.  

“Very well thank you.” He paused, evidently taking notice of your eating behavior, and feeling more and more curious as to why you were in such a hurry. “Will you tell me your name this time?” 

“Oh yeah, it’s… Strawberry Shortcake.” You took another bite of your strawberry flavored bavarois intently keeping eye contact whilst silent fell for a moment. Mycroft couldn’t help but scoff at this. Seeing as you were trying so hard to keep your identity a secret made him eager to know it all the more. You on the other hand were quite confused by his reaction. You didn’t think of yourself as funny, but trying to make sense of people’s reactions was no concern of yours anymore. 

Rain started splattering the windows of the yellow lit room. You longingly looked at it, realising you didn’t bring an umbrella in your rush to get here. “I should get going.” You stood up, having finished what you came to try and feeling satisfied with it. Food truly tastes better when it’s free and even better when it’s shared in company. 

“So soon? We’ve only just got here.” Mycroft seemed a little distraught by your sudden departure. 

“Yes, I must go. Thank you for today. It’s been a pleasure.” You made your way to the door and clutched its handle. “We’ve met two times by chance now and third time’s the charm they say.” You turned your head to look back at him. “If this is fate and not a coincidence, I shall tell you my name on our third encounter.” You opened the door and left without even hearing his reply. 

Mycroft sat there. Speechless and caught off guard. You were so mysterious, unwilling to open up - albeit the fact that you were still strangers - yet there seemed to be more about you than meets the eye. At this moment, Mycroft wanted to return to his office and search everything there was about you but settled himself. A third encounter. A third encounter was all he needed and sure enough, it didn’t take long for it to happen. 

2 weeks later, one of the most prominent families in the country was holding a party. Mycroft being ‘a part of’ the government was forced to attend much to his apprehension. As he entered the mansion, you were there, standing next to the other members of that family, greeting guests as they entered with your usual flat tone and blank expression. In due time Mycroft stood before you. Your vacant face became one of astonishment, as he greeted you with his usual smile. You failed to reply for you did not believe in fate. 

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

Burst of Color

Based on this request: Oh! Could we get a Mycroft Soulmate AU (fem!reader) but like Enemies-to-Lovers style? Soulmate Trope of first touch, world burst into color kind of thing?

Here you are! I apologize for the wait! *Familiar characters are NEVER mine!*

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Enemies-to-Lovers, Trapped Together, Angsty, slight fluff?

Pairings/Characters: Mycroft Holmes x fem!reader, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson.

Mycroft Holmes was cynical about quite a bit in life, but none so much as the idea of soulmates. The fact that one solitary touch could bind you to someone forever was utterly ridiculous. The idea of being so…enamored with someone simply because fate decided to put two people together was merely another waste of time by Mycroft's thinking. And what if that one person happens to be someone you cannot stand? Such as Mycroft and you.

          It wasn't that Mycroft hated you, exactly. He wouldn't waste time on such a thing. But the two of you often got on like oil and water. Two clashing personalities. You were merely another goldfish in a large school of them and Mycroft knew for a fact that you found him quite a "pompous arse". Those had been your exact words to him. If debating with you didn't thrill him so much, Mycroft would never interact with you at all. At least that's what he told himself until the day Sherlock requested his help with a case. And yours.

          "Why did I agree to this again?" you asked when Sherlock escorted both you and Mycroft to the crime scene. Or what he told you was a crime scene. "You agreed due to your insatiable curiosity, Y/N," Sherlock replied to your grumbled question. You rolled your eyes as Mycroft let you enter the room after Sherlock. "And because you didn't tell me your brother would be here," you muttered to Sherlock when you caught up to him. Sherlock didn't reply, instead choosing to head into another small room.

          Just outside the door, Sherlock stopped and gestured for you and Mycroft to enter first. "Sherlock, what is this?" Mycroft asked, testily. The older Holmes' answer came in the form of the door closing and locking behind you. You raced forward and tried the door. "Sherlock? Open the door!" you growled out. "I don't believe I will," came Sherlock's annoyingly smooth voice from the other side. You turned and gestured to Mycroft as if to say, "Will you do something about this?"

          "I'm afraid there is no reasoning with Sherlock once he's set his mind to something." You groaned a bit and mumbled something under your breath. Mycroft took notice of your body language. Contrary to how you were speaking, you weren't angry. Mycroft could tell. In fact, you seemed almost…nervous.

          "Any idea as to why your brother locked us in here?" you asked after a moment. Mycroft paused to think, only for another voice to float through the door. "We're tired of the two of you whingeing about one another! So you'll be locked until you can speak to each other without fighting or complaining."

          "Quite a brilliant idea from Watson, truly," Sherlock added to Watson's order. You took a deep breath and looked ready to ram the door down if necessary. "No need to be dramatic, Y/N," Mycroft said smoothly as he adjusted this tie.  You glared at him but opted to stay quiet this time. Instead, you took to pacing the room as your mind tried to work out a way to escape your current prison with the elder Holmes brother. Mycroft watched your grey form walk back and forth across the floor, your brows furrowed in concentration. It was actually quite adorable.

          "Do believe your incessant pacing will free us?" he asked, earning another glare from you. You stopped in front of him with your hands on your hips. "I don't see you doing anything to help," you retorted. Mycroft merely scoffed. "Sherlock and Doctor Watson will eventually grow tired of their game and will open the door. All we need to do is bide our time."

          For some reason, Mycroft's words seemed to anger you further. "Can you stop being so damn calm and calculated for once?! Show a little emotion, Mycroft. Your own brother is playing games with you. You can't tell me that doesn't annoy you at least a little." Mycroft let out a little laugh.

          "My dear, I am always annoyed with Sherlock in one way or another. You simply grow used to his antics and learn that it is best to let some things lie." You shook your head and turned to begin pacing yet again. "I just don't understand you Holmes men. I mean, really how-" Your sentence was cut short by you tripping over your own two feet. As if on instinct, Mycroft's arm shot out so he could grab you before your face could hit the floor. The moment his hand made contact, however, he nearly let you fall anyway.

          Where the world had been varying shades of grey before, it was now filled with colors so brilliant and vibrant, Mycroft almost needed to close his eyes against them. After a split second, he glanced down at you to find your eyes screwed shut like you were still anticipating your body landing on the floor.

          "Open your eyes," Mycroft ordered softly. You did and gasped when, Mycroft assumed, you saw your world was now in color too. Mycroft helped you to you to stand up straight. You let your eyes wander the room for a moment before they landed on Mycroft yet again. The two of you stared at one another for what felt like hours, just taking everything in.

          "This is…quite unexpected," Mycroft finally managed to say. You laughed softly. "That's a understatement. Of all the people, I never would have guessed you would be my soulmate. After all, I'm simply a goldfish, right?" Mycroft sighed, wishing he had cigarette right then and there.  "My dear Y/N…" You shook your head and stepped further away from him. "No. You hate me. I hate you. That dynamic works for us. It always has. This-This," you cut off with a sigh as tears formed in your eyes. "It's wrong," you managed to say after a moment.

          "And yet, it seems, it is true. You and I are soulmates," Mycroft finished your thought. You rolled your eyes. "You don't do attachment or sentiment, Mycroft. I crave it." You moved to try the door again. You needed to get out of there before you really did begin crying in front of Mycroft.

          "Y/N, have you ever taken a moment to consider that, perhaps, I have hidden the depths of my own emotions to shield myself from those around me that may hurt me? Contrary to your beliefs, I do in fact feel very deeply and while we do not often get along, I do not hate you. Knowing what I now do, I imagine it might well be impossible for me to do so."

          "But could you love me? Even platonically? I mean, really love me despite all my flaws?" you questioned intently. When Mycroft didn't answer, you nodded to yourself before approaching the door again. "Think about it, Mycroft. Take time and really think about what your heart is capable of when it comes to me. I'll do the same then we'll speak again."

          Mycroft watched as you knocked on the door again. "Sherlock. Please," you pleaded just loudly enough for the younger Holmes to hear. "I can." You froze at Mycroft's soft words, "I can love you. I am not an easy man to get along with, let alone to love, but you make me feel things I did not think possible. I fooled myself into believing that I didn’t want or need a soulmate. But I confess my life would be rather dull and lifeless without you in it."          

For a moment, you stayed silent. Then, a ghost of a smile appeared on your lips. "Thank you, Mycroft. I-I suppose there are worse people I could have as my soulmate. Sherlock comes to mind." Mycroft tried not to smile. Really he did, but he couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped his lips.

(a/n: I hope you like it! I'm a sucker for a Soulmate AU with as many tropes shoved in that makes sense as possible.)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @supernatural4life2022

Fandom Tags are OPEN!

Mycroft Holmes Tags: @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek

[temporaryrose200]

Hello I just read one of your stories and I absolutely love your writing style. Is it ok if I request a short story of William James Moriarty x reader who is the youngest sister of Sherlock Holmes?

✩You’re something✩

✟pairing: William James Moriarty x Fem Reader

✟genre: Fluff?

✟warning:Not proof read

✟One-Short

✟fandom: Moriarty The Patriot

✟summary: Being a Holmes was tough, there was so much to live up to. But a special somebody helps you through it. Reminding you that you were someone.

✟a/n: None

Being the young sibling of the Holmes brothers wasn’t easily. Constantly being in their shadows, remembering every time when you would introduce yourself people would constantly asking if your brothers were Sherlock and Mycroft. It’s was annoying being the forgotten Holmes child. But there was one person who made you feel like the most special woman in the world. William James Moriarty. A charming man who knew exactly how to treat a woman.

The day you met was when you were going to met up with your brother Sherlock. Two of you arranged to met up with one another at a cafe and when you got there, you were met with a charming young man. Greeting your brother, you pulled up a nearby chair and sat yourself down on it. “Liam” Sherlock started, turning to his friend, a genuine smile forming on your brother face. “This my younger sister Y/N” he introduced, signalling towards your awkward and nervous form from have the spot light be put on you.

‘Liam’ gazed up at you, crimson eyes focusing intensely on you. Getting yourself ready from him to say something like: “ I didn’t know the Holmes brothers ha and sister” or something along those lines. But what you got instead was something you would never expect. The blonde haired man grinned fondly at you, strangely making all your worries melt away. “You wrote ‘Twist Of The Heart’ right.” Shock ran through your body at the mention of you old book, something you had wrote about 4 years ago. No publishing company wanted to take you because you were a woman, except one. Sadly the book was a failure and the future books you had in store were thrown away. But now hearing someone mention you not just as Sherlock’s sister but as your own person was a breath of fresh air. “It was an incredible piece of literature about unrequited love. Shame that you stopped writing.” It was odd heading someone talk so highly about you. But here you are be praised.

Fidgeting around with your hands, trying thinking of an appropriate response. But your brain was blank, and you were at a loss for words. You'd never been in this sort of situation before. "A-Ahh..." you stuttered out, feeling you throat tighten. “Thank you Mr Liam”

A chuckle rumbled from the man's chest as he shook his head. “My name is actually William James Moriarty”, he said to me with a smile.

Hearing the familiar name made your heart jump in your chest and you had to take a deep breath before you could speak again. "Moriarty?" You asked him, unable to keep the surprise out of your voice. “You mean!” The man nodded. You were so shocked that it took you several seconds to react but when you did, your face flush in embarrassment. How could you not recognise him! But most importantly, he read your book! “I’m so sorry!”

And that’s how a new friendship was formed. William and you continued to met up at nearby cafes or his house.Two of you had a lot in common and he so easily to talk to. Sherlock was starting to become jealous at how much William and you were hanging out. Your brother would say that you were stealing his friend, which you found quite adorable but don’t tell Sherlock that.

William helped you with gaining your confidence back and even with creating a new book. The story was a second part from your first book. This time the girl finds love with someone she never thought she’d fall for. Ironically though you fell hard for the noble man. It felt as if fate had brought him into your life. He was the perfect man, sweet, caring and oh so handsome. He made you feel so much emotions. You were head over heels in love, but did he love you? You were a nobody compared to your brothers. Just some washed up wannabe author. William was a nobleman, he would never fall for you. Right…?

[strangesthirdeye]

Listen Before I Go (SH x Fem! Reader)

Summary: A quick call won't hurt, right?

Warning: It's Sherlock everyone like him..heavy angst? Attempt Suicide, mental breakdown, mental health, You are loved by people, don't do that. You need a hug, pleading, high ceiling, hanging rope, almost suffocating. The Empty Hearse episode.

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

One more loop and the knots are strong enough to support your weight. You sighed heavily. The creaking sound of the chair under your feet is heard when you make some motions on it. You look around your living room. Everything is scattered and unmanaged. Papers and books on the floor not to mentioned chairs are scattered around the living room, just like your wooden table.

you exhaled a heavy breath and looked up to see the noose hanging from the ceiling of your house. Well, here it is. After running around in your own mind and going through all the painful and stressful things in the real world, you are finally lost. Those things successfully kick your ass. Not to mention what happened to Sherlock two years ago. He committed suicide and claimed he was a liar, but that was not true. Why did he do that makes it a question mark for you, John, Mrs Hudson, Greg, Molly and Lestrade. Mycroft? hmm, he's just quiet. There was no news from him after that.

As if he has disappeared from existence.

Every dark plagued plays in your mind. All those rude people who curse Sherlock and proudly claim that Sherlock is a fraud. Not to mention those people have started bothering Sherlock's friends including you as his girlfriend. Those people don't know the meaning of grief.

You then look down. This is high enough. As long as your feet do not touch the floor is enough. Suffocate is not the first thing in your mind but because you don't want to commit suicide dirty with blood, you immediately decide to hang yourself. At least your life is taken slowly and in that time you can see all the happy memories at the end of your time.

You stand on your tiptoes and stick your head into the noose. The noose gently ends around your neck. Your hands started to tighten the noose around your neck so that it would be tight and not come loose when you hung it later. You sighed for the second time.

You are not afraid but nervous. Well, at least you know what your destiny is. You then close your eyes and your legs are ready to push the chair. All of the sudden, your phone rang in your pants pocket. You were shocked and almost pushed the chair under you but luckily the chair didn't slip.

You fish out your pocket and take your phone out of your pocket. You gulped your saliva slowly when you saw the contact on your phone.

John.

You immediately slide accept and open the speaker.

"Y/n"

"Hey, John"

"Where are you now? I need to tell you something.. Might be a surprise from me to you... I guess" John chuckled a little. Following with his hype tone means that John is in a good mood. Good. You're going to ruin his mood if you tell him what you're up to.

"what is it that you want to tell me? Is it Mary tho?" You pretend to hype your voice just to hide your crack tone.

"Well, I prefer to tell you at a cafe around your house only if you're not busy" John reasoned.

"well, i can't go out now.. can you just tell me on the phone instead? i kind of not really having a mood to go out anymore" You bit your lip slightly.

John was silent for a moment. You can imagine his confused face in your mind. Classic John. Gonna miss him.

"Are you alright?" John asked.

"mhmm.. I'm always alright" You replied.

"really? cuz' that's not how your 'alright' voice sounds like" John said suspiciously. "is it about Sherlock again?" John added.

Dammit. Why does he have to be the one who is always right? You are silent.

"It's been two years, Y/n. You have to let go that 'feeling'. It's not good for you" John said as if a father was advising his children to be useful human beings.

"you don't understand, aren't you? It's not easy. You have Mary.. while I don't have no one. No one to help me. Not even Mycroft. And I don't want to bring Mrs Hudson into this. She's already got a lot of plates in her hands." you paused you stand on your tiptoes.

"well, at least you don't have to deal with me anymore. I know what I'm doing now is a very useful thing. You don't have to worry about me." you added, the voice started to crack.

"What are you doing right now, Y/n. Don't you dare say that to me. I know exactly what you are trying to do. I'm coming" John's voice seemed to rush.

"tell me, John" you spoke up.

"what" John snapped trying to stop himself from yelling at you not to say negative things again.

"tell me what you want to say to me. That you expect me to be surprised" You closed your eyes. Tears streamed down your cheeks.

John let out a heavy breath. "I- oh god! this is not the situation I expected to tell you what it is. Taxi!" John yelled. John's voice then became muffled for a few moments before it became clear again. John then hurriedly told the cab driver your home address. Although the location is quite far from your house, John doesn't care about the fare. As long as he can save his other friend this time.

"just hold on. Don't end the call" John informed you firmly. John then sighed anxiously. "I-I plan to propose Mary tonight"

You smiled sadly. "is it going to be fancy? big?" you questioned him.

"fancy but simple.. oh gosh, why can't you just.. not doing all these things? You have many other things out there to go through! why now do you want to end it?" John is furiously rich.

"I think this is the end of my story. I've got nothing out there to go through. You have Mary. She's the one, John. Marry her. Make her half of your life. Have a family." You said lowly. your toes little by little push the chair under you.

"don't you dare say that. Think about it again. Sherlock doesn't want all this. He doesn't like any decision to end your life. He despises it. He wants you to move on and live a normal life. Normal life! Don't you want that? Find someone who can be with you for the rest of your life. Please.. I don't want to lose my best friend again" John begged.

Your line is quiet. Only the sound of the cab that John was riding in was heard. You look down. The hanging rope around the neck feels tight.

You know he's right but why don't you move away from the noose that is now resting on your neck? Sherlock doesn't like this. He despises it like John said earlier. Why then don't you open the rope and get off the chair? It's not going to work you know. Kill yourself. It's not.

Every thousand possibilities play in your mind as you hold the phone tightly in your hand. You bit your lips hard.

"I can't hold it anymore. The feeling of pain, grief and lost. It's not easy like what you say. It's just- Move on? no.. it's not working." you sobbed.

"No.." John paused. Probably is choosing and arranging the next sentence. "No, it's not easy. But, Sherlock wouldn't want that, right? So whatever you're doing now just drop it. Please. For the sake of Sherlock Holmes" John added in a tone of hope.

You paused and closed your eyes. Thumbs up on the screen. "I'm sorry, John" and you ended the call.

'just get on with it' whispered the demon in your ear. You choked on your own tears in your throat. You tossed your phone aside and stared for a moment then without hesitation you pushed the chair down so fast that it landed on the floor. But you don't fall, you float in the air with a hanging rope around your neck.

And there goes your oxygen is cut off quickly as you gasp for air while thrashing in the air. Both hands on the noose around your neck while your eyes darted around the living room. Mouth part away trying to get even a little oxygen. Your skin's colour is getting paler and your brain is in a state of shock when the oxygen is getting less and less to the brain.

You almost lost consciousness and then you see it. Life flashes before your eyes. Happy and sad memories. All in one. As the last piece of memories played in your eyes, you finally lost consciousness. Both your hands limp to the side while your head lolled forward. Your hair frames your pale face. But not before you hear the door of your house burst open by someone. Someone who you didn't get to see as your eyes are now tightly closed. Welcoming the feeling of a blanket of darkness.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eyes opened slowly as you gasped to take enough oxygen into your body system. Every thought plays in your mind. Why can't you just go in peace? Why do people have to bother you?

You look around the living room. Now you are lying on the floor. Eyes on the ceiling while your breath is still panting. Everything is hurt especially in your neck. You can still feel the texture of the hanging rope around your neck.

You curse whoever messed up your suicide attempt. It could be John but the taxi John took could not be able to get here quickly. So who? You glared at the person who was kneeling next to you but then as soon as your eyes landed on the silhouette, you widened your eyes.

there he is, a man who claims to be a sociopath and never believes in sentiment but then falls into the terms boyfriend and girlfriend. His brunette hair, his eyes, his cheek bones and his face are still the same but at the same time he looks a little mature. While his eyes hold emotions that are very heavy plus panic and concerned etched on his face.

Sherlock Holmes. The so called 'fraud' is now on your side.

"What were you thinking?!" Sherlock said loudly.

You are stunned. Sherlock then touched your shoulder and shook it a little trying to get you out of the trance.

Oh, God. What you think is a dream is actually not a dream but real. The feeling of him touching your shoulder and his deep raspy and smoky timbre makes you miss him so much. Your eyes start to glaze over with tears.

"Sherlock?" you whispered his name.

Sherlock looked at you with concern and tried to help you sit up. "what were you thinking? Suffocate yourself to death? why? just why?"

"because you died! For two years. I thought you were dead once your body hit the ground in front of the hospital. Two years, Sherlock. Two years. And you think I can live without you just like that?" you yelled while slapping him on the chest several times.

Sherlock deflected your blow by holding both of your wrists to his chest. He looked at you with sympathy. "I want to save you and the others. This is all I can do. Moriarty will do worse than what you don't expect that's why I have to do that. Two years I tried to take down his network and now I'm here. What you did earlier there was the most horrible thing for me. I don't want to come back home knowing that you are dead."

You thought for a moment. Your red eyes looked at Sherlock's face with realization on your face. And then you sniffed and leaned your head on his chest.

Sherlock then put his arms around you. His right hand was placed on the back of your head and stroked gently while his head was placed on top of your head.

"You saved me.. oh, how stupid I am to do that" you sobbed.

"no you're not stupid. Don't say that. You are the most brilliant and courageous woman I know. Your intelligent and kind attitude makes me adore and fond of you more.. listen, I don't always say this but you are the only reason I'm coming home. Please.. don't do that ever again" Sherlock said while kissing your hair.

"John will be here soon." you say. Your voice is muffled in his chest.

"let him. might as well make it a surprise for him." Sherlock joked trying to lighten up the mood.

You chuckled tearfully and then hugged Sherlock tightly. Sherlock smiled gently and tightened his arms and rocked you left and right with his eyes closed.

[freckles-things]

Stolen Love // BBC Sherlock

Summary: Not having seen your boyfriend for some days, you head over to his flat with Chinese take away and left with a broken heart. [Happy ending]

Requested by: @talialea05 (I hope it is what you had in mind)

Pairing: BBC Sherlock x fem!reader

Warnings: broken heart, complicated relationships, subject of cheating, swearing

---

Sherlock and Y/N had been dating for a few months now. Both of you hadn’t really been looking for a relationship, especially Sherlock, but here you were. Sherlock had struggled with his feelings at first, not being used to being ruled by emotions. He too had accepted it in the end, and he had to admit that he enjoyed being with you quite a lot. John also repeatedly told him, both of you really, that the relationship had changed Sherlock for the better. Not that he needed changing, in your opinion. Yes, he was direct and brash and downright rude sometimes, but never intentionally cruel. He cared about people and justice and could be gentle and soft if he wanted to be.

Your relationship so far had consisted of ups and downs, just like any other one. At the moment you definitely were in a down-phase. You hadn’t seen Sherlock in days, and he had neither answered your calls nor your texts. You had texted John, who told you that they currently were working on a demanding and top-secret case brought to them by Mycroft. There had been a few times when Sherlock had been so focused on a case that he had forgotten you during the day. Back then, he had at least texted you a few times a day, whenever there was a short lull in his work, letting you know that he was still busy, and he had paid attention to make sure that you would see each other every other day. Yes, those dates had often consisted of you helping with the case or relaxing at Baker Street while Sherlock was sifting through evidence trying to connect clues, but that had been more than alright with you. You had often spent the evenings on the couch reading or telling Sherlock about the newest things happening in your life, him listening and commenting while he was jotting things down or looking things up. You had been content, you knew what kind of man he was before you had entered a relationship with him. You didn’t expect him to change. And you didn’t want him to. You enjoyed watching him work far too much for that.

Now, after nearly a week, you yearned to see him, even if it was just for a few minutes. You had texted John, asking if there were at the flat, which he confirmed. Buying some dinner at the Chinese restaurant you three preferred, you were looking forward to having dinner with both of them. Even if Sherlock would be preoccupied, John never failed to entertain you with his sarcastic comments.

Finally reaching 221 Baker Street, you knocked on the door waiting for Mrs. Hudson to answer you, which she did promptly. She hugged you, as always, and commented on how good it was to see you again. After a quick chat you made your way upstairs to Sherlock’s flat. You opened the door not bothering to knock, taking a few steps into the flat before freezing.

Sherlock and John weren’t alone. A woman was sitting in Sherlock’s armchair. She was gorgeous, almost flawless and seemed to be quite content in the situation. What caught your attention though, was the fact that she was wearing Sherlock’s robe. And if anything, Sherlock was quite peculiar over his robe. Even you weren’t allowed to wear it. That woman was currently wrapped up in it. Your mind drew a blank trying to explain the situation. Maybe she’d been drenched in something? But even then, they had towels and could have lent her a shirt and a pair of pants.

You put down the takeaway and took a few more steps towards the living room, listening to the conversation they were currently having.

“Well handsome, I’m not sure that plan will work. They might be too dazzled by those cheekbones”, the woman said lowly, leaning forward so her cleavage was on full display. You noticed Sherlock shifting slightly, crossing his legs.

“The likelihood of that happening is ridiculously low. We might as well go on with the current plan, as you well know.” His voice was the same as always, not betraying a single emotion. The woman hummed in agreement.

“You know, Mr. Holmes. I always liked detective stories. And detectives.” By now she was leaning even farther towards Sherlock, her hand wandering over the ankle of the crossed over leg, caressing further up his leg. You really didn’t want to see this and most of all you didn’t want to see how your boyfriend didn’t interfere with another woman touching him.

“Consulting Detective. The only one in the world.” You could clearly hear the pride in his voice. Was he trying to impress her?

“Let’s have dinner”, she stated. Even John had noticed that she was flirting and seemingly didn’t seem to care either since he didn’t interject and only made an amused comment over Sherlock’s eating habits.

You felt your stomach drop, taking a few clumsy steps back from the scene in front of you. How neither of them noticed you presence eluded you, but drove home the point of how enraptured your usual very attentive boyfriend was by the woman sitting opposite him. If the woman was part of the important case, it was no wonder that Sherlock hadn’t answered you. She was beautiful, direct, and intelligent and Sherlock was clearly taken by her.

Well then, the relationship wasn’t in a down-phase anymore. It was over. You turned around without announcing your presence, making your way out of the flat and back onto the street, stomping to the next tube station to get home. You felt numb and tried to concentrate on anything but the recent events. If there was one thing that you really didn’t need, it was a breakdown on the tube. Only once the door to your flat closed behind you, did you feel the tears gathering in your eyes and streaming down your face. You had known that Sherlock would sooner or later grow bored of you. He was brilliant, a force to be reckoned with and you were, well, ordinary. You couldn’t always keep up with his thoughts or his logic and preferred a quieter style of life. Of course you would grow to be a bother to him at some point. You just had hoped that this would happen later rather than sooner. And you had hoped that he would have had the decency to end your relationship properly instead of just ignoring you until you got the point.

Growing angry, you fished your phone out of your pocket and sending exactly one text before blocking Sherlock’s number: We’re done. Enjoy dinner.

---

It had taken Sherlock three days to realize that he wasn’t as unaffected by your massage as he had thought.

At first, he hadn’t understood what you meant and ignored the message. That was until both he and John accompanied The Woman to the door, and he spotted the bag of takeaway standing by the door to the living room. You must have been here. How had he not noticed you coming in? Now that he knew, he could smell the heady scent of your perfume lingering in the air. John looked equally surprised when he noticed the food. After The Woman had disappeared, he tried to contact you, but immediately got the message that your number wasn’t available.

“She must have seen Irene flirt with you, Sherlock. And you didn’t quite gave off the impression of being averse to it”, John commented once he understood the situation.

“Flirting?”, Sherlock questioned confusedly. John shook his head and smiled at his cluelessness.

“Quite obviously, Sherlock. I’ve never seen anyone flirt so openly. So, what are you going to do about Y/N?”

“Nothing”, he shrugged. It must have been obvious to you that he hadn’t reciprocated her flirting – at least that was what Sherlock though. And if you couldn’t trust him, then so be it. He had better things to do than to chase after a jealous woman.

“Nothing? Sherlock, you can’t let that poor girl wander around, thinking that you were flirting with other women behind her back.”

“Well, she should know better and trust me.”

“You can be an utter bastard sometimes; do you know that? That girl hasn’t heard from you in a week and comes here with dinner just to see another woman flirting with you. Of course she comes to the wrong conclusion. Look, Sherlock, both of you have bloomed in your relationship. You can’t just let that slip away.” John had grown frustrated by his friend’s blasé attitude. He knew that the two of you hadn’t said it yet, but it had been clear for anybody that the two of you were head over heels in love with each other. He didn’t understand how Sherlock could just let this slip past his grasp.

“I don’t have the time to chase after jealous women, John”, was Sherlock’s clipped response before he disappeared into his bedroom. He didn’t need you after all. He had survived years without a single relationship, so why should he bother. It didn’t make a difference, right?

Well, it did. He had caught himself talking to you on a few different occasions, without you being there. Thankfully, John had been away in those instances, otherwise he wouldn’t have heard the end of it. The one time he had wanted to make tea on his own, and yes, he was perfectly capable of that, the only tea he could find was your favourite. He hadn’t even known that they had it at the flat. Walking the streets of London, every flower shop suddenly seemed to display your favourites and the cake you loved, and would always buy a slice of if you ever saw it, was advertised everywhere. His thoughts were more and more occupied with you, to the point where he couldn’t properly focus on his cases. It was ridiculous, really. He didn’t understand why he was this affected by the situation. Even Gavin had noticed that something was off and had ordered him to rest for a few days before coming back for new cases.

It took him another two days until he decided to try and text you, asking you to talk. The message didn’t go through. So, you had still blocked him. He wasn’t quite sure how to interpret that. Did you want him to reach out so he could try to explain, or did you want to be left alone? He could admit that he wanted to try and tell you what had really happened. A chance to explain the situation you had observed. He had never been good with his feelings, he didn’t always understand them, but after a week and a few not-so-subtle hints from John, he could admit that he missed you. That it hurt that you weren’t there with him. He needed to talk with you. And if he couldn’t reach out like this, then he would have to go and find you.

---

You had spent the last week crying and feeling sorry for yourself. You had predictably heard nothing from Sherlock. Ignoring the voice in your head that reminded you that you had blocked him, you went in search of some chocolate. You were sure that he could reach you if he really wanted to. Wallowing in self pity wasn’t a solution though. You had given yourself the week to cry and be sad about it, all with the clear intention that this would be it and that you would be over him afterwards. Too bad that your heart didn’t quite agree with the plan. No matter how much you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t. You loved Sherlock and your broken heart wouldn’t just go away because you wanted it to. You wanted Sherlock too, but you simply weren’t going to get what you wanted to have.

Grabbing your chocolate and your freshly brewed coffee, you made your way to the living room. Once you had stepped over the threshold, you froze. There was a very familiar figure sitting on your sofa.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” you asked in absolute surprise before you remembered the current situation between you.

“Get out, Sherlock. I don’t want to see you.” You set your things down on the table and waited expectantly for him to move without looking at him. He didn’t though.

“You should change your locks. They were way too easy to pick, didn’t even take me 30 seconds”, his voice sounded the same as always. The deep baritone not giving anything away.

“Get out.” You repeated yourself. How could he even sit there calmly, as if nothing had happened?

“I thought we could talk, Y/N”

“Well, you thought wrong. And now get the hell out of my flat, Sherlock.” He still didn’t budge. How dare he break into your home and then refuse to leave. The audacity made you fume, and you took a deep breath. Exploding at him wouldn’t solve anything.

“Y/N, don’t be unreasonable”, ha admonished. Well, that did it.

“Unreasonable? Who the bloody hell do you think you are to invade my home like this and then disregard my wishes? You’re an arrogant bastard, Sherlock. Leave me alone!” He still didn’t react, which made your anger grow. He was just sitting there and blinking at you. Well, only one solution left then. Without saying anything else you turned around and slipped into your shoes which were standing in the hallway, moving to grab your jacket. You felt absolutely foolish leaving your own flat, but if he wouldn’t leave then you had to. You were just about to grab your keys when a large hand grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t leave, Y/N. Please, let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain, Sherlock”, your voice sounded utterly defeated, and you felt Sherlock shift behind you at the sound of it.

“Please, Y/N. Just give me five minutes.” Maybe it was the fact that he had said please two times in a row, a word which he usually never used, or maybe your exhaustion won, but you agreed. Winding your wrist out of his grasp, you moved back to the living room, taking a seat in the armchair and waited until Sherlock had followed.

“Five minutes”, you agreed, waiting for him to begin his explanation while studiously avoiding to look at him or his general direction.

“I didn’t realise she was flirting with me, Y/N.” You couldn’t help the scoff that escaped your lips. That was an utterly ridiculous excuse. Did he honestly expect you to believe that?

“I realise that it sounds like a lame excuse. But I really didn’t notice until John explained it to me. I… I have no experience with relationships. No one ever stuck around long enough for that, none ever has accepted me enough to want to be in a relationship with me. John explained how it must have looked. Me not answering your texts and then the situation with Irene. I swear that there is nothing between us. I didn’t accept her dinner invitation. I never do.” So, obviously there had been more than one invitation. You didn’t know how to feel about this revelation. How long had he worked on the case for that to be possible?

You didn’t quite look at him while saying your piece. There was no response from Sherlock, which made you swallow hard. Taking a deep breath, you prepared to lay your feelings bare in the hopes to get your closure.

“She was flirting with you, Sherlock. She had her hands all over you, touching you and inviting you for dinner. You didn’t say anything, even John didn’t say anything about it. You didn’t even tell me that you were working a case. I got to know that from John. And when I come over with the intention of making your evening a little easier by bringing food, you’re not only sitting across a woman that shamelessly flirts with you, but she was also wearing your bathrobe. The one even I am not allowed to touch because you’ve got some weird attachment to it. What was I supposed to think, Sherlock? You don’t just let other people touch you like that if you’re not interested. And I’ve never seen you letting anyone touch you voluntarily except for John and Mrs. H.“

“I’m not stupid, Sherlock. I knew that one day, sooner or later, you would lose interest in me. You’re brilliant and extraordinary and no one really can keep up with you, least of all I. Why would you be interested in some ordinary person? And that’s alright. I was prepared for that. But I expected you to be honest and to not just string me along for entertainment or some sick form of amusement”, your voice was quiet and wobbled precariously as you tried to hold back your tears.

This however got a response out of the consulting detective. He closed the distance between you with two large steps, kneeling on the floor in front of you and gently grasping your hands before you could even blink. His large hands encased yours and kept on holding them when you tried to wiggle them free.

“Are you sure? I would understand if you’d prefer her over me. She’s beautiful and intelligent.” His well-protected heart broke at your words. How could you think that he would ever want anyone else if he could have you. You were perfect to him. Exactly what he needed and wanted, and he would never give you up.

“Love, I would never do that. If anything, the last week has shown me how much I need you in my life. I missed you, Y/N. I couldn’t think and everything reminded me of you. I don’t want to lose you. I realize that my reaction to Irene Adler wasn’t the best and that I hurt your feelings with the way I behaved. I promise that I will try to do better. My understanding of emotions is minuscule at best, and I cannot promise that I’ll never make a mistake again. But I don’t want Irene Adler. How could I, when I have you in my life?”, he said in the softest voice you’d ever heard from him. He searched for your eyes, and you met them for a split second. It was enough to see the regret on his face and the earnestness with which he promised to do better. It wasn’t quite enough yet.

“I don’t want anyone but you, Y/N. I didn’t answer your texts because I didn’t realise you weren’t there. I talked to you every evening, running through the case. And I didn't give my bathrobe to her, John did. I asked her to put on something else, but John warned me that she would just not wear anything at all. And I didn't want that. And the last week I caught myself talking to you as well, but there was no answer because you weren’t there. I missed the chatter while I was going through the evidence. Graham even sent me home because I couldn’t focus on the case. You make me a better person, Y/N. And I realised that I can’t live without you anymore. You're kind and always see the good in people. Wherever you are, you bring sunshine. And you are more intelligent than you realize, love. Your input on my cases has helped me a great deal and I can’t imagine anyone else I would rather discuss a case with.”

His warm hands framed your face, gently tilting it up a little. Your eyes met and you were mesmerized by the emotions swimming in his usually cold gaze. There were dark shadows under his eyes that proved that he hadn’t slept well in the past few days, despite not having any cases.

“You are beautiful, love. Inside and out. And it pains me that you don’t see it yourself. I will spend the rest of my life proving it if you will have me.” You slowly leaned your forehead against his broad chest, your shoulders drooping in defeat. How on earth were you supposed to resist that man? Maybe your reaction had been a little harsh and you should have waited for an explanation. It might have saved you both from a week full of heartache.

“I’m sorry, too. I might have overreacted when I saw you together and should have given you a chance to explain. I should have trusted you. Maybe we could talk about boundaries and what we expect of each other some time, so we can be on the same page? Will you forgive me?” You practically whispered your words, but you were sure Sherlock picked them up with no effort.

His strong arms wrapped themselves around your back, pulling you even closer to him. His face buried itself against your neck, and soft lips pressed a slow kiss against your jaw.

“Only if you’ll forgive one stupid, self-absorbed detective as well.” His words forced a wet laugh out off you, your hands grabbing onto the front of his coat and taking a deep breath of his well-known scent.

“I don’t think I could stay mad at you, even if I wanted to. I do love you far too much for that.” Once the words had left your mouth, you froze. Neither of you had said the words until now and you hadn’t intended to let them slip out.

Sherlock’s hand moved up to the back of your head, gently moving it so he could see your face again.

“I’m glad to know we’re of one mind then, love”, he whispered against your lips, before closing the small distance between you. You closed your eyes, the stress of the last week lifting off your shoulders as Sherlock kissed you gently.

You stayed in his arms for hours, not wanting to let go. Sherlock didn’t fare any better, pressing your body against his, his mind finally at ease when he felt your weight settle against him. Both of you would undoubtedly make mistakes again, just like everyone else did. But with a relationship built on trust and communication, you would overcome those as well.

-----------

If you spot any mistakes please let me know!

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

Hi, can I request a jealous Mycroft Holmes x fem reader? <3

Jealousy {M.H}

A/n: okay first of all I am so sorry that I haven't posted anything in quite some time but I had to study for my exams so... yes. Anyways here is me writing again. Also, I am apologising in adance in case this sucks but I don't think Mycroft is a jealous person

Pairing: Mycroft Holmes x f!reader

Trigger warnings:

It had been a couple of days since Mycroft and you had last written to each other, let alone seen each other. It wasn't anything serious. Mycroft was busy as he always was and you had gone to a trip in Paris for your brother's wedding.

After a week you finally came back to London. The carriage stopped right in front of your mansion, a house your father had bought you for your birthday last year. It was a lovely house, almost like a cottage with a huge garden that you always made sure to personally tend to.

Thanking the driver, you headed towards the front door. The butler and all the servants had of course been notified of your arrival so they were already in position to welcome you back.

Or at least you thought they were because of that.

Well... they partially were but there was another reason when it came to them acting so nervous; a reason you quickly figure out after walking in the living room.

There, sitting leisurely on the white leather couch, smoking an oddly cheap cigarette sat Mycroft.

"I didn't know you smoked..." You picked up the cigarette box from the brown coffee table and looked at it. "Whatever brand this is." You set it down after not being able to find the name of the brand.

"Did you have fun at your trip?"

You raised an eyebrow at the straightforward question. "The wedding was wonderful." You smiled even though Mycroft's expression remained serious.

"You could have told me to accompany you." He lit the cigarette off and left it in the ashtray. "It is not like we are hiding our relationship." He placed his left hand on the arm of the couch.

"No one said we are..." You replied hesitantly.

The truth was that the two of you hadn't really talked about the wedding of your brother and of course there was a reason why you hadn't asked Mycroft to accompany you there.

"You were busy."

"I could have found-"

"No you couldn't and we both know it." You hated how overworked he was but for a strange reason he never seemed to mind running a few more errands for the Queen.

Mycroft took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair.

"This is not about me not taking you with me to the wedding is it?" You giggled.

You had guessed this would happen. Or to be more specific, you had figured out what Mycroft was thinking the night of the wedding after sending you a letter saying he hoped you had a lot of fun.

"I didn't dance with anyone." You stood up from your seat on the couch opposite to him and walked over before sitting next to him, taking his hand in yours. His expression changing just a little -his gaze softening- resulted in you letting out a small chuckle.

"Really?" He turned his head to look at you. "And no man flirted with you?"

You rolled your eyes. It was the load of work that had resulted in him acting like a teenage boy in love because Mycroft wasn't usually like this. He didn't get jealous because he knew that if someone tried to flirt with you, you were more than capable to reject him.

"Many tried." You teased him. "But no one was good enough so-"

Your eyes widened at the feeling of his soft lips against yours, his hands cupping both of your cheeks and his cold rings against your skin.

"Good." He pulled away, straightening his back. His expression was back to serious in a matter of seconds. "And no, I was not jealous."

"Whatever you say."

A/n: sorry if this sucked, honestly

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Guided Horse Riding (Mycroft Holmes X Fem!Reader)

Characters: Mycroft Holmes

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: Mention of murder, stabbings, horses

Request: hello dear can i get mycroft/fem reader? reader has a horse and force mycroft into him we want to see a scared the british government💖 [name is mira and a horse with white yellow mane]

Notes: (Uh.... happy early holidays, I'm not dead? Sorry for being gone for so long I genuinely feel so awful for being gone for so long plz forgive me ok thanks bye)

Mycroft had wondered what had led him to the very situation he was in right at this very moment, and he had mentally been piecing it together in his head, till he reached the first domino that started this all. 

The first domino- no surprises here- was Sherlock, who had realised that there had been a pattern in some recent stabbings, with them all happening in public, packed places, and the more people, the more victims- the first was on the underground, the second was at the opening of an art gallery, and then a charity marathon. Sherlock had deduced that the next attack would almost certainly be at the parade happening, and he slapped together a rough description for what to look out for, and dragged Mycroft along to get him access to more secure areas- which included the stables that held the horses meant to be taking part in the parade, and that had been where he had met you. 

You had been there checking in on your horse- Mira, to make sure she was comfortable, calm and ready for such an event, though you knew it was more like you with the nerves than her, this being the first time either of you had took part in an event like this. So when you had the Holmes brother approach you, asking who you were and what you were doing back here, before asking if you’d seen anyone around you didn’t recognise, you were understandably alarmed. One was dressed mostly like any other bystander (who therefor shouldn’t be back there) and the other was dressed formally and seemed to be softening and adding politeness and context that the other, more brash man was missing. You quickly realised that Sherlock was acting mostly that way because he was in a rush, and that something bad was going to happen if he didn’t get answers in time, and luckily, you had remembered a previous interaction with a man just earlier in the day- one that had rubbed you the wrong way with how he spoke, and you pointed them in his direction. Sherlock immediately sped walked away, while Mycoft took the time to shake your hand, thank you for your cooperation, and wish you luck in the parade. 

The parade itself went off without a hitch- at least from your perspective it did. Mira was an angel, behaved and also let children pet her and families take pictures with her. The only thing you noticed that was a little off, was that there was a lot more police there than you predicted, and they all seemed bunched up in one area, but you just assumed it was a safety precaution, and since nothing bad happened, you presumed it was all good. You didn’t find out exactly what had happened until you were packing up for the day, walking your horse over to her trailer, and Mycroft spotted you, and came over to speak to you. 

That was the second domino. After giving you the rundown, explaining how you had basically stopped a mass stabbing thanks to you pointing the man out earlier the day, and after explaining who exactly Sherlock was, and who he was, you got to ask your own question, which began a conversation that resulted in you sharing your phone numbers to pick it up over coffee- the third domino.

Countless other dominos had been set up and knocked down since then- dates, kisses, admissions of love, and it all- somehow- led Mycroft to where he was now, watching you set Mira up for him, so he could ride her for the first time as you reassured him she was a nice, gentle horse, which he knew, but that didn’t help his nerves.  

“You ready?” You ask, patting the neck of the horse after setting up the stool beside her, turning to look at Mycroft

“Not really.” Mycroft responded, sounding far from confident, but despite that, he still took your hand and let you guide him onto the stool, and position his foot into the stirrup.

“Alright, hold the reins, and swing your leg over, I’ll make sure you don’t fall.” You explained to him, and after a moment of hesitation, Mycroft took a deep breath, and did as you ordered, and you kept your promise and helped him onto the saddle. Mira kept perfectly still as Mycroft got settled, and sat stiffly. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” You commented, chuckling as Mycroft only managed a small, unconvinced noise of agreement. 

“Does this mean I can get off now?” Mycroft asked, glancing at you at the corner of his eye.

“Well you can… do you want to try and get off, or get comfortable first?” You asked. Mycroft, upon realising that he’d have to get off the horse, which meant him mostly going backwards, and guessing his own footwork of a horse with little help that you could provide, Mycroft froze for a moment, before sighing. 

“Fine. I’ll get a little comfortable first.” Mycroft gave in, and you grinned at him, before taking a hold of Mira’s reigns. 

“We’ll just walk on the outskirts in a circle at a slow pace.” You explained, before making Mira slowly start moving, trotting along beside you. You did a full lap of the small field you were in before looking back up at Mycroft, who’s shoulders weren’t as stiff anymore, and he didn’t look constipated anymore. “You’re doing great, honey.” You told him, his eyes coming and look at you, and he managed a small smile. 

“Yes, it’s… not as bad as I thought it would be.” Mycoft admitted. You chuckle a little, gently patching the side of Mira’s neck. 

“You can thank Mira for the positive experience. I knew she’d be able to handle a nervous rider. It’s also why she’s great with kids. I’m just glad you trusted me enough to let me put you on her.” You commented, looking up at him. Mycroft looked back at you, a small smile appearing on his lips. 

“Of course I trust you. I love you.” He responded, his voice warm, which caused you to smile.

“Well since I love you too, how about after this lap I’ll get you off Mira so we can go inside and relax for the rest of the afternoon?” You suggest. Mycroft takes a moment to consider your words, before looking down at the horse, and pauses for a moment. 

“...I think I can handle a few more laps.”

Hope you liked it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @holy-tea-cup @sassy-specter @keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey @courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[futureplayboibunnie]

Hello! I really luv your work so maybe could you do more smutty sherlock stuff? Maybe dom!sherlock and a reader with a praise kink?

‘Distraction’

Sherlock x fem!reader

- I’M BAAAACK w another smutty ass sherlock fic. i swear all my sherlock fics are always so long, i need to get a grip but i really enjoyed writing this one. love u xx

Sherlock's mouth was twitching and his mind was in a constant state of strained unease. The world was asking too much of him and it irritated more than anything, Mycroft was breathing down his neck with a mountain load of cases he would never even get around to looking at and sometimes Sherlock just wanted to kick someone in the teeth, feel the blood pumping through his veins in a way a lousy case couldn't satiate. He was angry, annoyed, restless and uneasy.

Sherlock put himself in that situation though, he was being a hermit hiding out in his flat and he didn't even let John come in to entertain him- Sherlock could only think of you.

This was bad. He was in demand...but he didn't know what he was demanding for…you? He didn't know how to control his emotions, he felt something heady and particularly intoxicating about you, he was almost drunk off it. You were insatiable and it piqued his interest, you were a curious little thing, always poking your nose in places it didn't belong- including just Sherlock. Sometimes he just wanted to scold you for being too daring and risky, he didn't like the idea of you putting yourself in a dangerous situation for the sake of it...but you liked the danger of it all just the way Sherlock did. He didn't like that at all, it was like you could see through him in a way no one else could.

Sherlock knew you wanted him. It was obvious by the way you would eye fuck him in socially inept situations, in a crowded room- he admired your callousness although deep down he wanted to put you in your place. His accolades made you blush, his praises made your eyes gleam slightly, you loved him complimenting your work and he knew it was a big weakness within you. Your breath halted everytime you were near him and your mouth would pry open slightly and he had to surpress the urge to close your pretty little mouth for you- it was adorable and distracting at the same time. The universe was determined to pull him next to you...or was that Sherlock himself admitting he wanted you...in more ways than one? The calculations of it didn't make any sense and it was clouding his head, he didn't know how to make any of this go away, if only he could show you instead of talk.

You were bored of his moping, you wanted him to have some fun with you on another case and it was to cheer you up more than him. You just wanted to know what he was up to, Sherlock was always up to something, in a grey area of nothing inherently bad but nothing inherently good. Although he wasn't allowing anyone to visit him, you took it upon yourself to tease him out of hiding. You didn't really care for the ramifications, you never did.

You trodded up the stairs of his flat and you open the door slightly to let yourself in. Sherlock was pacing around, messing with the multiple experiments he was conducting at the same time. He was just trying to take his mind off of you, but these little thoughts kept meandering into his head.

You. Just you.

Sherlock heard the tremble of your breath first and he could practically hear your raised eyebrow at his strange but not infrequent behaviour- it was endearing. He got up from looking at his microscope when he heard your footsteps enter, he scrambled to look at your face again and it was etched in judgement but at least it was that of endearing judgement. He felt his ego straighten up, Sherlock couldn't remember the last time his ego was shaken, he was always so sure of himself but you obviously had to fiddle with things that best be untouched. Including Sherlock's innermost desires.

‘’You've been busy.’’ You remarked with a quirked eyebrow and a small smirk.

‘’Get out, I'm still busy.’’ Sherlock said breathlessly and it made him straighten his posture, he didn't like how uncertain and certain he sounded at the same time. He definitely didn't want you to go, but like always he had to act as if he didn't care for anyone or anything...especially something as useless and pathetic as desire and sex.

God he really wanted it though. You were wearing a skirt.

He could just hike it up and easily…

You interrupted his wayward thoughts as his blank face met yours.

‘’You're not busy, you just want a distraction. Any other day conducting this many experiments would've made you lose your mind. How can you be so detail oriented when you've got so many things going at once?’’ You walked around the room, tapping on the things Sherlock wouldn't let anyone touch. He was actually thinking of an answer to your question, though.

‘’I multitask. It can challenge narrow minded people.’’ His eyes thinned as he squinted at you intently, you twirled around and you met him with a knowing flirty half smile, scoffing at his insult.

‘’So snippy, need a distraction? Got another case.’’ You offered as you walked over to him to stare into his dark cerulean eyes, Sherlock was glaring down at you as your face was near his.

‘’I'm already distracted.’’ Sherlock admitted way too hastily and it made your eyes prick up.

Sherlock Holmes? Distracted? You were half joking when you said he just wanted a distraction, but he was? Even though your eyes were widening in surprise, you couldn't help but provoke him even further. You felt incredibly special seeing him so frail.

The things you wanted him to do to you was unspeakable and you felt a heated blush creep on the back of your neck and your cheeks.

‘’Wow. I never thought I'd live to see the day.’’ You smiled at seeing his hubris crack before you.

‘’Yes. It's a novelty for me too.’’ He said plainly, trying to hide and feign his hidden desire for you.

‘’What's got you like this then?’’

‘’You.’’ Sherlock blurted, but it felt deliberate. The perfect opportunity to just finally admit with a heavy heart that he wanted you, feel the weight of his innate desire free from his broad shoulders.

‘’It's your fault.’’He muttered.

‘’My fault?’’ You repeated.

‘’Yes.’’ He breathed as his fingers fell and brushed against yours and you felt your heart halt in its beating, scoff catching in your throat.

‘’Who do you think you are?’’ Sherlock's lips were dangerously close to your ear and it made you still against him, body heat merging with one another as you slowly pressed yourself against him.

‘’Who do I think I am?’’You scoffed as you blinked up at him, being a flirt as always. ‘’What about you….Sherlock.. what do you want?’’ Your voice was low and less immediate, stretching out whatever this was as a means to revel in it.

His hands travelled to cradle your face softly, large hands feeling the skin of your cheek as his thumb grazed the soft pink flesh of your lips. Sherlock felt oblivious to the world around him when all he could see and feel was you in his palm.

‘’I want to feel you. Naked. Beneath me.’’ His words were potent, dense and you felt like you had to pinch yourself, it must be a dream. Your heart was pounding in your chest and Sherlock could feel your sweet breath fan his face, eyes fluttering a little as you registered his words.

Sherlock Holmes...having a dirty mouth...is something that felt fictitious and delicious. The man was divine, so intense and brutal when he wanted to be- exactly your type. Your mouth was dry, the functions of your tongue forgetting how to move as his stare was that of raw intensity and pure longing. Mind racing and unable to pump the breaks, you were wondering how he would be in bed as of this moment. It wasn't an infrequent thought but you never in a million years thought it to be a reality, only to be conjured in your wildest and wettest dreams. You contemplated if he would be a dom or sub. It honestly could be either, he was so damn unreadable, you didn't know what was going on in that beautiful mind of his. You were keening to find out. The posh twat always loves the divine feminine dom, maybe that's a clue. Although, the way his eyes were scorching into yours made all of your thoughts draw to a blank.

‘’Are you going to talk sweetheart or are you just going to stand there gawking at me so vacantly?’’ His fingers jutted your chin up so he could make you squirm.

Sherlock loved it when he got that bodily reaction from you, it just confirmed that it was definitely not one sided and you were thinking of the lascivious things that best left unseen.

‘’I think I'm enjoying my mindless gawk thank you.’’ You flirted but he wasn't in the mood for any of your games. He's come to love that look in your eyes, the one of need, desire, to put it so crudely- eye fucking. Sherlock grabbed you by the cheeks, his fingernails indenting into the skin of your face, you were taken aback when he finally made his intentions clear. You honestly thought this was a part of a sadistic sort of experiment, but now it was actually piecing together- he wanted you. Sherlock Holmes wanted to undress you, feel your skin, fuck you in his bed.

‘’Don't be difficult, you surely can't be after your incessant need to catch my attention. Well, consider my attention caught...I'm simply asking because it's polite. Do you want me to put you out of your misery and make you finish or not?’’

‘’So vain.’’ You muttered, chewing on your lip slightly unsure of what to say without sounding like the thirstiest person ever.

‘’Do you want me to fuck you on the stairs because right now I will.’’ Sherlock was deadly serious, he didn't care if it was uncomfortable for you, he would take you in any shape or form, pin your hands behind your back, pull your hair make your brain melt with how good he made you full but you were still staring at him blankly.

‘’For fucks sake.’’ You finally breathed out before colliding your lips to his.

Like two magnets, like a moth to a flame- you simply just couldn't resist each other. Your fingers were in his hair as your body moulded to his, Sherlock was also quite surprised with himself, he'd never let anyone touch his hair but when you tugged on his curls he let out a delectable hiss. He really liked that. He wanted you to do it again. His kiss was passionate, certain and beautifully cruel.

‘’Tell me you want me.’’ You hummed against kisses, your fingers immediately crowning from his hair to his blazer and button down. Sherlock's hands were roaming around your body as if he owned it, his insanely large palm went to your ass and squeezed tightly over the fabric of your skirt. He was feeling brazen. His fingertips toyed with the hem of that skirt he just wanted to rip off, and felt at the skin of your ass under it. You shivered into his touch, every single feeling driving a new unforgivable sensation.

‘’I'll show you. Forgive me if I'm not polite about it.’’ Sherlock had never been this desperate before, to openly obey an order was foreign to him but you could pry just about anything out of him.

Sherlock clasped your hand and quite literally dragged you to his room, you had to suck in your squeals of delight, you couldn't believe any of this was actually becoming a reality. Your reality. He fucking wanted you. He slammed his door and pinned you up against it, lip to lip. Your moan echoed through his entire body, his soul rocked at the sensation. His lips found that spot behind your ear where your pulse was hammering, Jesus your heart was beating fast. It brightened his mood and amplified his ego.

You went to shrug him of his blazer but he got there before you. Sherlock ripped off your top with his bare hands, you inhaled sharply as the cool evening air hit your torso. He quite literally tore it off, the look in his eyes were that of ash and fire. Your lip quivered and your eyebrows tensed with that one look. The fact that he was the only one that got your legs wobbly and your heart stuttering was making him so insanely happy. The reaction to his kiss allowed hiim to deduce that you've been kissed before...but not often. The thought pleased him.

Nimble fingers went to unbotton his button down. You took your sweet time with this just to be a teasing little bitch. Your eyes went doe as you gave him a look of foax sincerity and sweetness

Oh...so that's how it's going to be.

You finally discarded it and the bulk of his biceps alone could crush you, his arms, his hands, his chest were so finely crafted he was akin to that of a Greek God. Sherlock pulled you from the door frame, he sat on the edge of the bed and you were standing infront of him.

‘’Strip for me.’’

He whispered, the fated words making the atmosphere damp and heavy and you enjoyed revelling in it. The way he said it made your mouth pop open slightly.

You were more than happy to oblige with his delicious demand. Your dignity was deteriorating with every moment you spent with him. Sherlock's blue eyes darkened as your fingers went to the zipper of your skirt, your intense gaze met with his, unwavering, downright carnal. His jaw clenched when you teasingly shimmied your skirt down your long, smooth legs. Your frame was fucking remarkable. Dear Lord it looked like you were crafted by the angels in heaven above. His stare fell to your feet, he smirked when he still found you in your impossibly high heels, he wanted to feel them dig into the small of his back when he finally fucked into you.

Sherlock wanted to paw at you like a filthy animal, his inhibitions fleeing him the longer he gaped at you. You bit your lip sweetly as your fingers fell to your back as you began the slow pace of unclamping your bra. You were so deliberate and he wanted to just fuck the pettiness out of you. Sherlock watched intently as you flung it to the other side of the room to care about later, your tits fell free and he just stifled the urge to grab you right now.

He just had to remind himself: patience is a virtue.

Giggling, your fingers hooked on the lace of your underwear and shimmied it down. He let out a scoff, almost entranced and confused at how beautiful you looked. Sherlock gripped onto your waist and tugged you between his legs, his fingers pinched onto the bare skin of your hips. His lips met with your soft lower stomach and he planted a kiss there.

‘’Beautiful...’’ He exhaled as he breathed in your intoxicating scent.

‘’So you can be nice.’’ You smirked down at him.

‘’Only to you. Only. You.’’ He said deadpan, you gushed when he emphasised the word 'you.' You tucked your hair back behind your ear bashfully as the waves of anticipation began creaking back into the airwaves. You weren't sure where he was going next with this.

Sherlock's grip daren't soften, he pulled you down onto the bed, your head hitting the pillow allowing your hair to sprawl out, he thought you looked like an angel- hair casting a halo like figure in your stance. He kneeled between your sweet thighs to stare down at you, face contorted in pleasure already. He hadn't even done anything yet, it made him chuckle lowly. Mocking you condescendingly but you didn't have it in yourself to care or argue.

‘’You've been begging for it haven't you? Just admit it. It's only us. Only you and I here...together. Don't be coy now.’' Sherlock was just revelling in your desperation and it made your insides sizzle and burn, it was almost unbareable. Your lips twitched as you flushed, unable to control how your body was reacting.

Sweet. Jesus. The effect this man had on you.

‘’You're quite the distraction.’’ You said meekly, they were the only words you could muster up. Your voice wasn't a reflection of your actions though, your hands had a mind of their own, flying to his zipper and roughly undoing his pants. Sherlock caught onto your wrist to stop you in your tracks, he would be lying if he said he didn't like the direction in which you were going in. Images of you choking on his cock flashed through the forefront of his mind, his breathing became heavier. His tongue glazed his lower lip as he let out a breathless scoff.

Yeah, maybe later.

‘’Ditto.’’ He muttered.

Sherlock pinned your hands against the bed beside your head, excitement thrumming through your veins at whatever delicious torture he was bound to inflict. His fingers pinched and palmed at your tits, a broken moan fell from your lips as his long thick fingers travelled down the skin of your stomach to your glistening pussy. You threw your head back. He swiped up and down before finally inserting a finger inside of your wetness, you squirmed under him as he bent down to kiss at the crook of your neck.

‘’Fuck...Sherlock.’’ You moaned out, physically incapable of keeping it in anymore.

‘’You can take it.’’ Sherlock reassured deadpan and impassive, almost like an

You huffed as he pistoned another finger inside of you, he was delighted with how wet he got you. It was an indicator of the amount of pleasure he was drawing out of you, his ego boosted tenfold. You exhaled as he finally pulled his fingers out, in the pale moonlight his fingers glistened. Giving him a perplexed look, Sherlock wanted to rattle you even more, drag it out, surprise you.

‘’Open your mouth. See how sweet you taste.’’ He chuckled, so obviously pleased with himself.

Your eyes widened slightly at his request but his hard glare made you believe that it wasn't a request but an undeniable demand. You couldn't say no to that look, that scorching, firey look. You opened your mouth and he was beaming at the sight. He stuffed his fingers into your wet mouth, suckling on his fingers to taste at yourself. Humming against his fingers, Sherlock felt his body buzz and his cock harden. You gawked up at him through your lashes, the look of neediness etched all over your face- the cherry on top of the cake, his fingers in your mouth. He wondered what you looked like on your knees. You let his fingers go with a pop.

‘’Good girl.’’ He praised and it made an incredibly obvious blush stain your face.

Oh, you loved that.

Your mouth slanted against his, tongues dancing against tongues as you felt your heartbeat hammering against your chest. Tugging his pants down, Sherlock's cock finally sprung free. You glanced down, eyes unable to comprehend how fucking big he was. It was curved, thick and leaking. You felt yourself salivate at the sight of it.

‘’Sherlock...please.’’ You begged and he decided to give you the mercy.

He pushed himself inside of you, clinging onto him for dear life. Sherlock burrowed and nestled himself in your hair and your skin, spiralling wih the fact he got you like this- this has to be a dream of some sorts. It simply cannot be real. Fingernails digging into his shoulderblades, he hissed into your skin as he rutted in and out of you. Your moans and groans creating a symphony of euphoria. Sherlock gazed into the vast planes of your glassy eyes, he could simply get lost in them forever. Your heels dug into his back and the pain was stunning.

‘’You make me weak...pretty girl.’’ Sherlock admitted breathlessly.

The whole world stopped. It felt like it was tipping on its axis. You made Sherlock Holmes weak. You couldn't fathom the power you held, you were drunk off it and it made you moan loudly against his lips. It felt like music to his ears.

‘’Sherlock.. you're a God.’’

‘’Not quite, but almost.’’ He teased as he kept up the brutal pace.

Sherlock just kept going and going. His libido was undeniably high. His stamina unrelenting. He was lost in the sweet sounds you made, the quirk of your body with every thrust was something he committed to memory. You felt yourself spiralling out of control. The intensity increased tenfold, the intimate eye contact the driving force of it all. You couldn't hold back. You were right at the edge. Euphoria hit you like a ten ton truck, waves of pleasure like lightning down your thighs; your knees buckled under the pressure as you gushed onto him, coating him in the generous amount of wetness he so easily illicited out of you.

‘’Stunning…’' Sherlock murmured before he was cut off by a gutteral groan rumbling from the insides of his gut. He stilled as he finished inside of you, completely and utterly spent. You grabbed his face and planted a kiss on his lips, curls wild as you carded your fingers through it.

Pants covered the room. Air thick with post coital bliss.

Sherlock rolled off of you and lay beside you in attempt to regain his breath.

But you were far from done. You darted your face to the side to remark at him.

Without thinking, you impulsively clambored onto his lap and his eyes widened in surprise. Fucking hell, you were insatiable. Your lips shattered against his again, his large hands roamed the expanse of your back and goosebumps littered your skin.

Sherlock spanked your ass and it made you rip your lips away from his.

‘’Christ. So insistent aren't you?’’

[sunshine-on-my-mind]

Meera, hello!!!!

I saw the DM(?) you post, can I have one for Sherlock plz?

So....with a fem and chubby reader, she's Enola's friend, but she prefers live in Hermit style.

But when Enola want to do sth, she would try her best to help Enola. And when Enola fight with her brothers, she just hide in reader's house.

Sherlock found that r is good at hiding and observing the emotions, she is kind of the opposite of him but is tolerable.

Best friend's brother trope and may I add that reader has a habit that when she feel want to be clingy, she would rub her cheek on his shoulder or his chest with holding his hand?

The rest is by you, wish you have a good day🥰🥰

a/n: hi Nana, so i’ve tried to write something with Best Friend’s Brother AU with Sherlock and Chubby reader, hope you like it 💙

pairing: Sherlock x Chubby!Reader

You hear a knock on your door, a particular knock which you recognise very well.

And ‘tis indeed her, your closest friend Enola Holmes. You let her in your home, like you have before, several instances regarding arguments with her brother, especially Mycroft Holmes.

Enola was close to her other brother Sherlock, the man of mystery, she looked up to him.

“What is the matter this time?” You ask after offering Enola her favourite cake.

“Nothing new, only Mycroft being a pompous arse!” She huffs and takes the piece of cake from you. “The worst part, do you know? Sherlock didn’t object, didn’t say a word”

Enola was few years younger than you, but the bond you both had formed was very strong. You truly cared for her, and she for you.

Enola and you are engaged in a conversation when you hear another knock on the door.

“Sherlock!” you both utter at the same time.

“Oh I do not wish to go back” Enola looks at you with pleading eyes.

“How about you go to my room and I will speak to Sherlock?”

She nods and goes inside your bedroom as you make your way to the door, fixing your dress, you open the door.

“Mr. Holmes” You give a curt nod to Sherlock, and he quickly looks you up and down. It would a lie that his gaze didn’t affect you, didn’t make you want more.

“My sister…” Sherlock trails off as he makes his way inside your home. “She is in the bedroom.” Sherlock says matter of factly.

You open your mouth to say something but he looks back at you with a certain look on his that makes your whole body shiver. You clear your throat and walk up to him.

“Mr. Holmes, for a person who has extraordinary thinking abilities do you actually ever think?” Sherlock is taken aback

“Yes, your sister is in the bedroom, hiding from you, but do you care enough to ask why? to think why?”

It is at that moment you realise how close you are standing to him, how his shoulders are so broad, how you want to touch his chest, and how you want to run your finger through his hair.

Sherlock never looks at you with ridicule in his eyes, which other people do sometimes. He stares into your eyes, momentarily dropping to your body, then to your lips and again to your eyes. Sherlock didn’t quite understand what he felt towards you, he wasn’t good with feelings, all he knew is that when you touch him sometimes, be it keeping your head on his shoulder when you, him and Enola are out in a park, and you lean to him unknowingly. He is fond of that, he is fond of you.

“Enlighten me” His voice is low.

“Your sister, she looks up to you, it is not Mycroft she is angry at, it is you, because she cares about you. And I know you do too, but that is the issue with you Holmes siblings, you don’t express your feelings.”

“And you are excellent at it, aren’t you?” Sherlock asks sarcastically.

“Well at least better than you.” With that you leave him in the living room making your way to Enola, you have a hearty conversation with her about how Sherlock cares for her too, just does not know how to express it and she listens to you, all while her brother waits for the two of you.

“Right then Mr. Holmes, Enola will go back with you now.” You announce and smile at Enola, who gives you a tight hug and you hug her back.

“Thank you.” Enola smiles at you.

The Holmes siblings make their way back to their home after wishing you a good day.

“Sherlock?” Enola asks her brother.

“Hm?”

“You like her don’t you?” Sherlock smiles at that, a smile full of adoration, something that rarely appeared on his face

“She is tolerable.”

[adhd-merlin]

Twenty questions for fanfic writers:

(Nobody tagged me I'm just procrastinating!!)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

42, but most of my older stuff is on livejournal, where it shall remain.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

193,392.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now only Merlin. I’m a ‘one fandom at the time’ kind of person.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Four out of five are Sherlock fics and I doubt anyone cares about that, so I’m going to make it Top 3 Merlin fics:

Call It Anything We Want (Arthur/Gwen/Merlin) - link

All Downhill from Here (Merlin/Arthur) - link

Unwavering (Merlin/Gwaine) - link

I like that it’s a mix of ships!

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do! I like talking to other people about The Characters. Sorry if I’ve ever rambled at you.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don’t really write angst. The only one I can think of is a Sherlock fic based on the theme of mismatched names in a soulmate AU (if this means anything to you). The first part was bittersweet (Sally Donovan/Harry Watson), the second part just sad (John/Sherlock)—both probably not that good. I wrote it a decade ago and I’m not going to re-read it now to see if I am right.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Call It Anything We Want. Everything gets solved and everyone is happy! The end.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

None so far!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Sometimes! All kinds :)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Generally I don’t, but funnily enough the fic of mine with the most kudos is a Sherlock x Harry Potter crossover. (It was for a fanfic exchange and my recipient had this crossover on their wishlist.) There’s nothing particularly crazy about it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Someone asked me if they could translate a fic of mine once and I said it was fine, but they never got back to me with a link, so I don’t know if they actually did it. I don’t think so.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Ooooh this takes me back. Yes—nothing that was ever published, but I did attempt to co-write a fic with a fandom friend once. We had become friends through livejournal by commenting on the same on-going fic—and when I say friends, I mean we ended up exchanging emails, photos, talking about personal stuff and chatting for hours every day.

Which might not sound like a big deal now, but this happened over 15 years ago, when people didn’t carry the entire internet in their pocket, and chatting with someone for hours meant sitting at the family computer in the living room. Also there was a 6-hour time difference between us.

It escalated to the point where we were making promises to visit each other someday and I had even told my mum about him, but one day he just vanished. (This wasn’t romantic by the way—he was gay, I was questioning; it truly was ‘just’ being friends). Never found out what happened to the guy and I was heartbroken about it for a while. Needless to say, that fic never got finished.

It was a Brokeback Mountain modern AU by the way.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I’ve never written or read any Jane Eyre fic but I’m going to say Jane Eyre/Mr Rochester. I just love them individually and as a couple.

As a fanfic reader, while I do have favourite ships, I’m fairly open-minded, and to me an exceptionally written story trumps a specific pairing any day. For example, I’ve read loads of John/Sherlock fics, but what ended up sticking in my mind years later are the fics that were very original or well written, regardless of the ship—like the one where Mycroft and Anthea are the same mind in two bodies and John ends up dating both, or the fem!Lestrade/Mycroft fic (even though this wasn’t a ship I particularly cared about), or the one where John and Sherlock have to take a seal to a sanctuary (gen). On the other hand, most of the Johnlock fics I've read have blurred together, even if (or maybe because) this was the ship I read more fics about.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

There’s one in which Merlin and Gwaine go on a diplomatic visit to the Druids which has been sitting in my Google docs folder for a while, but first I want to finish another fic, because I’ve already written most of it and it’s been languishing in my drafts for even longer. I think I’ll finish the latter eventually—if only for sunk cost fallacy reasons—but I’m not sure about the Merwaine one (which might be platonic Merlin & Gwaine, by the way—I’ve not really decided).

16. What are your writing strengths?

I’ve been told by some that my characterisation was good, but I suppose that’s quite subjective.

One thing I’m trying to pay more attention to now is the overall narrative structure—I don’t write long fics, but even with shorter works you still need an inciting incident, a climax, and a resolution at the very least. I didn’t use to think about it much, but I’m trying to be more mindful of it. Just…making sure those elements are there, I suppose, and that the pacing doesn’t feel off. Not saying I’m good at it but I like to think it’s made my writing a bit better?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Basic ass prose lol. I started writing fanfic to post online when I was a teenager with a poor grasp on the English language, and what helped me immensely at the time was keeping in mind my English teacher's advice to “just KISS!!” (“Kiss It Short and Simple”).

I still think about it to this day when I get stuck, and it is very helpful when you just need to get the words out and on the page, but it doesn’t make for beautiful prose.

Sometimes I read other people’s work and marvel at their precise use of vocabulary, their inventive metaphors, their evocative language—then I look at my own writing and it’s like, “They were in a room. She was wearing a red dress. It was dark outside.” You know what I mean? But I do this in my spare time as a hobby so I don’t stress about this too much. I’m not trying to win the next Pulitzer Prize or anything.

That and I’m not good at describing stuff. I don’t like descriptions. “They were in a room”—oh, what did it look like? I don’t know! Use your imagination.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

My thoughts are: do it sparingly, do it only if there is a point to it, and try to get it checked by a native speaker (or at the very least do some basic research to make sure it is correct). I have nothing against it in theory, but it can be off-putting to a reader who happens to speak that language if the dialogue sounds unnatural or is just plain wrong. If we are talking about dead or fictional languages it’s not as important, I guess, but never assume there won’t be a nerd who knows Old English or Sindarin ready to correct you.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Brokeback Mountain. Weirdly enough, it had a very active fandom on livejournal back in the day.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I don’t remember them all, but for Merlin I’m going to say this ficlet in which Arthur and Gwen have a baby called Ygraine and Merlin is the doting third parent/uncle figure.

It’s actually part of a Merwenthur series but it can be read on its own as Arthur/Gwen + best friend Merlin. I just want them to be happy!!!

Excerpt:

Scattered on the floor around the three of them are a couple of the rag dolls Guinevere enjoys sewing, some of the wooden figurines Merlin enjoys carving, and the wooden sword Ygraine enjoys smacking on people’s heads. She’s going through a phase — which Arthur finds slightly unsettling, even though Guinevere assures him it is normal — in which she seems to delight in the mild suffering of others, and gleefully seizes the opportunity to cause it when it presents itself. The methods employed are varied and impressively effective in their simplicity: pulling hair, twisting noses, biting fingertips, grabbing ears — especially those of people who insist on making themselves an easy target by parading around with a pair that looks so easily grabbable — and other such tricks as can be devised by the devious mind of a baby who can now confidently rely on her grasping skills. (...) Ygraine’s improper handling of a sword is unimportant, since that can be easily fixed with proper training; her fledgling sadistic streak, on the other hand, is slightly more worrying, being something Ygraine cannot have inherited from her mother, and having thus prompted in Arthur a level of self-scrutiny he doesn’t feel entirely comfortable with.

I also quite like An Act of Balance actually (Daemons!AU, Gen, Arthur & Merlin). I don’t think it’s the best thing I’ve written or anything, it was just fun to write.

Excerpt:

“So,” Merlin said, his voice muffled, due to him being half-inside Arthur’s wardrobe. “Gwen told me you’ve been asking questions about my daemon.” Arthur choked on the water he was drinking. “Sire?” Merlin stuck his head out, looking at Arthur in concern. “I’m fine!” Arthur rasped out, thumping his chest with his fist. Merlin grabbed a couple of shirts from the wardrobe. “Red or blue?” he asked, holding up first one and then the other, while Arthur tried to get his coughing under control. “I think blue. More flattering. I would’ve told you if you’d asked.” “That… blue flatters me?” Arthur asked hoarsely, blinking back tears. “About my daemon,” Merlin said, looking at Arthur as if he despaired of his intelligence.

tagging (if you feel like it): @agapantoblu @centurieslove @sexy-sapphic-sorcerer @holocrone @0hheytherebigbadwolf

@thefollow-spot @liviapeleia + anyone who wants to answer these (consider yourself tagged by me 🫵)

[seresinhangmanjake]

His Princess

Jake Seresin x fem!reader drabble

Summary: You surprise Jake with some special Disney-themed lingerie.

Notes: its not smutty and it’s not crazy influenced by Disney. Just went on a trip and this popped into my head. This is a drabble for now but based on what people think, I might make it full-length.

Words: 361

---

The bra was a deep shade of purple with a scalloped neckline and pearls of varying sizes lining the edges; and the fabric of the underwear, what was there of it anyway, shimmered in emerald tones under the light. A thin layer of seafoam green silk fluttered at your hips when you walked toward him.

Jake's eyes bugged out of his skull as he scanned your form up and down, lips parting in awe before he licked them to return some of their moisture. "Holy hell."

"You like it?"

"Do I--" he chuckled, reaching out to rest his hand on your waist. His soft palm slowly slid up and down the curve of your body and he leaned forward to kiss the swell of each of your pushed-up breasts. "Oh, Honey, this is--" he pulled back to drink in another full look at you then met your eyes. "I'm so fucking spoiled," he said as you braced your hands on his shoulders to staddle his thighs. "What, uh, what else did you buy?"

"Oh, just some others," you teased. With a little shove he fell back on the bed and your body followed, your chest pressing firmly against his. You ran a finger over his bottom lip.

"R-Really?" He swallowed, adams apple bobbing harshly. Dark pupils were blown wide with lust and his hands skimmed down your spine until he could grab two handfuls of your ass. He squeezed with strong fingers to leave his mark in the form of some prints that would turn purple by morning, then held your hips still so he could grind his length against your core. You moaned lowly, the sound causing him to twitch in his underwear. "What others?" he asked.

You smirked and leaned down to nip at his earlobe. "Surprises," you whispered, and you chuckled at his whimper. "But one of them does come with a tiara. So now you can have a princess whenever you want."

He lightly smiled, eyes lazily trailing over the features of your face as he tucked some hair behind your ear. "You've always been my princess, beautiful," he said, pressing his lips sweetly to yours. "Always."

tags: @marvel-ousnesss @thespeeder @marrianena @fangirlingoverfangirls @blue-aconite @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @dempy @chaoticassidy @alana4610 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @dracosluvbot @smoothdogsgirl @smit41 @wkndwlff @rileyloves5 @gigisimsonmars @hangmanbrainrot @withakindheartx @teacupsandtopgun @himbos-on-ice @xoxabs88xox @happypopcornprincess @violyn20 @jordanturpen @buckymcu12 @jerseybagel @nagygreta @rintheemolion @coldmuffinbanditshoe @avengersgirllorianna @oliviah-25 @talkfastromance4 @ysl-bby @chibijusstuff @kmsryles343 @sky1004 @sometimesicryintheshower @cookielovesbook-akie @yanna-banana @taylahk109