#mycroft x personal assistant reader

[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/

[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

[my-head-is-an-animal]

J Is Just A Letter

Mycroft Holmes x Reader

Chapter 1 - Bound To Me

‘Sir, it’s her again.’

Mycroft sighed, needing no other information he knew perfectly well what Anthea was talking about.

‘Where?’ Mycroft drawled. He stood up anyway and while his assistant explained the situation, he began going through every possible option he had to bring her in, knowing full well he would be unsuccessful.

They entered into the surveillance room, it was filled with screens and people and chatter and chaos, especially at times like this. They were all co-ordinating to bring up the security feed on the main screen.

J. That was the only name anyone knew her by, she was smart, quick-witted, aggravatingly ambitious and much to Mycroft’s annoyance, playful. She was very playful and often left evidence of her existence in various locations around the world. This time, it was Tokyo.

A helicopter was flying over a known – and thankfully abandoned – safehouse that the British used when transporting precious cargo. That was the seventh one in a little under two months, once a week, the exact same time, something somewhere would flag up and a message would be left from her.

First it was a robbery in a Manhattan gang den that Mycroft had been keeping his eyes on for months, with the message: “Are you ready to play with me?”

Then it was a little closer to home, a quiet storage facility in Yarmouth, Isle of White which she decided to repaint neon green and spelled out the message: “Are you paying attention?”

After that it was a safehouse in Casablanca where she had set up a rave and invited the whole of Morocco to attend and in the morning a message spelt out in champagne bottles on the roof: “Watch the movie with me?”

A car hire fronted drugs den in Rio was next, flooded somehow and a drug lord found laughing his head off repeating the same phrase over and over again: “Call me, call me and tell me I’m pretty.” The man had been driven mad by something, but that one phrase was all he was capable of saying.

Oslo was a slightly obscure one, several offices in a government building were locked down and each office had a letter spray painted inside, when Mycroft put the letters together it spelt out: “I’m not hungry, have dinner with me.” He realised that Irene Adler must have been a contact of hers, using the same flirting tactics only made him warier of her ambitions.

Then Florence happened and he knew he’d have to put an end to her antics sooner than he would have liked. It was a government ball, one that Mycroft himself was at, he’d been slipped a note by a waiter: “Do you like my dress?” He had the place locked down, no one in or out, every single person and place was searched, all he found was a memory stick with some photos on it. It was J, wearing a tight emerald green dress, with a slit that ran up to the very top of her thigh, her thick, soft dark hair pushed to one side, blood red lipstick, diamond earrings and a diamond necklace extenuating her chest, which Mycroft hated to admit had his mouth watering. She was standing inches away from him only hours earlier when he briefly spoke to the Italian Prime Minister and he never even noticed her.

Then it was Tokyo and the safehouse had blown up with J escaping through the back door, hopefully not getting caught up in the blast. Mycroft felt his heart settling when the fire began following a trail spelling out one word: “Forfeit?”

Mycroft wasn’t stupid, he knew her messages were specific to him, very few others had come to the same conclusion, but it was starting to become obvious. Mycroft checked his watch, she was right on time.

The footage showed a figure darting out of the building out the back way moments before an explosion went off. Everyone in the surveillance room barely reacted, Mycroft, however, felt his heart drop through the floor. If she had been killed by her own explosion, then this was the end of the game they were playing.

Mycroft looked at the footage a little closer, something looked off to him. He told whoever was nearest to him to keep him informed of any progress and headed back to his office to get on with some real work.

Anthea handed him an envelope as he walked past her desk, he frowned at it, but nothing seemed to be obviously wrong with it. Mycroft entered his office, closing the door behind him and noting that it was addressed to him, but it smelled familiar, like a perfume he’d inhaled once before.

He opened the envelope carefully and saw it was a collection of stunning black and white photos of J. They were classy, every curve was smooth and highlighted with gorgeous lighting and in every single one of them she was wearing no more than heels and the diamond necklace she’d worn in Florence.

Mycroft felt his mouth beginning to water again, she was exceptionally beautiful and in the six or so years he’d known her, she had only grown more so. He looked at each of the ten photographs in turn and felt himself getting warm beneath his skin. He quickly put them back into the envelope, took a soothing breath and went to put them on his desk, before changing his mind and keeping them secure in his inside jacket pocket.

‘Now, that is interesting.’

Mycroft spun around, feeling his heart racing with momentary fear. Perched on his long wooden cabinet was the woman herself. J. She looked professionally dressed in a tight black dress, one that was a square cut over her chest, nothing was entirely hidden about her beauty, but it looked more like she wasn’t trying to use it to her advantage, instead she was in his office for business not pleasure.

‘It didn’t quite seem conceivable that you would get your hands dirty in Tokyo.’ Mycroft said, gaining his breath back and shoving his hands in his pockets. ‘How did you get in here?’

‘Really? That’s the first thing you want to say to me?’ J rolled her bold green eyes and smirked. Her cheeks were defined and her jawline shapely and smooth. Her skin was lightly tanned and evident that she had in fact been abroad.

‘What should I be saying to you?’ Mycroft shot back. He sat back against his desk, if she wanted to play a game then fine, but he wasn’t going to lose.

J smiled, her eyes never leaving his. ‘Do you like my photos?’

‘Black and white tends to-‘

‘It’s a yes or no question, Mr Holmes, perhaps you could pick between the two.’

J observed his silence and a knowing look fluttered across her face. She let herself down off the cabinet in a very elegant manner, nothing was awkward, her smooth legs sliding over one another, heels delicately covering her feet as she slowly steps towards him.

‘What if the answer is infinitely more complex than that?’ Mycroft found himself saying.

J grinned. ‘I knew you’d love them.’ She said, standing barely two feet away from him. He noted the same perfume he’d smelt on the photographs and knew it was deliberate on her part. J folded her slender, tanned arms just below her chest and it only served to make Mycroft try to hide his discomfort. ‘So, do I have your attention yet?’

‘Almost exclusively.’ Mycroft said, enjoying the game somewhat. He’d reached the conclusion some time ago that J – whilst a complete nuisance and often a welcome distraction – was relatively harmless. She was having fun and that was it, no one important was getting hurt.

‘Well, don’t you know how to please a girl,’ she flirted. ‘That will come in very handy for you.’ Mycroft stared into her emerald eyes and tried hard not to get too lost in them, he knew where the line was. ‘I want to open doors, I want to misbehave and have the absolute pleasure of knowing you’re thinking about me.’

‘Well, you’ve certainly garnered my attention so far, Miss…?’ Mycroft knew it was hardly a trick, she’d never reveal her actual identity. J tilted her head, almost pleading for him to do better. ‘It seems you can already open doors and as for misbehaving, well, I have a whole file filled with messages from you written in blood and fire and champagne bottles, in turn you’ve forced me to think of you most days and how I could make plans to arrest you. Forgive me, but I can’t help but wonder why you’re asking for things you already have.’

J held his gaze for a few moments longer. She took another step towards him, her knees brushing against the inside of his and the proximity was a slightly dizzying one. He could smell vanilla shampoo and couldn’t help but find the scent a pleasing one.

‘I can’t open every door,’ her voice lowered. ‘I found those safehouses using cheap tricks, I want something more elegant than that. Mycroft Holmes, the name literally opens doors. That’s what I want. You have access to secure facilities, secret locations, lists of persons of interest. I want that too.’

‘Why? So you can destroy everything I’ve worked to build?’ Mycroft wouldn’t be beaten on this front.

J frowned. ‘Why would I want to destroy you, Mr Holmes?’

‘It’s what most people want.’

‘You’re making assumptions.’

‘If you only knew.’ Mycroft stopped, he realised what was happening, he’d been sucked into her game, he started flirting back.

J smiled, very pleased with herself, her eyes scanned his face, taking in every single part of it.

‘I promise I won’t be reckless.’

Mycroft hummed laughter. ‘You expect me to believe that?’

‘When have I ever broken a promise to you?’

‘You’ve never made a promise to me.’

J stepped all the way into his space, her arms dropped, her fingers traced his thighs sending warm rushes through his body, it wasn’t just her perfume he could smell, it was her. Her voice was low and Mycroft was left craving more.

‘I promise, I’ll never lie to you. How’s that?’

‘You might not lie, but you may not be completely honest with me.’ Mycroft replied, his own voice matched the depth of hers.

‘Hm, you’re a hard man to please Mr Holmes, but I’m sure I can work out what you like… and more importantly how you like it.’ The flirting had taken a new turn, one that had Mycroft seeing big red flags.

‘Why do you want to open doors? I suppose more specifically, which doors do you want to open?’ Mycroft was desperately trying to hold his focus, but her fingers had found his hips and the pressure was everything he desired.

‘You’ve spent the last two months watching me, but only because I wanted you to watch me.’ Mycroft was seeing flashes of things that were far too indulgent, he needed to remain focused. ‘I could do so much more out of sight. I could do things for you, Mr Holmes. You’ve seen what I can do on a small scale, when I’m just out to have fun, but when it’s time to get serious… or I don’t get what I want, then maybe we can rediscuss this.’

‘I’d rather you didn’t turn up at my office unannounced after setting fire to a safehouse.’

‘You don’t really think I did that, do you?’ J began to step back, taking her hands away from his thighs, he missed the contact and he knew she caught it. ‘Maybe next time you won’t be wearing the suit.’ J winked and it was everything in Mycroft’s power not to take her perfect body in his hands and worship her on his desk.

‘What makes you think there will be a next time?’

J stepped further and further back, giving him just a little more room to breathe. ‘Oh Mr Holmes, you and I are bound to each other. I’m going to make sure of it. Enjoy the photos.’

The dizziness was finally clearing, but by that time, J had already made it to the door of his office and left. He took a moment to compose himself and think on what had just happened, he routinely checked his pockets, noting she had taken nothing from him. Mycroft quickly darted towards the door and saw Anthea wandering back towards her desk.

‘How long have you been gone?’ He asked.

‘Only ten minutes.’ Anthea frowned, confused. ‘Is there something wrong Mr Holmes?’

‘I want to know the exact location of J now.’

‘Tokyo, sir. We had confirmation around three minutes ago that it was her at the safehouse.’

‘She is currently not in Tokyo.’ Mycroft could feel his frustration starting to get the better of him. ‘She’s in London, I want to know her movements, her exact location and where she is going next.’

‘Yes sir,’ Anthea picked up the phone. ‘Is there something we should be looking for?’

‘I don’t know.’ Mycroft was starting to realise what her plan may have been. ‘But I just told her “no”, I imagine she won’t take it well.’

‘Sir?’

‘Keep me informed.’ Mycroft went back into his office, closing the door behind him.

He found himself at a slight loss, not being entirely sure what made him act so out of character, what made him flirt back, she was just doing it to get a rise out of him, every move was a calculated one. Mycroft’s hand went absent-mindedly to his chest pocket where the black and white photos of J now rested. Her body was stunningly beautiful and she knew he thought that. The only question remained was how she was going to use it to her advantage.

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Main Story

Mycroft Holmes Masterlist

[imperial-martian]

Sculpture - Chapter One {Mycroft Holmes x Reader}

A/N: Mycroft is out of character throughout the entire story. He is only this way towards the reader and their is a reason as to why he is. Their is a sequel that I have planned for this story for months. It goes on to explain the backstory of the reader and explains why Mycroft acts the way he does with the reader.

If you dislike the fact that Mycroft is out of character, don’t read this story then. I do hope you all enjoy that do decide to read this!

The sound of your laughter was the only sound that filled the relatively silent manor- the only other sounds being a ticking clock and the man before you, who was currently trying, and somehow failing, to set a tea cup down after accidentally spilling some on himself.

Wiping the tears that clouded your vision, you stood up from your usual reading spot by the electric fireplace that stood by the corner of the room and made your way over to the, now, struggling man. You sighed gently, shaking your head playfully at the auburn-haired man before you. 

"Damn," he mumbled just as you grabbed the pocket square from the breast pocket of his blazer, carefully beginning to dab at his, once, crisp button-up. You bit your lip on concentration, making sure not to allow his damp shirt touch his skin. You didn't want the hot tea that spilled on it to burn him more than it already had.

Rubbing his pale hands, which have now reddened a bit due to the scalding tea, he looked down at you. Curiously, he watched as you carefully wiped his button-up, his eyes following your hand as you wiped down his shirt, following a trail of tea that had stopped just before his abdomen.

You had backed away once you made sure that his clothes weren't nearly as damp as before. You watched as he smoothed down his shirt, an unconscious habit of his, and smiled softly now that you knew his clothes weren't as hot as before and could touch his chest without the worry of it causing him pain.

"You're slipping Mycroft," you teased, folding his slightly damp pocket square and placing it on his desk before turning to look up at the taller man with a soft grin plastered on your lips. Gently, you patted his chest, missing the spot where the tea had spilt, and giving the man a small smirk, which he returned with narrowed eyes and a slight head tilt to show that he clearly wasn't amused.

"Am I?" he questioned rhetorically, raising his brow playfully at you. "Why do you think that is?" he asked, watching as your grin faded and you now brought a finger up to your lip as you thought, which only caused him to grin now.

You looked up to meet his gaze when you noticed his grin, your gentle e/c eyes searching his pale blue ones to find any answer that he had for his own question in them. Mycroft's lacked emotions, like they usually did, however, you learned to see the hidden ones in time. Working with Mycroft Holmes for nearly twelve years gave you time to find the subtle hints of emotions in his eyes, or even just his thoughts on a subject by his body language. 

Mycroft was truly a mystery to you, and yet you noticed the softness in his pale blue eyes. The softness that only grew the more he looked into your gentle e/c ones. 

"Hmmm, I'm not quite sure, Mr. Holmes"- he raised a brow, knowing that you only called him that when you were acting innocent towards him -"Why don't you tell me." 

Mycroft narrowed his eyes again, knowing exactly what game you were playing and planning to make sure he was the winner of it. 

He didn't break eye contact with you, if he did he'd be letting you win and he simply could not let that happen- he had started this game and he would finish it. Mycroft knew all the emotions you were feeling at the moment: amusement, enthusiasm and the most common and visible of them all being care. 

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he walked passed you, gently brushing his shoulder with yours as he made his way to the door so he could head upstairs and change.

"I have no idea, my dear," Mycroft replied, looking over his shoulder to look at you, "it's part of the reason why I asked." 

You crossed your arms and wiggled a finger at Mycroft, your alternative to pointing it at him. "Then what was the other reason you asked?" you wondered, watching as Mycroft turned the door handle and pushed the door open a bit, leaving it ajar. 

Mycroft was still looking over his shoulder, his structure showing his usual demeanor, but his lips showing you the playfulness he was currently feeling. 

"Oh, Miss L/N, surely you know what the answer to that is," Mycroft urged, chuckling softly when you only returned his statement with a shake of your head. "Well, if you must know," he started, turning around and grinning wickedly to himself. "Maybe you are the reason I am slipping."

You heard the door open a bit more and the sound of Mycroft's footsteps walking towards the stairs that led to the second floor. You stuttered to reply back, having not expected Mycroft to flirt with you, especially in such an obvious, verbal way. 

He chuckled, hearing your struggle and called back out to you from where he stood, "kidding!" Then, he finally made his way up the stairs and walked into his room, shutting the door behind him.

By the time Mycroft had returned back to the office after having taken a quick shower to ensure that he didn't get sticky due to the honey and sugar in his tea, he wore a new button up, a light grey one, and completely disregarded the blazer he would usually wear around the house. 

You noticed that he kept the same trousers, those haven't had a single drop of tea spill onto them. It was a simple black trouser that could have been completely different from the one he wore before had it not had a piece of string that hung from the left foot hole right before the fibula. You smiled proudly to yourself, knowing that your deduction, something that Mycroft taught you a bit about through the years, was right and that he simply found no point in wearing a new pair of trousers when this one was perfectly clean. 

Now, you were nowhere near as good at deductions as Mycroft or even his younger brother who had come up in many conversations between you and your employer, but you still tried your best to notice things others wouldn't bother looking for. 

You blinked a bit as you heard the sound of the door shutting and began to focus on Mycroft, who's back was facing towards you as he took a step back from the door. Smiling at the man softly, you turned back around and faced his desk where you had organized some of his files while he was gone. 

Mycroft walked towards his chair, sitting down upon it once he reached it. Noticing the nearness on his desk instantly, he hummed and looked up towards you.

Smiling genuinely, he said, "Thank you, Y/N," before leaning back a bit and observing you for a short moment. 

"Of course Mycroft," you replied, shrugging to show that it was really no problem.

Thinking to yourself again, now that you were both sitting in enjoyable silence once again, you took the time to think about how almost twelve years ago you were living in such disarray. You weren't proud of your past, by any means, but the one man in front of you was able to turn your entire world around within just a few years. 

Sure, he hadn't been as nice to you as he is now. It took at least two years for him to finally ease up around you, and another two for him to give you the position of his in-house personal assistant and not just his personal assistant. 

It took years for Mycroft to actually open up about his emotions to you. Six years to be exact. Before that, he was just your stuck up boss who had saved you on the streets that winter night. Of course, you had stuck with him having been far too thankful for what he had done for you since that night. 

Yet, your relationship grew with time, like most things in the world, and although it was strictly professional he had deemed you a friend, a word he dared not to say. 

It was rather strange, how things had seemed to change between you both, because, although it took years, Mycroft seemed to open up to you rather willingly. Of course, he had been hesitant when telling you something, and even though you weren't sure why he had so freely told you the things he did anyways, you were glad he had. Not only had it improved your trust in him, but you had then told him things that you would never have told to anyone else. 

Mycroft, already having deduced what you had told him, still listened. He knew that you needed to verbalize your issues, and even though it was hard for you to do so, he encouraged you the best he could while still giving you the option to stop the conversation where it was.

And you smiled now, knowing that you couldn't wish for anyone else to be your friend. So, looking up at Mycroft as he began to write something down on a crisp white sheet of paper, you leaned forward.  

"Y'know, we should really go out for ice cream like we used to," you stated with a soft chuckle as you saw him look up at you with a raised brow. 

He grinned before replying back with a simple nod and standing up after he checked the time. "Well, shall we then?" he asked before quickly debating with himself if he should grab a blazer or not, but looking back at you and realizing you were grabbing the sweater on the back of your chair, he decided to grab his. 

"I suppose we shall," you hummed, letting your hands slide through the sleeves of your sweater and waiting for Mycroft as he just threw his blazer of his shoulder. 

Nodding, Mycroft walked towards the office door before holding it open for you and walking out behind you and doing the same with the front door. 

"Let's walk," you said softly, knowing that the ice cream parlor was only a twenty-minute walk and that it was far too nice out for the both of you to be sitting in a car.

Mycroft chuckled and looked over at you, grinning slightly. "Alright," he whispered before walking out to the front of the driveway.

Tags: @klinenovakwinchester

*If you want to be added, send me an ask!*

[charliedawn]

I'm rewatching sherlock rn and and I've gotten a tiny bit infatuated with moriarty, eurus and mycroft again whoops

Would you be able to write something, Jim x reader, where you've been in a relationship with him for ages and are John's sister, one day your visiting John at Baker Street and sherlock and moriarty are having one of thier intimidating-each other-over-tea conversations and you overhear and that's how you find out Jim's been an evil criminal mastermind the whole time and you think he only ever got with you for some type of ulterior motive or to have a civilian identity to fall back on if he needed, you still love him but have zero trust for him now and he's trying his best to convince you that you weren't part of his game and that he actually cares about you?

If that's too messy of a request to follow maybe just something angsty that's generally along those lines? Also if you don't wanna write it that's totally fine too just wanted to ask cuz I love the BBC sherlock characters so much!!

Hiya. So, that scene just appeared in my mind and I couldn't help but add a little comedic effect to the whole situation. Hope you'll like it. 😉👍

Your brother and Sherlock had been working on a case together involving a dangerous criminal and you had been commissioned with the important role of courier between the both of them, since your brother had apparently 'other things to take care of'.

John had called you over for some important file he needed and Sherlock had left in your flat—because of course he had the keys.

You tried to tell him you had a date with your boyfriend, but your brother had hung up on you before you could tell him.

So, you had no choice but to comply.

You sighed as you found yourself in front of 221 Baker Street on a lovely evening and wondered what you were doing with your life..However, you then heard shouting inside and found the door opened ajar.

You knew Sherlock to hold little importance to personal safety, but you knew Mrs Hudson—and she never forgot to close the door behind Sherlock.

You decided to take a look inside and frowned at the deserted area, but then you heard it again.

A struggle was happening upstairs and you rushed to Sherlock's room with a flashlight in hand.

"...Hello ?"

You were met with dead silence and cautiously went up the stairs and opened the door, only to be met with Sherlock, John and...YOUR BOYFRIEND ?!

John *turns towards you* : "Y/N ! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE ?!"

You : "YOU CALLED ME !"

Sherlock : "Not the time, Y/N. We're in the middle of a conversation with this psychopathic mass murderer."

You *to Moriarty* "HOLD UP ! YOU'RE THE PSYCHOPATHIC MASS MURDERER ?!"

Moriarty *smiles at you* : "Surprise ! Hello, sweetie."

Sherlock *to Moriarty* : "You're my assistant's sister's boyfriend ?"

John *to you* : "Wait a minute—YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND ?!"

You *sigh* : "Not now John.."

Jim chuckled in amusement while Sherlock was pinning him in place and you glared daggers at him.

"Shocking. I know. Not really. Actually, it was pretty obvious. Sherlock knew from the start."

Both you and John *turn towards Sherlock in shock* : "YOU KNEW ?!"

Sherlock : "Well. Yes. It was obvious. Taking into account Y/N's terrible taste in men and disastrous past love life.."

You : "EXCUSE YOU ?!"

Moriarty *agrees* : "A tragedy..You should thank me I came and tagged along."

John : "HEY ! NOBODY TALKS ABOUT MY SISTER'S BAD TASTE BUT ME !"

You *in disbelief* : "OKAY ! FIRST OF ALL, OUCH ! AND THEN, ONE MORE PERSON SAYS ANYTHING ABOUT MY LOVE LIFE, I SWEAR TO KILL HIM !"

Sherlock : "..."

John : "..."

Jim : "..Well—"

You knocked him down with a book and shouted.

"I WARNED YOU !"

After that episode, your boyfriend was arrested and sent to a highly secured prison—one you were sure he wouldn't be able to escape from..but were—once again—disappointed.

After a little time in prison because love hurts :

Jim was waiting for you in front of your apartment and smiled when he saw you appear.

"Hello, darling. Missed me ?"

You stopped dead in your tracks at the familiar figure and shook your head in disbelief.

"H..How ?"

Moriarty chuckled before standing aside from your front door to take a couple of steps towards you—noticing how your hand disappeared in your purse for your phone.

"Really ? Our old friend how ? I already told you. I'm Jim Moriarty. I don't explain how. I just do."

You sighed and ignored him, wishing to step in your flat and shut the door in his face. No matter how much you tried to brush it off, you still had feeling for Moriarty.

"What are you doing here, Jim ? Don't you have Sherlock to go bother ?"

He smiled and shrugged before replying nonchalantly.

"Well...Do I have to have a reason to go see my girlfriend ?"

You scoffed loudly in disbelief.

"Haven't you heard ? We broke up. It was pretty clear to me from the way I knocked you out with a book.."

Moriarty pouted at the painful memory and nodded.

"Yes. I remember. I still have the bump on the the back of my head to prove it.."

You snorted and replied sarcastically

"You poor dear..Want some ice ?"

Moriarty stayed silent for a while and you thought he would go away once he would understand that you aren't interested anymore, but you yelped when he wrapped his arms around you from behind and whispered in your ear.

"Well..I would prefer a kiss ?"

You sighed and shook your head—trying not to cry at the tender hold.

"Tell me...What's the plan now, huh ? You're going to trick me into falling in love with you again and use me to get to Sherlock ?"

Moriarty hummed absent-mindedly at the question before twirling a strand/curl of your hair between his fingers.

"Aww..Cutie pie. ~I would never."

You pulled away from his embrace to glare at him.

"Cut the crap. Tell me. Talk frankly for once."

Moriarty stopped playing with your hair before sighing loudly—as if the discussion was boring him.

"I never tricked you into anything. I arrived and offered you a breath of fresh air from your overprotective brother and your old unrequited crush and you took it. I didn't force you."

Your eyes widened as Moriarty mentioned your old crush.

"Y..You knew ?"

He laughed—as if the answer was obvious.

"~Oh honey..Of course I knew. It was high time someone would see you. Because Mycroft would have never seen you like I do, Y/N.."

You shook your head and took a step back—trying to convince yourself that the man before you was nothing but a deceiver and would only use and hurt you. But, he had been such a relief from your chaotic life when you didn't know of his true identity and you sincerely hoped everything hadn't been a lie.

But, you weren't a fool and knew the truth was far from what you had lived with him.

"You are a villain.", you accused—but Moriarty only laughed again before stroking your cheek.

"Oh sweetheart..Don't you know ? Villains make the best lovers."

He didn't hesitate before kissing you, his hands cupping your cheeks and you let him. Because, deep down. You knew.

He was right.

You had never felt happier than by his side and even though Moriarty was a villain—you weren't sure you really cared inside.

You opened the door to your flat and you both stumbled inside.

Mycroft *spying the both of you through a video camera* : "~Oh Y/N..What have I done ?"

[yuumoriarty]

SPENDING VALENTINE'S DAY WITH THE MORIARTY THE PATRIOT CHARACTERS: 221B BOYS EDITION!

tags: gn!reader x sherlock holmes; gn!reader x john watson.

warnings: none (this is mostly fluff).

SHERLOCK HOLMES

let me tell you this man has zero clue about what to do on valentine's day LMAAOOOO

you were the first person he's ever been in a relationship with

i mean yeah sure he'd allow you to tag along whenever he was working on a case

THE PROUD LOOK ON HIS FACE WHEN YOU NOTICE DETAILS HE HAS MISSED I SWEAR THIS MAN WOULD PEPPER YOUR FOREHEAD WITH KISSES ENDLESSLY

ANYWAYS MOVING ON he knows how special of a day valentine's day is and wants to spend the entire day with you

he wanted to write you a poem about how much he loved you yet his literature skills were not just up to par with his deduction skills

and so he sought out john's assistance

BLESS THAT MAN ALWAYS AT THE READY TO HELP SHERLOCK AT HIS TIME OF NEED

"i just couldn't figure out what to give y/n, john! they're the most special person i have ever met and i want them to know how much i love them, but i can't figure out what to do!"

john decided to unfurl the crumpled letters that littered sherlock's study and smiled at his bestfriend's attempt at wanting to be poetic, even for once

john helped sherlock write a letter to you the idea of a poem entirely ditched because sherlock was absolutely frustrated about not using the perfect figures of speech to describe you

even sherlock asked miss hudson's assistance to cook dinner and set the dining table up

on his own accord, he went out to the shop to buy you a bouquet of your most favorite flowers

and he even purchased you a necklace with your initial on it

sherlock loves you so much though he may be confused but he's got the spirit

and takes every opportunity he sees to show you how much he really does

when valentine's day came, he set his cases aside just to spend the day with you

you two would go around doing what you won't normally do because of sherlock's occupation being a consulting detective

you would roam around shopping for clothes, or even just walk around and enjoy the sceneries as you talk about your future together

sherlock even introduced you to his older brother mycroft and you were allowed entry into the diogenes club

mycroft would be so proud of sherly for having an s/o

during dinner, miss hudson laid out a glorious feast for you and sherlock

john excuses himself from the scene saying he had an important matter to attend to

he doesn't HE JUST WANTED TO HAVE HIS SHIP SAIL HE'S LIKE THE BIGGEST SHIPPER OF YOU TWO 😭 MISS HUDSON STAYED BEHIND THOUGH SHE ISOLATED HERSELF IN HER QUARTERS TO GIVE YOU TWO SOME PRIVACY AWWWW

as you were finishing up, sherlock nervously gave you the bouquet and the letter he'd prepared for the occasion

and just when you thought the surprise was over, he took out the necklace he had bought earlier that week and put it on you

sherlock apologized profusely if that wasn't the date you pictured with him since he's still trying to learn how to be romantic for you he'd do anything that's how much he loves you

and you couldn't get any words out

you just wrapped your arms around him and pulled him in close for a hug

you were just so happy and grateful that despite his lack of knowledge for romance, he was trying and though he might not be the best at romantic actions, he always find a way to show you just how much you mean to him and how lucky he is to have someone as perfect and understanding as you in his life

JOHN WATSON

considering how he wrote the accounts of sherlock's solved cases, you best believe this man knows how to say the words that could make your heart flutter

he loves everything about you: the sound of your laugh was like music to his ears, the way you smiled was brighter than the sun, the way you talked sounded comforting to his ears

he fell for your personality first, your looks were just a bonus

whenever you two meet, he'd always envelop you in a warm hug

valentine's day is no exception

he left sherlock on his own accord for the day

of course sherlock was smirking teasingly at john but was happy that his bestfriend was enthusiastic about his date

john had been working on a gift for you since you two had been together and he figured out that the best day to give it to you was on valentine's

he was so happy to see you and instantly hugged you the minute you were within his reach

john would never fail to make you feel good about your appearance

you'd done something to your hair? he'd compliment that it suits you. you bought new clothes for a particular occasion? he'd comment about how you look stunning in it

he turns into a blushing mess right after, embarrassed that he might have gone overboard and used words that were too flowery

but you loved that side of him i mean to be honest you love all sides of him

for valentine's day, you two would visit your favorite places together and the places in which you two had your dates

you'd share a laugh as you reminisce how awkward it was at first when you were at the beginning stages of your relationship

"remember when you poured too much wine on your glass?" "y/n! that was only because i was entranced with your stories!"

did i mention that this man loves skinship?

he'd be holding your hand in his, smiling fondly at you as he listens to your stories

HE JUST ADORES YOU SO MUCH OKAY

now back to his valentine's gift

as the sun began to set, john invited you over for tea at 221b

while you were in the middle of having your tea, he hurriedly went to his room and went back to you with something hidden on his back

john sheepishly handed you the wrapped object and as you opened it, your eyes welled in tears

he actually wrote a book about your love story

ROMANTIC INNIT

"i know it isn't the most expensive gift there is but -" "john, i love it."

to which he became a speechless, blushing mess once more

and then there was that comfortable silence that settled between you two as you shared a loving look at one another

cue sherlock's untimely entrance breaking this intimate moment with a bang as he entered, jumping around because of a new case

(here's a bonus gif of sherlock and john because my love for these men knows no bounds I ADORE THEIR FRIENDSHIP REGARDLESS OF WHICH ADAPTATION AND I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF FROM MAKING A GIF OF THIS PARTICULAR SCENE)

NOTE: this is the first time that i have done something like this so i don't know if i did this any justice. i'll be posting the moriarty edition next!

[girl-next-door-writes]

A Gentle Nudge - Part 2

Characters: Mycroft Holmes x reader

Summary: Will Sherlock successfully play matchmaker, or is it a case of natural chemistry?

Word Count: 1738 words

Prompt: “Did you really get us matching Christmas jumpers?”

Matchmaking.

To maximize his chances of success, Sherlock decided to drag you around with him at every available opportunity. If you and Mycroft were going to hit it off then there needed to be more interaction between the two of you, which, when it came to his brother, was really rather difficult.

The first time your paths crossed after the fateful party was in Speedy’s café. You had been chatting with John in a booth by the window and Mycroft had wandered in. There was some information he wanted John to pass on to his brother, he felt that giving it to him face to face would only ensure Sherlock wanted nothing to do with the case.

He stood, rather awkwardly at the table, addressing John and barely looking at you. In truth, that was because any time he did, he felt that warmth on his cheek from your kiss, and it confused him. He picked up that his abrupt conduct disappointed you a little, and he furrowed his brow.

“John!” Sherlock cried as he burst through the door, “The game is on.” Then he turned to leave in the same manner.

“Sorry. I’d best follow him, or he’ll only end up embroiled in some scandal or faking his own death, again.” John sighed, getting to his feet as if he didn’t love the thrill of the chase.

Once he left, it was just you and Mycroft. He felt he couldn’t just abandon you, so he ordered a tea and slipped into the seat recently vacated by John. The two of you sat in rather a companionable silence, stealing glances when you were sure the other wasn’t looking. It was strange, but Mycroft felt relaxed in your presence, a fact he stored away in his mind palace for future scrutiny. For now, he wanted to simply enjoy the moment.

The next time Mycroft Holmes met you, it was at a crime scene. Climbing out of the back of his black car, he had rolled his eyes at his brother’s latest antics. The evening was awash with blue flashing lights, although thankfully the sirens had ceased. Usually, Mycroft would not bother with a personal appearance, would simply keep track of Sherlock on the myriad of camera’s provided by the government, but there had been mention of a new companion, and he had been curious, was it you?

Anthea appeared beside him, furiously tapping away on her phone. The two of them were dressed for a cocktail party, some function he was obligated to attend to appease some of the men who believed they were in charge. This was just a detour, a brief tangent to settle the nagging feeling in the back of his mind regarding your safety.

“Sherlock. What would mummy say if she saw you like this?” He asked with the hint of a sigh, before his eyes locked onto yours. Although he had suspected you would be there, it felt like the air had been punched out of him.

“Mycroft, how lovely to see you coming to check up on your brother. He is unharmed, thankfully, though he did very nearly take a bullet to that stupid face of his.” You looked at the consulting detective pointedly and Mycroft had to fight back a smile, a detail Sherlock picked up on immediately.

“We really do have to go.” Anthea said, looking up at her boss with an air of boredom.

“Oh.” Your eyes had widened, taking in the appearance of the two of them and leaping to your own conclusions. “I’m sorry, are we keeping you from your date? As you can see, Sherlock is perfectly fine and…”

“It’s not a date.” Mycroft hurriedly corrected you, causing both Sherlock and Anthea to look at him with a mixture of amusement and surprise. “Anthea is my assistant. We have a work function. Not a date.”

“Not a date. Okay.” You had given him a small nod, as in acknowledging his information and filing it away somewhere.

“Although I do have to be going. Sherlock, please try to keep out of trouble for the rest of the evening.”

“Only if you promise not to start any wars at your ‘function’.” Sherlock shot back, earning him an eyeroll as his brother stalked off.

“He really is a pompous ass.” Sherlock sighed, watching for your reaction out of the corner of his eye. “And he’s put on weight again.”

“Nonsense. Your brother looks very fine in his suit. You’re just jealous you aren’t invited to the fancy party where you can cause chaos.” You hummed, your eyes still on Mycroft’s retreating figure.

“Perhaps, but don’t go telling him that.” Sherlock grinned, he had no idea how, but it seemed like his plan was going well.

“Oh, there is a beautiful Van Gogh exhibit at the moment, totally immersive, if you get the chance, you really should see it.” Mycroft heard your voice as he reached the top of the stairs and he paused for a moment, steeling himself to actually see you.

Over the past few days, he had found himself thinking about you, wondering what you were doing, tracking your movements, taking notes about your habits, your likes and dislikes. He had no idea why he felt compelled to do so, but he wanted to know everything he could about you.

“That does sound delightful, and you certainly seem very passionate about it, dear.” A second familiar voice rang out from Sherlocks flat and Mycroft took a deep breath before entering.

“Mummy? You didn’t tell me you were visiting.” Mycroft gave his mother a wan smile as she embraced him in a welcoming hug.

“You’re not the only one.” Sherlock said darkly from his chair, plucking away at his violin.

“I would have thought both of you would be more excited to have her here. Honestly, the amount of time these two spend talking about you, I’d say you have two mummy’s boys right here.” You had smiled so warmly that Mycroft didn’t have the heart to be disgusted by you comment.

“Well, if these two are too busy, then perhaps we should go see this exhibit you were talking about. I would like to hear what you have to say about my boys.” That certainly got a reaction from both of her sons, although Mycroft was not what any of them had expected.

“I am not too busy. I could accompany you both to the exhibition and then take you for something to eat afterwards. I will simply have Anthea clear my schedule for the afternoon.” He said matter-of-factly, steadfastly ignoring the incredulous look on his brother face, and the surprise on his mothers, instead focusing on the joy on yours.

As the three of you left, Sherlock grabbed John’s laptop, there was something he needed to do to secure this familiarity with his brother, he needed to give you both a common enemy.

Sitting in the Holmes family residence, stomach full after a wonderful Christmas meal, you wondered why Sherlock seemed to be buzzing with energy.

“Is it really only 4pm?” Mycroft sighed as he sank down onto the sofa beside you. “Today feels like wading through treacle.”

“That’s what Christmas Day is supposed to feel like. It is one long Sunday afternoon where the only productive thing one can do is nap.” You said softly, a smile playing on your lips as you watched Sherlock sit down heavily on the floor by the tree.

“What are you doing?” John asked from where he leaned against the door frame.

“We have to give the gifts from the tree.” He stated, as if that were obvious.

“From the tree?” You frowned, and Mycroft couldn’t help but think you looked completely adorable.

“Yes. It’s a Holmes family tradition. We each get a final gift, after Christmas dinner, from the tree. Look, there’s one here for you and John too.” He grinned, knowing exactly what was in yours… and Mycroft’s.

“Alright then, you can have your tree present.” His mother said as she sat down beside his father, the two of them holding hands and sharing fond glances.

“One for you,” Sherlock tossed a present at you. “one for you,” this one hit Mycroft who glowered at his brother. Once everyone had a parcel, you all began to open them with varying degrees of excitement.

“Oh! It’s lovely.” You said, holding up a rather festive jumper.

“Did you really get us matching Christmas jumpers?” Mycroft looked from your gift to his own in confusion. Why would you match? It wasn’t as if you were his friend, you were Sherlocks, although that thought made him feel really quite jealous.

“I didn’t get you anything.” Sherlock said innocently, “Those gifts are from the tree. Maybe the tree knows something we don’t. Perhaps the tree has decided that you two would look good as a matching pair.”

“Oh, put them on. I want to get a photograph.” Mrs Holmes gushed, clearly already planning the wedding in her mind.

“Is it too late to disappear off for a nap?” Mycroft murmured to you as he reluctantly removed his waistcoat to pull on the jumper.

“I would say it’s not, if you take me with you, but I think that may only add fuel to the fire, so to speak.” You hummed back, slipping your arms into the sleeves of your latest gift.

“Then it looks as if we are stuck here, in our matching jumpers, drinking eggnog and listening to Sherlock.” Mycroft smiled at you, realising he really didn’t mind that.

“Looks like.” You agreed. “You know, we will have to co-ordinate when we are wearing the jumpers in future. Do we want to match or make sure we don’t?”

“Well, either way, I think it would be prudent for us to exchange numbers. That way we can work out the jumper situation, or you can let me know when there is a new art exhibition in town, or I could ask you to join me for dinner.” Mycroft said casually as he concentrated on rolling up his sleeves perfectly.

“I think that sounds like an excellent idea.” You smiled, and he felt you lean a little more into him.

“You’ll find that I am full of them.” He whispered in your ear as he bumped his shoulder against yours. And for the first time since he couldn’t remember when, Mycroft Holmes didn’t feel lonely.

[thebadboyfanclub]

It’s Alright Darling (Sherlock x Reader)

Ok... Was this requested? No. Am I writing it cause anything Henry Cavill related makes me feel happy? Yes. Enjoy!

Being Sherlock Holmes assistant was something a lot of people would kill for and that makes it even better if you think about the irony of it. However, since Sherlock wasn’t a normal person to mostly everything he did, he had decided to hire a woman as his assistant, Mycroft called him mad and unhinged almost every time he brought up her name. (Y/n) was one of the most intelligent people he had ever been around, combining that with a charming personality was the recipe to success.

“Well, well, well I see my brother is full of surprises”

“Hello there Mycroft is so nice to see you again as well”

She spoke in an clearly ironic tone as she took of her gloves, she was never a fan of hats other than the occasions she knew she would be under the sun for hours. As she walked in the living room area for what seemed like their childhood home, Sherlock had requested for (y/n) to arrive a day later than the brothers, knowing that her and his older brother were like oil and water he chose to “prepare the grounds” first.

“Where is the young little Holmes?”

“Inside, talking with miss Harrison”

“Alright... who is miss Harrison?”

“Miss Harrison is an excellent teacher and a friend of mine, come to think of it maybe you should go in and ask her to take you as well... you might be a bit old but I’m sure she can make an exception”

Mycroft found (y/n) intolerant, she was dismissive, unladylike, mouthy and a feminist, he still does not understand what asset do she brought to his younger brother. She only smiled while sitting at one of the chairs

“I will let you know I was an excellent student in all my academic achievements, although I suppose you were one as well that doesn’t really prove someone’s intelligence or manners, right mister Holmes?”

Sherlock let a laugh be heard at (y/n)’s quick response, even though he would never take sides and sometimes wanted them to get along, he had accepted that it would never happen and simply enjoyed the situation.

“Amused brother? Of course you are as mad as her since you didn’t only hire her, you kept her around and brought her in my home”

“Now Now mister Holmes, what type of gentleman would you be if you threaten to through out not just a lady but your younger brothers guest, unfortunately you are just further proving my point about our little quarrel”

Before he had the chance to respond a young girl walked in, wearing a white undergarment dress and looking disheveled. The girl who (y/n) could only assume was the infamous Enola didn’t even notice her being in this room.

“No, don’t do this to me. Let me remain happy, I am happy here”

“You are a young woman now Enola, you need an education”

“Test me, on anything you think I need to know in order to be sufficient for this world”

“If she taught you so well, you wouldn’t be standing in your undergarment in front of me”

Silence fell in the room for a quick second. His disgusting answer to his own sister made (Y/n) get on her feet, Enola quickly let her gaze fall on the young woman that was now in her house.

“Why is that a problem Mister Holmes? Undergarments are scandalous for the men when a woman they are interested in wears them, she is your underaged sister”

“This is a family matter, it does not- I repeat- does not concern you”

“Of course it does not concern me, but it does concern me when a young girl is being held accountable for walking in her home, to her brothers, completely covered and still being shamed for it”

Enola understood by that quick argument the lady was not here because of Mycroft, so it only meant she was Sherlocks company, she is not his wife since if not invited he would have at least informed their mother, so perhaps a girlfriend?

“Enola you have no hopes of making a husband out of your state, neither do you... miss (y/l/n)”

“I don’t want a husband”

Enola claimed, raising her voice at the ridiculous claim her brother made. Even though they haven’t been properly introduced they had developed a mutually liking for each other, at a brief look they seemed to have the same outlook on life.

“And that is another thing you need to have educated out of you”

At that Enola turned to look at her other brother, Sherlock, who had remained radio silent throughout this entire conversation. Enola kneeled in front of him, as Sherlock looked at her and then broke eye contact to look down at the book he was holding.

“Sherlock, Don’t let him do this to me”

“You are his ward”

“Make me yours. Guide me. Teach me. For him I am nuisance. For you-”

“Enola. I’m sorry, but it’s out of my hands”

“Just like his cruelty to our mother was out of your hands”

Cruelty to their mother? No, Sherlock would have never allowed his mother to go through anything, he is a man of honor... isn’t he? (Y/n) felt her stomach tighten as she saw this tragic scene unravel, she hoped Sherlock would have accepted and took her in.

“She is not dangerous. She is remarkable and always has been. And if you still can’t see that then shame on you both”

“So remarkable she left you in my care”

Mycroft shot back. (Y/n) could almost feel the pain the young girl felt, you could see it in her eyes how that was an arrow straight in her heart. (Y/n) decided to step up and try to help, she approached the young girl with a kind smile and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here to calm down. Seems like your brothers don’t share the same love and admiration you do for the woman that made them who they are”

“I am a self made successful man”

“but you wouldn’t be no man if the woman you frown upon had not broken her hips and went through hours of painful labor. Take that as some food for thought before you school me on my manners”

Sherlock looked at her in awe, as she stood proudly next to his sister and became the shield he should have been. Standing up for a girl you haven’t even spoken to or knew before this.

“Let’s go young Enola, seems like a woman’s presence is wanted here only when she does as she is told”

-

“Come in”

“Can I open this door and be promised that I will remain safe or are you holding a dagger and you are ready to take me out of this world?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dagger you in your own household? I would probably wait to poison you a few days after we leave and write the paperwork of you firing me”

He smiled at her plan as he closed the door in her room. It was already nightfall and the only light here were a few candles, he had let her take a breather after the unfortunate event that had occurred previously. Even though he wasn’t the one that she went toe to toe with, his silence was as obnoxious to her as his brothers loud ignorance towards the female gender.

“You are upset”

“Of course not, why would I be? It’s not like you let that man embarrass his own sibling and talk down to his mother without her being in the room”

She had remained sited in the chair next to the table, a book open that seemed like she was writing on rather than reading it. He was aware she was holding a journal, he didn’t blame her for it, having a job like she did she was in desperate need of something to keep her sane.

“This is a very wary subject”

“I am aware of it, I just can’t seem to understand why not comfort her, try to change your brothers opinion, anything that will show you care for her, you do care for her, right Sherlock?”

“She is my baby sister (y/n), that’s a given”

She closed her book. She ran her hand through her  through her hair and got up from her sit, her hands going in front of her torso at a defensive demeanor, even when Sherlock should be cold or show his higher position to her, he couldn’t help but seek some type of truce with her, how could he not? She looked so beautiful even when she mad at him, the eyes he was so caught up in looked at him with fury, her delicate feature went harsh and she was dressed more... lightly now.

“I spoke with her earlier, she was in the garden”

“I know, I saw.”

“She asked me about you, asked me if you were my lady”

Her eyes went wide for a split second before regaining her composer and turned her back to him. She approached the window before she spoke.

“If you think of how she became familiar with me, she was probably certain I wasn’t even friends with your holier than God brother”

“You mustn't be angry at me”

“And why is that?”

“Because other than my sister and mother, I care for you and for your opinion about me”

She remained silent. Not only because she was caught off guard by his comment, she also didn’t know what he was talking about. Sherlock stepped closer to her, his steps making her heart flutter and her palms sweaty. He stopped when he was right behind her, he wanted to hug her, caress her, kiss her, still he was uncertain of how she would react.

“I still remember the night you got kidnapped”

Someone that Sherlock had helped uncover had escaped prison and kidnapped her. Luckily, she was retrieved safely yet again she was still shaken up by the scary experience, when Sherlock found her awake next to the fireplace she was so vulnerable and grateful to be alive she launched at him and kissed him passionately.

He shared his bed with her, in the middle of the night though she had gotten up and left, when morning came she acted like nothing had happened, barely even looked at him in the eyes for a week.

“Please Sherlock don’t pick at my brain”

“Why did you leave that night? Did you regret it that much”

“That night... was the most blissful I have ever been.... However you are still my boss Sherlock”

“That’s all I am to you? Your boss?”

(Y/n) turned to look at him, tears welling up in her eyes. Those eyes would be the death of him, it was with no doubt the window to her soul, that pure gentle soul of hers.

“What am I to you then Sherlock? This wasn’t just about me”

“You are.... what I never knew I needed”

His hands went up to her forearms instinctively, a soft caress that made her think his hands were made out of the finest silk, she felt goosebumps as he touched her. Her lips parted slightly as she took in a heavy breath, her eyes searching for a hint of a lie in his words.

“Sherlock”

“Shhhhh, It’s alright darling. You don’t have to say anything”

At that he slowly leaned in, his lips on top of hers at a shy and gentle kiss. Her hand went to his neck, bringing her torso to touch his as the kiss deepened, her entire body felt a rush go through it as they should the passion they held for each other with this kiss. As she pulled back her fingertips traveled to his face, taking in his attractive features

“I had almost forgotten how good of a kisser you are”

“Oh love, you will never forget it ever again”

[scarlet-streak-fanfics]

So Smart, Yet So Stupid, Pt. 3 (1.1k Words)

Yes, yes, I know you’re all expecting Obey Me content, and I promise I’ll be sending that out soon! I just really love the simple enjoyment I get out of writing this series--it’s currently my only ongoing project that I chose to do myself. If any YnM fans are interested, my requests are open for shipfics and x reader stuff--just send an ask my way!

TW for implied period-typical homophobia--nobody in the story is homophobic, it’s just referenced vaguely.

Mycroft Holmes had never enjoyed receiving visitors during work–it was something he regularly discouraged, really. If the conversation wasn’t about work, it could wait until after he’d left his office for the day. However, in recent weeks, there was one person who had become somewhat of an exception to that rule, purely because any conversation with him could quickly become something much more exciting and meaningful than Mycroft’s regular work. Those visits, although infrequent, are the ones he often anticipates the most, even above meetings with the Queen herself. Today, a gentle knock on his door rouses him from his paperwork, much to his annoyance. However, a curt request for privacy dies on his lips as Lord Albert James Moriarty enters the room, removing his hat and giving the older Holmes brother a polite bow. “Good day, Mr. Holmes. I trust I’m not interrupting anything?”

Mycroft scans the papers on his desk, deeming none of them urgent before smiling at the nobleman. “Not at all, Lord Moriarty. Does your current mission require something from me, or do I owe this visit to one of your… extracurricular activities?” Albert seems amused at the delicate choice of wording that he used to allude to the activities of the Lord of Crime. “Both my work and personal pursuits are managing just fine, but I appreciate your concern. The reason I came by was to inquire about your brother, actually.”

Mycroft raises an eyebrow at that, concern and mild exasperation filling him as he wonders exactly what his brother could have done to merit a visit from a nobleman. “I was unaware you had had the misfortune of making Sherlock’s acquaintance. Has he been giving you trouble?” The head of the Moriarty household sits in the chair across from him, leaning his walking stick against Mycroft’s desk. “That’s what I came to discuss, Mr. Holmes. You see, Sherlock has taken a… particular interest in my brother. Considering his fixation on discovering the Lord of Crime’s identity, I wanted to make sure that his intentions were not to take advantage of William. My brother seems to hold him in high esteem as well, and he is carrying enough on his shoulders without the weight of a betrayal. That is something I will not allow to happen.”

Mycroft keeps a smile fixed on his face, but his eyes turn slightly colder than they were before. Though he enjoys Albert’s company and appreciates his goals and intelligence, his priority will always be his little brother’s safety. “I trust that that statement is not a threat to my brother’s life, my lord.” Albert cocks his head to one side for a moment before bursting out laughing. “Of course not, Mr. Holmes! Like I said, William is rather fond of your brother. He wouldn’t tolerate us doing anything to harm him, something that Louis finds rather irritating, I believe. I was simply inquiring for your perspective on Sherlock’s feelings towards my brother–or Liam, as I’ve heard Sherlock refers to him by.”

That nickname sends a jolt of recognition through Mycroft, dismissing his vague concerns and questions about the implications of Louis’s animosity and summoning memories of a recent dinner with Sherlock. His brother had been more animated than he’d seen in years, especially after John and Ms. Hudson had insisted he break his drug habits, prattling on about a recent case that a new friend, Liam, had assisted him on. He says, almost to himself, “Ah, your William is the famous Liam that Sherly won’t shut up about, then. ”

 Lord Moriarty looks absolutely delighted. “So, the feeling truly is mutual, then? I cannot tell you how much of a relief that is to hear, Mr. Holmes.”

Mycroft sizes Albert up as he chooses his next words carefully. “Well, that depends on your brother, really. His excitement when talking about William and the frequency at which he seeks out your brother’s company is unparalleled. Still, the Holmes brothers have never had much of an affinity for the fairer sex, my lord. Sherlock has yet to fully realize that, it seems, but I believe it has some influence on his interest.” He lowers his eyes from the nobleman’s, the unfamiliar anxious feeling of confessing what he’d always considered an unfortunate secret to a man he should consider his better turning his stomach into a pit. Of course, he’s already keeping a sizeable secret on Albert’s behalf that would cause an even greater social scandal, so he does expect that he and his brother will be safe from scrutiny or repercussions. At most, he thinks Albert is likely to request Sherlock stay away from his brother, an order which Mycroft will unfortunately have to comply with. What he doesn’t expect is the grin that Albert gives him as he leans forward. “Then our families have something in common, Mycroft. However, William seems to be much more aware and comfortable in that regard. I’m sure he won’t mind being patient with Sherlock, though.”

The conspiratorial wink that Albert throws him after that statement, combined with the intimate use of his first name, both embarrasses and reassures him–the nobleman’s casual confidence at admitting to such a social taboo catches him completely off guard. Albert, seemingly satisfied with his investigation, retrieves his cane as he stands, replacing his top hat on his head. “Your secret is safe with me, Mr. Holmes. I’m just happy to know that my little brother’s affections aren’t entirely misplaced. William wanted to extend an invitation to Sherlock to come dine at our house later this week, and now I feel much more comfortable indulging him. Would you happen to be free this coming Friday?” Mycroft nods wordlessly, still trying to process the turn this conversation has taken, and Albert’s grin grows wider, green eyes gaining an amused twinkle at Mycroft’s speechlessness. “In that case, we’d be happy for your presence at dinner that evening as well. I’ll have a formal invitation sent to you and your brother tomorrow. I do hope you’ll accept, Mr. Holmes.”

Mycroft realizes that Albert is looking at him expectantly, waiting for a response. “Of course, my lord. It’d be my pleasure to attend.”

“Excellent. Until then, Mr. Holmes.” Lord Moriarty gives a polite bow before exiting the office, a new pep in his step. Mycroft puts his head down on his desk, letting out a frustrated huff, wondering what exactly Sherlock had gotten them both into this time. He trusts Albert’s promise of discretion, of course, but that’s where his understanding of the exchange he’d just had with the head of the Moriarty family ends.

[inknopewetrust]

smallest joys (Henry!Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader)

Summary: the tree in the Holmes’ backyard as a place of great peace and laughter of all, and a moment arises for it to be a place of forgiveness and love as well.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: none.

A/N: thanks so much for reading and always remember that authors love to hear any feedback on stories, so don’t be shy to share your opinions. Requests are still closed, but I’m working on getting them up and running hopefully soon! xoxo (gif not mine)

Enola was perched high above the ground in the great gray tree that sat far from the house she had grown to resent without her mother there. It was difficult, the constant want of adventure and thrill that was often smothered because of Mycroft’s inability to have a semblance of joy in his life.

Throwing the shading pencil in her sketchbook and closing it with a huff, Enola heard a set of angered footsteps make their way towards the tree in which she inhabited and she balled her fists against a branch. Half expecting it to be Mycroft yelling at her for leaving the study and half expecting it to be Sherlock doing their eldest brother’s bidding in a kinder manner, one they always hoped she’d fall for.

But it wasn’t. Y/n L/n, Sherlock’s feisty assistant from London was irate with her cheeks as red as apples storming toward the tree. Without noticing Enola above, Y/n leaned against its trunk and her head fell into her hands in embarrassment.

“Did you do something stupid?” Enola inquired and you jumped ever so slightly, looking up with great haste at Enola above. The young girl was smiling down on you kindly but also with such an inquisitive mind, you weren’t sure if she truly cared or just wanted manor gossip to share with the housemaid.

“And why would you ask such a thing, young lady?” You shoved your hands on your hips and narrowed fine eyes at Enola, trying to forget why you stormed out in the first place, though that was practically impossible because you knew he would follow after an argument.

“I asked you first, Y/n. And I’m not a young lady, you sound like Mycroft.” Enola swung her feet off a branch and rested her head in her intertwined hands that laid on top of another arm of the great tree.

“What happened? Did Sherlock finally recognize your talents for discovery or did you say something stupid that angered him?” Enola asked again, more in depth than before and her eyes narrowed now at the woman she had grown to admire very much.

Y/n was always someone who Enola could depend upon. Whether it be for new books from London or a simple lesson on dust particles, she knew Y/n had many of the answers. But as of late, with her mother gone and the tension in the home only growing, Sherlock appeared to be easily angered or upset by small comments, jokes or jabs at him that were not unusual from his assistant and Enola took notice. She saw the way Y/n’s eyes fell or how she would storm out of the room, angered at either herself or his reaction to her little joys and she couldn’t quite figure out why it was always her he was getting angry at. It had never happened before they had come to stay at his childhood home to help with Enola.

“Enola, I do not want to burden you with the petty arguments of adults. It is no concern of yours.”

“If it is my brother’s fault I consider it my concern.”

You pursed her lips at the girl before indulging in your frustrations.

“Every little comment I make he gets angry at. I am not use to being yelled at by him and I certainly do not understand why he is so uptight ever since we arrived. I try to help with his inquiries about your mother but even then, my input seems to go in one ear and sails out the other! Enola, I mean nothing by this, truly, I am simply frustrated by always being second fiddle to a man who appears to need no help at all.” You managed to mutter out in a moments time and Enola understood. Mycroft was the one treating Enola the same way at the moment and she wanted nothing more than to place a metal helmet on his head and bang a stick against it to set his mind straight. The men just do not appear to respect the intelligence of the women in the house.

“I am not meant for a life of domesticity, Enola. I am sure you can tell by the way I stir a pot or fold the laundry, I like adventure and I enjoy mystery very much. I simply want Sherlock to see that too. I don’t want to lose my dearest friend over one little spat.”

Enola smiled down at you and jumped down, meeting the grass with a thud and wiped off the shards that managed to catch themselves on her stockings.

“And that is why I admire you, very much, if I may add. And are you sure you don’t love him? If friends act the way you two do, I would have to choose my friends wisely.” You chuckled, reassured her you were simply just friends and embraced Enola in a some-what motherly manner, though Enola saw it as what she’d imagined would be a best friend, or sister.

“I would tell him how you feel. Make him understand you better and believe me when I say he will listen.” Enola retracted from the embrace and shot off towards the house, leaving you in state of bewilderment and confusion but when you turned around yourself intending to watch Enola run toward the house, you were met with the man you had no more than ten minutes ago stormed away from.

Sherlock stood with one hand in a pocket and the other clutching a book to his chest and a small pout on his face. The pout wasn’t one of sadness or disappointment, but of wonder and curiosity, already trying to decipher the situation before him.

“She was quick to run away.” Sherlock observed and moved toward the tree, leaning his back against it and looking over to you, just slightly to the side of him but facing him, not the land surrounding the tree.

“Well if she knew your temper as well as I do, I would run away too but obviously that has proven to not be an option.”

“I came here to apologize.” Your eyes, ears, and heart managed to perk up at the sound of Sherlock saying the word “apologize” because it wasn’t one he had ever said before, certainly not to you or anyone else he interacted with.

“An apology? From the great Sherlock Holmes? What ever shall I do with this honor?” You faked a gasp and held a hand to your forehead in a manner that only suggested a maiden swooning. Sherlock enrolled his eyes at the joke, seeming to understand that it was simply that, and as your hand made its way down from your forehead, he captured it softly in his empty one and held it gently, yet firm and your eyes flicked up to meet his.

“I would like to be serious about this, Y/n. My actions towards you the last few days have been unlike me and I am sorry for making you feel as if your opinion doesn’t matter, because it most certainly does.”

So he had heard you short conversation with Enola.

“Your opinion I value more than anyone in this world and I am frustrated I have gotten nowhere with my mother’s case in several days. I want her to return safely and with every passing day that outcome becomes less likely.”

“If you spoke to me about your concerns earlier we may have found a middle ground Sherlock. I accept your apology but I will not forgo my jokes in any situation so enjoy the humor while I still walk this earth.”

Sherlock couldn’t help but let the smallest smirk grace his face at the comment. He knew you always took your work seriously, but humor helped with the difficulties some cases can bring and he often failed to recognize the importance of laughter and enjoyment even in the darkest times. He still held your hand in his, in which he then brought it up to his lips and kissed the inside of your palm. It was personal, intimate, and apologetic.

“I am sorry you have to put up with me. I shouldn’t be so harsh when you’re trying to brighten the darkest days.”

“If I want to leave I can, but I seek thrill too much to let you or these cases disappear from my life.”

Sherlock actually smiled and sat down against the trunk, leading you to sit beside him and wrapped his free hand around your shoulders pulling you close. Ever since you arrived at his home, intimate interactions were seldom as Mycroft would have a million harsh words about how you were not a “proper lady to Sherlock”, but it wasn’t like Sherlock would have cared anyway.

“Shall we return to this story?” Sherlock said in a low, “fancy” voice in your ear and you couldn’t help but let out a snort at his attempt to be regal.

“I sincerely hope Elizabeth slaps Mr. Darcy across the face after what he said about her family. If that does not happen, the story dies there.”

“Would you slap every man who offends you? Because if so I’ll brace for one now.” Sherlock was actually joking for once but you slapped his chest lightly with your hand and let it fall, playing with a button on his waist coat. He looked down at you, a curl from the top of his head falling onto his forehead with a spring and you smiled at the handsome man you curled up against. 

“Perhaps.”

Sherlock laid a lingering kiss on your forehead and opened the book, removing the leaf that served at the bookmark and began reading in total comfort with you beside him. It was perfect until a rumble came from the bush and Enola shot up with sticks in her hair.

“So you ARE together!?”

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Telegrams & Teacups

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader (Enola Holmes)

Warnings: None.

Summary: Your morning was normal until you received a telegram from your friend Sherlock Holmes with a simple request: help him find Enola.

A/n: This tiny idea had me so obsessed that it’s all I’ve been writing for the last few hours! I have no regrets <3

You had just poured yourself a cup of tea and set it down on the small table by the armchair when there was a knock at the door.

How peculiar. You thought to yourself. 

Crossing the room, you turned the handle and propped open the panel of wood to see who your guest was and was met with a man from the post office holding in his hands a beige envelope.

“Telegram for (Y/n).” He explained. You confirmed your identity and were handed the papered item bidding the gentlemen a good day.

With a swift closing of the door, you leaned against it and opened the letter, recognising initials of S.H on the bottom right corner. Sherlock had told you that he was leaving to attend to a personal matter in the country yesterday morning so if he sent a priority telegram to you, then there must have been a development in the case.

Unfolding the paper, you read the message and learnt that he requested your assistance in locating his sister Enola Holmes who he suspected to be in London and that he would be back in the city later that afternoon. At the bottom of the letter there were the words ‘URGENT’ and a short series of words describing the girl scrawled rather messily, no doubt belonging to his brother Mycroft who was constantly teetering on the edge of patience.

You glanced over at the teacup still sending swirls of steam into the air and sighed - your drink would have to wait. Grabbing your coat from its stand, you hastily put it on and dashed out the door. 

When you stepped out onto the street, you remembered Sherlock once mentioned having a sister that he had not contacted in years. It was a simple remark that he let slip when he had his guard down around you - it didn’t happen often and he had caught himself before opening up to emotion. A trait that you had come to accept.

Focusing back on finding the youngest Holmes sister, Sherlock had told you of the station that she would have gotten off at. A station name was all you needed because as it turned out, you were rather gifted at getting into people’s minds and predicting the footsteps that they had taken and ones that they were likely to take next.

From the way Sherlock had explained the situation in the letter to Mycroft’s hasty emotion-driven description, you could tell that Enola was on the run to escape her brothers and a young girl out of place, who wanted to stay hidden, would have to blend into the crowd.

Your feet brought you to the first dress shop on the street from the station. Peering through the window, you noticed that the shop owner was counting a large wad of cash that seemed to be suspiciously ‘earned’ by an otherwise empty and ragged looking store. Your eye also caught the clothing rack of beautiful dresses and the empty hangers by the window. 

‘Unrefined’ was one of Mycroft’s choice words and it seemed that Enola was clever enough to use his descriptions to her advantage.

Stepping back from the shop, you looked around the busy and bustling streets. Dressed like a lady, the young girl would be in need of accommodation, therefore she would have asked the shopkeeper for suitable lodgings to avoid wandering the streets aimlessly.

As if on cue, the dressmaker walked out of her shop and made her way across the street. Letting your instincts lead, you followed at a safe distance with a casual stride so as to not arouse suspicion. In a matter of minutes after turning a few streets and across empty passages, you had tracked the shopkeeper to what looked like a lodging of some kind on the edge of a suburb.

It was not terrible but would definitely keep one out of sight. Walking in, you introduced yourself as an acquaintance of Sherlock Holmes and inquired about Enola. The bookkeep nodded and immediately led you up a narrow set of stairs before approaching a room and knocking on the door.

“Young Miss. You have a visitor.” They announced. You heard a small shuffle of feet from inside and the door creaked open to reveal and young girl with big brown eyes. She seemed to have recognised you, stepping to the side to let you in. She closed the door and turned around.

“I know who you are.” She said boldly with a fresh air of confidence that was not to be expected from someone so young. “You work for my brother, Sherlock.”

Looking around at the little space, newspapers scattered over the bed, you smiled at Enola’s phrasing.

“Actually I work with him - on the occasion.” You corrected wheeling back around to the girl who folded her arms.

“Why are you here?”

“A telegram from your brother.”

Enola frowned and shook her head. “Well, I won’t return home so they can ship me off to some home for girls to be oppressed into this world.” She looked at you and realised that you dressed in the typical London style like everyone else that she had come across and added a small, “No offence.”

“Believe me, I am not a person of societal rules. I wear no hat and no gloves, and my neighbour - your brother - usually has me wound up in one of his most outrageous cases.” You explained with a small laugh. “Mycroft only tolerates my so-called ‘embarrassing presence’ because Sherlock insists.”

Your words seemed to have reached the young girl from the way her posture fell more relaxed.

“So, you won’t take me to my brothers?” She asked and you couldn’t help but chuckle while shaking your head.

“No. Mycroft called you wild and unladylike in my telegram but as I stand here before you, I don’t see any of it. You’re remarkable and we’ve only met.”

Enola sighed with some relief that she was not going to be dragged away and smoothed out her dress before looking up at you. “Thank you.” She said politely.

You had completed the task of finding Enola Holmes as requested and bid your farewell to the young girl but not before reminding her to reach out to you if she needed assistance. While she appeared to be very bright and capable, the city had its dangers concealed as innocence.

Leaving the lodging, you trekked back home, picking up a loaf of bread from the wheat merchant for dinner. It had been a long day and you were ready to sit back and enjoy a fresh cup of tea given that the one you had made earlier would have likely gone cold.

At the door, you balanced the paper bag against your hip and turned the key to unlock your place of residence. This time when you walked in, you discovered that you weren’t alone - Mycroft was pacing by the fireplace while Sherlock had taken a seat in your armchair with a newspaper in his face.

“Has nobody told you that it’s incredibly rude to show up in a person’s home unannounced?” You wondered letting the door fall to a close behind you. Sherlock smirked behind the paper at your comment as he turned the page. Mycroft stepped in your direction and your eyes darted up to see the scowl beneath his moustache.

“What I find to be rude is that you took it upon yourself to be entertained with such trivial actions instead of carrying out the simple task of finding our sister.” He snapped, gesturing to the bread in your hands. His sharp tone of cold authority once intimidated you, but each encounter had you grow bold, refusing to be tread on by the man.

“A task so simple that she managed to elude your brilliant mind?” You questioned with a small purse of your lips and tilting your head ever so slightly to accentuate your sarcasm. “If that isn’t an embarrassment to the name of Holmes, I don’t know what is?”

It was like you had struck the man physically as his walking cane was suddenly pointed at you with warning.

“Watch your tone, (Y/n). I can make your life exceedingly difficult.”

You held your ground against the man and smiled back. “Just being in my presence is difficult enough.”

His jaw clenched; the eldest Holmes brother pulled his cane back to his side refusing to entangle in a pointless argument. Head high, he scoffed and grumbled about how disappointing you were and why Sherlock kept you around as he exited the apartment.

Thankful that he was gone, you walked over to the small table by the window and set the bread down before picking up scattered pieces of paper.

“I take it that you found her.” Sherlock inquired from where he sat.

“Of course. She’s quite well hidden.”

“You didn’t tell Mycroft.”

Turning around, you crossed the room to the fireplace to place a few stray envelopes on the mantelpiece. “I don’t believe I owe him an answer after he broke into my home like some common thief.”

Sherlock set the newspaper down and watched you, “And yet, you’ve let me stay.” He said curiously.

You dusted your hands and glanced over your shoulder, shooting him a playful, almost-teasing smile.

Taking that for your answer, the famed detective stood up and placed the newspaper back from where he first retrieved it. You had finished up and noticed that he was on the border of leaving too.

“I take it that you won’t tell me of her location either?” He surmised, tugging a little on his coat to straighten it out.

With a small laugh, you walked past him and patted his chest. “You might be more agreeable than your brother, but I have no desire to make your job easy, Sherlock.” You told him kindly. “I’ll keep Enola in my sights and hidden until you catch up.”

That’s when you saw it, sitting on the armchair table was your teacup from that morning except, instead of being filled with a cold liquid, it was hot and steaming. Frowning, you turned to Sherlock who was by the door, smiling at your bewildered expression.

“You’ve had a long day. I’ll give you some time to catch up.” He winked and stepped out, disappearing behind your front door.

Masterlist here

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

When We Were Young Part Two

Part One | Next Part | Masterlist Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Rating: T

Notes: Not beta-read

Warnings: Uuuuuh none

Summary: You’d only caught glimpses of Mycroft when he’d returned to Ferndell, but it was so unmistakably him. 

You thanked the attendant that put your luggage on the overhead rack before you settled in your seat. Part of you had considered lingering on the platform, looking around and waiting for Sherlock, but it felt ridiculous. He’d surely been winding you up the day before; he’d done that when you were younger, when Mycroft had already started to tick you off, and had grown bored with your ‘antics’ as he’d call them (even at that age). Sherlock knew, back then, that it wouldn’t take much longer before you were on the verge of tears and stomping off to Eudoria. As you’d gotten older and looked back, you’d realized that that was just a tactic to get you to go away. Why he’d bothered to act as such last night, though, you simply didn’t understand. You leaned back, a book in your hands as you waited for the train to depart. “Have you room for two more?” You straightened and turned your head at the sound of Sherlock’s voice, brows raised at the sight of him standing in the doorway to the compartment. “I’m only seeing one of you at the moment,” You said. “Mycroft will be right along.” You carefully shielded your displeasure, but the quirk of Sherlock’s brow told you that you weren’t careful enough. You gestured to the seat across from yourself before returning your attention to your book. Sherlock sat directly across from you, a book and a notebook in his own hands. You eyed them with interest before lowering your eyes to your book again.

“What are you reading?” Sherlock asked as he opened his own book. “North and South,” you answered. “Do you like it?” You did, quite a bit, but you weren’t sure you wanted Sherlock making a mockery of the subject matter, or your swooning over Mr. Thornton. But then you remembered what he’d told you a few days ago about your handwriting, ‘You’re outspoken, comfortable in your own skin’. “Yes, I do,” You answered crisply, turning the page. There was a moment of silence between you before you asked, “Have you any news about Enola’s whereabouts?” “No.” You pursed your lips. Somehow you didn’t believe that; maybe you didn’t want to. Sherlock was brilliant. If he had no leads, there was a higher likelihood of Enola being lost. “Would you tell me if you did?” You asked. Sherlock didn’t answer right away, and when you glanced up, you found him watching you, eyes gentle.

“I know you’re worried about her, dove,” He said softly. It was so straightforward, still utterly Sherlock, but for once, this acknowledgement of your emotion didn’t feel like an indictment. You lowered your eyes to your book again, fully intending to focus, but you could feel the weight of Sherlock’s gaze on you still. “Ah, there you are, Sherlock.” Your attentions were averted at the sound of another voice at the door of the compartment. You’d only caught glimpses of Mycroft when he’d returned to Ferndell, but it was so unmistakably him. He regarded you with a pleased shock as he stepped inside, removing his hat and sitting beside Sherlock. “You look like you’ve rather grown up to be... Well, respectable,” He said, eyes carefully sweeping your person. You arched a brow. “And you look like you’ve rather grown up,” You returned before you shifted in your seat, fully intending to return to your reading. “Your parents are in good health?” Mycroft pressed, insistent on upholding the rules of polite conversation, despite it only being the three of you. “They are well as can be expected,” You answered with a polite nod. “And you are well?” “I am, thank you, Mr. Holmes.” A pause, you assumed a respite as you turned back to your book. “You are... Unmarried?” Mycroft asked. You bristled, fingers tightening around your book as you lifted your eyes to his again. A fair question - hands covered in gloves, Mycroft wouldn’t be able to see a ring if you’d been wearing one. “Yes,” You confirmed. “And yet you travel alone,” He observed, “Quite precarious for a woman in your position.” You knew better than this. You weren’t going to sink to the level of Mycroft’s ridiculous little game - you could see his spoiling to rile you up, his eagerness to call you on your impending outburst. He was waiting for it. Instead, you let your shoulders sag a little, your head tip to the side as you regarded him. “Needs must, Mr. Holmes. Unfortunately my father isn’t well enough to travel, which is one of the things that’s necessitating my travel into London in the first place. If he were well, or if my parents had been fortunate enough to have sons, as yours had been, I might not be in this situation. But if you’d be so kind as to lend yourself as my companion for the duration of this journey, I’d be incredibly grateful,” You answered in a steady voice, offering Mycroft a bashful smile. Mycroft’s excitement spoiled so fast you swore his mustache wilted a little. He faltered, clearing his throat before nodding and mumbling a, “It would be my privilege,” before opening his newspaper and shielding himself behind it. Once he was out of sight you allowed your smile to drop, and you rolled your eyes as you sat up straight. You made to turn back to your book, eyes catching on Sherlock’s on the way. He was smiling, fully, warmly - something you hadn’t seen directed at you in a long time. You felt a thrill run through you, and you couldn’t help the small smile, a real one, that grew on your own lips at the sight. Neither of you spoke, just returned to your respective reading materials. -- The train ride was spent in amiably awkward silence; Mycroft reading a paper and tutting over the reform bill, Sherlock and yourself immersed in your own books. Now and again you’d feel him watching you over the top of his, and you’d feel the urge to squirm, or bring your book up a little higher to block him out of your field of vision, but you kept carefully still. You wouldn’t let him get to you as he had on the path back from Ferndell. You’d been kicking yourself all night for snapping at him the way you had, letting him get the better of you. But what had bothered you, more than the fact that you’d started to lose your temper, was the fact that he’d actually seemed affected by what you said. The look in his eyes, the little clench of his jaw - and then to push it all down in a second. You’d wondered if that was what he needed to do in order to work on these cases, set the emotion aside, hone in on the facts. But you weren’t a case. You tried not to dwell, to instead focus on your book, but knowing he was watching you, that he was so close by, was just so distracting. -- “I trust you’ve someone to meet you at the station?” You’d said what you’d said to get a rise out of Mycroft, but he seemed to be taking his role as companion very seriously. “I have, yes. My uncle,” You nodded, closing your book and folding your hands atop it as the train pulled into the station. You’d hardly read a word after a certain point, you’d merely been turning the pages for the sake of appearances. “Your father’s brother?” Sherlock asked. “Mother’s,” You corrected. His brow furrowed at that, and he loosed a, “Hm.” “Problem?” You asked. Sherlock shook his head before directing his gaze out of the window. You took the moment to look over his profile, admire his strong jaw and the curl of his hair. You didn’t let yourself longer too long, strongly aware of the fact that Mycroft was still there. Sherlock and Mycroft were both out of their seats as soon as the train stopped. Sherlock offered his hand to you. You took it, letting him help you up. You loosened your grip on his hand, and he took a moment to do the same before he reached up, fetching your luggage down from the overhead rack. Mycroft stepped back, gesturing for you to go. You stepped out ahead of them, nodding in thanks. They followed you out of the compartment and off of the train. "I know you two have quite a bit to do, you don’t have to wait with me,” You offered as they stopped on either side of you. “Nonsense,” Mycroft said crisply, “I wouldn’t dare leave a lady unattended.” He offered you his arm, and you saw that glint in his eye, still egging you on. You matched it with the smile you’d given him before, wrapping your arm around his as you headed for the entrance, Sherlock trailing close behind. “There’s my uncle,” You said as soon as you spotted your Uncle Cornelius. He was smiling, red-cheeked (likely from the sherry he’d already dipped into and not a mid-morning chill). You made the necessary introductions to Mycroft, but when you turned to Sherlock, you narrowed your eyes, “I presume you two have already met?” Cornelius opened his mouth to contradict you, but the additional darkening in his cheeks told you that you were right. You let out your own knowing, “Hm.”  Mycroft cleared his throat. “I’ll get us a hansom,” He addressed Sherlock. He nodded to Cornelius, then yourself before stepping away. Cornelius reached out, taking your bag from Sherlock. “Do I even want to know how you two are acquainted?” You asked, clasping your hands behind your back and turning a sweet smile up at the both of them. “Mr. Holmes was kind enough to... Assist me with a personal matter last year,” Cornelius admitted. You nodded. “I see,” You said, “And this wouldn’t have anything to do with the actress that you took up with that subsequently tried sell your Rembrandt to the Louvre without your say-so, would it?” Cornelius let out a shaky, embarrassed laugh, eyes darting between yourself and Sherlock. You nodded, sighing, “Right.” “Sherlock!” Mycroft called from a ways away. You all turned at the sound of his voice to see him waving Sherlock away. You looked up at Sherlock. “If you find anything out about Enola--” “I will let you know,” He nodded. He glanced at Cornelius before he turned to face you fully. “Might I call on you while we’re both in town? -- If I have an update on Enola,” He clarified. You nodded. “Of course,” You said. Sherlock nodded. He turned, shaking Cornelius’ hand and saying his goodbyes before he left with Mycroft. You watched the two of them disappear into the crowd before you turned back to see your Uncle Cornelius eyeing you curiously. “What?” You asked, frowning. “I believe, my dear, that you are interested.” Your frown deepened to a scowl. “Try not to read too deeply into a woman’s interest, Uncle. You may find yourself short another Dutch Old Master.”

[mxpseudonym]

Alive and Well, Not Starving and Dead

Pairing: Mycroft x Reader (gender-neutral) 

Summary: Mycroft’s PA is haunted by his empty fridge, so they’re taking it into their own hands to fix it. 

Length: 825 words (allegedly)

Warnings: None!

Ask:  Hello!:) I just read your Mycroft imagine and I loved it! I wanted to request one with Mycroft based on that scene where he opens the empty fridge - the reader is his assistant and she prepares dinner for him and leaves it at his place as a surprise? Something like that haha. Thank you in advance 💘 - @briannamaslow

A/N: I hope you enjoy! Also this took so long because it spurred an idea for a long-form fic, and I haven’t written one of those in *A WHILE.*

--

18 months. That's how long "Anthea" said it would take before you felt somewhat accustomed to being the personal assistant to Mycroft Holmes. You were a fast learner, so you hoped it would help with the learning curve. While it did considerably, it did take about that long for you to feel like you weren't just stumbling along. 

You thought about your job as you pulled up to Mycroft's home. You were allowed into the house, but this was the first time there had ever been a need. Or maybe the first time Mycroft trusted you to do it. You entered with the key card and passcode he gave you and tried not to stumble while carrying both a newly laundered tuxedo and a boutonniere for the gala that night. Not feeling comfortable going too much farther than the foyer, you hung the suit on one of the many hooks as your employer's footfalls began approaching.

"I wasn't expecting you, sir," you said, turning when he entered. 

Though he was fully clothed, the lack of a jacket put his waistcoat and figure on display, something you rarely saw. You resisted the urge to look away as the heat rose to your face.

"Yes, I see," he said while walking over to inspect the goods. Mycroft unzipped the laundry bag halfway and hummed. It was one of his preferred suits. 

"Even if you don't enjoy tonight's program, you'll at least feel good," you told him. He didn't pay you to be optimistic, and it showed on his face when he looked you over. But you figured it helped anyway. 

"Excellent point."

"Thank you, Sir. Do you have a refrigerator I can store this in for you?" You held up the fresh carnation, white and dewy in its plastic box. 

"A perfect match to the foundation's crest, very good y/n," he applauded you. He must have been in high spirits or tipsy, but you took the compliment and allowed yourself to be shown to the central kitchen. The contents of the fridge gave you pause. That is, the lack of anything at all other than a few water bottles and the flower box you placed on the center shelf in the chilly vessel was shocking. Out of curiosity, you opened the freezer as well. Nothing. 

"Sir, would you like me to arrange for someone to do your shopping," you asked. You knew he'd say "no." This wasn't an "I haven't been shopping in three weeks" fridge. This was an "I don't consume food" fridge.

"That's not necessary, y/n. I'm hardly home, and I never cook when I am," Mycroft said, followed by a comment about food slowing down the brain. You had to take that as sarcasm because you knew it wasn't correct, and you knew Mycroft told jokes that went right over people's heads.

"Okay, sir." 

Of all the things that would take over your mind for the next week and the week after, you hadn't expected Mycroft's glossy, white, vacant fridge haunting your dreams. But alas, as you were making your list on grocery day, you turned to your dog, Elio. 

"Alright, darling, I'll just get twice as much, yeah?" You took the unenthused tail wag as a yes. 

Two roasted chickens, sheets of potatoes, and bunches of asparagus later, you were packing up dinner servings into your newly purchased Tupperware.

"Is this a bad idea," you asked yourself as you continued to write labels for each of them. A list of ingredients and directions on best heating it up. You also put a makeshift seal on each container and noted to proceed with caution if broken. 

"It may seem like much, but the man is precious cargo," you told Elio, who, at this point, was very agreeable from all of the chicken scraps you'd "dropped." To finish it off, you wrote a note. 

Dear Sir, 

Please eat something. Along with this note, this envelope contains a recent study on the benefits of food on the mind. It is peer-reviewed by trustworthy scientists, don't worry. Though your mind is superior, I think we can both agree that the only way I'll stay gainfully employed is if you are alive and well, and not starving and dead. 

James will bring back my tupperware at the end of the week. I will ask you how you enjoyed it. This is a test. 

Please enjoy the chicken. 

Thank you, 

Y/N

James, the driver, only had to be bribed with a fresh scone for him to let you drop off the meals. Your plan worked perfectly. 

Towards the end of the week, you'd nearly forgotten you'd done it. Neither of you mentioned it in the slightest. It was Friday morning when he stopped you from leaving your morning briefing like usual. 

"Yes, sir?"

"The chicken was quite good," he said. It was the slightest praise, but it made you feel like walking on air.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you."

[loki-is-my-god-of-mischief]

One Way To Move In (Sherlock x Female!Reader)

A/N: So it’s been a few years since I wrote anything and I decided to turn my old oneshot My Girlfriend Tells Me Everything into a series so please read that first if you haven’t. I’m not quite happy with how this turned out but I’m going to continue this series anyway so please be kind.

It was 8pm by the time (Y/N) saw their apartment door. After just getting off a twelve-hour shift, all they wanted was to eat the leftover Chinese in the fridge and pass out in bed. Being a doctor was always (Y/N)’s dream but the hours sucked….hard. Seeing the door in front of them, they quickened their pace and hurried inside.

“Look what the cat dragged in” Claire, (Y/N)’s roommate of two years, states. (Y/N) turns towards them on the couch and glares at them, which comes out as more of a grimace due to exhaustion. Claire looks them up and down and proceeds a drawn-out whistle. “Damn, that cat drag you through a hedge or something? You look rough.”

“Wow, thanks. That’s just what I wanted to hear.” (Y/N) snaps before heading to the fridge for the desired Chinese food.

“Well what do you expect, you’ve been out since yester-“ Claire cuts herself off with a gasp. “Oh, you dirty stop out you! You were with Sherlock weren’t you! Omg, when am I going to meet this ‘elusive genius’ of yours?” This draws a laugh out of (Y/N).

“No I wasn’t with Sherlock, I was at work. Which by the way, shouldn’t you be heading off to work now? Go get ready to leave and let me eat my Chinese and pass out for a week in peace please” said Chinese gets stuffed into (Y/N)’s mouth to emphasise her point. Claire just chuckles at the sight whilst heading to her room. She calls over her shoulder, “Yeah, yeah. I’m going. Jeez. Not all of us can crash for a week you know, we’re not all fancy private doctors.”

The following day finds (Y/N) heading to the hospital to meet up with John for lunch, a regular occurrence since he found out about the whole ‘dating his best friend’ thing. She doesn’t even have to enter the hospital as she spots him at the entrance upon her arrival. “Hey John!” Said man looks up from his phone upon hearing his name. “Hey (Y/N). I hope you don’t mind but I’ll have to bail on lunch a bit early. Rosamund is has a bit of a cold and Mrs. Hudson has to leave in an hour. I’m really sorry” John starts to ramble his apology.

“John…John…John!” The shout finally catches his attention, “That’s completely fine, you don’t have to apologise. What kind of person would be upset on you wanting to look after your sick kid” (Y/N) smiles kindly.

“You’re right. Sorry.”

“Stop apologising John.”

“Right. Sorry” they both look at each other at the involuntary apology and giggle. “Shall we?”.

The walk to the café felt relatively short as they spent the time cooing over pictures of Rosamund. They decided to go to the café under 221B Baker Street so that John could be close to Rosamund in case Mrs. Hudson had to leave early. After sitting down with some tea and John buying some cake to share, as Mary would kill him if he broke his diet, the conversation turned to Sherlock.

“So you never did explain why you kept your relationship a secret.” John states giving (Y/N) an expectant look. She sighs.

“Well, you know how Sherlock is. At first I interested him, he said it was because he can’t deduce me. At first he thought it was because I was dangerous as the last time this happened it was with Mary, back when she was lying” at this John look uncomfortable. “But then he started ‘engaging me in intellectual conversation’ as he put it. I realised this was his way of trying to decipher whether I was a threat. When he realised I wasn’t it was also around the time he realised he may ‘like’ me. Of course being the sociopath he is, he had no idea what to do with that and started being rude and distant” at this (Y/N) laughs “You should have seen his face when I called him out on his shit. He looked like I may have hung the moon itself.”

John laughs himself when trying to imagine it as the image he comes up with is ridiculous. “What happened then?”

“What do you think happened? I get dragged into a car on my way home by Mycroft’s assistant” (Y/N) says exasperated. John laughs remembering his first Mycroft kidnapping. “He spent the next two hours interrogating me. When he deemed me as ‘more than a goldfish’ he proceeded to tell me how I should go about Sherlock”. John looks interested and says “What did you do?”.

“I told him where he can shove his advice. If I wanted to be with Sherlock I would do it my way.”

“What happened?”

“Well it turns out Sherlock was listening; he’d stormed straight to Mycroft’s office when he heard I was there. He asked me out for coffee-” John looked shocked, “-I know! He asked me! And as we were on the date he asked we keep it a secret until he makes sure that this is real for him. He was so worried about hurting me as he finds emptions hard to understand”

Before the conversation could go any further, they get interrupted by John’s phone going off. He excuses himself to answer it. When he comes back he starts apologising again. “Sorry, I have to go. That was Mrs. Hudson. I have to go pick up Rosamund. I’m so sorry”

“John, what did I tell you?”

“Stop apologising, sorry.” He says with a smile which makes (Y/N) giggle.

“Go, I should head home anyway. Give her hugs and kisses from me?” John promises he would, they hug and part ways.

After arriving home (Y/N) decides to surprise Claire with a movie night, with her long hours she hasn’t been able to spend time with Claire in weeks. Deciding to make it special, she goes around the apartment collecting all the things necessary to make a pillow fort because you’re never to old for a pillow fort!

By the time the fort was built, Claire was just arriving home. “What’s all this?”

“Surprise! Pillow fort and movie night?” Claire’s face lights up at the suggestion. “Hell yes! Chinese food followed by copious amounts of ice cream?”

(Y/N) laughs, “You read my mind”.

“Ok well let me change out of my work clothes and then you can ord-” she gets cut off by the window shattering. (Y/N) screams whilst turning towards the window. She presses herself to the floor and sees Claire’s hair against the floor behind the couch. She shuffles her way over to help her hide and come up with a plan to leave without getting shot. (Y/N) screams again as she makes it to Claire. Surrounding her head was a puddle of blood, growing by the second and right in the centre of her forehead was a bullet wound. (Y/N) grabs her phone out of her pocket and calls Lestrade.

“Hello?”

“Greg?” Greg hears the tears and uneven breath and immediately fires of questions.

“(Y/N)? Are you ok? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Greg. My friend she…she’s…she’s been shot. Oh my go-” a sob forces it’s way out of (Y/N)’s mouth.

“(Y/N)? Where are you, tell me where you are?”

“I’m at my home”

“I’m on my way, I’ll bring Sherlock and John” and with that the line goes dead.

Much of what happens next goes by in a blur for (Y/N). She pays some attention when Sherlock pulls her into a hug but all she can focus on is the spot her friend lay. Even when the coroners remove the body, she still focuses on that spot. All she can hear is an overwhelming buzzing in her ears. It wasn’t until Greg kneels in her line of sight that she snaps out of it. “Mm, what?” she says in a daze.

“Hey, I said it’s probably best if you don’t stay here. We’re still not sure if you were also a target or not. It’s not safe here.” Greg says gently.

“Obviously Gareth, she’ll be staying with me at 221.” Sherlock cuts in like it was obvious.

“Greg.” (Y/N) says numbly.

“Yes?” Greg answers thinking she was talking to him.

“His name is Greg Sherlock” she continues, almost sounding dead inside.

“Really? That’s what she focuses on?” Anderson says in the background, receiving glares from Sherlock, John and Greg.

“She’s in shock you buffoon!” Greg admonishes.

“Want me to pack your things (Y/N)?” John asks kindly.

“Wait? Pack my things for what?” (Y/N) asks confused, having missed most of what was spoken about in the last ten minutes.

“To move to 221B. It’s not safe here.” States Sherlock, looking more concerned by the minute.

“Well…” (Y/N) attempts some form of smile to break the tension, “…That’s one way to ask me to move in.”

[therealsaintscully]

My list of X-Files inspired BBC Sherlock fic prompts

 I recently finished reading @88thparallel​‘s fabulous “Written in Ashes”, a BBC Sherlock fic inspired by the X-Files episode Demons. I’m a huge X-Files fan myself, and the idea of adapting an XF story into a Sherlock one sent me down a rabbit hole. I decided to compose a list of ideas, all up for grabs, for X-Files plots that can be adapted in interesting ways to a BBC Sherlock casefics.

Below you’ll find a list of X-Files episode with their original description, and some suggestions based on my knowledge of the two shows of what makes the plot an interesting one to write. As I mentioned, these ideas are PROMPTS, suggestions - feel free to write them. In fact it’ll be my honor! Let me know if and when you do (I might even create a collection for them in AO3).

Ice (1x07) - Mulder and Scully  investigate the death of an Alaskan research team. Isolated and alone, the agents and their accompanying team discover the existence of extraterrestrial parasitic organisms that drive their hosts into impulsive fits of rage.  Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: extreme nature adventures (mountains, snow, remote research facilities); isolated together with strangers in a distant location (Ice was supposed to be a bottle episode); a lot of suspense as Mulder and Scully’s trust in each other is put to the test (a handgun showdown), physical inspections rife with sexual tension, ooo! 

Darkness Falls (1x19) - Mulder and Scully are called in to investigate when a team of loggers disappear without a trace. Initially suspecting eco-terrorism, the agents find themselves trapped by a seemingly ancient menace lurking in the woods. According to Wikipedia, “Chris Carter was inspired to write this episode based on an interest in dendrochronology (sic? that’s how it’s spelled in wikipedia), a subject that involves analyzing annual growth rings found in non-tropical tree species.”  An interesting topic to develop!  Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: Just like in Ice, opportunity to write magnificent nature descriptions; also like in Ice, Mulder and Scully have to fend to themselves against the ‘others’; wonderful quotes such as “Rugged manly-men. In the full bloom of their manhood.” and “Come on, Scully. It'll be a nice trip to the forest." A Three Garridebs moment could work here!

Pusher (3x17) - Ah, Pusher. An early Vince Gilligan classic! Mulder and Scully’s assistance is requested for a case involving a man, who goes by the pseudonym "Pusher", seemingly capable of bending people to his will. The suspect uses his mysterious abilities to manipulate Mulder into a dangerous end game.  Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: Many parallels can be found between Modell and Eurus and or Moriarty; the game of cat and mouse in hopes of luring Mulder as the end game is quite similar to the TFP/TGG; the final game of Russian roulette with Mulder at the end is a classic MSR scene which could be lovely to write for John and Sherlock (Gillian is amazing with that One Tear™  while she threatens Modell); an opportunity to instill a fear of a very specific shade of blue in your readers; a chance of a sequel, since Modell returns with a vengeance in Kitsunegari.

Jose Chung's From Outer Space (3X20) - Mulder and Scully hear, and promptly investigate, a story about an alien abduction of two teenagers. Each witness provides a different version of the same facts. Within the episode, a thriller novelist, Jose Chung, writes a book about the incident.  Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: Humor! Lots and lots self-aware, meta-type inner-jokes humor as an observant book writer describes Mulder/Sherlock’s many weird traits.

Avatar (3x21) - Assistant Director Walter Skinner  is accused of murdering a prostitute, Mulder and Scully investigate to determine the truth behind what happened. Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: A fine chance to turn Skinner into Sholto or one of John’s other army friends (Skinner discusses trauma from his days in Vietnam in this episode, which could be adapted to Afghanistan). John Asks for Sherlock’s help on behalf of Sholto/said friend and there’s a thrilling prospect of some good old jealousy :) *After writing this I kinda fell in love with this idea and I might attempt writing this, but I’m absolutely not claiming this exclusively! If you like the idea go ahead!

Paper Hearts (4X08) - Another Vince Gilligan episode, my go-to one these days for when I miss the show and need a good dose of Mulder and Scully. I can go on and on about why I love this episode but I’ll spare you from that right now ;) Mulder and Scully find that a child killer who Mulder had helped to apprehend several years earlier had claimed more victims than he had confessed to; and in the resulting investigation, learn that the killer is now claiming to have killed Mulder's sister Samantha. Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: The Alice in Wonderland theme in the episode is somewhat reminiscent of the Hansel and Gretel theme from TRF so Moriarty could be one way to go; another way to go is have Eurus as a villain in a TFP plot fix-it (if you find the Sherrinford plot exaggerated), with Sherlock’s hope of finding Victor’s body by the end of the game.

Zero Sum (4x21) - In the episode, a case Mulder is asked to investigate is covertly covered up by the agents' boss Walter Skinner, who has made a sinister bargain with The Smoking Man. Scully is missing in this episode (Mulder cites her cancer treatments; Gillian Anderson was filming something else at the time). Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: A wonderful opportunity for a Lestrade-as-Skinner story!  (and you’re given a fine chance to write a Lestade naked with nothing but pants situation); Mulder is a bit lost without Scully in this episode so that’s added background Johnlock angst; the story can happen when John is away, either during his honeymoon or after Mary dies.

The Pine Bluff Variant (5x18) - This is an underrated episode which I quite like, personally. Scully grows suspicious of Mulder when she thinks he may be helping a terrorist organization. Scully begins to wonder if he is now a traitor to the FBI. It is eventually revealed that Mulder is working as a mole in the group, and he is trying to stop them before they are able to use a biological weapon—that may have been created by members of the U.S. government—which causes rapid degeneration of human flesh. Cool plot points you might enjoy: alternating POVs between Sherlock and John; a lot of tension between John and Sherlock while John is suspicious; Mycroft recruiting Sherlock to appear as a traitor.

Triangle (6x03) - What can I possibly say about Triangle that hadn’t been said before? Cool plot points you might enjoy: An AU-within-AU opportunity - a chance for John and Sherlock to meet in a WW2 era, saved by rebel-Nazi Lestrade, Sherlock’s irregulars are The Lone Gunmen, a kiss, a punch, “You’re my one in five billion” (remember when there 5 billion people on this planet?) :) If you do write this, please make sure present John and past John pass each other by and get a strange, tingling sensation as a result! It’s one of my favorite scenes in the entire show.

Dreamland I & II (6x04 and 6x05) - Mulder and Scully visit Area 51. But when the agents witness the flight of a mysterious craft, Mulder and a member of the Men in Black switch bodies, unbeknownst to the others. In part two, Scully begins to suspect that her partner's strange behavior is more than it appears to be, while Mulder fights to return his life to normal before it is too late. Cool plot points you might enjoy: Humor, humor and more humor. Mostly Morris Fletcher trying to bed John (=Scully) who promptly pulls a gun on him. That should be an awesome scene to write in and of itself. And let’s not forget “Lately, for lunch, you've been having this six-ounce cup of yogurt, plain yogurt, into which you stir bee pollen because you're on a bee pollen kick even though I tell you you're a doctor and you should know better.“ as well as “I’d kiss you if you weren’t so damn ugly.”

Tithonus (6x09) - Another underrated episode. I think it deals with the theme of death’s inevitability rather beautifully. Scully learns that she, but not Mulder, is being given a chance to prove her worth at the FBI, and—paired with a new partner—she investigates a crime scene photographer with an uncanny knack for arriving just in time to see his victims' final moments. What she does not expect, however, is for Death to play a role himself. Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: John exploring on his own, for one reason or another, attached to another investigator (things happen!); this episode further explores a theory referred throughout the show since Clyde Bruckman’s Final Repose, that Dana Scully is immortal (she seems to avoid death in this episode as well). It’s an Appointment in Samarra sort of story.

Monday (6x15) - Mulder and Scully are stuck in a deadly time loop. It’s a story that writes itself! Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: Sherlock or John having a really bad morning, over and over again.

Alpha (6x16) - Mulder and Scully investigate several killings blamed on an Asian dog called the Wanshang Dhole, thought to be extinct. Mulder and Scully join an obstinate Sheriff, a seemingly eccentric hunter, and a reclusive canine expert to find it. However, there is more mystery to the expert than meets the eye. Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: I enjoy this episode because it has some gentle but obvious MSR moments. Scully is suspicious (and low-key jealous) of Karin Berquist’s involvement in the case and it colors her opinion of the investigation. A key quote in this episode, preformed softly and beautifully by Gillian, is: “She's enamored of you Mulder. Don't underestimate a woman. They can be tricksters, too.”

The Unnatural (6x17) - This is a weird ass episode, let’s admit it. This is DD’s love story to baseball and it’s silly and sometimes boring/slow. BUT, it has lovely MRS moments.  Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: The structure of story within a story (Mulder retells his time spent with Arthur Dales who tells him the story of Josh Exley) is interesting enough. The opening and closing scenes are lovely as well of course!

X-Cops (7x12) - Mulder and Scully are interviewed for the Fox reality television program Cops during an X-Files investigation. Mulder, hunting what he believes to be a werewolf, discovers that the monster terrorizing people instead feeds on fear. While Mulder embraces the publicity of Cops, Scully is more uncomfortable about appearing on national television. Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: It’s your chance to write a Sherlock crossver fic about an X-Files crossover episode. If that’s not cool, I don’t no what is.

Hollywood A.D. (7x18) - Let’s admit it, Hollywood A.D is not a good episode, as funny as it is. This episode was one of the first signs the show had lost its edge, possibly because they thought this would be their truly-this-time last season. However, it IS funny and gave rise to fans claims that by this point, Mulder and Scully were Definitely Sleeping Together. Wayne Federman, an entrepreneurial Hollywood producer and college friend of Walter Skinner picks up the idea for a film based on the X-Files, however Mulder and Scully find that the level of realism in their fictional portrayal is somewhat questionable. Meanwhile, during the filming of the movie, Mulder and Scully research the mysterious "Lazarus Bowl", an artifact that supposedly has the exact words that Jesus Christ spoke to raise Lazarus from the dead recorded on its surface. Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: Lots of inner-jokes and crack humor, many fluffy moments, the chance to imagine who’ll play Lestrade, Sherlock and John in a BBC Film, Lazarus could refer to The Fall(!), which could be the plot to said film.

The X-Files: I Want to Believe - Mulder and Scully have both left the FBI, but when an FBI agent is mysteriously kidnapped, and a former priest who has been convicted of being a child molester claims to be experiencing psychic visions of the endangered agent, they reluctantly accept the FBI's request for their paranormal expertise. I know, I know. Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t like it either at first, but a) compared to the revival seasons, it’s not that bad and b) in terms of established relationship angst, it’s a fucking goldmine. Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: A chance to write a post-recent-retirement fic for Sherlock and John, with a lot of tension in their established relationship based around John’s reluctance to return to their lives as investigators. IWTB has quotes like “This isn't my life anymore, Mulder. I'm done chasing monsters in the dark.” and “This stubbornness of yours, it's why I fell in love with you.”  So there! Don’t dismiss the idea so quickly!

Wow, this turned out longer than I expected! I hope you liked them, and even if you don’t write anything - I definitely enjoyed this exercise.

My finished fics are ready to be read on AO3 :)

[vintagevalentinex]

Capture, i

So I have been missing Mycroft something fierce.  So I had a loose idea on writing a sequel to Decode.

I can’t promise how many chapters this series will be, or when I will update it, but I hope you’re as excited about it as I am.

Please, as always, let me know what you think! xoxo

Capture, i by vintagevalentinexx Mycroft Holmes x Reader ~1550 words

How fast a year and a half goes by when one is truly in love.

You could not believe it had been that long since Mycroft Holmes, the man who was currently snoozing in for once, stopped a commercial flight, just to proclaim his love to you. It had also been a year and a half since the elaborate coded messages, the stalking, the kidnapping.  It all seemed like such a long time ago already. This new life that you were building with Mycroft seemed as though it were almost too good to be true, and there was always an inkling, a pricking at the back of your mind that the other shoe would drop soon enough.  You always seemed to be able to push those anxieties aside when you looked at him, however.

And just looking at him now.

You could hear his soft breathing as he slept, his hair slightly mussed from shifting amongst the pillows.  He was a picture of utter relaxation, and that seemed to calm your nerves as well. A slow smile seemed to make its way to your lips as you thought of last night’s activities.

You let out a soft sigh, back arched as he hovered over you, the look in his eyes hungry, needing.  Mycroft had come home early, which was something that very rarely happened, and he made it a point to let you know that he wanted to spend every waking moment with you while he had the time off.  He took his time with you, slowly, your skin burning as you felt him kiss you everywhere, no part of your skin untouched.  His lips pressed into your skin promises of love and dedication. All you could do was lie there, and he was quite happy to accommodate you, taking the lead, hands laced together as he joined the both of you together for the first time that night, his head tucked into the crook of your neck.

Needless to say it was a very long night.

As if he could read your thoughts, Mycroft finally shifted, his eyes opening groggily, sleep-filled orbs staring back at you.

“Are you quite through with gawking at me so openly?”

“Good morning to you as well, my darling.”

“Is there any particular reason as to why you are staring?”

You shrugged, smiling warmly at him.  “Just admiring the view.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no heat within them.  Stretching, he shifted over onto his side.

“It’s been ages since I’ve been able to sleep in.  I daresay I could get used to it.”

You shot him a look, shaking your head.  “We both know that you would last about a week before getting into all kinds of trouble.”

Mycroft’s lips quirked upward, a hand sliding over to you, running along your side.

“Perhaps I need a little trouble in my life.”

“You most definitely do not.”

Without warning, you felt yourself being pulled toward him, your front against his, lips soon crashing against yours sloppily.  You could feel him smiling against your lips as you tried to wiggle away from him.

“Are you quite sure?”

“…perhaps a little trouble wouldn’t be so bad.”

It was not until much later that the both of you finally decided to get out of bed.  It was rather lovely weather at the country house, so it was decided that an afternoon drive would be suitable.  It was nice to feel the sun on your skin, something that was not always a sure thing in England, so it was nice to be able to take advantage of the warmth it provided.

Mycroft decided that an afternoon picnic would be pleasant, and you could not help but agree. You couldn’t recall the last time you were able to spend this much time today.  A single day seemed like ages, considering he was always at the office or off to negotiate with another country to prevent World War III.  As much as Mycroft wanted to spoil you, and generally he did no matter how much you protested, the best gift he could every give you was his time, considering you knew how limited it truly was.  

Ushered into the country car, seated side-by-side, it was nice to finally just be alone with him, no bodyguards, no personal assistants, and most importantly, no curly-haired bastard.

It wasn’t a long drive until he found a nice clearing to set up a picnic.  Basket in tow, which he refused to let you carry, you followed him, being admonished every time you tried to help, leaving you standing there, huffing.  Mycroft finally turned around, opening his arms to you, as he was met with your miffed expression.

“Are you going to look at me sourly all day then?”

“I haven’t yet decided.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes, extending his arm to you to help you sit on the blanket he laid out, smirk growing on his lips as you reluctantly accept his help.  

You had no idea how long you had been sitting outside with him, nibbling on sandwiches and cheese, and sipping wine.  You were currently feeding Mycroft grapes, his head in your lap.  You’d giggle as he tried to nip at your fingers, and you wondered when you became this person, became this couple.  It seemed so utterly domestic, and yet you were enjoying every single minute of it, no matter how mundane it seemed.  He spoke, breaking the spell.

“Did you ever imagine your life would be like this?”

You brushed the back of your hand along his cheekbone.  “Honestly?  No. Never in a million years would I ever picture myself like this.”

He hummed, slowly making his way up, seating himself next to you.  He looked out to the sky, the sun beginning to set, a mixture of reds, oranges, and purples that would put Monet to shame.  Turning to you, he collected his thoughts before speaking.

“I can quite honestly say the same for myself.  I never thought that this was a part of the plan for me.  I thought I would live alone, and commit all of myself to the Crown, to my country.  However…all of that changed when I met you, (Y/N).”

You didn’t know what to say.  Such a confession was so very rare for him, you supposed it was the beautiful sunset that was making him so very mushy.

He cleared his throat. “What I suppose I’m trying to say is, (Y/N), I—“

“THERE you are brother! I’ve been looking all over for you. I should have known you were off somewhere…eating.  Oh (Y/N) you’re here as well…I can’t believe you’re still around…”

The look Mycroft was giving Sherlock was one that you swore was saved for only the worst convicted felons in the country.  You groaned as he rattled on about how he came to track the both of you down, rubbing at your temples.

“Can you not even give us a moment’s peace?  For crying out loud Sherlock!”

You stomped toward the car, mood instantly ruined.  You were hoping that some brandy back at the house would lighten the mood, but for now the more distance you could put between yourself and Sherlock, the better.  You watched as Mycroft angrily packed up the picnic, standing at full height to talk to Sherlock, though you didn’t know what they were saying.

“You can’t do it.”

“What are you going on about now?”

“You cannot marry her. Think about it, brother.  Saddling that poor woman to you…forever?”

“I do not see how any of this is your business, Sherlock.”

“If she is to be my sister-in-law it certainly is my business.  I bet you didn’t even tell mother yet.”

“I have no reason to believe that she would disapprove.  It shall be quite the opposite.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“If you as so much mention any of this to her, or anyone else, I will send you so far away that no one will know what happened to you.  Now leave.”

Sherlock shrugged. “Fine.  Have it your way, brother dear.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He walked back up to the road, where a speeding car came to a screeching halt.

“Damn it Sherlock!  This isn’t a case!  Why did you drag me all the way out here and then leave?!”

“Oh look, my ride’s here.  Hello John…”

You rolled your eyes as you watched them leave, John looking absolutely aggravated with yet another one of Sherlock’s antics.  You jumped as you heard the car door open, Mycroft smirking down at you.

“You really must be more observant.”

“Don’t need to, that’s what I have you for.”

He rolled his eyes, slipping his hand into yours as he drove the both of you back to the house.

“Why can’t you just leave them alone, Sherlock?  They seem to be doing just fine without your intervention…actually when you mind your own business most people seem to do quite well, great even.”

Sherlock hummed, turning to John with the glint in his eye that meant that he was about to cause trouble…on a grand scale.

“I believe I have a new case John.  And it is a priority.”

Next Part!!