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holylulusworld · 5 months ago

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Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (5)

Summary: Your marriage starts rocky.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader

Warnings: angst, shy reader, fluff, innocent reader, protective/possessive Sherlock, fingering, smut, unprotected sex, first time, creampie, breeding kink (a hint), degrading (namecalling)

A/N: A collection of drabbles on how you became Mrs. Sherlock Holmes.

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (4)

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes masterlist

His large hand pressed against your untouched petals. You whimpered, in need, an unknown heat spreading through your abdomen. You felt hot and started to rock your hips, rubbing yourself against his fingers.

Sherlock watched you desperately moving your hips, faster, and faster until he took his hand away. You cried out, hands grasping for his wrist to keep him from taking away his touch.

He purred your name and teased you for turning into a whore within a few moments. Your eyes watered because he didn’t give you what you wanted. Your lips wobbled and you choked out a sob.

“Do you want to fulfill your wifely duties now,” he whispered and nipped at your earlobe. Sherlock tugged at your ear shell, making you whine. “Say it, wife.”

“I want—” you sniffled. What you wanted; you didn’t know. In the books you read there wasn’t more than kissing and waking next to their lover the next day. What happens in between, you didn’t know for sure. “I want you to fulfill your husbandly duties.”

Sherlock growled before he rolled on top of you. Just then you realized he was bare. His chest pressed against your heaving breasts, and his lips, those dangerous pillows pressed against yours. He shoved his tongue past your parting lips to lick into your mouth.

Your eyes widened. This wasn’t the way a gentleman kissed his wife. No. It was so much more. He devoured your mouth while shoving your nightie up to your waist, baring your most precious secret to him. Sherlock settled between your legs, spreading your quivering thighs for him.

“Your mine to devour, and claim. No one can have you,” he growled the words as you stared up at the beast your husband turned into. His lips claimed yours again, a little softer this time. “I’m going to fulfill my husbandly duties now, wife. You’re going to come on my cock only.”

Your eyes widened. For months you wished he’d take you like the lovers in the books you read, but suddenly you panicked a little.

What if he didn’t like touching you? What if you did something wrong? What if you couldn’t make him fill you with his seed?

His eyes bored into yours when he kneeled between your legs. He smirked before pressing one finger against your untouched opening.

“Husband,” you breathlessly whimpered. You didn’t know what he was up to until he slowly pushed his finger into your cunt.

“This is mine,” he started to move back and forth, eyes never leaving your face. “Say it.”

“It’s yours…”

“Again…” Sherlock slipped his finger out of your cunt, only to press two inside, now scissoring you open. “Say it, wife!”

“It’s yours…Sir,” you whimpered, earning a deep guttural growl. “Only yooours….”

His fingers left you empty and wanting. He was suddenly back on top of you, his mouth stealing another kiss. You didn’t know if you should do something or lie still.

“You are mine, that’s right,” he growled, his eyes black with lust. You could only nod because you felt something bigger than his fingers poke at your entrance. Holding your breath, you looked up at him, feeling his shaft slowly slide into you.

“Sher-lock,” you babbled his name. “It’s too much.”

“I know, my love,” he whispered and kissed the tears running down your cheeks away. He slowly moved back and forth, but it still hurt when he tried to push further. “It will only hurt for a moment.”

His lips soothed your discomfort. Sherlock murmured gentle words while pressing into you. He panted against your lips when he was finally fully sheathed inside your cunt.

He gently cupped your face with one hand to kiss you deeply, and softly. Sherlock gave you time, to just feel his cock inside of your now spread-out pussy. “There you go, my love. You’re doing so well for me.”

You didn’t know if he told the truth. His huge shaft pressed against your wall, and all you could do was trust his words.

He smiled, before kissing you again.

“This is the tightest and sweetest cunt I ever ruined,” there was a smirk on his lips, and his eyes full of mischief. “You will scream my name tonight, wife. And tomorrow night, and every night from now on.”

You shuddered under his hungry gaze. His grin almost wolfishly he dug his knees into the mattress and started to rock his hips. Back, and forth, back and forth.

His thrusts were powerful enough to make you scream at the sheer force. It still hurt, but something else joined the pain. A pressure built in your abdomen, and warmth spread through your body.

“You will take me any time of the day from now on,” he growled against your already kiss-swollen lips. “That’s where you belong, wife. Underneath me, full of cock like the tainted whore you are.”

Something snapped in you. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waistline and your arms around his back. Holding tight onto him for dear life. He was relentless and got faster and faster.

“Fuck, this cunt is going to be the death of me.”

You whimpered at his crude words. He called you whore, slut, and something you didn’t understand while ramming into you harder.

“I want you to come on my cock. Now! You’re my wife, my whore, and I will paint you with my seed.”

“Sir…Sherlock,” you mindlessly babbled while raking your nails over his back. And then, something happened. Pleasure. Pure pleasure forcing tears to spring free. “SIR!”

“That’s it, my love, my whore…my perfect wife,” he growled before kissing you hard. Warmth filled your cunt, and you whimpered against him, fearing you did something wrong. “Fuck, my child will grow inside this perfect womb, and I’ll fuck another into you while you carry it.”

Sherlock buried his face in your neck and collapsed on top of you. His cock remained inside, still spreading you wide.

“Sherlock?” You murmured.

“Perfect, my love. You were so good for me, wife,” he whispered against your sweaty skin. “I can’t get enough of this cunt, I’m afraid, you got me addicted.” You sighed when he finally pulled out to wrap you in his arms, allowing you to rest. “Sleep, my love. I’ll run you a bath.” He softly spoke to you and kissed your temple. “My beautiful wife.”

You soon find out that Sherlock’s hunger is insatiable.

Only hours after he took your flower, he had you again. This time he bent you over the desk at his study, telling you to hold tight onto the old furniture.

He shoved your skirts up, and slid into you from behind, growling your name as you wiggled underneath him. His thrusts were as powerful as ever as he pushed into you.

“This is mine,” he growled and leaned over your body to whisper filthy words in your ear. To your shame, you got wetter with every crude word. Your mother would’ve been ashamed of you for enjoying being called a whore, and that you’re only a slutty hole he can stuff. “No one is going to touch you. You’re mine.”

“Husband—” you whimpered, mortified because his brother Mycroft stepped inside the study. Your brother-in-law covered his eyes and retreated in a hurry.

“He needs to learn his place,” Sherlock whispered in your ear, a smirk in his voice. “You’re my wife, and he won’t interfere with our marriage ever again.”

Lips quivering you gave in to the pleasure your body greedily accepted. Your eyes filled with tears you feared your brother-in-law would now believe you’re no better than the painted ladies offering their service in dark alleys.

“Brother, that was more than inappropriate!” Mycroft yelled loud enough for you to hear his words at the library. “How could put your lovely wife in such a position.”

“That’s right,” Sherlock possessively growled. “She’s my wife, and I take her in any position I want to.”

“Sherlock, you know that’s not what I meant. I know about wifely duties, and that you always had a stronger libido than it was good for you. But she’s a lovely and innocent flower. You cannot…”

Sherlock only smirked.

“My beautiful flower is not of your concern.” He stepped closer to his brother to glare down at him. “You will only address her as Mrs. Sherlock Holmes from now on, and only when I’m around. I saw the way you looked at her. She’s my wife, my love! I love her, and you cannot threaten our luck!”

Your heart fluttered at Sherlock’s words. It was the first time he admitted he loves you in front of someone else.

“Brother, I only want you to treat her with respect and love!”

“I do,” Sherlock bit back. “How I fulfill my husbandly duties to produce an heir is none of your concern either. Not everyone only wants to put their seed in a woman’s womb. I want to hear her scream, whimper, and moan because I make her feel so good. This is nothing to discuss with my brother, though.”

“Just never mention it again,” Mycroft lowered his voice. “Sherlock don’t overdo it. She’s still an innocent flower. You cannot mount her like some animal.”

Sherlock smirked, remembering how you begged him for more and praised his name before his brother stepped inside the room.

“Husband.” You get up from the chaise longue and put the book you read aside. “How was your brother’s visit.”

“Short-lived,” he replied, eyes drifting toward the book you read. “The Romance of Lust.” He mused, making your heart drop. “I see you have developed an appetite too.”

“I’m sorry, husband…”

He chuckled, deep and rich. “What did arouse you while reading this book?”

“He—” You shook your head, unable to tell him about the young man kissing a woman’s cunt with his lips.

“I read the book a long time ago.” He lifted your chin with his index finger. “Would you like me to put my mouth on you too?”

You nodded eagerly, already tugging at his trousers. “Please, Sir.”

“Sherlock. You will call me Sherlock from now on,” he purred and claimed your lips in a soft kiss. “Let’s get you comfortable and see if your other lips taste as good as these…”

Part 6

Tags in reblog.

#sherlock holmes #henry cavill is sherlock holmes #smut #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x wife!reader #sherlock holmes x you #x reader #sherlock holmes smut #Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (5)

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maximsdeadwife · 2 years ago

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The Experiment

Sherlock Holmes x reader

Masterlist

Summary: When you married Sherlock, you discovered a side to him that you would never have expected. A side that was only for you.

Author's notes: See if you can spot the line I included from a Sherlock Holmes story as a nod to Victorian Sherlock… I used a few Victorian terms in this to make it authentic, so on the off chance that you're an historian specialising in Victorian dirty talk, please be kind 😉. This is written with any Victorian Sherlock in mind, but leaning toward Henry.

Warnings/content: nsfw, shameless smut, 18+, f!reader, reader has a vagina, dirty talk (but make it Victorian), first time, marriage, breeding kink, fingering, cream pie, cunnilingus, overstimulation, discussion of safe word, mentions of blow jobs, dom Sherlock if you squint, mentioned aftercare

Marrying a gentleman like Sherlock, there was no surprise that when it came to matters of the marital bed, he was technically as inexperienced as you.

You had been delighted to learn that he had a tendency to live slobbishly from time to time despite scrubbing up exceptionally well; neglecting his hair, sleeping in, wearing his dressing gown all day, not bothering with trifles like what time you ate dinner or who was calling in when his organised chaos took over your home (especially if it was his brother Mycroft).

You were also pleased that he wasn’t a prude — in his line of work you supposed it would be difficult to be completely prudish — because you felt you could comfortably be yourself around him, which seemed such a rare treat for a woman living in these days.

But the one thing you were utterly surprised by, was the way he spoke to you about sex. And even more surprising; how completely crazed he seemed for you. It went against everything you expected of him while courting, and definitely against everything that the general public would ever imagine of him.

Always treating you entirely properly, you’d expected an awkward and perhaps uncomfortable encounter upon consummating your marriage, sure that he would not have time or care for physical affection, especially since he usually displayed such an obvious aversion to the touch of others.

On the contrary, he seemed to have a great deal of confidence as well as an intricate insight into the topic, even upon your first time together. His approach set every nerve in your body aflame before sating you completely and providing a generous offering of his pearly seed to establish itself in your belly.

When you found yourself atop your newly shared bed, at first you worried your ankles may be revealed as your dress lifted above your boots, but he didn’t seem at all phased. You supposed people did see one another in the nude once they were married, and although the thought had been eating away at your nerves, but Sherlock didn’t seem nearly as on edge, which went a long way to soothing your worries.

You’d seen this look of his before. His sparkling eyes devoured you as though you were a new and exciting mystery to be solved, and knowing him as you did, he would no doubt be filled with drive fit for a thorough investigation.

‘Do not worry, darling, I shan’t strip you of your beautiful dress just yet,’ he soothed, caressing your cheek before shedding himself of his jacket and loosening his ascot. ‘Let us start slow, we do have all night after all.’

He moved down to sit beside where you laid upon the bed, and his fingers worked to remove your boots, sending shivers tingling up your legs as his flesh eventually brushed against yours.

You watched him carefully as he rolled his sleeves up, wondering what on earth he was preparing for. You began to feel entirely like one of his experiments, and you supposed that in a way, since this was his first time too, you were. The thought made your lips curl in amusement and your heart race.

‘Have you researched sex, Sherlock?’ you asked bashfully as he lifted your skirts further and ran his fingertips, featherlight and only slightly shaky, up along the contours of your inner thighs.

Gently, he pushed your legs apart, fingers hooking under the soft fabric of your bloomers as that gorgeous curl loosened to fall over his forehead.

‘Of course I have,’ he said simply, still entirely focussed on contributing to your growing arousal. ‘One cannot possibly get something of such delicate balance down to an exact science without sufficient data… just like one cannot perform an exact art without practise. And practice, we shall…’

Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson at the imagery of him studying indecent books with your pleasure in mind. You were overcome with an unusual desire to squeeze your thighs together, but ignored it in favour of feeling entirely safe in his apparently capable hands. Hands that were slipping your bloomers down past your knees and dropping them unceremoniously to the floor.

His fingers began to explore your slick folds, not at all helping to cool the red hot blush that powdered your cheeks.

‘Oh, how I’ve dreamed of bedding you, my darling,’ he breathed, settling properly beside you on the bed. ‘I’m going to satisfy you in ways you cannot fathom. Don’t be shy, you’re doing so well for me.’

Your unexpected cry of pleasure tore through the otherwise silent room, his finger now slowly pumping in and out of your heat. You gripped his arm as if holding on for dear life, fearful that you might otherwise float away in this unexpected haze of bliss.

‘You feel like silk,’ he praised, voice weakening slightly. ‘That’s it, hold on to me, you’re safe. You’re going to come on my fingers first, my needy little minx. Focus on how they fill you, how they caress your inner walls. Does it excite you as it excites me?’

You nodded. Your mind was fuzzy with pleasure like you’d never known, so much so that answering verbally seemed a certain impossibility.

‘I have fantasised about taking you on my fingers,’ he whispered, low and deep into your ear, ‘how divine you would sound as you give in to your pleasure, my name slipping hungrily from between those pretty lips.’

He removed his finger then, and a whine of protest erupted from somewhere within you. You just felt so empty without his elegant digit sliding in and out of your swollen entrance, dragging against something inside that made you absolutely ravenous for more — but a new sensation soon took over and you felt disappointed no longer.

His slick coated fingers dragged up through your folds and you shuddered, all the nerve endings in your body, it seemed, set alight at once. But when he reached the throbbing nub at the apex of your sex, there was suddenly ten times the bliss you’d felt before and your body jolted upward as your scream pierced the room.

‘Ah, it seems it’s not so hard to find after all,’ he said casually, ‘I summised that most men were simply to lazy to bother with this little trick, and perhaps I was onto something. But look at you darling, how you tremble for me while I massage your pretty, soaked flower. What man wouldn’t want to witness their love so utterly wanton for their touch? To feel her blatant arousal at his very fingertips?’

Your mind had turned all but blank, the sensations shooting through your body overwhelming you as his fingers danced with perfect pressure against your clitoris.

‘Sh-Sherlock- I- oh!’

‘I know, darling, I know, you need to come for me, don’t you?’

Swiftly, he pressed his thumb to your clit and slipped a finger easily back inside, fucking you harder and faster than before, watching with delight as you unravelled beneath him.

As the lewd slapping of his fingers fucking into your sopping sex filled the room he, quite pragmatically albeit with a much darker voice than that which he uses during his usual experiments, talked you through your release.

‘This pleasure will soon overwhelm you, culminating in your orgasm. If all goes to plan, your quim will rapidly clench around my finger and there’ll be something like sparks at your clitoris, then you’ll feel a few moments of indescribable ecstasy...’

Your own fingers snapped around his wrist, feeling his steady yet vigorous movements, and you wondered how on earth anything could feel better than this, right now.

And then it hit.

‘Ah, yes, there it is. That’s it! Yes, come for me! Come for me!’

His name did indeed tear from your parted lips, shaky and breathy and desperate, and then his fingers began to slow, easing you down from your high until he gently withdrew them.

Your eyes closed as you relaxed back against the pillows, your legs shaking. You heard a humming sound that pulled you back to the present, though, and glanced across at your husband to see him gleefully sucking your slick from his fingers.

‘It is frankly a disservice to the entire human race to consider that act depraved. Mmh. And you taste like the sweetest nectar, darling... tell me, did it feel good?’

You nodded, biting your lips together.

‘There’s no shame in it, my love. Especially if it feels good.’

‘It felt exquisite,’ you breathed, punctuated with a blissful sigh, and Sherlock smiled broadly. A rare sight. ‘But what about you?’

‘I do not wish to rush you. I will be truthful, however — after watching that beautiful display, my root is as solid as a rock. Whilst I've no intention of pressuring you, I will not turn you down if you’re sure you feel sufficiently ready for me.’

‘I… I think I do,’ you whispered, and you loosened your grip from the layers of your skirt to rest a hand delicately on the broad expanse of his chest.

He gasped at the simple affection, and the reaction caused your lower lips, still throbbing with the after effects of your climax, to quiver.

‘May I?’ you asked carefully, and he nodded. Your hand trailed down gradually, until it reached his lower stomach.

Sherlock’s breath quickened, and you pushed lower still, cupping his erection.

‘Ah- ohhh-’

His eyebrows raised and his eyes fell closed as you stroked his length softly and slowly, but before you could find a proper rhythm, he quickly snapped his hips away, grabbing your hand firmly in his as he leant in to kiss you with fierce passion.

As he pulled away from your lips, he muttered, ‘I hoped to inject you with my seed, but I fear that if you continue touching me for a moment longer, the only thing filled with it will be my undergarments.’

‘Then please, Sherlock, take me-’

And take you, he did. Within a second you were pushed onto your back, and he was settling between your legs, hurriedly unfastening his trousers to release his steadily leaking arousal.

As he carefully pushed himself into you, your warmth enveloping his length, an expression of sheer bliss relaxed his handsome features.

‘Am I too big, darling?’ he panted. ‘Does it hurt?’

‘No- please, don’t stop, Sherlock, I want to be filled with your cock- filled to the brim with your blow-’

He smirked at your words. You mustn't be quite so innocent if you were using words like that.

Sherlock began to steadily roll his hips. Your core burned with an unusual pain, a pain that made you crave more.

His forehead pressed to yours, your hot breath mingling with his each time he thrust gently into you and let out a sweet little whimper.

‘I told you I’d- fantasised about- pleasuring you- ha- ahhh- I can’t deny- I’ve thought of many acts, some of which you might consider- mmh- indecent- but each flood of bliss I give to you is- ha- simply the perfect result of an experiment I’ve been dying to carry out since I met you, and- ohhh-’

His voice was so breathy and shaky now, you knew that he wouldn’t last much longer, but you wanted to give him a taste of how he’d made you feel. You wrapped your legs around his waist and dug your heels into his back, pulling him closer and signalling for him to go harder.

‘Do you- ohh- do you w-want my children, darling? Do you want me to- ah!- unleash my potent seed within these t-tender walls and- give you a child?’

‘I want nothing less,’ you breathed, thrilled at his words, and at that he snapped his hips unrelentingly, snaking a hand between your writhing bodies to massage your sensitive clit once again, and Sherlock relished in the moan his touch elicited.

‘Clever little- ohh- trick, isn’t it?’ he just about managed, and less than a second later, came with force inside you.

Your walls tightened, contracting around his thick cock to milk him of every last drop, your tightening walls taking him to a plane of existence he’d never before explored.

This orgasm felt different for you, you noted, and if either of you had been coherent enough to discuss the matter you were sure he would ask you to write it down and keep a record detailing those differences.

Nevertheless, your second peak was just as strong, and you fell weak once again as Sherlock’s seed dribbled onto your thighs and he rolled off you, panting.

‘Darling- that was- oh, it was-’ he muttered, half delirious. ‘You feel- good god, you feel-’

‘I came again,’ you admitted, proud this time, knowing it would please him.

‘I know. I felt it,’ he smirked, and then, almost as if he read your mind, ‘did it feel different?’

‘Yes,’ you chuckled.

‘Oh how wonderful! I should write a monograph on the matter. Only for your eyes of course — although it could benefit at least half of the population if there were more literature on women’s pleasure.’

‘So, a filthy love letter just for me, with a touch of the scientific?’

‘You understand me so well,’ he cooed, stroking your cheek. ‘This is precisely why I adore you.’ And suddenly, there was a sparkle in his eyes that you’d seen when he reached a breakthrough. ‘Tell me, have you ever heard of cunnilingus?’

You shook your head. ‘Not… really. I may have gleaned a… basic understanding-’

‘It’s precisely the act I mentioned may be considered indecent, but I would very much like the opportunity to try it with you.’

‘Tell me about it?’ you breathed excitedly.

‘Perhaps it would be easier to show you. Do you trust me?’

‘Yes. Do it,’ you said eagerly, hungry for as much as he was willing to give you.

‘Consider this another experiment… if you dislike it, you must tell me and I shall end it, however my understanding is that if it works, you will not be entirely in your right mind so we must set a code in place.’

‘How about a word that we don’t associate with sexual activities?’ you suggested.

‘Precisely. “Mycroft” it is.’

You burst into a simultaneous fit of laughter, until he silenced you with another, fervent kiss.

‘You might need to loosen your corset for this one. Providing three orgasms in restrictive clothing is no way to treat one’s wife. And what if there are four, or five? I would never forgive myself.’

Taking his advice, you began to strip, soon revealing your breasts to him.

‘Oh, darling, what a perfect start...’ He wrapped his lips around a nipple and sucked lightly, his fingers toying with the other. He was pleased to feel you squirm beneath him and jolts of pleasure shot from your chest to your core and back again.

‘Oh- I never knew they could- mmh- feel like that…’ you groaned, but once again he left you cold to move onto something new, shimmying lower to settle his face at the apex of your thighs.

His tongue lashed warm and wet against your sex, circling your nub, exploring your folds and lapping at your entrance to collect your combined juices.

The way you shuddered had him fighting off a second erection. Not now — he needed to concentrate, and was hoping that with this new method he could give you multiple orgasms in one sitting. His own pleasure could wait.

He hummed into your quim as though he were enjoying a long awaited meal, and you quickly fell apart once again as his hums of delight vibrated through your core.

‘Sherlock,’ you whined, ‘Oh, Sherlock…’

‘One more?’ Came his muffled response, his deep growl reverberating through your weakened body. It didn’t take long for another peak to take over, your mind completely clouded in a haze of overstimulation.

‘I think it’s time for a break now, my love,’ he muttered softly, coming up to hold you, his pretty lips coated in your juices. ‘I rather think that this has been an experiment I would take pleasure in repeating regularly, if you’ll allow me.’

‘I’d be delighted,’ you sighed dreamily, already feeling the pull of sleep.

‘I will also mention that, as soon as you’re comfortable enough, I would rather like to experiment with my own orgasms. See how they feel inside your hand… or your mouth…’

‘Yes, yes I would… I would like…’

‘Shh… for now, it’s time to sleep. Rest, my darling wife you’ve done so well for me.’

You nodded, and that was the last you remembered of the evening.

A thin blade of warm sunlight woke you in the morning. You found yourself comfortably wrapped inside his shirt. He’d cleaned you up after you drifted off to sleep, and you rose feeling refreshed and relaxed.

Creaking open the bedroom door, you heard his handsome voice floating through. He had a client, and when you peeked through the gap you could see that your husband looked impeccably well put together. Unlike you; if anyone saw you like this… you dreaded to think. You smiled to yourself, though, wondering what his stoic looking client would think if he knew what Sherlock had spent all night doing before meeting with him. You bet Sherlock could teach him a thing or two.

You could only hope this case would be too boring for him so he would return to your bed, for you entirely planned to take Sherlock into your mouth the moment you were able. To taste him. To give him as many releases as he had given you. To see him entirely, blissfully weakened by pleasure…

#not s f w 💀#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock x reader #sherlock smut #henry cavill sherlock holmes #victorian sherlock #henry cavill #sherlocksoft writes

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kanroji-san · 1 year ago

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This is most popular scene

But with Y/n

:) Happy New Year Everyone!!!

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milfloveer · 11 months ago

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Proof of love ♡

Sherlock Holmes x fem!reader

Prompt: After y/n gets a little stressed about her and Sherlock's relation and— Well, Sherlock shows her how he really loves her ;)

Warnings: smut 18+ minors DNI, age gap (reader is in their 20s and Sherlock in his 30s), p in v, unprotected sex, fluff, creampie

A/n: I need Sherlock in my life so badly 😩

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚ ⊹ ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Sherlock and I just arrived home after attending a high society party so we could unfold more information about this recent case. Enola and Tewkesbury were there too, the first working on her case as well and the later was there on work behalf as he is a Lord and has his duties as one.

Enola was clearly bothered with all the feminine attention Lord Tewkesbury was given. I couldn't censure her as I was feeling the same towards Sherlock and all those ladies around him asking for a dance, their hands all over my man. Enola and I just rolled our eyes and focused on our cases ignoring each woman who approached the men.

•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•

Sherlock opened the door to his apartment and we walked in, I was clearly frustrated and it didn't slip Sherlock's gaze "You alright, darling?" he asks tenderly and cautiously.

I turn to him and see his concern "Yes, love, everything's alright." I say, even though I was lying. Those interactions all night long made me feel easily discarded and replaced.

Sherlock and I relationship was somewhat recent, we were only together for half a year and yet none of us dared to say those three simple words.

I can say that I care for him deeply, I got really attached to his personality, behaviour, the manner he works and thinks, his papers all around his apartment in a perfectly messy way, the way he played the violin when wanted to relax and get lost for a moment.

I truly fell for this exquisite detective, but I didn't dare to say those words to his face as I was afraid he wasn't feeling what I was. So I kept it to myself until now.

Sherlock frowns and follows me to our shared room "Darling, I know you and I can tell something is up." he says with concern in his voice as I try to unzip my dress, ending to ask him for help on it. He gladly does "Please talk to me." his voice wavering a bit making me look at him worriedly.

I sigh seeing his saddened face as I've never seen him like this. Getting closer to him I lay my hands, one on each side of his face and look deep into his eyes with tenderness "It is nothing important of concern, honey." I say softly, trying to brush it off.

But then again, Sherlock Holmes wouldn't be Sherlock Holmes without discovering the truth "It is concerning you and if it is concerning you, it is concerning me." he says pointing between us as he talks "Please, don't leave me in the dark, dove." he says while holding my gaze and I gave in and told him everything I was feeling at the party and when all the female attention is on him, how replaceable I feel, how dischargeable, how ridiculous.

I was now sitting at the end of our bed with my head hanging as my eyes freely released tears while looking at our hands interlocked on my lap "Oh, dear, why haven't you talked about this with me?" he asks caringly, I sniff and he brings his index finger and thumb to my chin, lifting it so I could look into those blue pools "I didn't want to overreact." I say barely above a whisper, he smiles softly "It's not overreacting dear and I assure you here that I have only eyes for you, my beautiful girl." he says as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, caressing my cheek afterwards and cleaning the remaining of my tears with his thumb.

"Prove it then." I blurt out shocking myself with my boldness, but nonetheless Sherlock chuckles darkly making me shiver "With pleasure, darling." he says as he leans over me making me lay down on the mattress behind me.

Now hovering over me he caresses my sides teasingly as his lips brush mine. No words were said as he connects strongly and lovingly his lips to mine eliciting a moan from me. He starts lowering his hands as his lips move to my neck and collarbone, teasing and marking all the soft spots.

I was already on my undergarments making me start to take off his clothes as he's still fully clothed, first his jacket, then his tie and vest, his shirt and belt were now off and he pulled down his pants discharging them somewhere in the room.

"Please, I need you." I say tugging at the waistband of his underwear, he chuckles "Eager are we?" he asks making me flush as I nod. He frees himself as I take off of me the remains of my underwear.

Now both fully naked we scan each others body "You're so beautiful." he growls caressing my side with his fingertips before capturing my lips while aligning himself with my entrance. As he enters me my mouth falls open and a moan echoes through the room "Oh dear." he says against my ear, his arms each on either side of my body, his hands behind my back, flat on my shoulder blades as he moves lovingly in and out of me.

My legs wrap around his waist pulling him closer as my nails dig into his back certainly leaving some scratches over it. Both breathing heavily and moaning into each other's ears; I love this man so much.

Sherlock speeds up his pace hitting a wonderful spot inside me over and over "Yes, honey, don't stop!" I say gasping sensing the tension building up each time he pounds into me. He then gets on his knees bringing my legs up to rest on his shoulders, I cry out in pleasure as he groans pounding strongly "I'm so close, Sherlock." I say, my legs start to tremble with the feeling.

With a few more pushes and I'm taken over the edge, Sherlock following, spilling his seed into me "Ah, Sherlock!" I say pushing him down and kissing his lips eagerly and then softly. As he pulls away he brushes against my lips, whispering "I love you." I froze and look up at him "What?" I breathe out starstruck about his confession, his eyes widen as he realized he just confessed his feelings for me out loud.

I bring my hand to his cheek and caress it, I smile before letting out a soft chuckle as my eyes fill with happy tears. I lift my head so I could reach his slightly trembling lips and close the gap, the kiss is slow, tender and filled with love, as we were telling without words 'I love you'.

Slightly I pull away and whisper against his lips "I love you too." his eyes widen slightly hearing the words slip like honey from my mouth making me smile lovingly at the man still above me.

#sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes x fem!reader #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill characters #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavil x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill #henry cavill x female reader

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fandom-oneshots-etc · 1 year ago

Note

✨ Dropping by to request literally anything sherlock x reader - would love something with awkward idiots in love ✨

🍄 Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

🍄 Genre: Fluff

🍄 Summary: When Sherlock goes off on a frantic tangent, John knows exactly who to call, the idiot in love with him...

🍄 Word Count: 2084

🍄 Abbreviations: N/A

🍄 Warnings: N/A

🍄 Note: I hope this is what you were looking for Anon! :)

“What’s he doing this time?” you answered the phone as John’s name appeared. You had become so accustomed to the calls at all odd hours of the day, usually all pertaining to your high-functioning sociopath of a friend, Sherlock. Odd hours like the one now.

You had just sat down in your cloud chair, kindle in hand ready to read the next chapter of your gripping (b/g) when the phone had pinged, angrily vibrating against the coffee table-top. A puff of air had moved the stray hairs touching your face as you instantly recognized the personalized ring tone you had installed. You knew that John wouldn’t call you unless it was at least a code blue, blue-in-the-face blue. A colour code the two of you had created to describe the different moods of Sherlock Holmes.

“I’m so sorry-” You rolled your eyes with a little smile. “He’s just off on one. He solved the case, you know the one with the woman and the suitcases? He’s been off the walls since then. Can’t get him to settle, he’s talking about renovating the flat, knocking walls down for more ‘thinking space’. I think Mrs Hudson’s threatened to evict him already,” You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped your lips at the thought of the sweet old woman threatening your tall friend, knowing very well that she’d mean every word. You could already picture the offended horror on Sherlock’s face at her threats.

“I’m on my way,” you reassured before hanging up the phone and pushing yourself out of the comfortable chair. Slipping your kindle into your bag, you grabbed your keys from the hook and turned off the lights. You didn’t bother changing out of your night clothes,, instead your threw a long coat over your pajamas and slipped on your trainers before heading out of the flat. You weren’t exactly keen on the idea of getting a cab this late at night, but you preferred that over walking the streets alone in the dark.

Thankfully, Baker Street was only a few roads away and the journey was nice and short with the lack of traffic at this time of night. Looking up at 221B you could see tat it was one of the only lights on in the street. You slipped the spare key out of your bag and unlocked the door to 221B.

Mrs Hudson reached the bottom of the stairs in an angry flurry huffing as she passed, a few rushed ‘oh dear’s escaping her lips as she passed you, only briefly making eye contact as she scurried back into her flat, red-faced. Taking that as your cue, you started up the stairs to the flat, fully expecting to see the flat in complete disarray, and you weren’t disappointed.

The papers from the now-closed case were still strewn across the flat, stuck to the walls, laid out on the desk, tucked under the tea cups on the small side table. The tea cups, several sat on the desk untouched and probably growing a few types of fungus that Sherlock could happily describe for you. The pillows from the sofa were thrown about the flat as Sherlock stood on the sofa, feet buried in the sofa cushions and tape measure I hand as he stretched it across the wall in front of him, a HB pencil clenched between his teeth.

“Thank God you’re here!” John poked his head out of the kitchen as if weary of the man in the living room. He gestured for you to step into the kitchen, with a final glance at the tall consulting detective, you slipped into the kitchen.

“How long has he been like this?” you asked, setting your bag down on the cluttered kitchen table. Piles and piles of old experiments were stacked tall, filling up almost the entire surface of the table and from the darkening black patch by one of the chairs you had no doubt that Sherlock had blown something up today, yet another thing to add to the list of problems for you and John.

“A couple of hours now, I stupidly thought that solving the case would change his mood, but it only seemed to make him more antsy for another one-” He sighed. “Sorry it’s so late, I know you usually sit down and read about now. I didn’t want to bother you but with Mrs Hudson threatening eviction I thought it best not to wait.” You smiled at your friend and shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s been a while since he’s been like this so it was expected sooner or later. Better sort him out before Mrs Hudson really does chuck him out.” The two of you chuckle at the thought of a homeless Sherlock, it’s not really a sight either of you can imagine fully. But you had no doubt that his homeless network would really find him the best spots in London to squat.

“You don’t mind if I take a quick walk do you? I’ve been cooped up in here for a few hours trying to sort him out, just need bit of fresh air.” You shook your head and hurried John out of the kitchen door and down the stairwell. You knew it would be easier to deal with Sherlock without John around anyway. Not that John was a problem, but with Sherlock like this and his habit of making unsavory comments without fully thinking of the consequences, it would be easier than having a row start between the two flat mates.

You paused for a moment and brushed your finger against the black mark on the table top and inspected the pad of your finger. That’ll come off with some polish, you decided. Stepping back out of the kitchen and into the living room, your eyes zeroed in on the consulting detective who had now abandoned the tape measure and was gently knocking against the wall looking for a hollow sounding area.

“No.” You spoke clearly, catching the attention of the detective who had yet to notice you. Spinning on his heels, his eyes flashed at you wide and adorable. It kind of reminded you of a child who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. His mouth started to open but you shut him down quickly. “No,” You gave him a stern look. “That wall has all of the major electricity lines and one of the main water pipes. No.”

“There’s no way you could possibly know that just from looking at the wall-” Sherlock argued.

“No I couldn’t. I know because I had to get the schematics for the flat after you started shooting the walls because you were banned from in-person cases and blew the power out in this side of London,” You reminded. “An event that Mycroft still calls ‘The Great COVID Blackout’.” Sherlock’s nose scrunched at the mention of his brother. “Now, are you going to sit down or am I going to have to use that self-defense training program you insisted I go on to incapacitate you?” You could almost see the cogs turning in his head as his eyes narrowed at you, trying to deduce if you were serious or not. Your unwavering stance must have given him his answer as he slowly stepped down from the sofa and settled his feet back on the floor calmly.

“Why are you here?” You were very rarely offended by Sherlock’s blunt words, it just wasn’t worth the energy when you also knew that he rarely meant it to come across in that way. “No, don’t answer that. You’re here in your night clothes, your kindle is tucked in your bag and your hair is done up which means it’s late- John called you. Why?”

“Probably because his roommate was threatened with eviction after planning to renovate their rented flat and set the landlady off.” “Mrs Hudson wouldn’t evict me. She still owes me for getting her husband executed.”

“Favours do expire Sherlock. They have their limits.” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Really?” You nod. “Oh. Well John wouldn’t let her evict me.” “Have you been experimenting today?” You think back to the two mugs settled on the kitchen counter, one sporting a brownish green sludge at the bottom.

“Yes, why- Oh.”

“Right come on,” You clapped your hands, moving towards him and grabbing one of his hands to pull him over to his chair. You ignored the sounds of protest from Sherlock as you settled on the chair and tugged on his arm. “Sit down,” you instructed. Sherlock sighed and complied, dropping onto the floor and crossing his legs underneath him. You grabbed the TV remote and switched it on. “What should we watch? Bones or Criminal Minds?” you pondered.

“Why do we have to watch a crime show? They’re always so inaccurate-” You flick the TV onto an episode of Criminal Minds. “Look, the killer’s using tape- what about finger prints? They don’t need to study his behaviour, just find the prints-” You smiled softly, fiddling with a few strands of Sherlock’s curly hair in your lap as he rattled on about the mistakes of the Unsub and the BAU team.

It was around an hour later that John returned to the flat. Pushing open the front door of 221, he was relieved to hear nothing. The light under Mrs Hudson’s door was now off, meaning she had slipped into bed, no longer tormented by her tenant’s renovation plans. The light on the landing let off a soft glow as John started up to the flat. A heavy wave of relief swept through him as he noticed the lack of banging, drilling, sawing or any construction noises at all. You had managed to talk him out of it for now. He reached the top of the stairs and could hear the muffled sounds of the TV in the flat. Stepping into the kitchen he could see that the place was still a pig sty but at least there wasn’t any knocked down walls or partially constructed extensions. The mess could be dealt with in the morning.

As he turned the corner and peeked - still a little cautiously into the living room - a soft smile graced his face. Your back was pressed against one of the arms of Sherlock’s chair, your legs swung over the opposite side. Sherlock’s was still perched on the floor with his legs crossed, his head dropped back against your stomach, with your right hand resting on top. Your fingers rhythmically threading through his curly brown locks, soothingly. John flicked his eyes up to the TV screen to see an episode of Criminal Minds playing, Sherlock’s face scrunched in distaste as he watched the team profile the murderer. Your other hand held your kindle tightly, your fingers set comfortably around the flower pop socket on the back as you occasionally flicked the pages with your thumb.

John couldn’t help but watch in awe for a moment. No one he knew had ever been able to soothe Sherlock in the way that you could. Not him, not Mrs Hudson and certainly not his brother, not even his parents had this calming effect that you had. He wondered if Sherlock would ever confess to the effect you had on him, or explain why you had such an effect on him. John knew the reason, Mrs Hudson knew the reason… did Sherlock? Did you?

You were always just as oblivious as Sherlock. John had mentioned to you once or twice about how you effected the consulting detective, but you couldn’t see it. You wouldn’t admit to the effect you so clearly had on him nor would you confess to the butterflies that whirled in your stomach whenever you were this close to him.

You caught John’s eye and must’ve made an educated guess of what he was thinking as you rolled your eyes and shook your heads. Deciding that now was probably not the time to bring up the obvious pink elephant that shared the living room with the three of you, John mouthed a ‘thank you’ to you and you nodded, letting out a quiet yawn. He bidded a quick farewell to the pair of you before shuffling out of the kitchen and upstairs to his room. On his way up the stairs, he couldn’t help but wonder how long the two of you would remain oblivious.

As he reached the top of the staircase he paused and chuckled. Lovesick idiots.

#sherlock x reader #sherlock oneshot #sherlock imagine #sherlock holmes #sherlock #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes oneshot #bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock oneshot #bbc sherlock imagine #request #reqs open #requests open #anon ask

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married-to-google-translater · 3 months ago

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So if this don't bother you, you would write about William and Sherlock with a y/n as smart as them but incredible lazy

You don't bother me <3

Sherlock Holmes

You really intrigued Sherlock.

You two met each other at some fancy party.

Sherlock recognized your intelligence right away, but not you as a person.

He would think that with those intellectual gifts you would have recognition.

However, Sherlock was wrong.

Probably the first time in years.

Sherlock would spend almost all of his time with you.

You would talk about a lot of things and have a good time.

When Sherlock got back home he would start investigating you more.

Watson might think you're some level of criminal...

Sherlock was so passionate about his research.

The first meeting will definitely not be the only one.

Eventually, friendship would lead to dating.

Good luck with Sherlock, you're going to need it.

You two would have intelligent conversations every now and then.

Sherlock might try to bribe you to help him with his detective work.

The success rate of this would be variable lol

William James Moriarty

William met you on the first day at the flower shop.

At first he was just going to get some seeds for Fred's garden.

However, things had not gone as he had planned.

You two would get into a really interesting conversation.

William noticed right away that you are smarter than you look.

However, this could cause problems for him.

At first this was William's explanation for observing you.

However, soon you two would start dating.

William would probably never directly reveal his plans to you.

He would quietly ask you about it.

If you show the same spirit, William could reveal his plans at some point.

This would also provide an interesting challenge.

William would try his best to be as unsuspicious as possible.

Every day he would be grateful for your laziness.

One Sherlock is a solid opposition, but two Sherlocks would really be too much.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months ago

Text

Unraveled 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A curious man wanders into your dress shop with a lot of questions.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (Cavill)

Note: thanks for waiting on this one.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The carriage stops outside a brick building. A walk-up in Marleybone, just along Upper Baker Street. An address you couldn’t even dream of living near, let alone within. You peer up at the facade, the orange brick unstained by the coal and smoke of the backstreets.

Gavin appears to open the door and sets a step down before you can emerge. He offers his hand gallantly and you let him assist you down to the road. You thank him as you peer up at the arched front door of 221b.

“You need only knock, miss,” Gavin goes to pat the horse’s haunch as it kicks. “Ask for Mr. Holmes, he is expecting you.”

You grip your bag tight and set your chin. You might not belong but only you are troubled by it. You climb the steps alongside the iron rail and lift the heavy knocker mounted on the thick wooden door. It’s clang rattles even you.

You wait, both hands on the handles of the bag. Gavin appears behind you with the rolls of fabric, breathless as he struggles to keep them from touching the ground. You return your attention to the door as it opens.

“Hello, I’m looking for Mr.--”

“Holmes,” the very man you’re seeking stands before you, “forgive me, my housekeeper... resigned.”

“Not to worry, sir,” you assure him.

“Come in,” he backs up, gesturing you within with his large hand. “And how was your journey? I hope you didn’t come upon any scoundrels.”

“Only upon her destination, sir,” Gavin japes as he steps in behind you.

“Eh,” Holmes tilts his head at the driver, “allow me.”

Holmes takes the rolls of fabric from Gavin. He hugs them effortlessly in on arm as he faces you again, dismissing the driver with no more than a nod. You stand rigidly by the wall, hesitant to go any further. The door closes and the click makes you flinch.

“Allow me to show you around,” Holmes offers, looming in the tight space of the entryway.

“I need only see your sister,” you insist.

“Ah, yes, Enola, you will, but it only polite to get you acquainted with the space,” he rebuffs.

“With respect, sir, I’ve come out of my way and without warning to this appointment. More work does await me at my shop,” you squeeze the leather handles until they squeak, “it is a lovely home, I’m sure, but I’ve come upon business, haven’t I?”

“Yes, but it wouldn’t take very long,” he counters, “yet, if you’d rather keep this formal, by all means, I will take you to my sister.”

“Thank you, sir.”

You bite down, wondering if perhaps you were more curt than you should be. The apartment is rather far from your neighbourhood and the travel time alone will impose upon your ongoing commissions. You don’t expect he considered that. He does seem the type to command rather than ask.

He directs you to the stairs, just across from the door, and waves you onward. He follows as your skirts brush the top of your boots with each step. The wallpaper is tightly decorated with framed newspapers and portraits, cluttered together but not garishly so.

You get to the top and he advises you to go left. You obey as he keeps pace.

“Did you... discover what led to that woman’s fate? Or who she was?” You ask as you take measured steps.

He isn’t demure as he walks next to you, crowded against you as his broad figure allows for little space, “sadly, yes and no. Not her name. Only that she was a factory woman. I won’t say much on the matter as it is ongoing and confidentiality is a part of my contract, I would only gird you to keep your doors locked and yourself alert.”

You chew on his answer. It makes you nervous. You know the woman was found close to your shop and home. The news has been whispered for blocks.

“I will be sure to hede your advice,” you say.

You walk past a door as he stops to knock on it. You spin back, skirts swirling around you, and he glances at you as he plants his hand on the door frame. There is activity from within, scratching and creaking. He sighs and stands straight as he slides his hand down the pillar. He raps with his knuckles again.

“Enola,” he booms through, his voice shaking you. “I told you to be ready.”

You hear furious footsteps and the lock flicks back with similar furor. It opens and a young woman with a slumping bun greets Mr. Holmes. Strands fall loose from the clip and her blouse is half untucked as her sleeves are rolled to her elbows. She has a long oval face, flushed as she shows her teeth.

“I told you, I’m busy--”

“Not so busy that you would waste this good woman’s time,” Holmes insists, “she traveled all this way. We discussed this.”

She flutters her lashes and huffs. Her eyes flit over to you and she softens her expression, “if her time is wasted, it is hardly my fault.”

“Hm,” he hums flatly, “isn’t it? It wasn’t I who fed your dresses to the furnace.”

She smiles, a smug look that pinches her cheeks, “I was cold.”

“Sister,” he warns dangerously, crossing his arms, his breadth wider than ever.

“You know what, I welcome her company. Much preferable to your own,” the woman sneers and turns her shoulder to her brother, “come on, then. Suppose I need a dress for the banquet.”

You inch forward. A flare of resent burns in you at the position Mr. Holmes has put you in. Plainly, this appointment was not upon his sister’s behest. She holds the door for you and her brother exhales deeply.

“All you need do is stand still, I’m certain you can handle that, sister,” he rebukes, “do let me know when you are finished and I will call the carriage.”

“Thank you,” you utter without looking at him. He sets the rolls just inside the door and backs up to watch you.

You enter the bedroom and find it cluttered and cramped. There are books in stacks with more littered around the bottom. A dried-up paint palette and an easel draped over with several jackets and unpaired stockings. There is a four-post bed with scrambled covers and a canopy twisted around the poles. Vials upon vials line shelves and an inkwell stands uncapped over untidy sheets of paper.

“Very well,” the woman shuts the door, “I am Enola, the famous detective’s ne’er do well sister and you are the seamstress who will make me a peacock.”

You stare at her and swallow tightly. You offer your name before you begin, “I’ve only come upon his request--”

“Ah, yes, I’m certain you have. He’s still trying to make a lady of me. I see through his guise, though he doesn’t think it. He underestimates me, see. He lies but I will go along for I will more easily avoid his snare if I do.”

You nod and narrow your eyes. The wealthy can always afford to be so eccentric. You don’t think any woman you know would view a new dress as such a curse. She is young, she cannot know.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll only take your measurements,” you offer, “I can always fit upon the dress form.”

“Do what you must,” she sighs, “shall I strip down?”

You put your bag on a chair as she unbuttons her blouse, “not-- if you--” You look up at her as she reveals a corset and reaches to undo her skirt. You focus on your bag and scoop out your measuring tape.

You approach her as her skirt heaps at her feet. She is tall, her legs on long, her figure lithe. You begin your work silently. She raises her arms as you request and puts them back down.

“Suppose if I wasn’t here, I might’ve become a dressmaker. I always enjoyed stitching,” she muses as you scribble down each number, “it seems lonely work. Quiet work.”

“It’s work,” you say as you take out the envelope and unfold the page to examine the dress again. You hold it up and glance past it at Enola.

“May I see that?” She asks but doesn’t await an answer before she snatches the paper. “Oh, is this really what he chose? No, no, no, this won’t do. I want my shoulders covered.”

You slip the envelope back in your bag, “it is only what I was given. If you prefer adjustments, it is your dress.”

“Yes, my dress and my body,” she crumples the paper and tosses it onto the rug.

You close up your notebook and go to the rolls of fabric, “would it be too much for me to do some piecework?”

“If you insist,” she pouts.

You take out your scissors and turn your back to her. She isn’t rude, per se, but you’re not in the habit of associating with this sort of clientele. You get numbers on a sheet and you sew. A living form is not quite your forte.

-🪡

When you finish, you can sense Enola’s agitated impatience. You don’t blame her. It’s plain she didn’t want the dress or your visit. It is more so upon the shoulders of her brother. Mr. Holmes. You’re similarly irked that he would put you in this position.

Enola is already fiddling with some instrument before you can go. You emerge and pull the door shut after you. You stand in the hallway, bag at the crook of your elbow as you hug the fabric. You move with hampered steps towards the stairs. As the top creaks beneath your weight, your name is called from further down the hallway.

“Ah, are you set then?” Mr. Holmes asks as he stops just outside a door, “I was thinking, to make up for your efforts, you might want to stay for tea.”

You look down at your armful and back to him, “that’s very generous, but--”

“I believe I paid an adequate fee for the appointment,” he strides slowly towards you, “but I am open to a barter if it was not sufficient.”

You feel the heavy sovereign tucked into your jacket. You crook your lips and raise your chin, “no sir, it will do for today and the making of the dress. The fabric... I don’t have any as rich as the style requested.”

“Another service I may require of you. If you wouldn’t mind to select the material, I would be happy to reimburse the expense.”

“Would there be a colour? A fabric preferred? Velvet? Satin? Chiffon?” You prompt, “I solely work in cotton and wool, as I forewarned.”

“Perhaps we might find a fabric seller at Covent Garden? You could accompany me on my next sojourn--”

“I don’t know if I would have the time. I could write down some fabrics which would suit the silhouette we agreed upon,” you offer.

“Mmm,” he hums, “you are rather professional. How about tea, then? Melinda from across the road sent some mutton over.”

“The hour should see me back to my shop,” you shift your bag.

“You are fastidious,” he stops before you and puts a hand on the fabric, “please, allow me, you are overburdened.”

“I’m--”

You can’t argue as he takes the fabric from you. You let him have it if only to avoid disaster you lean back on your heel. He angles the rolls under his arm easily and grins. A curl strays down his forehead.

“I suppose you are right, given recent events, it would be best to see you home before the evening sets,” he says, “I would gladly see you home safe, miss.”

He is overly polite, or perhaps you aren’t used to it. It is his home, he supplied the carriage, and he has paid generously. It makes each denial feel trite.

“If you must, but I would be just fine on my own comportment,” you accept.

“It isn’t any fuss, I will fetch a jacket and the driver,” he extends his arm past you, “after you.”

You spin on your heel and face the staircase. You descend with your hand on the railing. As you come to the bottom, you wander towards the entry way and take in the fineness of the decor. Is much more becoming than your slanted rooms.

Mr. Holmes places the rolls just beside the door and takes a jacket from the rack. He pulls it on and tells you to wait before he disappears outside. You linger as you are, sliding your bag down to your hands.

When he returns, he reaches within to retrieve the fabric first. “Gavin is bringing up the carriage,” he declares and offers his free arm, “shall we?”

You consider him. You wouldn’t want to be unkind. You step through the door, pulling it shut as you accept his bent arm, your hand in the crook. He accompanies you down the narrow steps, each step crowded by his.

Gavin appears in the driver’s seat and reins the horse to a halt. The beast looks miserable. Mr. Holmes escorts you to the door and releases you to open it. He helps you with a strong hand and you sit within with your bag on your lap. He shoves the fabric in ahead of him, his head bowed as he fits through the small door.

He closes it with a snap and settles on the bench on the other side of you. You stare across at the cotton, expecting he’d have taken that seat instead. His leg is on your skirt.

You keep your hands on your bag. He knocks on the ceiling and the carriage rumbles into motion. You rock with it along the street, silent as you wring the leather handles.

“I hope my sister did not cause too much stress. I know she can be a lot but she’s old enough now. She should start behaving as a lady,” he spreads a large hand across his thigh. “Perhaps, once she finds a husband, that will be easier.”

You nod, uncertain of a proper response.

“Not to mean... I don’t mean to assume, I am known however for my observations, and I have concluded you are not married,” he continues, “I gather if it were the case, you might not have a shop to sew in.”

“Suppose not,” you reply dully.

“It is only to say that my opinion of my sister isn’t general. A woman such as yourself is admirable.”

“A spinster?” You supply.

“I didn’t--”

“I’ve chosen not to marry, that is true. I am not bothered by that fact,” you say, “isn’t that what you deal in, detective, facts?”

“Fair,” he shifts on the bench, “but not everyone can detach emotion from facts.”

“And why should I be emotional about that fact? I am much more happier than any woman could be with a husband,” you stare at the opposite wall of the carriage. “And I will assume, sir, as I am no detective, that you have neither taken to the altar.”

He curls the fingers on his left hand, “I have not.”

“And I’m certain you enjoy your bachelor lifestyle in your grand apartment,” you return, “while my own is not so extravagant, I find solace in it. On that, I think you might understand me.”

He takes a breath and lets it out with a thoughtful hum, “I suppose we are similar in some way.”

#sherlock holmes #dark sherlock holmes #dark!sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #unraveled #enola holmes #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series

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a-asterias · 2 years ago

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— micaela's february recs

ty to all these amazing writers who have left me with butterflies in my stomach and/or tears rolling down my face, much appreciated <3

GRISHAVERSE

— nikolai lantsov.

young royals by @clairecrive

currents by @lantsovsupremacist

↳ you are in love

the art of pretension by @fleurspun

↳ sick and stubborn

↳ healer's duties

love language by @fishley

speak up by @prince-septimus

sugar cube by @magpiencrow

a dare for a truth by @sumsebien

— kaz brekker.

when am i gonna lose you? by @crowsmybeloveds

confrontations in a lonely club by @curseofaphrodite

what do you want from me? by @romeomontaague

silent birthdays by @amourology

↳ schat

you are done for by @sumsebien

this is what happens by @fishley

MARVEL

— peter parker.

you more than anything by @nghtwngs

↳ you love me, i love you

on that rooftop by @nezuscribe

skateboards, the force, and a lack of pants by @damnedparker

secrets and skateparks by @earthgirl616

aurora by @mgparker

scenes from a modern romance by @dameronology

— marc spector.

just let me dream a little more by @the-archxr

— matt murdock.

green is the color by @courtforshort15

the defence rests by @dameronology

OUTER BANKS

— jj maybank.

hot for a pogue by @butgilinsky

meet me at our spot by @amourology

— rafe cameron.

midsummers by @butgilinsky

so gorgeous it actually hurts by @folkloreslovechild

HARRY POTTER

— fred weasley.

after all this time by @httpbakugou

MARAUDERS

— james potter.

five times james wanted to kiss you and the one time he did by @moonlitmeeks

— sirius black.

all your fault by @heloisedaphnebrightmore

↳ absurd ideas

'cause i don't want you like a best friend by @evermoreal

grand scheme by @fishley

— remus lupin.

it's time to go by @godlessandwrecked

BRIDGERTON

— benedict bridgerton.

en garde by @delphispoeticals

show me love by @romeomontaague

— anthony bridgerton.

should've never let go by @writeroutoftime

illicit affairs by @marwritesgood

— colin bridgerton.

alone together by @romeomontaague

TOP GUN

— bradley bradshaw.

delirium by @kyber-crystal

↳ head in the clouds

ENOLA HOLMES

— sherlock holmes.

invisible string by @marwritesgood

AVATAR

— lo'ak.

in full bloom by @loaksky

— neteyam.

warm hands by @loaksky

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON

— aemond targaryen.

corridor kisses by @flowerpotmage

#nikolai lantsov x reader #kaz brekker x reader #peter parker x reader #marc spector x reader #matt murdock x reader #jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #micaela's recs

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strangesthirdeye · 2 months ago

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Y/n: *groans in frustration* Fuck me

Sherlock: *lowers his pants*

Y/n: *looks at Sherlock with wide eyes* wow

#benedict cumberbatch x reader #bbc shows #benedict cumberbatch #bbc sherlock x reader #sherlock reader insert #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x reader smut #sherlock bbc #incorrect sherlock quotes #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock x you

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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 1 year ago

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Last Updated: 2024-05-30

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite BBC!Sherlock Holmes stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Summary: …

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Summary: "..."

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

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

✑ Holmes, the by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 •

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

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

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

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

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

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

Summary: {…}

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

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

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

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

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

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

✑ Nicknames by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

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

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

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

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

Summary: {…}

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

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

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

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

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

✑ Tipsy by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

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

✑ Waltz by magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics • 〔F〕 •

Summary: {…}

✑ White Lillies by leftperfectionmoon • 〔F〕 •

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

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

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

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

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

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

Summary: "..."

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

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

✑ Your Stupid Face by gaitwae • 〔F〕 •

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✑ Measurements by classickook • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✑ Our Little Game by justauthoring • 〔F〕 •

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

✑ Resurrection by moonlightsong • 〔A᜶F〕 •

✑ Rewritten Memory by gaitwae • 〔F〕 •

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

✑ Stressed by generallynerdy • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Tease by classickook • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

See Also: Navigation || BBC!Sherlock Master Index

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

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amaratas · 3 months ago

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October 1st: Handjobs

PROMPT: Handjobs

PAIRING(S): Sherlock Holmes x AFAB!Reader

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Porn w/o plot, smut, handjob, Dom!Reader/Sub!Sherlock, ends in unprotected sex and creampie

TAGLIST: None yet

A/N: Posting a lot of my Kinktober stuff early so I can get them all done on time 😮‍💨

It was sinful, the way his body shuddered beneath your touch, fingers lingering on a well-groomed happy trail, threatening to slip under the waistband of his silk pajama bottoms. He tensed, even still, at the sudden contact of your hand on his lower abdomen. He quickly recovered his composure, and you watched as his adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed thickly, giving you an icy side eye before returning his gaze to the bright white light of his laptop screen. "I'm working."

"You're researching tobacco ash," You pointed out, slowly inching your fingers beneath the elastic of his trousers, "It's like you're purposefully avoiding me, by the way, don't think I haven't noticed." He hummed under his breath, typing something up. You slipped your hand beneath, realizing quickly that he'd forgone undergarments today, a coy smile playing at your lips as you felt him spring to life, his breath hitching as you moved to wrap your hand around his slowly hardening member-- and then he grabbed your wrist, looking down at you.

"Minx." He stated, his face inching closer to yours. "You're bored. Why are you bored at three in the morning?"

"Why are you not in bed at three in the morning?" You shot back, capturing his lips in a kiss. His grip relaxed on your hand, his eyes squeezing shut as you stroked him softly. He let out a breathy moan into your mouth, tensing under your touch. "I haven't seen you in days."

He turned to look at you as your grip on his cock tightened gently, stroking him and biting your lip as his hips jerked slightly in response to your touch, "I was working." He hissed lowly, thrusting upwards.

You smirked, pulling him into a kiss, your thumb swiping over the swollen, red tip of his member, collecting the beading precum and using it to lubricate your ministrations. "Easy," You warned playfully, the fingers on your free hand digging into his hip, keeping his in place. "Stop chasing, or I'll stop." The look he shot you was bratty to say the very least, and you relaxed your hand. "Do you want me to stop?" Watching him submit to you was always a sight to behold. His nostrils flaring, muscles rippling as he tensed, trying to stay still, your nimble fingers curled around the base of his cock, doing nothing and it always drove him insane. He shook his head, and you kissed his cheek, softly trailing your lips to below his ear. "Not good enough. Use your words."

"No. Don't-" You raise a brow, removing your hand. "-stop." Without a word, you abruptly pulled out his chair, pulling down on the waistband of his slacks to free him further. You tentatively wrapped your nimble fingers around his length, gathering your saliva and spitting on the cockhead.

"You're sensitive tonight," You murmured to him sweetly, teasing the tip lightly with your thumb, his hips jerking in response. His blue-green eyes screwed shut, fingers gripping the sides of the chair as you rolled your hand and fisted his cock. With your free hand, you opened that one desk drawer and grabbed the lube from it, squirting a generous amount onto him, twisting your hand gently.

You watched as his face twitched, always a sucker for the soft moans. His hand shot out to grab the supple flesh of your shoulder, cock twitching and pulsing under your touch. You increased your pace, biting your bottom lip. Your thighs squeezed together, desperate for friction. The groans escaping his throat were torture for you, your breathing heavy as you gripped him harder, stroking him faster. "So close- so, so close-"

"You've been so good for me," You muttered to him, "Letting me make you feel so good," You looked up at him through hooded eyes and thick lashes, slowing down your movements, "Where do you want to? I'll let you choose."

"Inside... inside, please," He practically whined. You laughed, light and melodic, your fingers wrapping around the elastic of your panties and pulling them off from under your night dress, moving to stand and straddle him, keeping a firm hold and teasing his cockhead between the lips of your dripping pussy. He jerked forward, gripping one armrest and wrapping the other arm around your waist, burying his face in the nape of your neck with a loud groan as you slowly began to sink down on his aching cock.

He was spurting inside of you before you had a chance to fully take him in to the hilt. You hummed in pleasure, relishing in the feeling of it; the power you had over him, the feeling of his hot spend filling your cunt as you slowly took him in all the way, walls clenching around him and milking him for all he had. You moaned softly as he thrusted his hips up into you, riding out his high, his loud moans muffled by the skin of your shoulder. He bit down into the soft flesh, enough to mark, enough to bruise, not enough to break the skin. You carded your fingers through his thick black curls, waiting for him to still beneath you before you grabbed hold of those same curls, firmly yanking his head back to look you in the eyes. Lovingly and breathlessly as you continued to move your hips, you pulled him into a bruising kiss, leaning your forehead against his, crooning to him,

"Good boy."

#bbc sherlock smut #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #bbc sherlock #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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holylulusworld · 1 year ago

Text

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (1)

Summary: Your marriage starts rocky.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader

Warnings: angst, injured reader (light), mentions of getting robbed, angry Sherlock, implied innocent reader

A/N: A collection of drabbles on how you became Mrs. Sherlock Holmes.

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes masterlist

“Where is my brother? We need to talk about Enola and the upcoming event. She needs to make her debut…” you hear Mycroft downstairs. He’s usually a stoic and silent man, but you kinda like he’s silent and leaves you alone most of the time. “Where is the lady of the house? Maybe she can help my sister correct her behavior."

You hear his voice grow louder as Sherlock’s head housekeeper raises her voice. She always acts more like the lady of the house than a servant.

“Mr. Holmes,” you gracefully walk down the stairs, putting on a strained smile hurting your bruised face. “I’m afraid my husband is not at home. He’s solving another case.”

“Again?” Mycroft holds out his hands. He presses a quick kiss to your offered hand. “He should’ve left his lovely wife all alone so short after your wedding.”

“Sir, it’s fine,” you flutter your eyes shut as you try to keep the wrong words from spilling from your lips. It all became too much lately.

Sherlock's absence, and his displeasure in participating in your marriage. The head housekeeper acting like you are not Sherlock’s wife but a peasant.

“My dear, what happened?” Mycroft gasps when his eyes finally see your swollen left cheek and your split lip. “Please tell me my brother didn’t raise his hand on you. If he did, I’ll make sure he’ll regret putting his hands on you.”

“It wasn’t my husband,” you reach out for Mycroft and grab his hand. “He’s a little distant and mostly interested in solving cases but…he would never. I swear, Sir. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have gone to town on my own. But Mrs. Demeter refused to send for a carriage.”

“What happened, my dear,” Mycroft worriedly asks. He offers his arm to you, and wonders if you are lying to protect his brother. “Please do not fret. Tell me everything.”

“I left the house to get the books Sherlock wanted,” you sniff. “I paid for the books and carried the books out of the store. A woman ran into me, and I dropped the books. I tried to pick them up and then…” You choke out a sob. “There was a masked man. He ripped my bag out of my hands and hit me with it.”

“My dear!” Mycroft gasps audibly. “Did you tell my brother about this?”

“He wasn’t home,” you drop your gaze, ashamed about your weakness, and inability to stand up for yourself. “The owner of the bookstore helped me pick up the books and accompanied me to Scotland Yard but…they didn’t want to listen to me.”

“Did you tell them your name?” Mycroft is furious. “How dare they ignore a young lady in need.” He huffs as you tell him repeatedly it was your fault for not telling them your name. “Stop blaming yourself, my dear. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s my brother’s for ignoring his wife.”

Downstairs it sounds like a war is going on. Sherlock and Mycroft yell at each other. And you are afraid, Mycroft is winning.

Your betrothed falls silent after a while, and you hold your breath as you repeatedly hear your name. The last thing you wanted was to cause a rift between the brothers.

They already have their hands full with their younger sibling. Now you are causing trouble too.

You wring your hands while hearing footsteps on the staircase. You hold your breath and step away from the door. “Wife,” Sherlock grumbles as he opens the door. “Where are you?”

“I’m here,” your voice cracks. “Sir.” You add, in the hope of appeasing your husband. He steps inside your room, eyes roaming your body. “Please accept my apology.”

“What for, Precious?” He steps closer to cup your face with both hands. “Why didn’t you send for me? I would’ve come here to take care of my wife.”

“I didn’t want to disturb you, Sir. It’s nothing,” you close your eyes when his gaze gets too intense.

“You got hurt. This is not nothing,” he raises his voice but gets a grip seconds later. “No one touches my wife.” His lips press against your swollen cheek, but you only feel the warmth of his soft pillows, not the slight pain. “I will call for Lestrade. We will find the man hurting you.”

“I think he worked with the woman running into me,” you explain while Sherlock inspects your injuries. “She distracted me long enough for the man to steal my bag.”

“Why did he hurt you?”

“I-I didn’t want to give the bag to the man. You gifted it to me,” you shyly batt your eyelashes as Sherlock angrily furrows his brows.

“You are fearless, my dear,” he cracks a smile. “I am sorry about my absence. After our wedding, we should’ve…” He clears his throat. “I'll send for a doctor.”

“She’s well then?” Sherlock sizes the doctor up. “I need to know every detail. Please don’t shelter me.”

“Her cheek is swollen, but the cut on her lips is already healing. She’s mostly frightened of the person attacking her,” the doctor says. “I’d suggest not leaving her alone for the time being.”

“Sir, what are you doing?” You almost screamed when Sherlock entered your room. He softly whispered your name and picked you up in bridal style to carry you toward his bedroom.

“I’m bringing my wife to my bedroom,” he carried you out of the room. His chest swelled when you rested your head on his chest.

"Sir, I think...you have a case and..." you whimper. If he wants to finally have your wedding night, you are not sure you are ready to be with him.

“I shouldn’t have taken case after case. We didn’t have the chance to get to know each other better. I know this was an arranged bond my mother and your father agreed to. But I…I want you to know that I’ll protect you from now on.”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill is sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x y/n #Mrs. Sherlock Holmes

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maximsdeadwife · 1 year ago

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The Experiment pt. 2

Sherlock Holmes x reader

The Experiment pt. 1 // Masterlist

Summary: Sherlock needs something new to keep him occupied. You have the perfect answer to his problems.

Author’s notes: couldn’t resist writing part 2, which was also requested after I wrote part 1. In my Victorian dirty talk research I discovered that the term ‘blow job’ comes from the Victorian term for cum: ‘blow,’ and how could I not make the most of that information??

Warnings/content: nsfw - smut, f!reader, blow job, hand job, marriage, first times (Sherlock’s first blow job), discussion of safe word, sub!Sherlock vibes if you squint

Upon returning to 221B, you found Sherlock barely out of bed; half-dressed and dropped down onto the nearest armchair, hair mussed from sleep and face sullen.

He hadn’t had a case for over a week, and whilst at first he had taken to spending his free time gladly tending to your desires, you did need to leave the house from time to time to run errands and see to your other commitments.

It was moments such as these that the ennui really set in. Sherlock needed something to occupy him, and if he couldn't have you, he needed something new to excite him, but whatever that would be hadn't yet arrived on his doorstep.

‘Sherlock, darling, I’m home,’ you chimed carefully, not wanting to startle him out of his melancholy.

His eyes lit up for a moment before he saw that you were already busy with the books you’d collected, and he dropped back into the chair.

You were eyeing him, though, surreptitiously as you flicked through one of your new novels pretending to admire the illustrations while really you were admiring him.

‘Remember our wedding night?’ you mused, attempting to sound entirely casual.

‘Fondly,’ he sighed dreamily. If only he could feel the excitement of that night anew, the thrill of learning your exquisite body for the first time.

‘I’ve been doing some research,’ you went on, finally snapping shut your book.

'Oh?' An eyebrow raised, interest piqued.

‘There was something you mentioned that night that I read up on since I’ve been wholly unable to distract my mind away… it's something I rather fancy I’d like to try.’

Your voice had turned sultry, immediately capturing Sherlock’s attention, his head snapping up so that he could examine your current state and gather your precise intentions.

Pupils dilated, cheeks flushed, breath quickening, he thought, and at that, heat stirred in his belly, coursing to his core.

‘You told me you would like to experiment with your own orgasms.’ Shivers crept up your neck, not yet quite used to speaking in such a way in the company of a gentleman. ‘Do you remember? You wondered how it might feel to climax in my hand... or my mouth…’ your tongue advanced slowly around your parted lips rather pointedly, eyes locked on his.

‘And how do you propose we conduct this experiment?’ he panted, beginning to tremble.

‘Sherlock… I'll need to taste you.’

His heart began to race and his eyelashes fluttered, unsure where to look. Your lust for him often threw him from his place of comfort. To him, it was ever an unexpected thrill to be the object of your desire, but never an unwelcome one.

‘Where… how do I-’ he started, cheeks flushing with shame at how utterly libidinous he felt for you.

‘Lay down for me, here, on the chaise,’ you beamed, thrilled that he was ready for a new experience with you.

As he peeled himself from the little armchair to stretch his long body out, he propped himself up on a cushion so he could observe what you would do to him.

You knelt between his ankles to slide your fingers up past his knees and over his strong thighs. ‘Spread your legs a little more… that’s it,’ you encouraged as he settled into position, one foot landing firmly on the floor, grounding him. From what you'd read, you supposed he may need it.

‘I’m going to unfasten your breeches and take you in my hand first,’ you said softly as your fingers got to work on unfastening the buttons keeping him decent. ‘Only briefly, though, for this time, I would like to suck your manhood and have you spill every last drop of your blow down my throat until you’re left limp.’

Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat.

‘Remember the code word?’ you breathed, eyes growing wide with wonder, ever fascinated with his size as your fingers released his already throbbing arousal and wrapped delicately around him, pumping lazily.

Sherlock nodded quickly, eager to begin. ‘Mycroft,’ he uttered breathily, ‘if I don’t enjoy the sensation, or it becomes too much, I say it once, and you'll stop.’

‘Precisely. And if you do enjoy it?’ you smirked up at him, gripping a little more firmly as you stroked him, lips now so close to the tip of his length he could feel the warmth of your breath against it.

‘Oh-ah-mmh… then I… ah- I will cry your name… over and over until I have- mmh!- no breath left in my… oh!- body.’

‘Understood.’

Your delightfully plump, wet lips finally brushed against the flesh of his tip, parting to suckle at the precum that oozed steadily out onto your lapping tongue.

Sherlock cried out, his body jolting at the overwhelming fever that spread rapidly through his body at the heat of your mouth on him. He tried to think through it, tried to memorise the sensations, but nothing had quite come close to this when it came to his pleasure.

He'd fucked you every which way one could imagine, finding easy release in the depths of your own pleasure just by knowing that he was the one to cause it. But this, entirely focussed on his needs, was a whole other game.

He couldn't grasp any of the thoughts swirling around his pleasure-addled mind, couldn't focus on anything but how you felt, wet and warm around his root, devouring him like a starved woman presented with a delicious meal.

And a delicious meal, he was. His cock swelled within the passion of your mouth as you took him in further still, your massaging fingers at the base, compensating for what you couldn’t fit. Remembering what you’d read in that filthy little book you'd been keeping secret, you bobbed your head and hollowed your cheeks, and you sucked, gently at first but slowly building to something more intense that made it harder and harder for him to find any semblance of focus.

You gazed up at him, eyes sparkling with your own arousal, to see him completely lost in pleasure, one elegant hand pressed to his forehead in delightful despair, the other gripping the edge of the cushion he laid back on so firmly that his knuckles had long since turned white.

You hummed, appreciating his weight of his heavy cock against your tongue as you felt a wetness grow between your thighs. The vibration your dirty little sound sent down his shaft caused him to whine out a string of incomprehensible obscenities, and his hips to buck up involuntarily as he fought to keep his eyes open and his head lifted enough to see you.

He’d never felt so safe with such a lack of control over his body, every nerve alight with passion and every muscle weak with complete pleasure. He couldn't think, but he didn't need to. He knew somewhere in the depths of this rapture that you would take good care of him, think through his pleasure for him, and finish him spectacularly. There was one other thing he knew for certain - one thought that pierced the haze of euphoria clouding his every thought - that his peak would come all too soon.

He couldn't fight it, he felt too week with imminent satisfaction to try to last any longer. He wanted this feeling to last forever, but also to explode between your lips and reach paradise all at once.

He released his grip on the seat cushion, and reached, trembling, for the nape of your neck. If his eyes must insist on clenching shut in unfathomable pleasure, he could at least follow your movements with touch, perhaps that would be just as enjoyable as watching.

It was.

At the exact moment that his fingers connected with your neck and slid up into your hair, he erupted with a shout, emptying his seed into your mouth and down your throat while your tongue circled his sensitive tip each time you moved upwards, and massaged his shaft as you slid back down.

Your name tore from his lips, a guttural cry that rang in your ears as he came down from his climax, breathless and groaning in exertion.

With a final lap to clean up the last traces of his peak, you sat back on your heels and smiled, proud of yourself for getting him off with such excellent results on your first attempt.

Sherlock was still very much floating on another plane of existence as his length twitched with aftershocks and softened upon your palm. You pushed up so settle over him on the chaise, appreciating his post-orgasm glow from a few inches above his handsome face.

‘A success?’ you chuckled, connecting your lips to his so he could taste himself upon them.

He nodded, opening his eyes slightly with an uneven smile meant as a silent thank you. ‘But I… I couldn’t focus on a thing. Nothing, that is, except for your mouth being stuffed full of me. Tell me you-’

Pride swelled in your chest. ‘I memorised every minute reaction.’

‘That’s my girl,’ he breathed. ‘You should write it down.’

‘Oh, I will,’ you promised, ‘in great, explicit detail. But first, another?’

His head fell back as you moved your hand gently over his sex, feeling it grow with arousal once again, and with that, a knock sounded at the door.

Disappointment flooded you. ‘You'll probably want to get that. It could be a case-’

‘They can wait,’ Sherlock whispered, waving his hand lazily. ‘I'm in the middle of a very important experiment for which we need more data...’

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aphroditelovesu · 11 months ago

Note

Hai, do you take request for Enola Holmes? If so could you do a headcannon for Yandere husband Sherlock holmes x Young Duchess Of Somerset who is a very wealthy, prestigious, powerful and Influential woman in England?

(Both in headcannon and Boi, please)

❝ 🔍 — lady l: I hope you like it, anon! I certainly enjoyed writing it and here is the link to his bot :) have fun and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: stalking, mention of kidnapping and death and unhealthy relationships.

❝🔍pairing: yandere!sherlock holmes x female!reader.

Sherlock Holmes never planned to get married, too focused on his work to even think about the possibility of getting a wife and having children. He always kept that thought in mind for a long time, until the day he met you, the Duchess of Somerset.

During an investigation, Sherlock had to go to a ton society ball to get clues and with the money and fame he had, it wasn't difficult. He just didn't expect to find you there, so beautiful and surrounded by flatterers. Holmes did not expect to be taken away the way he was by your smile.

You changed his way of thinking very quickly, leaving him intrigued and a little curious. Who were you, anyway? And why don't you get out of his thoughts? Endless, unanswered questions were all Holmes had.

Sherlock did extensive research about you and your family. You came from a noble and powerful family, very rich and prestigious and there were many benefits to marrying you. Several young nobles had their eyes on you as your title and powers were very tempting. This made him furious.

They were all leeches who only wanted you for the power and riches that came with it. They could never appreciate you the way he would, they couldn't worship the ground you walk on the same way he would. They would never be as good to you as he would be.

Sherlock wasn't sure why he felt this way about you, but he knew he couldn't allow you to marry one of those unworthy fellows. He had to have you, it was a need, a desire that dominated him completely. You would be his, he would be sure of that.

He was quick to pursue you and court you. Being the excellent detective that he was, Sherlock quickly discovered all of your interests and places you used to go to and he consequently started appearing in those places and talking to you. He knew he shouldn't seem crazy, so Sherlock was kind and showed an obvious interest in you.

It didn't take long for him to become in love with you, even with the dark and unhealthy feelings taking over his mind, Sherlock still remained the same with you. You also fell in love with him gradually, he was handsome, kind and not a brainless sycophant. He was everything you could want in a husband, so when, one autumn afternoon, he asked you to marry him, you happily said yes. Holmes smiled at this, everything was going the way he planned.

Fortunately for your family's life, they had no problem accepting Sherlock into the family. He was a good suitor and had good fame and fortune, so he was good to marry you, the Duchess of Somerset. Sherlock was happy about that, satisfied with the fact that he wouldn't have to convince your family in less orthodox ways.

Life with him was good and Sherlock was a good husband by the standards of the time. He was faithful to you and loved you deeply. You never thought a husband could love his wife as much as he did, but Sherlock was one of a kind. He made you feel loved every day, every little bit of you was adored by him. He loved the ground you walked on and did everything he could to make you happy.

He spoiled you endlessly, anything you wanted he would buy for you. Even if it wasn't necessary due to your status, Sherlock still loved giving you gifts. Your wardrobe grew a lot after your wedding and there were many times when you only wore a dress once out of the many you received.

Sherlock was very protective and slightly possessive over you, but he won't let you down. He will vent his jealousy and fury in other ways, he could never think of upsetting you with that. But his overprotection could be suffocating, as he made a point of personally taking care of his safety and he was constantly attached to you. It was part of the job, he would tell you.

He would teach you self defense if you didn't know. He knows it's dangerous, but Sherlock wants you to know how to defend yourself in case he can't protect you. Especially when you were pregnant, he wouldn't take any risks.

Being the Duchess of Somerset and having so much power and influence wouldn't stop Sherlock from pursuing you. He might have some problems with that, since due to your heritage he could never kidnap you because he would be discovered, but he would deal with it. After all, you are his and he is yours. And when he became your husband, he swore to himself that he would never stop loving you and he would never let you go.

You are united until death, at the end of it all.

#enola holmes #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #yandere enola holmes #yandere sherlock holmes #yandere Sherlock Holmes x reader #yandere sherlock holmes headcanons #x reader #yandere headcanons #headcanons #romantic yandere #dark!sherlock holmes

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ladylaviniya · 11 months ago

Text

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 3 || Masterlist || Chapter 5

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

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

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

Word Count: 9k

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

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

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“P-pardon?”

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

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

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

“Lick.”

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

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

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

“Need I repeat myself once more?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your blinked and stared at the placement.

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

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

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

He looked to the ceiling and moaned.

The skin was hot and twitched under your finger tips.

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

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

“Ugh!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His lips curled, flashing those pearly white gnashers.

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

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

your nipples.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He glided the cold metal over your wet sensitive skin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

womanhood.

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

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

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

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

His hands were tightly holding each ankle apart.

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

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

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

He released your ankles.

You were plagued in your own paralysis.

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

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

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

He pulled the gag harshly down your chin.

“What was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your little gasps and desperate moans spurred your husband on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You found your spine curl and your mouth wordlessly wailing.

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

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

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

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

You weakly called out, “Sherlock...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were drowsy and moaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallowed hard as you looked over his broad chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wha-what is this?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh...”

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

It was such a plump bottom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have,” you answered honestly.

“Side saddle?” His left brow raised.

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

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

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

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

“How did the pain go away?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not his sister, “I suppose so.”

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

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

“And who did you have a fight with?”

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

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

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

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

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

He clipped your stocking to the suspension strings.

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

God, you felt a spark at the touch.

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

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

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

“A lover?”

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

He passed you the blouse and skirt.

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

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

“Pardon?” you gawked.

He raised his brows to your exclamation.

“You called me Watson.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes sharpened, “Clues?”

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

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

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

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

Helplines:

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

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

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