#sherlock fic

[ghostofnuggetspast]

Woohoo

A Minor Detail

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Chapter 1 is up on AO3 - The Small Print

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Sherlock has found the perfect flatmate for sharing 221b Baker Street. If only there would not be that minor detail in the small print of the lease agreement. Now, John has no other choice but take part in Sherlock‘s scheme.

Thanks again to peageetibbs for beta reading!

@lostinsherlock44

[sits-bound]

Bound: All Our Gifts at Once, or, the Young Sea-Man by @tiltedsyllogism

This was a bind for one of my Fandom Trumps Hate auctions. It's a wonderful Sherlock fic/Little Mermaid AU. It's really quite beautiful and moody and atmospheric.

It's set in Victorian England, so I went pretty old-fashioned with my design, and I'm quite pleased with how it turned out. Each chapter opening page has a map of the area in the chapter title. I love the subtle "mermaid scale" detail of the end papers too.

I’m kind of obsessed with the fonts. For the body, I wanted something a bit old-fashioned. I have no idea if the one I chose, Schoolbook, is era-appropriate, but it just feels right. And I have used the cover/chapter title font, Roman Antique, on another bind, and I just really love it, particularly in italic. It has these wonderful alternate glyphs for many of the letters, and it lends itself to making a simple but beautiful design.

I don't often include the author notes in a bind, but these added so much to the story that I opted to leave them in.

More details:

Bookcloth is (I believe) Verona in Blueberry (bought from Hollander's)

Endbands are made from the bookcloth, I drew gold lines on it with my foil quill for funsies

Maps came from Etsy

The charm on the ribbon is a shell

The endpapers are from Joann's

Thanks again to @tiltedsyllogism for bidding on my auction!

[benedict63]

About a year ago I read a really wonderful Sherlock fic that I can not find anymore and I would love to read it again. Searching on AO3 did not work so I hope one you knows which one I mean. Sherlock is back from his two years away and is physically hurt (difficulty walking and I think one of his hands is partly disabled) he is staying at some sort of rehabilitation centre in the north ( maybe Scotland) where he composes music for the local choir and a piece for veterans day. His room is at the top of a tower so he feels somewhat safe because he is extremely traumatized and has difficulty interacting with people. John travels up north once a week to meet Sherlock in a teashop in the village and slowly gains his trust. With John's help Sherlock slowly heals.

Does anybody recognise this ?

[chriscalledmesweetie]

Feel-Good Fluff

In case anyone needs this, for reasons:

If You Give Sherlock a Biscuit

If You Give John a Jumper

John is NOT the Little Red Hen

The Three Holmes-Watsons Gruff

Midnight Becomes You

The Story

Biscuits

Do You Want to Know a Secret?

Every Song Reminds Me of You

Wizard of Paws

Goodnight Sherlock, Goodnight John

[strawberrywinter4]

Life is kicking my ass right now, so we all know one thing that ALWAYS makes ANYONE feel better… Johnlock fanfiction.

If anyone has any recs, please drop some in the comments or reblog. Preferably, I’m looking for some long plotty fics, but fluffy fics are good too. At this point, just put anything, I’m desperate and I feel like I have so many Sherlock fics to discover. And I need comfort.

Thank you😭

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It is finally Y/N's turn to walk down the aisle. Sherlock can't keep his eyes off of her. She is certain that the man waiting at the alter is the one she will spend the rest of her life with. Is he?

wedding fluff and angst

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

Sherlock stood at the alter, hands clasped behind his back. To the wedding guests, his sharp stance would suggest ease. In truth, each deep breath he chased was laboured and unsure.

She was a vision in white. Precious in deep sheets of ivory.

Sherlock had never seen such perfection.

Y/N took measured steps down the aisle in time to the music's pace. A few steps further and the bride would become somebody's wife.

Sherlock promised himself he would not cry today. Not one tear, he swore. He was better than that. Still, as Y/N drew closer, step by step, he wasn't certain he could keep a dry eye.

He considered turning away or focusing on the flower arrangements set behind her shoulder. Anything to keep the strain in his chest at bay.

It was in that moment of deliberation that Y/N chose to wink at him. A small gesture, hardly visible behind her veil but even so, he caught it.

Propping his shoulders back, he chose to keep looking. Better to face the music than miss a flutter of her lashes or the quiver of her lip when she smiled.

Though his throat felt constricted and his chest heaved for breath, Sherlock Holmes could not turn away from the bride.

He registered John shoot him a grin from the left. He wasn't sure that he returned it.

"She's beautiful," John said in a hushed tone.

"She's beautiful," Sherlock repeated.

Three years earlier, Sherlock had met Y/N for the first time. Since then, she had stumbled through the flat each day, always with a shy smile and a soft spoken, "hello".

He loved her from the start.

Their highs and lows, they would experience together. When she threw her head back in laugher, teeth gleaming at something her lover said, Sherlock would see it. He often revealed his experiments to her, if only to see the wonder shine in her eyes.

Even after every lover's spat, Sherlock would wrap his arms around her and swear that things would look brighter in time.

He was right. By God, he was right. He had to be, for now, she stood just steps away from him, at the alter, incandescently happy in her wedding gown.

A slow tear trailed down Sherlock's cheek.

Y/N finally reached him and there was silence in the cathedral when the music at last, had died. 

"You're crying," she said.

Sherlock choked out a laugh that hurt his head. "I'm not," he replied. He tightened his lips together to ease the line of worry that had suddenly appeared on Y/N's brow.

"You're beautiful," he whispered. Closing his eyes, Sherlock shifted her veil aside. His hand trembled as he pushed it just far enough to kiss her cheek.

Though he gave her the softest of kisses, he felt a sharp stab in his heart, as arduous as the touch of his lips on her skin was brief.

He dropped her veil again and opened his eyes. "Every happiness," he said to her. His gaze steeled into her own. He hoped she wouldn't understand but she did.

Y/N nodded and her veil rustled. "Every happiness," she said back to him.

Sherlock clenched his jaw and feigned a smile for the wedding guests that stared from the pews. Then, he took Y/N's hand in his own and walked with her for three final steps.

John waited beside the priest.

Sherlock presented the groom with his bride and took his position as best man.

He was good at that, after all; standing on the outside, looking in. It's how he captured so many of his friends' most private moments in the small space of 221B.

Throughout the ceremony, the words, "every happiness" rang in Sherlock's mind.

When John and Y/N shared their first kiss as man and wife, Sherlock clapped along with the others but still, "every happiness" lingered at the tip of his tongue.

He simply couldn't manage to add the words, "I wish you..." at the start.

Things would be brighter in time, he told himself.

He knew it was a lie but for now, he clapped.

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I'm crying. I have reposted this thing like, 10 times. Last time, I swear. omg. please work. If you'd like to be tagged, let me know.

Thank you for your patience, literally everybody I'm tagging: @twisted-monster @starryeddie @the-chaotic-cow @turkisherlockian @aephereal ​ @andthevillainshallrises ​ @baby-bloos ​ @cookiemumster1 ​​ @eternal-silvertongued-prince ​ @bogginsreadings ​ @lumosouls @spencerrxids @serenity-lattes @msseijii @classickook @starstruck-loner @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson ​ @lucywrites02  @danzalladaggers @mrs-holmes @pytharuw @antsn @kabubsmagga @newtsniffles  @cemak​ @liv-olive-oliver @iamtrash-withrespect @asgards-princess-of-mischief

[221beloved]

The Ashes on the Ground

It's time for a new fic!

So, this is kind of a teaser, tomorrow I'll post the first chapter of said new fic.

Summary: What happens after? After the fire has burnt down and left nothing but ashes? Roughly two and a half years after what happened at Smith's hospital, things have settled. But have they really? Or is it all still hovering. And what if someone whirls up the ashes again? An old acquaintance. Can something new arise from cold ashes? Something stronger?

@keirgreeneyes was so kind, and she did a fantastic job as beta reader and editor (a big thank you, again) and on top she made these absolute beauties (making me feel like a little child standing in front of a christmas tree)!!

(Actually I wanted to wait a little longer before posting them, but I couldn't... they're just so beautiful. Did you look at them? Properly? Go take another look. And they capture the atmosphere of the story so well, you'll see!)

So, if you want to know what these pictures are about... The story is finished so there'll be regular updates, it's an angst with happy ending, with lots of interaction between Sherlock and our darling Rosie, lots of angst and... a happy ending.

Tagging some people I think might be interested, please tell me if you want your name added or removed!

@lisbeth-kk @a-victorian-girl @meetinginsamarra @totallysilvergirl @topsyturvy-turtely

@safedistancefrombeingsmart @whatnext2020 @helloliriels @nathan-no @ndytheducks

[topsyturvy-turtely]

turtely's OTP challenge!

read day 29 on ao3:

(prompt: doing a chore around the house)

summary:

“You convince me of the craziest things, Holmes."

“Oh, come on! A night at IKEA can hardly be more exciting than Afghanistan!”

“Less murders, I’d hope."

“There is no need to whisper, John. We are alone in this gigantic möbelaffär.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Furniture store. It is Swedish.”

“Why does it sound like you’re having an affair with furniture?”

“I do not know. Shall we check out the beds?”

T, 2.676 words, Developing Relationship. IKEA, Fluff, Love Confessions, Sharing a Bed, First Kiss, First Time, just fluff, i love them your honor

tags under the cut 🥰✨

tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed please 💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @baker-street-blog @macgyvershe @myladylyssa @battledress @a-victorian-girl @dreamerofthemeadow @oetkb12 @ohnoesnotagain @mutedsilence @jawnscoffee @raenchaosandcozyadashofmurder @lisbeth-kk @quickslvxrr @compact-and-beautiful @kabubsmagga @sunshineinyourmind @booksoversleep @wilsons-limped-husband

[jrow]

May Prompts (1)

Thank you for doing this @calaisreno! This year I am endeavoring to write a single story using some (most?) of the prompts. Consider it a creative writing exercise. Will I write everyday and use every prompt? Unlikely! Will this be a coherent story in the end? Possibly! Do I know where this story is going? Hells no! So ... enjoy, I hope?

Open

“Open your eyes.”

His brain may be foggy, but the words come through clear. The voice saying them sounds pained. Pleading. He knows that voice—it’s comforting—but he’s far too confused to place it. He’s far too confused to place much of anything.

Now someone is retching. And crying. Sounds he’s all too familiar with. He must be in Afghanistan; something must have gone wrong. Which means the chaos is coming. He should prepare.

He doesn’t want to prepare. He wants to sleep.

There’s arguing now, hushed but angry. Machines are beeping. Have they been beeping the whole time? Why is he so tired?

He hears the soft click of a door opening and closing. Is he alone now?

No, there’s another voice. Familiar. Not the slightest bit comforting.

“Do wake up, Dr. Watson. He won’t survive if you don’t.” A pause. “Forgive me the double negative.”

Another click. He knows he’s alone now.

He sleeps.

Day 2 here.

[thegildedbee]

If you've been on stand by until it's complete, it's now time to go :-) Scheherazade of the Thrift Shop

@blogstandbygo has finished posting a fth 2024 charmer, a lovingly crafted alternate first meeting fic, Sheherazade of the Thrift Shop, in which bits and pieces of John and Sherlock slot together over time, like puzzle pieces, through the art of storytelling (both of the characters, and of the author!) You never know what treasures are waiting for you behind the door of your local thrift shop 😉❤️ 🥳 I think this calls for a little celebratory music, yes? (c/o Dan Zanes)

@calaisreno  @totallysilvergirl  @friday411  @peanitbear  @original-welovethebeekeeper

@helloliriels  @a-victorian-girl  @keirgreeneyes  @starrla89  @naefelldaurk

@topsyturvy-turtely  @lisbeth-kk  @raina-at  @jobooksncoffee  @meetinginsamarra

@solarmama-plantsareneat  @bluebellofbakerstreet  @dragonnan  @safedistancefrombeingsmart  @jolieblack

@msladysmith  @ninasnakie  @riversong912  @dapetty

[meetinginsamarra]

Fanfics I Really Liked in July 2024

So. Since I keep a list of what I´ve read anyway (there´s always a list), I will rec all the fics I´ve wholly enjoyed on a monthly basis. Old and new, canon or AU, big or small authors, long or short but nearly always Johnlock (-ish).

+++++

People We Love by Calais_Reno @calaisreno

After the disaster at Sherrinford, the rebuilding begins.

As it says, a post-S4 fix-it. Several conversations between the main characters that have been well overdue.

The Rescuing by BakerTumblings @bakertumblings

Captain Watson to the rescue! Sherlock, off in Serbia, has been captured and severely injured. Mycroft recruits John to aid with freeing him and then overseeing his recovery. The story begins in London but will explode in Serbia, slide into a European hospital and then tiptoe through a safe-house before returning to Baker Street.

Medical realism. I love a caring doctor John!

Explicit by 7PercentSolution @7-percent

“Sex doesn’t alarm me.” Five times Sherlock tries but fails to avoid talking about sex, and one time when he succeeds but shouldn’t have. Each of the stories relates to one of the times in my universe when sex became a topic of conversation.

Lots of insights into this Sherlock's brain concerning his stance on sex. Locked to AO3.

Heart's Desire by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) @88thparallel

Reeling after a tragic loss, John Watson is surprised when he finds love again. After a lifetime of illness, Sherlock Holmes finally feels his heart truly beat for another. But as they move toward something more serious, an unbelievable truth is revealed that threatens to break both their hearts for good.

Such a moving AU story! Medical realism and sort-of soulmates.

The Guarded Secret by mycapeisplaid @mycapeisplaid

After his war injury, John feels broken, small, and useless. On a whim, he takes a position as a security guard of sorts at the gorgeous Holmes Hall in Yorkshire. As it turns out, he is not as broken, small, or useless as he thinks. A story of beauty and blossom, murder and mystery, loss and love.

A great AU based on "The Secret Garden".

[sits-bound]

Bound: Nature and Nurture by @earlgreytea68

What an utterly fantastic fic! I'm happy with how the bind came out, but I have a few things I'd change if I did it again:

I wouldn't forget to put the ribbon in before the endbands

I would make the style more consistent. The chapter headings and the cover do not match at all.

I would be more careful when ironing the HTV on the spine

Not put a dang ampersand in the title on the header and the cover page. Argh.

I WOULD NOT MISSPELL THE AUTHOR'S NAME wow this is embarrassing

Also to note about this bind:

I was going to print the chapter pages in color. I used this lovely graphic and beautiful drop caps, but a 57 chapter fic when you don't have a color printer is maybe not the best choice. Half the sheets would have had color on them, and it would have cost a fortune to print.

I scavenged the end bands and the boards from a book I bought at a library sale. Just to see. I feel like the glue didn't stick as well to the smooth cover as it does to bare chipboard.

The HTV on the spine got messed up a little bit when I was ironing it on, but I was able to pick off the bits that were messed up and iron on a fresh set of lettering/graphic and you really can't even tell now! Whew. (Note to self: Cricut brand metallic htv has been the best of all the brands I've used as far as application goes.)

But all in all, I'm happy with it. It's just for me, after all, so it's okay if it's not perfect. That said, if I do this one again, I'd make a different cover that's more consistent with the chapter headers. (Like, if the author wants a copy?)

Bookcloth: Allure Bookcloth Indigo Body Text: Corundum Text Light Chapter Headings: MrKeningbeck Pro Drop Caps: FLOWER Inside title: FLOWER and MrKeningbeck Pro and Filson Pro Cover: Filson Pro All icons from The Noun Project

[chriscalledmesweetie]

If you need a laugh, for reasons...

Allow me to offer:

I Am John Watson, I Speak for the Curls

Reverse Psychology

Three Continents, No Compliments

The Wake-Up Fairy

Cocky Locky

X Marks the Spots

Unconventional

Not in Front of the Children

Sherlock and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week

[itsonlytext]

Until We Fall Asleep · like a sign (three)

If anything, he thought, Rosie had done him a favour.

after the MESS that was chapter two, sherlock navigates processing the not-so-nice words john had for him in chapter three.

read chapter two - you both let go

today we'll see molly (!) and more dialysis appointments and a dream that haunts sherlock (does that make it a nightmare?) and a rather strange conversation between the men over dinner. so apparently they're back to being awkward now. whoops

but anyways rosie's here!! which is really the main reason why you're still around, right. right?

read the beginning of chapter three below, then finish the job on ao3 here. love yew!

WHEN SHERLOCK WOKE UP, he felt as though he had shrunk and that his limbs were all somehow cramping at the same time.

Of course, he hadn’t shrunk at all and maybe his limbs were cramping just a bit, but he couldn’t complain; he did it to himself.

“Oh, Sherlock,” Mrs Hudson had said when she walked in. “You didn’t sleep on the settee again, did you? You’re going to get a bad back.”

After she set his pedantically measured mug of black coffee on the desk (his medical meal plan was her bible), she whipped open the curtains and talked ad nauseam about mattresses and inflatable sofas and something else Sherlock couldn’t be bothered to listen to; he was too conflicted about his dream.

You don’t have the right to say that to me anymore. That’s why.

Why don’t I? What do I need to do?

No. No. Just... Stop it. Stop this.

The grip on his left shoulder was getting stronger, tighter, more painful.

This is what it felt like, when I got shot.

The dream lingered over his head like a cloud of thick smoke, suffocatingly addictive yet too far for him to reach entirely. He wondered if it really was just a dream - reality folded only within the crevices of what John said that night. But there was a part of him, a much bigger part, that wondered if it was even a dream at all.

It had been four days since John dug his fingers into Sherlock’s left shoulder, seethed out his words like a pressed steamer, gathered his daughter into his arms and left Baker Street instead of staying to sleep.

Sherlock stayed up all night after that, frozen in his armchair until he gave Mrs Hudson a fright when she brought up his morning coffee. Despite having sat there processing for so long that night (so still, so unmoving that he did not ripple in the slightest), Sherlock still couldn’t differentiate between anything that happened - the blend of conversation lingering above his head in a gritty blur of heat and smoke and anger.

But if it did happen in real life, he thought with a groan as he sat up from the sofa, it was about time.

continue chapter three - like a sign on ao3.

fanks!

tags: @nathan-no @helloliriels @dragonnan @strawberrywinter4 @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @7-percent @totallysilvergirl @inevitably-johnlocked @meetinginsamarra @pressurepoint221 @gaylilsherlock @catlock-holmes @gaypiningshit

[strawberrywinter4]

Summary: Recently retired police officer, John Watson, stumbles upon an odd man named Sherlock Holmes when traveling by train on his way home. He concludes the detective is insane after having only one conversation with him, but can't help but be intrigued. Ignoring John's hesitance, Sherlock brings him along on an exciting case. Through this adventure, Sherlock doesn't bother to hide his palpable obsession with John while John tries to hide his growing feelings. What will happen when they both break, following their desires?

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Tags: Case Fic, Possessive Sherlock Holmes, Obsessive Behavior, Sherlock Holmes is a Bit Not Good, Takes place by the bay in Maine, American!John, Ocean, Small Towns, Alternative Universe-Small Town, Sherlock Holmes loves John Watson, John Watson is oblivious, BAMF John Watson, BAMF Sherlock Holmes, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Love Confessions, Kissing, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Read chapter 1 here.

Spotify Playlist here.

I just made a little something…can’t wait to see where it goes! <3

Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @ninasnakie @thegildedbee @whodwantmeasaflatmate @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @sherlocknjohn221b @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @7-percent @itsonlytext @chinike @peanitbear @mary-johnlocked @bakerstreetbe @curlyjohnlock @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ceceliajupe @ghostofnuggetspast @dw91165 @jolieblack @cortinita @gwendelaneyisjohnlocked

[kahuunknown]

The "Normal" one - BBC Sherlock sibling fanfic

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

~~~

The normal one

(Y/n) Holmes.

That was your name. Of course you loved your family, you held them all dear and close to your heart, but that name came with a lot of baggage and responsibility. You’d often wonder what living life normally would be like, being born under a different name. These were just thoughts however, you knew in the end, you wouldn’t change a thing.

You were smart; there was no doubt in that fact, being born a Holmes provides such natural intelligence with ease. However, you would argue that you were anything but. You were a humble, gentle and modest soul, you were adamant in arguing that both your brother’s surpassed your measly intelligence without effort. Of course, the IQ tests would prove otherwise, but they were rid from the world quickly after there creation.

Living a normal life wasn’t something you detested, rather you grew rather fond of the mundane routines people lived day-to-day, it was funny watching them fuss over little mistakes, or creating the emotion of happiness with simple gifts and pleasures. You worked as a psychologist funnily enough. You could deduce much like the rest of your siblings, and decided to apply that skill toward something complimentary.

You were a young prodigy with a psychology major at only 26 years old; you lived a very financially stable life with your own private at-home psychology firm. You were comfortable with you life within London, you enjoyed being close to your family, and so it was never an option to live anywhere else. Often as a well respected personal to the community and the police, you were requested to provide psychoanalysis on victims, suspects or even the criminals themselves. You’d get paid of course, but your real motivation was helping you middle brother with his detective cases. Sometimes even the eldest would request your help, those were rare favours however.

Your brother’s wouldn’t admit it, but they absolutely adored you, you were the baby of the family and the most normal of them all. Your parents didn’t like to pick favourites but you were always the exception. Mycroft and Sherlock treated you like a child most often, they couldn’t wrap their heads around the thought of you growing up and maturing, when they looked at you, all they could see were those innocent orbs staring right back at them. This admittedly made them overprotective, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it was restricting.

You proved your intelligence and maturity every now-and-again, but you honestly didn’t mind their dotting. It showed the world that Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes were human too.

So when the two were on the way to your house, they were honestly surprised and both mortified when the Consulting Criminal Jim Moriarty of all people stepped outside of your house with a laugh and bid you farewell, hopping into a awaiting sleek black car and driving off smoothly. Sherlock and Mycroft had hidden themselves upon the sight, they weren’t stupid, but they were terrified for your safety. Did you even know the true identity of the criminal you’d invited inside?

Neither brother remembered if they’d disclosed that information to you or not, they tried they upmost hardest to give you the privacy you desired, as hard as that was. They weren’t very good at it, but they did try their best to shield you from their enemies. You were untrained in any sort of defensive arts like they were; you were utterly defenceless if someone attacked you.

Nodding to each other, once they were satisfied with the distance Moriarty’s car had driven away; they quickly made their way to your doorstep and hurriedly rang your doorbell. You needed to be warned straight away, you needed to cut your ties with the villain immediately. Your safety was compromised.

You greeted them with a kind smile as always, both brothers nearly forgot the urgency and softened upon your sweetness, but reality was quick to return to them. They ushered you to let them inside, which you calmly did so, asking if they wanted any snacks or tea. Mycroft paused and politely requested some sweets and both brothers of course agreed to some tea. You chuckled at them, reminding them to make themselves at home; they were family of course, no matter how dysfunctional. The two elder Holmes watched you like hawks as you waddled around the kitchen. It was cute that you inherited their mother’s much shorter height, leaving you struggling and whining about reaching items on the top shelf. Though your brothers were more than willing to help, they teased you often about this fact.

Returning to the living room, you gently placed down the tray with balanced drinks and sweets situated on top.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Theo chimed, cradling his own cup of tea close and bringing his legs to his chest, curling into his usual ball-like position on his single seated couch.

Sherlock was first to speak, “Well, originally we both decided to check-in on you, we hadn’t seen you in a while.”

You chuckle, “Yes, well I was having a fantastic time in New Zealand. You should visit if you have the chance, it’s beautiful country.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes, completely disinterested in the idea. But he admired your simplicity.

“Like Sherlock said, that was ‘originally’.” Mycroft pressed, narrowing his eyes at the detective.

“Who was that man that left your house moments before we arrived?” Sherlock questioned, though he already knew, he wanted to see if you were aware.

You rolled your eyes at the two overbearing brothers, “That was one of my clients, of course.”

“He’s dangerous, (Y/n-“

“Jim Moriarty.” You finished, “A charming man, to say the least. The infamous consulting criminal.”

Mycroft and Sherlock frowned, this couldn’t be good.

“You know who he is.” Sherlock stated.

“Of course, I do.” You retorted, “But that’s not my business, is it? I’m a psychiatrist and psychologist; my client’s background means nothing to me. That is my work.”

“Yes, but it’s also a hazard-“

You interrupted Mycroft, “Without Moriarty confessing to future crimes in the motion, I have no legal standing. Past crimes are useless.”

“A scientific priest.” Sherlock grumbles.

“In some ways.” You agreed absentmindedly. “I’m bound by my word.”

“Then I suppose there is no use asking you to share some details.” Mycroft sighs.

“None at all.” You chirped, “Now, if you two are free this afternoon, would you care for some fish ‘n chips? It’s been a long while since we’ve talked like this.”

Mycroft pursed his lips, it was his favourite food. A Holmes delicacy in some ways, as even Sherlock was fond of the food as well. Mycroft frowned, a defeated expression forming on his face, “I suppose, I have time.” He admitted.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at your happy face, you were sweet and innocent, but boy did you now how to use that to your advantage. Those damn puppy eyes.

“Fine.” Sherlock sighed.

Suddenly a knock sounded at the polished wood of your door, you furrowed your brows in confusion, not expecting any clients or guests over at this time. Standing, you gestured for your brothers to stay put while you answered the door.

Sherlock and Mycroft tensed as Moriarty waltzed into the house, smirking at the two of them confidently. He looked more than comfortable in your home, and both the protective brothers felt their instincts flare in that instant.

“Sorry to intrude, I believe I forgot my jacket.” Jim swooned, slinging his arm over your shoulder as you rolled your eyes and led him away from your siblings and into the office/ library room, where all your clients reveals their deepest secrets and feelings. Sure enough, Moriarty returned to the front door with his suit jacket under one arm.

He seemed to be talking normally to you, joking and laughing as if he were just a mundane human male, like all the rest. It was obvious to the brothers, that you and Moriarty knew each other quite well, they didn’t like that one bit.

Jumping to his feet, Sherlock decided he’d had enough of seeing that smug face and those evil beady little eyes looking at his youngest sibling.

“Leave.” Sherlock simply ordered, holding open the door for the mastermind to exit. Jim raised an accusing eyebrow at the new emotions Sherlock provided him with, but decided to play nice and do as he was told, for now at least. He left quietly, ignoring the slam of the wooden door after him; he was far too satisfied with this new discovery to care about rude behaviour.

He was originally just curious about you, intrigued and fascinated. He didn’t even know you existed; it wasn’t until Eurus cooed about you during his visit. She was smitten by you, couldn’t stop remembering all those memories as young children, when you’d follow her around, listen to her every tale with admiration and love. She talked about you as if perhaps you were a god, a higher being that she prayed to- or a rare exotic creature like most thought fantasy. You seemed too good to be true.

Yet here he was, obsessed with it all. Obsessed with you.

The expression of your brother’s were both the same, stern beyond belief. And you sighed, anticipating the emerging argument to take place.

“This is my job.” You stated, smile vanishing with the seriousness of your tone.

Mycroft and Sherlock almost didn’t recognise you, you looked different without the aura of sweetness drifting around you like a halo. They’d never seen this side of you.

Mycroft clears his throat, “He is dangerous, (Y/n). We would be fools to-“

“Then be fools.” You hissed, “This is my job. The career I’ve strived for, and Jim Moriarty is a normal client. You will not drag me around under the guise of your ‘safety’.”

Sherlock watched you carefully, scanning your expression and body language, trying to deduce you. Yet he came up with nothing. Normally you were so open to him and Mycroft, usually it was so easy to pull you apart, dissect every emotion and activity you’d been up to for the past week or so. But you’d shut down that gate, preventing any clue to find.

But then your shoulders slumped, and suddenly everything came flooding back, he could read you like an open book once more.

Sighing you looked them both in the eye, “I propose this.” Instantly you had your brothers intrigued, “I’ll install a camera within my office. You may have access to its feed at any time, and I’ll send you both my schedule, if you so desire as well. However, due to patient-confidentiality, the audio will be wiped, you will hear nothing.”

Sherlock scowls at the idea, obviously wanting to hear the conversations you and Moriarty had, he wanted to know everything. Mycroft on the other hand was more open to the idea; he eventually gave a slow nod.

“Deal.”

“Great.” You clapped your hands together, smiling once more and instantly relieving the tenseness in your brother’s posture, “Now, how about that fish ‘n chips, eh?

In the end, perhaps you were not as normal as everyone believed.