#henry cavill sherlock x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thisisawonderfulusername · 1 year

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only you

cavill!sherlock holmes x pregnant!reader

requested by: anon

summary: after becoming pregnant, you notice that sherlock has been distancing himself. he finally returns home after at least a month of being gone.

warnings: pregnancy, mention of a dead body but nothing graphic, if there's anything you see let me know

word count: 2k

a/n: thank you so much for this request! i apologize for how long it took to write, but i enjoyed it! i don't think i was able to fit absolutely everything but i hope you like it either way.

everything was perfect in the beginning. at least, that's how it felt.

when you first met sherlock, it was at the scene of a case you were working on. you admit, it was a bit suspicious of you to be digging around in a dead man's pockets, but you were there for the same business as him. or at least similar.

"who are you?" you jump at the new voice in the room, obviously not expecting anyone else to waltz in while you were doing your investigation.

you rise from your crouched position as you pull a note from the dead man's pocket, turning to see the intruder.

my, was he handsome.

clearing your throat, you fold your hands together, encasing the paper. "i could ask you the same."

he sighs, "sherlock holmes."

a soft gasp passes your lips. sherlock holmes, the well renowned detective.

"i ask again, who are you?" he questions.

"y/n l/n." you inform him, "it's a pleasure to meet you, mr holmes."

his eyebrows raises as he looks to the corpse on the floor. "may i ask why you were searching a dead man's body?"

"oh," you had almost forgotten your business here, being in his presence. you glance down at the body, "i'm investigating a case. my search has led me here."

he seemed intrigued by the new information, nodding his head. "the case of his murder?"

"well, a missing person's case. but it seems it has become more than that." you motion towards the floor.

"i happen to be investigating his murder." he tells you, "i believe our cases may have crossed."

"so it seems." you hum.

he glances around the room for a second, clearly thinking. "perhaps we can share our information."

you never would've expected that case to lead to a long partnership, bringing your minds together to solve even the toughest of cases.

"another case solved, mr holmes." you smile at the man beside you.

"couldn't have done it without you, miss l/n," he responds, causing you to chuckle.

and perhaps a blooming romance.

yes, throughout the months of running around with him, you may have grown to have some feelings.

it was something different. you had met plenty of men. your parents had introduced you to some, telling you how wonderful they were and how you should settle down soon before nobody would want you. of course, nobody would want a woman too old to have a child.

but with each man who courted you, you realized that in your mind, you were comparing them all to sherlock.

sherlock, who was the kindest gentleman you'd ever met. the person you felt most comfortable with on any day. the man who had moved in with you after a mere three cases, leaving two-twenty-one b baker street as a place for bringing evidence together to create conclusions.

in your mind, he was perfect. but out of reach.

little did you know, it wasn't quite as far away as you suspected.

"ha!" you step back as you look at the strings that connected on the wall in front of you. "oh my- sherlock!" you call for him.

he rushes in from the other room, eyes wide. "what? did something happen?"

"i figured it out!" you squeal, clapping your hands together, "i solved it!"

"you-" he quickly moves forward to look at all the connections, eyes darting all around. a moment later, he looks back to you, "you did!"

it's almost natural how you gravitate towards each other, "my word, you are just-" he can barely form words, and without thinking…

he kisses you. it seems as if it's something that happens everyday, with the way your hand moves to rest on his shoulder without any thought.

when he pulls away, you're staring into each other's eyes, amazed by what just happened.

"well, that could've happened much sooner," you breathe out, sharing a smile with him.

after your relationship blossomed, it was approximately a year before he proposed.

and not too long after, you found yourself to be pregnant. when you told sherlock, he was elated at first.

the two of you were turning a new page in your story, beginning a new chapter.

but after a month or so, the excitement from him began to dwindle. he grew distant, and it seemed to you like he was hesitant to even look in your direction.

with time, he was rarely coming home, staying in the flat that he used to call home- to you, it seemed like that was slowly a returning case.

one day, as you were heading towards town to run some errands, you heard a strange whining sound near the bushes along the sidewalk.

when you went to investigate, pushing the leaves to the side, you saw a puppy. a bundle of shaggy, light brown fur.

"oh, sweety." you frown, hesitantly reaching out for it. once it allows you to get closer, you manage to pick it up out of the bushes. it was much heavier than you expected, but you managed to hold him. "why are you out here all alone? have you got any owners?"

you searched for a tag but to no avail. "it seems not. i suppose i'll take you home with me then, how does that sound? we can keep each other company."

you smile. no part of you ever expected having a dog, but here you are, carrying one back up the stairs to your home.

"i think a bath will do you good," your nose scrunches as you open the door, having to hold the dog close to yourself and smelling the odor that came from him.

thus began a friendship filled with love and loyalty.

part of you wondered what sherlock would think, but he hadn't been home in at least a month, only dropping in to grab a new round of clothes every once in a while.

your hand runs across cato's back while his head rests in your lap. every few minutes, you'll lift your hand to turn the page of the book you've been reading, but only seconds later it's back on his fur.

it's been a relaxing evening, as you've had no errands to run for the day, and until dinner you haven't got anything to do.

usually, this time would be spent by sherlock's side. whether it be having a cup of tea or going out to solve a crime, it would be with him.

it seems you haven't had that since you found that you were pregnant. since your belly grew bigger, since he stopped lingering in your presence.

a knock at the door has the dog's head raising, and you look towards the door. as he jumps off the couch, you place a bookmark on your page and push up from your cushioned seat.

when you open the door, you're greeted with the sight of the young sister of sherlock's and her new beau.

"enola!" you smile, opening the door further, "it's wonderful to see you again. and tewkesbury, a pleasure as always."

"it's wonderful to see you again, you look wonderful," enola says as they enter your home, noticing the dog a few moments later, "and who's this?"

you look down to him, his tail beginning to wag as tewkesbury reaches a hand out for him to sniff. "this is cato." you inform, "i found him on the street about a month ago. i didn't expect for him to get so big in such little time."

they both smile and enola watches as tewkesbury scratches the dog's ear. "how does sherlock feel about him?" she asks.

a small frown tries to tug your lips down but you quickly disguise it. "i'm not sure," you sigh, "he hasn't been home to meet him."

tewkesbury looks away from the dog when you say that, eyebrows furrowing together. "he hasn't? why not?"

all words are lost as you shrug, not knowing yourself why he hasn't been around.

"i'll go speak with him," she states, beginning to move back to the door.

"no, enola," you grab her hand and she stares at you in utter confusion. "there's no need. i'm sure he'll be back soon."

her hand drops from yours as she sighs. "if he fails to return, i will get him myself." you promise.

she nods, "just- tell me when he does."

you muster up a smile, "of course. would you like any tea?" you change the topic.

"we were actually on our way to the market," tewkesbury informs you, "we were just passing by to say hello."

you nod, "well, don't let me hold you up. enjoy your day."

enola's arm loops through his and you feel a tug at your heart as you open the door for them, "remember, tell me when sherlock comes to his senses." she points a finger at you before they leave.

you sigh when you close the door, thinking of the times you and sherlock had their kind of relationship. young and naive.

you look down at cato, who was unaware of your feelings, his tail wagging happily.

"oh, darling." you sigh, patting his head, "what will i do?"

you hum softly, moving throughout the kitchen to grab various ingredients for dinner.

it was a peaceful moment until you heard the door open, followed by a growl in the living room.

you froze, carefully placing what you held on the counter and grabbing for a knife. had you forgotten to lock the door?

when you peak around the corner of the entryway that leads out of the kitchen, you see what caused the distress of your dog- your husband, home for the first time in who knows how long. it upset you that the thought of him being home didn't cross your mind before someone breaking in.

the confusion on his face is evident when he turns his head and sees you. "what is a dog doing in our home?"

"i took him in." you state matter of fact as the dog trots over to you, sitting at your feet while keeping his gaze on the man unknown to him.

sherlock's eyebrows furrow, "and why was i not informed of this?"

"i'm surprised you even care," you laugh bitterly, "he's been here for a while now, and it says a lot that you're only learning of it now."

it takes sherlock a moment to answer, glancing around the room before looking back to you. "you're mad at me."

your lips purse. "what a brilliant deduction, sherlock."

he purses his lips, "i know i've been busy-"

"no, sherlock!" your voice suddenly raises and cato stands, "you haven't been home in forever. you've left me!"

when he looks down at the floor, you can feel the tears beginning to form in your eyes. "that wasn't my intention, darling." he mutters softly, taking a step towards you.

a soft growl comes from cato as he stares your husband down. "don't call me darling." you speak lowly, "you've lost that privilege."

you can see the hurt in his eyes, but you couldn't seem to care. when he shows no sign of reply, you cross your arms. "please, sherlock." you whisper, "what did i do? you've never been this distant."

"i didn't mean-"

"then why-"

"i'm scared, alright?" his voice raises, causing you to flinch. he frowns at the sight, shaking his head. "i worry i won't be a good father."

you feel a pang in your heart at his confession. out of all the reasons in the world, you never would've expected him to be scared.

"sherlock," you step toward him, "my love, you will be a wonderful father." after you drop the knife on the dining table, your hand raises to rest on his cheek and he leans into your touch. "i wouldn't want anyone else for this baby. only you."

his striking blue eyes stare into yours and you can see the guilt within them. "i'm sorry for leaving," he whispers softly.

"you better be." your volume matches his as you press a kiss to his cheek, "and if you do it again, i'll let cato maul you."

a laugh is pulled from him and you smile at the sound that you missed so much. "i promise, darling." he glances to the dog, "he's pretty cute."

"i know, right?" you look down at him, "i found him in a bush." you chuckle.

taglists

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#sherlock x reader #henry cavill sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #holmes x reader #cavill sherlock x reader #cavill sherlock holmes x reader #henry sherlock holmes x reader #henry sherlock x reader

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fallenangelkitten · 9 months

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Literary Cruelty

Synopsis: Sherlock will reward you if you keep reading to him like the good little bird he knows you are.

Warnings: dom Sherlock… ;)

Notes: I used to be fallenangelbb here on the Henry Cavill side of tumblr but deleted my account and have regretted it ever since. So here I am reposting my work :)

“Read to me.”

As he slipped the book against your palm, Sherlock’s fingers brushed yours. You knew it was intentional; he did nothing without calculation.

“R-Read to you?”

A light flashed in his blue orbs. “Don’t make me repeat myself, darling,” he leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Read.”

He motioned to the chair in the corner of the room. As you stepped towards it, you could feel his gaze on your back; along the buttons of your bodice and the shift of your skirts.

Once you rested against the cushions, you opened the book. There was a thin layer of dust on the cover, but the pages were pristine. The sun shone brightly through the window beside you, the light glimmering along the words.

Sherlock stayed leaning against his desk as you began. You had no idea what it was or what it was about- all that mattered was your obedience. He made slow steps towards you as you read. He leaned against the window, studying you rather than listening to what came out of your mouth.

Before you had even gotten to the second page, he kneeled before you. The words faded from the tip of your tongue. “What are you doing?” You questioned.

“I don’t recall telling you to stop, little bird.”

“N-No sir, I’m sorry. I’ll continue.”

And you did. Even as his fingers trailed from your ankle to your knee, slowly lifting your layers of skirts.

“The day gave way to night. The seas rose and fell against the sand. But she was still- S-Sherlock?”

You jerked as his lips danced over your very center, causing you to take a sharp breath. He pulled back.

“If you stop, as will I.” There was a fire in his eyes. One that sent a very dark and hot shiver through your core.

So you continued.

Even as his warm tongue moved along your slit, as his hand rubbed circles against your quivering legs. You desperately kept reading.

“It had been days since the sun last rose. The moon had taken over, causing…” Your entire body trembled as a deep sound emerged from him- one that sent a rush of pleasure through you. “T-The evil to fall over this land once more.”

His tongue teased at your entrance, making your hips involuntary buck against his face. One of his large hands moved to the inside of your thigh to keep them apart, while the other moved to cup your rear and pull you closer.

But when with your cunt pressed against his mouth, he came to a halt. “Keep reading, (Y/N).”

You peaked over the book to have his eye meet yours, the pupils blown with lust. Lips glistening with your arousal.

You had completely forgotten about the lines on the pages. Of the conditions to his pleasure. You were struggling to take a breath, let alone read, but you managed to find where you left off. “That’s my good little bird.”

“The only hope that the people-,” You bit down on your lip to try and keep the whimpers at bay. You pried it from your teeth. “T-That the people had was the king.”

The hand splayed against your thigh drew closer to your dripping core. As his lips wrapped around your already aching bud, he slipped two fingers inside of you. Your hips lifted once more- the hand on your rear squeezed in approval.

As his fingers curled inside of you- over and over again- you could no longer make sense of the words. They blurred together into a jumbled mess, not one indecipherable from the other.

All you knew was him.

Maybe he didn’t notice that you no longer spoke, or maybe he did and didn’t care. Maybe he enjoyed the way your mouth hung agape, the way the book was slowly slipping from your hands.

Though, the words never mattered to him anyways. Only the way your body responded to him. That much you knew.

And with his nails digging into your lower back, his tongue flicking against you, fingers never missing a beat, you shattered against him. All that was left was the echo of the book colliding with the study floor.

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year

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Just an idea :) for Sherlock, what if Enola is always trying to get him to date cuz either he's lonely or always focused on work. But he always turns down the idea. Then one day she lures him to her favorite bookshop (or cafe, etc) and casually introduces him to her favorite employee. And the pickup line just comes out of no where, even he is surprised lolz. Feel free to not use this at all if you get better ideas😂

Thank you so much for this idea! For writing purposes, this will take place in modern times (*writing purposes meaning me being too lazy to write period specific)

Cheesy Pick-up Line (Bingo Game)

!BINGO ASKS CLOSED!

College!Henry!SherlockHolmes x Female!Reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: a little bickering, awkward Sherlock, fluffy and cute

Enola giggled excitedly as she pushed past the glass double doors of her favorite library. Her brother was following behind closely, a disinterested look on his face as they entered the small building. For Enola, it was the perfect place to be, but Sherlock just asked himself what he was doing here instead of studying for his criminal justice exam next week.

What he had not concluded yet, was that Enola Holmes had an agenda far different from the story she had told her brother about just an hour ago. He didn’t know his sister had spent weeks finding a way to finally get him to leave his stuffy, foot-smelling boy room. She had mashed her brain about it as she roamed the shelves of her favorite place and when she checked out the other day, she was embarrassed to have thought of it so late. It was blatantly obvious. Her brother needed a girlfriend. Someone that would encourage him to live outside of his schoolwork every once in a while. And you were the perfect candidate for the job. Smiley and charming, intelligent and pretty, and on top of that, someone Enola liked very much. She had established a first-name basis with you over the hours she spent in the little library you worked at. Today, she would try to accomplish the same for Sherlock.

Sherlock stood between the rows of shelves, waiting for his sister to finish collecting the mountain of books he was sure she wasn’t even allowed to check out at once. She had recruited him to ‘help her carry them’ as if she weren’t very capable of it herself. And besides, Enola was the one always underlining her independence and that women could do just as much as men. Something wasn’t adding up.

Enola placed another book in his arms. One she had mindlessly pulled from the shelve to keep her story alive. It was a small sacrifice for the gratification she would get would her brother finally fall in love this evening. She was sure of it. No more feigned disinterest in the stories their family told about cousins and other relatives having their first partners. No more annoying dismissal of their mother’s subtle hints towards his isolating himself. No more bad moods because of the uncalled-for comments Mycroft threw at him when he visited with his fiancé. It was about to change today.

“Relativity Theory?” He lifted an eyebrow before Enola could disappear behind another shelf. “Hamlet? What kind of homework is this supposed to be?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Enola quipped before placing an autobiography in his arms.

“They’ll think you’re robbing this place.” He readjusted the books because even though he was fairly strong, they slipped in his grasp. “How are you planning on checking those all out?”

“Jokes on you, my check-out limit has been upgraded because I’m a regular.”

“To 17? That’s too many. Too many books in general. Even for your ADHD brain.”

She glared at him. “Well, that’s where you come into play. With your card, we can check out 15. And for the other two, I’ll just have to sweet talk my way through.”

“You’re impossible, Enola.” Sherlock rolled his eyes as he followed his younger sibling to the counter.

“Shut up, It’s hard carrying enough character for Mycroft and you. You should thank me, really.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath and then he placed the books down with a thud.

Enola Smiled as she saw you approach the counter from the back office. Once you were here, the hot phase of her plan would be set in motion. And she couldn’t wait.

“Good evening, Enola. I see you brought someone new with you today?” You asked kindly with a bright smile on your face. Most people that came into the library didn’t talk much, but ever since Enola came around, she made the day a whole lot better. She grew to be a friend to you, which was why you also already knew who the handsome ‘stranger’ next to her was. But you wouldn’t reveal it just yet, that would be creepy.

“This is my Brother, Sherlock.” Enola just smiled as she placed her pile of books on the counter as well.

“Nice to meet you,” the tall brunette smiled behind his glasses, soft curls falling into his face when he nodded toward you.

“Nice to meet you, too. I would ask if you found everything you were looking for, but I guess it’s even more than that...” You counted the books, sending Enola a warning look. You had gone through the trouble of sweet-talking Old Mrs. Thomson if Enola could be an exception to the ‘only six books for home’ rule once again. Trying one more would get you on dusting duty for at least three weeks.

Your eyes locked with Sherlocks. “Do you have a library card?” And then your attention was back to the register, typing away on the little blue display.

Sherlock couldn’t see what you were doing, but he knew he wanted your eyes back on him. He didn’t know why, there was something about you that made him all excited. “Why? Because you want to check me out?” Uh oh.

Your fingers stopped hacking away at the outdated machine and your eyes wandered back to him. A deep blush tinted his cheeks and ears pink as you tried to hold back the laugh pushing at your throat.

Sherlock wanted the earth to swallow him whole. Why had he just said that? What was wrong with him?

And while her brother desperately attempted to hide his shocked face, Enola just stood beside him, equally stunned. She hadn’t known it had gotten this bad. His constant isolation must have messed with his social competence somehow. Because whatever she was just witnessing, was beyond secondhand embarrassment. He made her job harder to bring the two of you together, and honestly, right now, Enola did not see a chance for her brother.

“Yes, yes he has. Here!” Enola ripped the card from her brother's pocket and handed it to you. You, who bit your lips to hide the smile creeping on your features and shook your head.

Sherlock didn’t say another word after that. Too embarrassed to ever talk again, really, he waited out the time until you were finished scanning all the books and his and Enola’s cards. Relief washed over him when you said your goodbyes.

“I'm making an exception this time, Enola. Mrs. Thomson must not know about this and you better bring all of these books back without a single mark,” you warned.

But Enola countered weakly, matted by her idiot brother destroying the best plan ever made. “When did I ever not?” Still, she tried a sneaky smile on her lips.

When the doors fell close behind them and the siblings walked along the sidewalk home, Enola shoved her brother harshly.

“Great job, you idiot. You just ruined your only chance at not becoming a weird and bitter old man.”

But Sherlock didn’t answer. He was well aware of the embarrassment he had just presented himself as in that library and in front of you. With his head hung low, he opened the top book in his arms to retrieve his library card, but when he moved the piece of plastic and revealed the check-out receipt, all of his sister’s bickering moved to the background.

There, beneath the date and time of his visit, was your number, scribbled in blue ink with a small heart by your name. He smiled to himself as he traced the number with his finger. And just then, Enola glanced over his shoulder to find out why he hadn't told her to shut up yet.

Who would have thought that you would be hooked after a line like that?

Tags: @circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @misshale21 @wattpaduser200 @mi-amoree1111 @xxinvisiblexx @lastwandastan @when-you-cant-think-of-anything @pevensiemadness @mrsgweasley

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padfootdaredmetoo · 7 months

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I come with requests (pls). You can decide if it has smut or not but-

SHERLOCK (ENOLA HOLMES VERSION) IS TALKING TO IRENE AND Y/N IS JEALOUS CUZ HE SEEMS TO FLIRT WITH HER N STUFF.

Again, you can decide if there's smut or anything but I NEED this fic.

It would be greatly appreciated as I need another reason to listen to Reputation.

Hey Anon,

Again I'm incredibly sorry you had to wait so long. Hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: Smutt, dom / sub vibes, arguing

The whole situation was wrong. You stood in the doorway of Sherlock’s apartment, the apartment you recently had to move into. The woman seemed to enjoy your startled expression, her eyes were dark and there was a smirk ghosting on her red lips.

“This is-” Sherlock started his eyes fixed on the woman, to your relief he had kept his distance. He was leaning against the fireplace mantel.

“Oh, I know who she is.” Her eyes narrowed, and her body was sprawled across the couch. “I’m Irene, an old friend of Sherlock’s,” She said moving her gaze back to him.

You wanted to throttle her, wishing that women’s issues could be settled like men. Instead, you smiled brightly.

“If I knew we were having guests I would have put something together. I’ll put the kettle on.” You moved into the kitchen.

“No need darling. I'm not here for tea.” She uncrossed her legs and sat upright. “I came here for business.”

Then it started. You stayed on the edge of the room as the two started to banter. Crime scenes, clues, motives, both trying to get the upper hand. You struggled to keep up as they argued, one thing was glaringly obvious. The tension in the room was palpable. You felt the electricity and it made you sick to your stomach.

They were an inch away from each other, Sherlock looking unimpressed and cold, while she looked like she was savoring every moment of the interaction.

“Maybe you should look a little closer, somewhere in the woods maybe?”

“Moriarty-”

“Sends his regards.” She whispered her eyes focused on his lips. Part of you felt like you should intervene, and the other part of you felt like slinking away. This was so embarrassing, he seemed to forget about your existence altogether. Part of you knew it was because he wanted the missing information from the case he was working on, but the rest of you couldn't feel that logic.

You were swallowed up by his lack of concern for you. He looked and acted as if he was single, he was doing exactly what she wanted him to do.

She turned on her heel and left, slamming the door behind her causing you to jump. Your stomach and chest were tight, but you would rather be shot than let him see that he had hurt you.

You moved to the bedroom and shut the door, locking it even though you knew he would probably be sitting there sorting through her riddles.

You grabbed a bag stuffing it with clothes, anger seeping out of you. It was going to be a huge mess if you went to your sister's place like this but you didn’t care. Any place was better than here.

You opened the bedroom door and to no surprise, he was sitting there staring out the window. Muttering under his breath. He never liked being interrupted when he was like this. So you walked across the living space towards the front door.

“Where are you going?” He asked exhaling smoke from his pipe.

“Doesn't matter.” You shrugged.

“Of course, it matters.” He stood up fully attentive now.

“No -”

“She just gave us the missing clue, Morarity is--”

“Is a fucking ponce. I don't have time for this Sherlock. I can't do this,” You slipped a little then took a deep breath making your way closer to the door.

His large frame blocked you and you were surprised that he was making such an effort to keep you there. He looked like he was struggling to explain something.

“You're angry. I don't understand why.” This made your blood boil. “But Moriarty wants you.”

“I’m glad someone does.” You bit back. His face was stern and you knew he wasn't going to let you leave and a part of you was happy to argue.

“You don’t think I want you.” His voice was just above a snarl, and his eyes were dark. His anger had the opposite effect on your body, your pulse raced and you suddenly felt a few degrees too hot. His glare was consuming and you hated him for how attractive it was.

“Obviously not. She was all over you, and you - you - you - just let her. Right in front of me - you didnt even -” He leaned his face closer to yours and your words cut off.

“She wants you to run out of here angry. There’s a delivery carriage just up the street that hasn't moved since she got here.”Sherlock whispered. “She’s already left, thinking you’d run out of here. We have the upper hand.”

You thought about what he was saying, there was plenty of logic. The way her eyes would land on you periodically despite flirting with Sherlock. She was obvious too obvious about it. You still felt like fighting.

“I don’t like this.” You gritted your teeth. Many converstations had recently been had over the many ups and downs of the life he lead. How you were attched to him publicly now due to a careless misstep. Now you understood his reluctance all these months.

Moving in with him was the safest option. You didnt realise how angry all of that made you, how your private life was boiled down and sold as broth for everyone to consume. Somthing so dear to you, you knew deep down you wouldnt want to live without him. You closed your eyes, you wanted him. But the world needed him. All those murdered women, cases left unsolved completley neglected until he would show up.

He was doing what was right. A thought that comforted the anger you felt at the loss of control.

“Then let me make it up to you.” He said through gritted teeth. A voice in the back of your mind told you to run away from the darkness in his eyes. Your body stood frozen in place, welcoming his rage.

He closed the space between the two of you and gripped your jaw tightly. You looked up at him with wide eyes, he was so angry. His mouth crashed into yours and you felt yourself slip away into blissful submission.

This wasn't normal for you. When you wanted to fight you let him have it. You would shout at him and was always secretly grateful that he could take it. He never tried to take advantage, letting you express your emotions freely. Normally without consequence. But his hands were warm and gripping at your flesh madly.

You felt like you should make an effort to push back, try to take some control back. But your body had a mind of its own. You wanted him to make it up to you, and for once you didn’t want to be the one thinking and doing.

You let him ravish you, pulling apart the front of your dress. His mouth biting the flesh along your breastbone. He pushed you against the living room wall, and a crashing sound was noted in your periphery but you didnt have the brain power to care. He used his knee to press his way between your legs. His hand ran up the inside of your thigh bringing your skirts up higher.

His mouth tenderly sucked in a nipple causing you to knot your fingers in his hair. A groan escaped your lips, your eyes fluttered closed and the last of your thoughts faded away.

Your mind was singularly focused on receiving his touch. He placed one last sharp bite against the base of your neck before picking you up. He kissed you messily as he carried you back to the bedroom. Kocking over piles of books and experiments. The place would be a disaster after but you didnt care. His large body somehow managed to safely navigate the chaos before reaching the bedroom. He threw you down on the bed and quickly discarded your dress. His body was on yours in the span of a breath, he wasn't going to risk letting you sober up and snap back to reality.

A faint warning sounded that there were still men waiting outside the house… That thing could be dangerous. The thought only made you wetter.

Your mind went blank as you felt his mouth on your clit. No warm-up, no warning. Your legs snapped shut and you let out a scream. Your hips bucked and he placed a hard slap to the side of your thigh.

You were getting close, your voice was loud. He moved away and you tried to push his face back down. He resisted you easily. With a fluid motion, he had moved his whole length inside you. The stretch was almost enough to make you orgasm.

“Not yet.” He snarled, thrusting inside you wildly. His large hand cradled your neck with a delicious grip, his teeth sinking into the flesh under your collarbone once more.

The pain and pleasure was too much for you. Your hips met his every thrust desperate for his command. Your throat was sore from crying out.

His thrusts became harder and deeper, stealing the air from your lungs. Your whole body was tensing up.

“Cum” he growled into your ear and your body contracted and seized. The pressure was unbearable, he forced his way in and out of your tight cunt, finding his own release.

After an eternity your body finally collapsed into nothingness. The most soothing nothingness.

Sherlock collapsed onto the bed next to you. Pulling you against his naked body tightly. You let him move your limp body, still not able to grasp the world.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered into your hair. His voice was thick with grief, and you shuddered against the sudden cold that moved against your skin. “I will send you to Frace, there is a monastery there -”

“Stange thing to do to a woman before banishing her to live with nuns” You mumbled rubbing your cheek against the hair on his chest.

“I can keep you safe.” He sighed heavily.

“Perfectly safe here. He’ll find me if you send me away, better to stay next to you. Handle this like every other case.” You were very proud of the contributions you made to the cases you had helped with.

___________

The man shifted looking down at his watch once again. The lady never left the apartment. He felt antsy, Moriarty made it very clear how he deals with disobedience, the last thing he wanted was to end up another case file on Sherlock’s desk.

He didnt really want this job. He looked at the apartment window through his side-view mirror. Guilt hit him at the thought of kidnapping a woman. His brother had made it very clear that this was the only way to pay off his debts. The thought of his nephew and sister-in-law, made him stay in his seat.

Stupid family.

After a long while he got down from the carriage. He ran up the stairs and was hit with the sounds of crashing and screaming without his better judgment opened the apartment door. 221B, just like in the papers.

To his astonishment, the place was trashed. Books, instruments, broken glass, and various liquids thrown across the hardwood. The sound of the woman’s screams made his stomach drop. Sounds like maybe someone else was hired, in case she went the other way or something. With a heavy sense of guilt, the man turned and shut the door behind him. He ran down the street leaving the carriage there. Maybe whoever else was on the mission would go back for it.

Thinking one last bitter thought about his family, he got on the next train out of London. He sat on the train and said a prayer for the poor woman, pledging never to get involved with such things again.

#sherlock holmes #Enola holmes #Sherlock holmes #henry cavill #Sherlock Holmes X reader #Henry Cavill Sherlock x reader #Enola Holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes oneshot #enola holmes oneshot

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tylerxrbtwhp · 3 months

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Personal Favourite Fanfics | Sherlock Holmes |

NOTE: This is entirely my favourites so if it offense any of you, I don't care. It might seem mean, but this is how everyone is. P.S: ISTG I'm actually nice 💀

Henry Cavill's Sherlock Holmes:

En Garde https://www.tumblr.com/ithebookhoarder/700363473057628160/synopsis-your-husband-has-always-been-protective?source=share

Bewitched https://www.tumblr.com/cinebration/700022517638840320/bewitched-sherlock-holmes-x-reader-request?source=share

The Experiment {1} https://www.tumblr.com/sherlocksoft/720044593814667265/the-experiment?source=share The Experiment {2} https://www.tumblr.com/sherlocksoft/721735199838355456/the-experiment-pt-2?source=share

Dangerous Games https://www.tumblr.com/callmemaeverick/700148734404820992/dangerous-games-sherlock-holmes-x-femreader?source=share If Only You Would Know https://www.tumblr.com/espinosaurusrexex/709047438545190912/if-only-you-would-know?source=share Run Away https://www.tumblr.com/multific/699612561573920768/run-away?source=share It Takes Two https://www.tumblr.com/frost-queen/734448194490089473/it-takes-two-reader-x-sherlock-holmes?source=share Pulse Point https://www.tumblr.com/st-juliet/700595018092675072/can-i-request-an-nsfw-fic-sitting-on-sherlock?source=share A New Years Kiss https://www.tumblr.com/make-me-imagine/705226568468971520/a-new-years-kiss?source=share Unfailing Confidence https://www.tumblr.com/cinebration/700296882676711424/unfailing-confidence-sherlock-holmes-x-reader?source=share Only You https://www.tumblr.com/thisisawonderfulusername/704360254583996416/only-you-cavillsherlock-holmes-x?source=share Dance In The Winter https://www.tumblr.com/darlingdekarios/722523690629234688/dance-in-the-winter?source=share Benedict Cumberbatch's Sherlock Holmes: https://www.tumblr.com/iamsherlocked1479/713022583842422784/admit-it?source=share

Hold It Together https://www.tumblr.com/iamsherlocked1479/723734057530408960/hey-could-you-do-a-smut-where-virgin-reader-is?source=share

My Muse https://www.tumblr.com/specialagentlokitty/720463481796771840/sherlock-x-reader-my-muse?source=share

Stolen Love https://www.tumblr.com/freckles-things/704444975185821696/stolen-love-bbc-sherlock?source=share

Brother Dearest https://www.tumblr.com/starks-hero/697324677898584064/brother-dearest?source=share

What A Lovely Inconvinience https://www.tumblr.com/starks-hero/712182074421985280/what-a-lovely-inconvenience?source=share My Type https://www.tumblr.com/specialagentlokitty/719588419383230464/sherlock-x-reader-my-type?source=share Exact Opposite https://www.tumblr.com/lykaonimagines/702753577537568768/exact-opposite-sherlock-x-reader?source=share My Favourite Person https://www.tumblr.com/specialagentlokitty/718640213077950464/sherlock-x-reader-my-favourite-person?source=share Don't Be A Brat https://www.tumblr.com/iamsherlocked1479/735527507205423104/dont-be-a-brat?source=share

[No Name] https://www.tumblr.com/yandereaffections/188283801811/sherlocks-beyond-concerned-for-how-you-react?source=share

[No Name] https://www.tumblr.com/mykinkyyandere/685510432203603968/imagine-the-reader-coming-to-sherlock-for-help?source=share Robert Downey Junior's Sherlock Holmes: Oblivious Pain https://www.tumblr.com/just-dreaming-marvel/686875499130191872/oblivious-pain?source=share

And Then There Were Two https://www.tumblr.com/nikoruistyping/676683580767895552/hi-again-this-is-the-anon-from-before-if-i-can?source=share Robert Downey Junior's Sherlock Holmes, Series:

In The Game Of Love {1} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/662704224159793152/in-the-game-of-love-1 In The Game Of Love {2} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/663945231671181312/in-the-game-of-love-2

In The Game Of Love {3} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/664791573947662336/in-the-game-of-love-3 In The Game Of Love {4} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/666249575040974848/in-the-game-of-love-4

In The Game Of Love {5} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/669679249658150912/in-the-game-of-love-5 In The Game Of Love {6} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/670429416861614081/in-the-game-of-love-6 In The Game Of Love {7} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/670665006890778624/in-the-game-of-love-7

In The Game Of Love {8} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/670681378996748288/in-the-game-of-love-8

In The Game Of Love {9} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/670781776622469120/in-the-game-of-love-9 In The Game Of Love {10} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/672584933855870976/in-the-game-of-love-10 In The Game Of Love {11} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/675767664185163776/in-the-game-of-love-11

In The Game Of Love {12} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/676397774885011456/in-the-game-of-love-12 In The Game Of Love {13} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/676412402640797696/in-the-game-of-love-13 In The Game Of Love {14} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/676841121888043008/in-the-game-of-love-14 In The Game Of Love {15} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/677125955018457088/in-the-game-of-love-15 In The Game Of Love {16} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/678402072761270272/in-the-game-of-love-16

In The Game Of Love {17} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/678567136800686080/in-the-game-of-love-17 In The Game Of Love {18} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/678588326088966144/in-the-game-of-love-18 In The Game Of Love {19} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/678643863030808576/in-the-game-of-love-19 In The Game Of Love {20} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/678682570019487744/in-the-game-of-love-20 In The Game Of Love {21} https://just-dreaming-marvel.tumblr.com/post/678765024046694400/in-the-game-of-love-21

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ten-cent-sleuth · 5 months

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A Galling Yoke, Part 15

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for the “If you walk out that door…” square on my July Break Bingo card

See this post for main info, including a masterlist and synopsis. See this post for warnings.

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x f!Reader

Rating: Teen

Voss House was in an uproar when you and Sherlock slipped through the back door. Rounding a corner, Sherlock would have walked right into Lucy racing by if not for your hand shooting out and grabbing his elbow.

“Sorry, sir! Prayin’ ’scuse me!” cried the maid as she scurried off, not pausing to curtsy to Sherlock and evidently missing you entirely.

“She seems to be in a hurry,” he muttered.

“Brilliant deduction,” you quipped as you let go of his coat and straightened out the wrinkles you’d caused. “Lord Coltidge is likely raising Cain to find out where I am and what is going on. I can only hope that nobody has mentioned that I have been at your flat the past few days…”

The kitchen door flung open, and Cook bustled out with a harried expression. Her eyes widened even further when they met yours.

“Oh, Madam, you’re home,” she exclaimed. “Thank the Lord you’re well. Your father’ll be pleased.”

You couldn’t stop the sardonicism from leaping up and quirking your brow. “I suppose that would be the natural reaction of one under the influence of paternal affection, yes.”

Sherlock, very discreetly, choked and coughed.

“Well, I best be moving along,” said Cook. “His lordship’s asking for an account of our foodstuffs, and then, what with dear Mrs Rogers busy entertaining him in the front sitting room, I ought to help Lucy prepare the master’s suite… Oh, Madam, is it true that he is taking up residence in Voss House again? That you are leaving?”

Sherlock stiffened, and you tightened your hold on his arm to reassure him.

“It is not true,” you told her. “Though I am pleased to know you would have matters well in hand if it were. Carry on, Cook.”

She beamed at you, blushing lightly, before going on her way.

Turning to watch her disappear down the hallway, Sherlock commented, “She remarked not on our entry through the tradesmen’s entrance.”

“Please expound not on what that says about how eccentric she perceives me to be.” You hid your wince with a wide sweep of your arm. “To the front sitting room, then, sir?”

Nodding, he gestured for you to lead the way, but you caught the “You said ‘eccentric’, not I” that he said under his breath and shot him a look.

You were still some metres away from the sitting room door when you started to pick up on the raised voices within. Or, rather, the raised voice, and the soothing tones of battle-hardened Mrs Rogers. You and Sherlock shared a look before you swung the door open.

“Father, I apologise for keeping you waiting.”

Whirling around, the Earl of Coltidge blinked a few times at you, caught mid-rant. By the time Mrs Rogers made a discreet exit with a flashing smile in your direction, he managed to gasp, “Daughter. Where in Christendom have you been?” In the span it took you to grant yourself a fortifying breath, he lost his interest in your reply and said, “I have given you nearly a sennight complete. I trust you have taken care of whatever was so important you neglected an affair of the essence?”

You gripped your skirts in tense fists. “I did, but Mr Holmes worked quicker than I.”

Your father’s eyes slid to the detective standing at your shoulder, apparently taking note of him for the first time. “And what do you mean by that?”

Finding strength in the presence behind you, you smoothed out your skirts and spoke evenly. “As we speak, William is at Scotland Yard. He has been arrested for his crime.”

The earl stiffened, but his focus remained on Sherlock. “Crime?” His voice was just slightly too high-pitched. “What crime?”

Sherlock stepped forward, his sleeve brushing against yours. “The crime of soliciting a murder, of course, your lordship,” he said bluntly, not even bothering to handle Coltidge’s fragile anxieties with care.

They shattered before your eyes.

“Confound you, Holmes!” he hissed. “I hired you, damn it, I did! You had a single task, and you could not do it properly?”

Sherlock arched a brow. “My lord, you hired me to investigate your daughter’s husband’s death, and I have done precisely that.”

“Bah!” scoffed Coltidge with such force that spittle flew out of his mouth. “My heir shall be seen as a criminal! My name shall be tarnished—hang it all!”

You grimaced at his poor choice of words and of priorities. “Father—”

He turned his blazing eyes to you. You halted, allowing him to speak, but when he did, he was still addressing the other man. “You have done enough, Holmes. I must deal with my family business now, which has naught to do with your blasted meddling. Leave us.”

Sherlock huffed, muttering something that started with “How many times must I explain…?” before he turned to give you his full attention. “You did not ask me to accompany you here, so I shall understand if you wish to speak to your father in private. Petal, do you want me to leave?”

He was so soft in that moment, in his voice and in his eyes, that you would have lost your heart if you had still been in possession of it. But no, it was already securely placed in Sherlock’s vault of treasures, and for that, you could not let him leave.

“If you walk out that door,” you whispered, “I shall be alone against my tormentors once more, and I refuse for that to be so any longer. For too long have I been made by either external forces or my own fears to bear my burdens alone, so from now on, if I can have you by my side…” You tilted your head to regard him in the afternoon light streaming through the window. “I would have you by my side.”

Sherlock stared back at you, not smiling but still somehow drawing you in—the very promising way his eyes were darkening or the very thrilling way his tongue wet his lips, perhaps. But the moment was broken when, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed your father sneer and remembered that you had an audience.

“Is that what this is about, then?” said the earl. “You would sacrifice your brother to throw yourself at the first man to show you any hot-blooded interest?”

You were briefly stunned speechless—nobody had ever dared speak so crudely in your presence before—but Sherlock reacted without hesitation.

He whipped around. “How dare you?” he said, tightly, darkly, thundering but not like the crack of a nearby strike: like the low rumbles on the ground from a faraway storm rolling closer. “How dare you speak to her in such a manner? Do you honestly believe you are superior to her in any way? You are a poor excuse of a man—and a still poorer excuse of a father.”

“Speak not of superiority to me, Detective,” jeered your father before focusing on you. “Edmund might have preferred his mistress to you, Daughter, but at least he was the son of a peer and a respectable gentleman at that—Holmes is little better than a tradesman with the way he makes his living! Would you truly toss your honour on someone so beneath us, so unworthy of the Voss connexion?”

Your surprise gave way to fury. “There is no one worthier,” you bit out, stepping into your father’s space. “Peers, sons of peers, gentlemen, tradesmen—to me, they are merely the outside world.” You waved one arm at the window, and reached the other out to Sherlock. “He is the only one who knows me, who has seen the disarray that is my interior and has stayed by me. How can someone beside me be beneath me?”

Pulling his shoulders back, your father said, “Spare me your melodrama, it is—”

You barked out a laugh. “My lord, need I remind you that it was you who brought Mr Holmes into this? If not for your melodrama, your production of a case, you could have gotten exactly what you wanted.”

“What…?” He was pale, his voice shaken.

“If you had simply told me your plan to frame me for William’s sake, you would have succeeded because I would have gone along with it,” you explained, surprising even yourself with how patient you sounded. “By bringing Mr Holmes into the matter, you ensured that, instead, I came to see that my future is as bright as anyone else’s.”

“Blame this not on me,” he spluttered. “You do well to recall that though I had been prepared to let you answer for your brother’s mistake, I had hoped the case could be steered away from my progeny at all. The scandal of a murder in the family would have been distressing enough.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, and he glared at you.

“It is because you never fail to involve yourself in men’s business that we could not all be freed from this mess. After all, it was you who led Holmes to that tail-wagging hussy, Miss Allen or Miss Ayles or…” Flapping his hand in a dismissive motion, he narrowed his eyes at you. “Do you deny it?”

A cold sweat passed over you, and for a moment, you were frozen. Those years-old, not long vanquished fears of being a botch-up, of deserving nothing better than blame, crept up on you. But William’s kind eyes and gentle words warmed you. It was no evil to help and be helped.

“I do not,” you said, squeezing your forearms to ground yourself. “But you cannot make me regret working with Sherlock. We both were better off for letting each other in, and I shall not be persuaded otherwise. Indeed, there is naught you can expect to accomplish here, Father; your time would be better spent trying to convince William to recant or Scotland Yard to release him.”

Shadows fell across the earl’s face as he brought himself to his full height. You had not seen that expression on him since you were a misbehaving young girl under his roof, and you braced yourself for the patronising lecture that was about to come. But you were not prepared for the quiet words that came from him.

“Would that your mother had survived her third confinement and we had lost our first babe instead.”

Your mouth fell open as your thoughts ground to a halt. Their first child…

Towering over you, Lord Coltidge snarled into your face, “Or would that your brother had left you to your fate with Edmund!”

“Father,” you choked out.

He waved you off, shouldering past to get to the sitting-room exit. “At least then, I would not be the one burdened with you and your impertinence,” he sniffed as he turned around to look you up and down. He had never sounded so bitter, looked so vicious. “It matters not to me how; I would merely be grateful so long as I was free of you, you senseless girl.”

Staring at him across the room, you felt small and silly, shame prickling at your skin as though you deserved his contempt despite logically knowing you didn’t. Helpless, you didn’t know how to make the humiliation stop burning in your chest and feared it would flay you alive right there.

But then a tall, wide frame stepped in your line of sight, blocking your view of the source of your pain and mortification but above all shielding you from that which was doing you harm. Staring, now, at Sherlock’s back, tension rippling from his shoulder blades down, you recalled the thunderclouds that had been gathering on the horizon and—oh, now came the crash.

“What fitting idiocy from an addle-pate,” said Sherlock, his voice as sharp and dangerous as the cliff’s edge it teetered on. “Since you wish to avoid senselessness, my lord, these are the facts: Your daughter is here—has been here all this time, you myopic ingrate—and after all she has already made it through, there is little that could stop her from continuing to be here. And while she lives, you shall die, wifeless, friendless, and at this rate childless. While she prospers, you shall sink deeper into the realisation that you have wasted your years.” He jabbed a finger in his direction, just barely restraining his volume and the vehemence of his movements. “Do you think I cannot recognise the rumpling of your clothes from lying sleeplessly in them night after night, cannot detect the perfumes for hiding the diminished energies of a miserable tyrant?” Hands shaking and chest heaving, he caught his breath before snapping, “You reek of desperation, your lordship, and it is not the victory you think it is to be leaving us in a huff before the stench can settle deep.”

Coltidge simply stood, eyes wide and mouth unmoving.

Sherlock jolted him out of his stupor with a roared “Get out!”

Tail between his legs, Lord Coltidge yanked open the door and scurried out. Blinking away your shock, you hurried over to the threshold and peeked through. You spotted Mr Rogers standing in the hallway, and for the first time you felt gratitude that the butler had taken to hanging around when you were entertaining guests. You trusted him to handle getting Lord Coltidge out of the house without the earl destroying the property in a fit.

Shutting the door behind your father, you leaned against the knob and took a deep breath. “Oh, dear, that went terribly. Sherlock, I must apologi—mmf!”

The rest of your words vanished as you were whirled around, pressed back against the door, and descended upon by the full force of Sherlock’s tenacity.

With one hand gripping your waist and the other cradling the back of your head, he held you still under his unrelenting lips, stealing your breath, criminally, mercilessly, but so lovingly that you gladly gave up more and more of it to him. Although you could hardly move while pinned between the door and Sherlock’s insistence, you did what you could with your hands and mouth to give as good as you got.

When he coaxed your mouth open and pushed his tongue inside, you groaned and gave a particularly zealous tug on his bowtie. As you felt it come undone, a heated thrill shot through you: the levees of decorum Sherlock had valiantly put up against the storm the earl stirred up were decimated by this flash flood of passion, passion unprecedented, and you were the one to witness it.

He swallowed your whimper as your knees gave out, not letting up, only holding even more of your weight with even more tenderness. More and more control slipped out of your grasp as he continued his siege on your senses, but you let it slip—you had seen how he’d strained to keep a hold on courtesy in the face of Lord Coltidge’s utter discourtesy, and would happily let him be ungentlemanly now.

He broke away with a ragged gasp. And even as you fought to rein in your breathing, he dusted kisses across your face.

“I thank God that you are alive and well, darling.” His voice was gravelly, your head was light. “I pray you listen not to his lordship. He is a doddering fool and—”

You turned your head to catch Sherlock’s mouth on its way to your cheek. After another minute or five of bliss, you eased away and whispered, “I know, Sherlock. His words got through my defences because I was shocked by them, not because I believed them. Distress yourself not.”

He shook his head, gazing on you in such a way that you felt pierced, like your lungs were losing more air than they were making use of. “Consider me distressed until you know that… You must know that… Dear heavens, one’s world is better with you in it. Bigger, brighter. The earl deserves you not. He is a dunce to think he would be happier without you, flaws and mistakes and all, for I have lived ten and five years in your absence and hold it as indisputable proof that losing you is the worst thing that can happen to a person. Though, blazes, I deserve you not—”

“There is no one worthier,” you reminded him, arching an eyebrow.

After a beat, the anguish on his face fell with a startled laugh. “Heaven help me, you are an impertinent thing.”

Grinning, you looped your arms around his neck and pulled him back down so that you could hug him close and bury your nose in his collar. When he said that, you didn’t feel mortified: you felt seen, and you felt loved.

His hands drifted down to your hips, at once primally possessive and profoundly gentle. “Are you certain you are all right?” he asked softly. “I had never seen that expression on you before, and it disturbed me—gutted me—to see it then. I had tried to let you handle your father as you saw fit, but when I saw that look on your face… I could not stand by, my lady.”

Nodding, you squeezed him tight. “I am certain.” If you had been terribly overwrought, you would be calming down quickly now, with Sherlock’s arms around you and his light swaying back and forth. “And I thank you for stepping in, Sherlock. I thank you for staying.”

“You may depend on my doing so for the rest of our lives.”

“Sherlock…” You nosed his chest, burrowing even closer to his comforting warmth and familiar scent, and pecked his clavicle through his shirt. “I love you.”

His sudden stillness was your only clue that he had heard you.

Trying to mollify his apparent agitation, you dropped another kiss onto his shirt, a little higher this time, near the wrinkled fabric of his undone bowtie. “I love you,” you said again, knowing repetition often grounded him. “I love you.”

Still there was no response. He had not stiffened or cringed away, so you did not think he was uncomfortable. Startled, then—taken aback. You could picture the quizzical frown that had surely overtaken his expression, could practically hear the churning of calculations in his head. And who knew what conclusions he was arriving at? Who knew how long it would take him to share them with you? Flushing with sheepishness, you more resolutely hid your face in his chest.

“You need not say it back, of course,” you rushed out. “It is only that you mentioned love earlier, and it made me think, ‘Could he mean that he loves me?’ But— But of course, I know it is more complex than that. You could hardly be blamed if you are still hurt and cautious from my marrying another man without warning you, and surely you had the right of it to reprove me before for expecting you to trust me blindly…”

Much to your chagrin, he held you away from him and pulled back from the embrace. Your anxiety mounted with every passing second of his scrutiny.

“Sherlock?”

“This is the ‘something you had to tell me’, then?”

Disoriented, you nodded mutely.

“Definitely should have done yours before mine,” he muttered.

“Sherlock?”

“I beg of you, let not love be your second thought and my rashness your first. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. In short, this is the answer to your question: yes, he could very well mean that he loves you.”

A smile wormed its way to your face as you leaned back against the door to take in as much of Sherlock as you could.

“Its being complex makes it no less certain,” he said firmly. “I love you. I have loved none but you.”

“I as well,” you breathed, reaching out and resting your palm over the left side of his chest. “I have been married, heartbroken, alone, and free; through it all, there has only ever been you. I love you, Sherlock.”

He smiled then too, and it was the brightest sight you’d ever laid eyes on. Oh, yes, you had your life ahead of you, a future gold and aglitter indeed.

Can you tell I was reading JAFF before writing this? xD Thank you for reading, and feedback is always welcome! (You never know, you could end up like @marveldcmistress and inspire a line like “You are a poor excuse of a man—and a still poorer excuse of a father” with your lovely suggestions. ;P) Attention, readers: please be aware of this announcement about upcoming chapters.

Taglist [comment below if you’d like to be added!]: @livisss @theyaremorethanjustfictional @wonderlandfandomkingdom

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill sherlock x reader #enola holmes #a galling yoke #the dimensions of fandom

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ohhhhhhenry · 11 months

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A taste of my new Sherlock Fic...

It wasn’t starting over, you often told yourself. Starting over implied that you were leaving everything behind. This was taking the past and letting it buoy you into the future.

London was the perfect place to try. No one knew you there, and you had always craved a life without…context.

You were in the midst of finishing a particularly frustrating chapter when a knock on your door made you jump. You wanted to ignore it as to not interrupt your flow, but it was persistent.

You rose, still half in writing mode, and as you unlocked the door and were greeted by…shoulders. The shoulders spoke.

“Pardon me, I believe this was delivered to my flat by mistake.”

Then you realized the shoulders were attached to a man holding a package.

He handed you an opened parcel from the local bookshop. The Mistaken Manuscript. A crime novel written by T.L. Merriweather. You admired the cover when–

“You are 221A. Please make sure your husband is clearer when relaying his address.”

You shuddered. “Actually that will be quite hard for him seeing as how he’s been dead for five years.”

You shut the door, eager to shake off this interaction and get back to the escape of writing when another knock came. It was him again. You noticed the shoulders were attached to a head titled in a quizzical look.

“If this isn’t your husband’s book then…it’s yours?”

“That’s right. You must be a detective.”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“It was supposed to be, but no one is laughing so perhaps it isn’t.”

His head titled the other way, his curls bouncing to the other side.

“That book is quite vulgar for a woman. I’m surprised it’s something you’d enjoy reading.”

You paused. A tiny smile escaped your lips.

“I wouldn’t know. I never read it. I wrote it.”

His eyes widened as you shut the door on him again, the smile still dancing on your lips.

#henry cavill #henry william dalgliesh cavill #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock fanfic #enola holmes #enola 2 #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock x you #you x sherlock #sherlock fandom #henry cavill sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes enola holmes #sherlock holmes imagine #henry cavill sherlock holmes x reader #henry!sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #cavill!sherlock x reader #cavill!sherlock imagine #henry cavill fan fiction

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bookloover35 · 3 months

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Sherlock Holmes X fem reader- Father and Daughter time.

Sherlocks Pov:

Yn: Are you sure you can take care of Ofelia tonight?

You have this big case to solve.

I can tell my sister Juliett that we can have sibling dinner some other night.

Sherlock: Yn, love, you haven't met your sister since Ofelia was born.

Go out and have dinner with her, talk about childhood memories, the kind of things you talk about with your siblings.

And I can look for clues and work on the case here from home and at the same time Ofelia and I can have father and daughter time.

I answered her and took our one-year-old daughter out of her cradle, kissed her head and walked over to Yn.

When Ofelia caught sight of her mother, she smiled a toothless smile.

Yn started to tickle her and then Ofelia started laughing with us.

Yn: Sure sounds like a fun idea.

A little father and daughter time, of course you want it my little flower.

She started to laugh even more.

And shook her little hands.

Sherlock: There you see, she loves that idea.

Me and Ofelia are doing fine, so go so you won't be late.

Yn: Okay, okay I'll go and forgive me I trust you but this is my first time i .....

Before she could say anything else I cut her off with a kiss.

Sherlock: It is okay.

You have nothing to apologize for you are just doing what normal first child mothers do.

I know you trust me and I'm a little nervous myself.

But I've seen how you do with her so we I can handle this.

She smiled at me and kissed me back for a long time and then she kissed Ofelia on the forehead.

Yn: Okay, I'm going.

Ofelia be kind to your father, love you both bye see you later.

Sherlock: We love you too, say goodbye to mother Ofelia.

When Yn had gone out the door, Ofelia yawned it was time for a little nap for my little angel.

Timskip.

Waaaaaaaah waaaaaaaaaaah.

Sherlock: Daddy's coming shush daddy's on his way.

Hello my little angel, daddy is here now.

When I picked her up from her cradle, she snuggled up against my chest.

She stopped crying and after a while her purple belly started rumbling.

I looked up at our watch and saw that it was the perfect time for dinner for the two of us.

Timskip again sorry.

Yns Pov.

Finally home.

Don't get me wrong, I love my sister and have missed her a lot.

But I want to be with my husband and my little flower.

I have to admit I was a little nervous.

I trust Sherlock 100% he really is an absolutely amazing father/husband.

And he has been since we got married and when I was pregnant with Ofelia.

He is absolutely wonderful with her.

Other men tend not to be this much with their children.

But not Sherlock he wants to be with her as often as he can.

Ofelia is only one year old and she really has her daddy wrapped around her little finger.

Yn: Sherlock I am home.

When I entered the apartment, I was greeted by a sight that I wish I could capture in a picture.

Sherlock was sleeping on the sofa with Ofelia sleeping and wrapped in a blanket cuddling in his father's arms.

I walked up to them and kissed Sherlock's forehead and whispered.

Yn: You are a great man Sherlock Holmes.

And Ofelia will have the best father in the world.

The end.

#wattpad #wattpadstories #wattpad story #my own words #sherlock x you #henry sherlock #sherlock fandom #sherlock x reader #henry!sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill #enola 2 #enola holmes #enola sherlock #henry cavill sherlock x reader #sherlock x fem reader

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princessaxoxo · 6 months

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Next week I plan on finishing strangers to lovers, and also starting a new mike story. 🤭

#henry cavill #first post #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader #smutty #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #mike x reader #mike hellraiser #enola and sherlock #sherlock holmes #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill sherlock holmes #henry cavill sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes smut #mike smut

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iamthemain-character · 2 years

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Miscellaneous Masterlist

Tobias Eaton/Four

You Drew Stars Around My Scars - she/her, romantic

Peeta Mellark

Gale Hawthorne

Jacob Black

Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill)

Edgin Darvis

Xenk Yendar

Holga Kilgore

Doric

Simon Aumar

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itstheimpossibledream · 1 year

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Finished

Pairing: Henry Cavill x you

Prompt:Henry & y/n invited to his moms for thanksgiving. Mom also invites his ex.His mom is super strict so everyone is supposed to have separate rooms, mostly for his ex to slip into his room but she opens the door to find you sitting on his face.

This one was kind of tough but, ended up being a super fun story to write!Hope you guys enjoy it !Thanks for your ask, hope this lives up to the expectation.

“Are we going?” you ask quietly.

“Do you want to go?” he says, cocking an eyebrow in your direction.

“I mean….. It’s your mother. We kinda have to.” he pulls you in closer letting out a low hmmm.

“Yes. but, I don’t visit her often for a reason.” he says quietly. The heft of his arm and the sheets around you calling you to relaxation.

“And what’s that reas-”

“She’s crazy.” he says bluntly. You laugh,immediately knowing he’s joking . It was very out of character for him to call anyone out of their name. Much less his own mother. You look up at him to notice he isn’t laughing, not even smiling.

“O Henry, come on! She is not crazy, I’m sure she just misses you. That’s why she calls so often.”

He caresses your face “My mother is a tiny, blonde psychopath. I love her with all my heart but, everytime I bring a woman home she gets so attached I- it’s hard to explain.” he trails off.

“Guess I’ll just have to meet her then!” you squeal sleepily into his chest before drifting away in an ocean of plans.

You packed, you brushed your teeth, and were ready early in time for the flight. Henry slept most of the way but, you were too filled with questions of if she would like you, and what he of all people meant by calling his mother an attached psychopath. The hours ticked away and you looked worriedly from the clock on your phone to Henry.

“Maybe she just forgot we were coming today?Should we call?” you ask

“Nooooo. No. She has forgotten nothing. This is what she does. Constantly trying to keep me on my toes, I guarantee you she’s up to something.”

You snort through your nose “Henry I guarantee your mother is not that malicious.”

“Have you met her yet?” he jokes flatly. Just then the car pulls up a decently clean but embarrassingly tiny red kia soul, flying like a bat out of hell.

You exhale, taking a step off of the curb and waiting for your moment of truth.

She jumps out of the car and runs to her son, jumping into his arms. He smiles for a minute holding her and you see the light of a little boy flicker in him for a moment. He pulls back at the sound of the trunk popping open and begins to load the bags into the back for the weekend.

“Mrs. Marianne I am just so excited to finally get to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you and I’m really excited to-” She cuts you off turning back to her son.

“And Hen you remember Ellen.”

That’s when you see her, a leggy blonde with a perfect smile stepping out of the car that just makes your heart drop. Ellen fucking Whitaker. Ofcourse, champion show jumping horse rider from a family of professional horse trainers and not to mention gorgeous but, most importantly Henry’s ex- fiance.

“Cool, cool ,cool ,cool” you can hear yourself muttering under your breath trying not to explode.

“Mum this is y/n! She was very excited to be invited.” he confirms, giving you some comfort that he’s on your side.

“Mmm. Well that’s darling.” she spins on her heels heading back towards the driver’s side of the car.

You follow Henry as you both hug Ellen and exchange your greetings. She seems to think his mother bringing her here is just as ridiculous as you do and while you still despise her presence that knowledge makes it vaguely reassuring that she hasn’t come to fight for his love.

“Henry, dear sit up here with me I want to hear all about LA.” he rolls his eyes, making his way to the passenger side while you and Ellen assemble yourselves in the back of the tiny car with the luggage. You flip your phone over in your lap and notice a text from Henry. “I love you.Don’t stress out. She’s just like this.” you text him back a heart emoji but, it’d be a lie to pretend your heart wasn’t still caught in your throat. Not only did his mother refuse to acknowledge you. But, she brought some random ass woman that she obviously plans for Henry to be with instead. Actually , no.Not random, which is even worse! Am I spirialing ? I feel like I’m spiraling. You had completely zoned out of the sweet family reunion happening infront of you an attempted to string some words together in your head that would help you explain how you feel to him when you finally got alone time. You entered the driveway of the estate and his mother handed the keys to the valet , excusing herself and calling Ellen to follow her inside. Being excluded from the girl’s powwow didn’t bother you as much since if gave you a chance to speak to Henry. The Butler offered to help but, he insisted on doing it himself, calling him by name. And you were momentarily reminded of the things you did love about Henry. You followed behind him as he carried things to the room. You tried to make small talk with him as you unzipped your suitcase and began pulling out your necessities for your facewash routine. “O ummmm-” Henry looked at you as if trying to hide back from saying something. More bad information you were sure.

“You actually have the room down the hall.”he says sheepishly.

“What do you mean?” your eyes widen despite your attempts to quell your emotion. He has to be crazy. There’s no other way to explain.

“My mom doesn’t want me to share a bed in her home unless its with the woman I’ve marrried.” he says , hands up in a defensive position.

You exhale slowly repacking your things. “Sure. Ofcourse. What wouldn’t she want that.”

You knew it sounded bitter but, you couldn’t help it.

“Hey -” he grabs your arm as you head towards the door, pulling you in and kissing you .His hand coming to your cheek, fingers resting on the back of your head, giving you the comfort he couldn’t offer with words.

“Plus” he whispers into your lips “It will be fun to sneak around like kids for a few days.”You roll your eyes at him as his hands make their way to your ass. He gropes you for a bit before you escape his grasp headed to your room or Marianne created dungeon. Actually the room was quite nice. The flowers on the wall paper felt like a bit much but, the room got great sun and wasn’t to far from the bathroom . You liked that the estate had an old-timey feel of walking down the hall to use the toilet. Plus, it allowed you more excuses to be where Henry is. You unpacked your room and then sat on the bed next to your empty suitcase before exhaling,and finding the strength to get dressed for dinner.

You stepped gently down the stairs ,trying to avoid the steps that creak when your hear the door close behind you. Looking up over the landing you see Henry at the top of the stairs.

“What are you doing?”he asks flatly.

You become aware of your hunched back and your body language from testing the step with your toe.

“I- I just don’t want to go.” you confessed.

He rushes in your direction, “Sweetheart you don’t have to.”

“No I mean I want to I just ….I was so excited to meet your mother and she just-”

“Listen” he leans against the wall scratching the side of his face. “I was trying to protect you. I should have tried to explain her more but it’s- she’s just so embarrassing. If you want, we can cut it short and go home tomorrow.” he seems genuinely saddened that his mom had been so rude. You hadn’t even had the chance to tackle Ellen’s presence before you hear a fumbling downstairs and his mother calling for him. He looks at you silently giving you time to decide.

“I still want to try and win her over.” you whisper back to him. He laughs a little at your determination and offers you his arm. You walk to dinner together and his presence gives you comfort.

At dinner your seats are assigned. Shockingly your seat is not next to Henry’s but one of their family friend’s who was also visiting. You thought it a smart call on Marriane’s part. Had it just been the four of you for dinner the meal was sure to mostly be had in silence. You sat across from Henry and although he and Ellen had a few hushed moments this test actually caused you to feel more confident in your relationship. His mom was being a bitch but, when she did he’d nudge your foot under the table. This nudge eventually turned into a quiet game of footsies but, as adults your were grateful for the reminder that no matter how it seemed he was always prioritizing you. By the time dessert came you decided you wanted to try pushing the boundaries. His mother hadn’t said anything rude to you, she simply had not spoken to you at all. And if she had already decided she hated you then there wasn’t much left for you to do but, enjoy the sculpture of a man that she had created. You slipped your foot from your shoe and let your footsies progress to you rubbing him through his pants with your foot. His eyes shoot to you across the table,but he doesn’t give you away. You can feel him growing harder under your toes as he melts into his chair. His face looks so small and innocent, looking at you, trying so hard to be in control, to be good. His mother hurls a few rude words but, you are to turned on by the view across from you to care. Once dismissed from the table, the tempered dash to the bedroom is quick. His hand presses into your back as he practically pushes you up the stairs. His room was the closest to the stairs , as you walked past he grabs your arm , pulling you in.

“Heeeeey hey hey.” you whisper to him as he slips his hand up your dress. “I think your mother will notice if I’m not in my room.” he groans into you. “Shhhh. I’ll come back later” you pull back winking at him. He slowly removes his hand and you turn, switching out of the room.

You promptly switch into your best lingerie and robe while counting the minutes, listening as the sounds of the house grow softer and softer. When the coast seems clear, you softly make your way to Henry’s room. You push the door open slowly trying to mitigate the creak as much as possible.You can see his figure sitting up in the dark. You drop your robe to the ground as he closes his book. “ I thought you’d never come!” he exhales. He places his book on the nightstand and you jump into bed, straddling him. His hands reach around to cup your ass and your grab him by the wrists.

“Don’t touch.” you warn. He cocks his head to the side as if to question the change from your usual power exchange.

“Only with your tongue.” you smile, leaning in to kiss him. He smiles coyly and you move yourself up the headboard of the bed. You grab onto it as he pulls your panties to the side. He hums into you and you are doing your best to keep quiet as you grip down onto the headboard beneath. You reach your other hand down cradling the back of his head while his tongue explores further into you. Biting your bottom lip in an attempt to keep from crying out ,you pull his hair and his hand smack your ass in response.

“Fuck” you exhale into the darkness and just then you hear the door creak open.

“Oh no!” you turn around to see Ellen, and no sooner than you lock eyes, you grab the duvet pulling it over both of your bodies.Henry is confused and ends up being mostly exposed during the shuffle.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Ummm your mom told me to- I’m sorry I-” She turned , rushing out of the room; a flurry of nerves and embarrassment. The door slammed behind her and you both looked at eachother, momentarily embarrassed too. But, then you both broke into laugher. This entire trip had been absurd, this is almost just on brand. You lift your leg in an attempt to end your straddling of him , when he stops you with a hand to your lower back. Smiling while looking up at you he says

“I wasn’t finished yet.” and you melt back into him.

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thisisawonderfulusername · 1 year

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sir snuggles henry!sherlock holmes x reader requested by: anon summary: your niece finds the help of sherlock holmes to find her teddy bear. warnings: a child? just fluff lol word count: 1.3k a/n: i'm back baby, and with 2 new obsessions (sherlock and wakanda forever lol). thank you for this request!!! sherlock would be an amazing father and you can't change my mind on that

your niece, iris, was practically the light of your life. not having your own kids to take care of, your brother and his wife were more than happy to leave her with you for short periods of time.

this summer, he got assigned a month long trip out of london for work, and he wanted to take the opportunity to have a small 'couple's retreat' and they were more than happy to leave iris with you.

it's only been a little more than a week out of the 4 she'll be with you, but it's already proving to be a challenge.

today, was a whole new level of trouble with her.

after you guys had gotten home from the park, you had put her in bed for a nap- but the problem was, she didn't stay there. before you had put her there, she was going on about her stuffed bear- sir snuggles- and how she lost it.

you told her you'd find it after her nap, but clearly that wasn't a good enough answer for her.

while you read in the living room, she hatched a plan for getting her bear back.

"have you seen sherlock holme's latest case in the papers? my, he's a clever one." you look over the daily newspaper as you speak to your dear friend, a smile on your face.

"attractive, too.” she responds with a grin. “have you heard of sherlock holmes, sweety?" the lady you were with asked iris, and at the time she shook her head and listened as the two of you went on about this famous detective.

iris' eyes widen at the memory. "sherlock holmes!" he'd surely be able to find her beloved sir snuggles, you were constantly talking about the cases of his that had been published, expressing how smart he was.

peeking her head out of the room, she saw that you had your back turned, so she ran to the back door where she snuck out into the backyard.

she'd have to find sherlock holmes and get him on this case.

flat two-twenty-one b was quiet as sherlock sat in one of his armchairs, papers from recent cases strewn about as he flipped through the newspaper.

the day was a boring one, having no new cases to solve and no one to chat with.

he would have gone to the park or the market for a stroll, but he already had everything he would need here and he didn’t see a reason to leave.

so sitting and reading it was.

that was until there was a knock at the door. he looked up at it for a moment, almost wondering if it was a figment of his imagination, but sure enough there was another few knocks after a moment of no reply.

he stood from his chair, tossing the newspaper to the side and going to open the door. when it opened, he saw no one.

but then he heard a small voice.

"mr sherlock holmes?"

he looks down, and surprisingly, there's a little girl gazing up at him.

his eyebrow raises and he glances up and down the hall for someone who could possibly be her guardian. when he saw no one, he looked back at her. "yes?"

a bright smile spreads across her face at the confirmation. "i’m iris. i lost my teddy bear. can you help me find him?"

"i'm not sure about that," he says wearily, "perhaps we should get you back to your mother."

she shakes her head, "she's not home, mr sherlock." she tells him, "i'm with my aunt y/n. she always says how clever you are." she smiles brightly.

he chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his neck, "really? well, you must be worrying her, so how about you-"

"-it'll only be quick, sir!" she pleads, "sir snuggles needs me."

hearing the name she appointed the bear, he sighs softly. he notices the dirt on the skirt of her dress, "have you been to the park today, miss iris?"

her face lights up at his question, "how did you know?" she questions, amazed.

"you have dirt on your skirt." he grabs his coat, stepping out of his flat. "let's go find this sir snuggles."

"why, that looks like it could be your footprint, doesn't it?" he points out in the dirt as he crouched down.

she gasps as she sees it, placing her foot in the print to see if it matches with her shoe. "it is!" she says excitedly.

sherlock can't help the smile on his face, "well, let's follow your steps, then. that should lead us to sir snuggles."

iris nods her head, not giving him a chance to properly stand up before she starts running in the direction the prints came from. he quickly follows.

a minute later, they pass a tree, and something catches his eye. he stops, looking over and seeing a small bear on the ground next to the trunk.

"is this sir snuggles?" he calls out to the girl who was still running along, picking up the stuffed animal and brushing some dirt off of the fabric.

when she turns, he watches as her jaw drops. "it is!" she yells, running back to him. "thank you, mr holmes!"

"well, i couldn't have done it without your help." he smiles as he hands it back to her.

there seems to be a light in her eyes, "do you think i could be a detective?" she asks hopefully.

the question warms his heart, "it looks like you're well on your way. let's get you home shall we?"

as she led him down the sidewalk, they heard a sudden shriek.

"iris!" you grab attention from passing people when you see her, "iris, you get over here right now!"

it's then that you notice the man holding her hand and your eyes widen.

"you! get away from her!"

sherlock is surprised by the fact that a crazed woman has come from seemingly nowhere, yelling at him to get away from the young girl he had befriended- which he does admit, seems pretty suspicious.

"but aunty y/n, it's sherlock holmes!" she tells you excitedly as you run to her.

hearing the name, your eyes widen. "what-"

"you're always saying how clever he is, so i asked him to help find my bear!" she holds up the stuffed animal, "and he did!"

it's as if all words in your vocabulary disappeared into thin air, leaving you to stare in shock.

when he realizes you're not going to say anything, sherlock clears his throat. "it's, uh, a pleasure to meet you."

you're broken out of your disbelief and you blink a few times. "yes, same to you- iris, you shouldn't have left and you certainly shouldn't have bothered mr holmes." you scold.

"but aunty, i couldn't find sir snuggles." she pouts.

"it's no bother, really." sherlock chuckles, "do you happen to be the aunt who, so i've heard, says i'm clever?"

heat begins to rise to your face and you look from him, to iris, and back to him. "well, plenty of folks say that, mr holmes." you clear your throat.

"but you and your friends always say he's very attractive!" iris pops in, causing your breath to catch in your throat for a moment. how much had she been listening to your conversations?

avoiding eye contact with sherlock, you shoot a pointed look at iris. this girl just loves to embarrass you. "i think we should be going now." you take a quick turn on the subject.

you spare a quick glance to him as you grab your niece's hand, "i'm terribly sorry for the bother."

"it's really okay-" you turn on your heel and quickly begin to walk away, until his voice raises slightly, "wait, miss!"

you pause, squeezing your eyes shut and biting your lip. you glance down at iris, before looking behind you and seeing him swiftly making his way toward you. "yes?" you ask, slightly nervous as he looks at you.

"i didn't catch your name."

#henry cavill sherlock x reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill sherlock holmes x reader #cavill sherlock x reader #cavill sherlock holmes x reader

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toomanyfandomsimfanvergent · 1 year

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Announcing new characters to my will write for list

Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavil)

Enola Holmes

Viscount Tewkesbury

#viscount tewksbury #henry cavill sherlock x reader #ynm sherlock #sherlock imagine #henry cavill sherlock holmes #enola holmes fanfic #enola holmes x reader #viscount tewkesbury icons #viscount tewkesbury marquess of basilwether #tewkesbury x reader

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holylulusworld · 5 months

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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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ten-cent-sleuth · 6 months

Text

A Galling Yoke, Part 12

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for the “Where did this come from?” square on my July Break Bingo card

See this post for main info, including a masterlist and synopsis. See this post for warnings.

Word Count: 4.1k

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x f!Reader

Rating: Teen

Baker Street, despite the sun lowering towards the horizon, was awake and moving when you stepped foot on it. A chill breeze blew through you, pricking at your already numbed face. Almost there, you tried to reassure yourself, with as much success as you tried warming up by chafing your frozen hands against your frozen shoulders.

Even when you got to Sherlock’s building, however, reassurance was not at hand. You knocked, and his landlady graciously let you enter and stay by his door—apparently, he had given her a note weeks ago that anyone bearing your name was to be let into the building—but he was not at home. Still. Sitting on the landing outside his flat and folding into yourself was the most rest and comfort you’d experienced in… Well, you didn’t know how long. And it was warm. So very warm…

You were aware of how rudely you’d been awoken before you were aware that you’d dozed off.

“Your ladyship!” shouted a voice as the attached hand jostled you. “You must wake, now!”

You glared up at the blurry face before you. “Must I, ma’am?” You blinked a few times. “That is—sir… Sherlock?”

The crease in his brow collapsed, like dead weight plunging to the floor. “My lady,” he breathed. “You terrorised me. You were shivering, and your skin was ice cold—do you not know that you cannot sleep when you are too cold, lest you never—?” He broke off, but you nodded in understanding.

“I have been walking outside for hours.”

You had meant to comfort him by offering up an explanation for why you were so cold, but he only looked more alarmed. “Hours?” he said. “It has been snowing all—how—why—?”

Your eyes widened as you remembered exactly why. “Oh, Sherlock,” you exclaimed, lurching to your feet. “I have uncovered— That is, I have— Oh dear, I feel rather strange of a sudden…”

Blood rushing to your head, you stumbled a little and would have fallen down the staircase if Sherlock did not catch you and heft you back up.

“Forgive me,” you mumbled. Held close to his body heat, you felt drowsier than ever. “For this, and for the thing…the thing a few days ago…the things I said. Forgive me, Sherlock—Mr Holmes.”

“My lady…”

With a hum, you nuzzled into his chest. This already felt like forgiveness.

But then the soft support you were leaning against stiffened. “Your ladyship. Where did this come from?”

“Hmm? Ow!”

However gently, he had touched your scalp, and you realised suddenly that the area was stinging. Your hands flew up to prod at the tender skin as your memory rewound a bit and recalled your abductor striking you in the head hard enough to knock you out cold.

“Well, sir—”

“And these?” interrupted Sherlock, grabbing your wrists with one hand and turning them over to his sight. “Where did these burns come from? What has happened to you?”

Begrudgingly, you leaned away from him to get a better look at what had him so vexed. “Oh,” you mumbled: your palms were bright red and blistering. When had that happened? “Oh, right.”

“Who did this to you?” he growled.

“Ah, you see, the burns I actually gave myself—”

“What?”

“—but they were necessary! In all likelihood, I turned out much better than he.” You paused as your own words sunk in. You had left that man to die. What if he actually had?

But Sherlock interrupted such thoughts with a waspish, “He?” Shrewd eyes scanned you up and down, darkening with every statement that followed. “Your hair is an utter mess. Your dress is askew—your skirt is torn— Who is ‘he’?”

“I… I know not,” you admitted. “But I believe he is the hitman who was hired by—that is, who killed my husband. He was at Cable Street, summoned, I believe, by Mrs Kinley. And I was at Cable Street because…” Wait, should you explain the familial connection between the nurse and the hitman first? You pressed the back of your hand to your brow; your temples were starting to throb. “Forgive me, Mr Holmes. I am finding it rather difficult to think.”

Sherlock scowled at that but did not hesitate to move both of you to his door and to unlock it. “I shall get a fire going.” His fingers tightened around your arm where they had been heretofore guiding you gently forward, and you understood with a regretful cringe that he was thinking of—as you were—the last time you had been around the hearth in his flat. Still, a fire sounded divine.

He carefully lowered you into the seat nearest to the iron panel, and as you watched him start the fire, you felt your heart melt first. You had missed him. You had missed him terribly, and you couldn’t believe he would still speak to you—welcome you into his home, even. Unfortunately, little beyond your heart did much melting.

The cold had seeped through your clothes, leaving them damp and rigid, and into your skin, sinking down every layer to the bone marrow. You shivered as you watched the flames begin their dance.

And then a fluffy weight fell around your shoulders. You looked up and met Sherlock’s stormy gaze.

“I suspect you have caught a chill, my lady,” he said. “If the fire warms you not within the next few minutes, you shall require a hot bath.”

Your cheeks alone warmed a little at that.

“In any case,” he continued, “you ought to change out of those wet clothes, though it should not hurt to give you those few minutes to regain some strength.” He looked away, ostensibly to grab another blanket for your lap. “You may use that time to tell me what has occurred.”

Eyes lowered, you recounted your sudden realisation about Mrs Kinley, your visit to Miss Algar’s flat, your abduction, and your escape. You skipped over the details of your ordeal, partly because you were depleted of any energy to explain, partly because you didn’t want to voice them at all. Your audience seemed to know much was missing from your narration, but after a long look, he only gave you a nod instead of a barrage of questions.

“It was good of you to check in on them,” he murmured, brushing aside some hair stuck to your clammy forehead—absentmindedly, his gaze far away. “Even if Mrs Kinley is indeed family to the hitman, she may still be exploited—and endangered, along with Miss Algar—should she have been unaware all this time of his intentions. He may have merely told her to keep him apprised, without explaining his involvement, which would explain her chariness.”

You were halfway through a nod when a sneeze ripped through you.

Sherlock frowned. “We best get you out of those wet clothes and into bed. I ought to have some old articles of clothing somewhere for you to use.”

“Oh, that is not necessary, sir,” you stammered. “Simply hail a cab for me—I can pay, of course—and I shall return to Voss House—”

“No.”

“Mr Holmes, I cannot impose—”

“It shall not happen!”

You straightened in your seat, shoulders tensing. Sherlock groaned and dragged a hand down his face.

“I meant not to be…domineering,” he said. “But I would not want you in a hackney right now: it is dark and cold, you are ill and injured. Besides, am I not to assume that you came here…for a reason?”

He and you looked at each other for a long, open moment.

You let your shoulders drop. “You are correct, of course,” you said. “Only, I want not to be a burden while you visit with Mrs Kinley and…”

The shake of his head was so unyielding that you immediately fell silent.

“I shall not see her until Monday—or whenever you are well again.”

Your eyes widened. “But— But the case—”

“I care not for the case,” he said, quietly, intensely. “I have not worked on it for days, my lady, not since—” He pursed his lips for a beat. “Not exactly, at any rate. After my last few deductions, I made up my mind. I think there are certain crimes which the law cannot touch, and which therefore, to some extent, justify private revenge. No, it’s no use arguing. My sympathies are with he who was moved to kill rather than with he who was killed, and I would not handle this case. I shall return to Cable Street to see to Miss Algar’s security, and that is all.”

You stared up at him, caught completely off guard.

He looked down to consider the floorboards. “Of course, we shall have to deal with the hitman somehow. I have very limited sympathy for him.” He looked up, regarding your burns for a second before meeting your eyes. “However, we may worry about that on the morrow. Are you able to stand, my lady?”

“I believe so.”

He helped you to his bedroom, which made your head numb and your extremities cold all over again—you had never been in a gentleman’s chambers before, not even Edmund’s—and as he turned to exit and search for dry clothing to lend, you grabbed his wrist.

He stopped in his tracks.

“I… I apologise.” You let go of him, and while his muscles relaxed, his eyes crinkled in reaction. Not knowing what that meant, you brushed it aside. “Would you please send Voss House a note? My staff should not be made to worry about me.”

“Of course.” He paused. “Of course, that would be necessary. I ought to have thought of that.”

You blinked, and he was gone before you could ask him about his abnormal behaviour.

He came back with the clothes and, permitting you to change in privacy, left to send off the note. Alone, you allowed yourself to bask in the feeling of wearing Sherlock’s sleepwear old, worn, and warm. Long after you had returned these to him, you would carry that feeling, you knew.

After blowing out the candle, you got into bed and pulled the covers close, but when Sherlock came in, he did not hesitate to tuck you in even more snugly.

“I…thank you,” you whispered into the dark. “You do much, sir, and I really do regret the burden I…”

“Shh,” he replied, and you wished you could see where he was. He sounded close, but the dark could distort perception into either nightmare or fantasy.

As he bustled about the room, ensuring the windows were shut firmly and starting another fire in this fireplace, you started to drift off. The last thing you were aware enough to be sure of was his whispering, “You are never a burden, little petal.”

Your slumber was deep and restorative for the first few hours but soon transitioned into fitfulness. Chills wracked your physical frame while fever dreams wreaked havoc on your mental one, and your only relief was the caring touch of Sherlock’s apt fingers. Whether it was wiping your sweat and hair out of uncomfortable nooks or coaxing you to sip some water with prods to your chin, his touch was your anchor. Sometimes, the back of his hand on your forehead was the only snatch of the tangible world that you could get past the blurred outlines of your ailing state.

At a certain point, the mental fog thickened: during the night—at least, you assumed, though that assumption was merely based on the fact you had been sleeping—you had jerked awake with a whimper, grasping at your leg. You had heard Sherlock’s voice, but your brain tuned it out in favour of blaring at you make it stop make it stop make it stop.

“Hurts,” you’d gasped between jabs of pain around, under, and out of your right knee. You were speaking to yourself, and to anyone who’d listen, and to anyone who wouldn’t. “Hurts s’much. Please, please…”

He had said something. You couldn’t make out the words, but the soothing undertones had lulled you into trusting silence long enough for him to creak across the floorboards and vanish out the door. You’d stumbled, dizzy, into half-consciousness by the time he returned.

“Petal. My dear, open those darling eyes for me, I know you can.”

Though you’d swatted at his prodding hands with irked mutters, you’d opened your eyes.

He had tipped his head at you, grinning. “Very good. I thank you, my lady. Now, I have retrieved something for your pain. Open up.”

“What is it? I do not like laudanum—it is vile,” you had tried to say, but your tongue had felt too heavy, your throat too sticky. Instead, you had shaken your head as vehemently as your vertigo would allow.

He had sat on the bed and rubbed your arm up and down. “Please, do not distress yourself, petal. You are in pain, and it may get worse.”

Shuddering, you had recalled the last time you’d had a bad flare-up. It had left you bedridden for over a day, and it hadn’t been as provoked as this one surely had.

“Do you trust me?” he had whispered.

You had trembled with fatigue, depleted by the simple tasks of keeping your eyelids up and keeping your head above the waves of agony crashing over you. You hadn’t had energy to spare for talking, but you had wanted the words out. “Unreservedly,” you’d croaked. “No matter what.”

His smile had been tender then, and you had opened your mouth to accept whatever medicine he had procured, pungently bitter laudanum or not. Arm around your shoulders, he had helped you sit up and swallow it down. But he hadn’t let go even after that. Usually, when your knee acted up and started affecting your whole body, anybody else’s touch—even presence in the room—felt too much, but right then, with the illness and anguish caused by your recent ordeal, you had felt entirely cosy and right curled up against Sherlock’s chest. Just this once.

“It shall take a few minutes to take effect,” he’d said softly, his warm breath skimming over your skin.

“Mhmm.”

“Until it does, I wished to… I needed to…to clarify a fact…”

You’d hummed, prompting.

“Your leg. This injury, this pain of yours… It is Sulyard’s doing? If not for him, you would not be suffering right now?”

You’d hesitated, then opted to at least give him, if not an expounding answer, a small nod. Surely Sherlock could piece—had pieced—together the details: an argument, a raging husband, a smack, a stumble, a trip, a fall down the stairs.

The full force of those details had resounded in Sherlock’s timbre as he’d growled, “It is almost a shame that he is already dead, for I would gladly skin him now—but only almost, as I cannot repine the betterment of the world in his absence.”

You had buried your smile in his chest. As the medicine—or whatever it was—had started to take effect, you had found the strength to tell him, “’M so glad you’ve returned t’me, Sherlock…” You didn’t catch his reply.

That was the only moment you could recall with any clarity. Though there were more instances of almost-consciousness—you might have even heard the murmur of conversation at some point—the next time you were lucid, you could tell from the stiffness in your back and the grime caked on your skin that at least a couple of days had passed. With a groan, you shifted around on the bed to take stock of your poor vessel for this mortal coil.

Craning your neck this way and that on your pillow, you noted your head was still stuffed heavy and throbbing dully, though no longer fuzzy. Tensing and testing the muscles in your feet, your calves, and your thighs, you could tell your legs were sore and likely would be for some time, but they weren’t so irate with you anymore. Lifting your arms to stretch them, you found them unwieldy but that was no surprise—

What was, however, were the cloths wrapped securely around your hands. You held one close to your face, wheezing, “What on Earth…?”

Your mouth snapped shut as a groan—this one not yours—and the creaking of wood sounded throughout the room. Achingly sitting up, you spotted Sherlock sleeping—and fast awakening—in a chair too small for his wide frame.

Gracious. Has he been here the whole time?

He blinked his eyes open, and you blurted out, “Forgive me, sir; I did not mean to disturb you.”

“I do wish you would stop the constant apologies.”

“Forgi—” You bit your lip. “Ah, that is… Good morning?”

Disgruntlement cleared the lingering sleepiness on his face. “I would argue that it is more of a miraculous one.”

It was your turn to blink slowly. You opened your mouth to apologise for whatever you had apparently done to cause his poor mood, but remembered his rebuke in time. He did not wait for you to come up with something else to say.

“Your condition deteriorated abruptly yesterday,” he informed you grimly. “Your fever broke just as abruptly in the night, so I suppose it was a simple matter of getting worse before getting better, but I cannot… I could not…” Heaving a deep exhale, he veered to his feet. “I demand to know, your ladyship, why you went to Cable Street without me.”

Again, you blinked. That’s what his heartfelt speech led to? “I… I had been caught up in the urgency, I suppose, but I also… At the time, that is, I also thought of it as my burden to bear.”

Your voice had shrunk as you went on, and Sherlock’s next words were just as quiet.

“This could have all been avoided if I had been with you.”

You swallowed. “Yes. It had been reckless to go alone. And you, specifically, I should not have kept out of the investigation, even if it would have been difficult to approach you about it after, well…after. It is no excuse.”

He neither agreed nor countered, stalking over to the fire to stoke it halfheartedly.

“Indeed, sir…,” you ventured, fiddling with the blanket, “I am surprised by the lengths to which you would go to care for me after all I have put you through, emotionally and professionally.”

“I am not,” he said, though he spoke more to the fireplace than to you. “I ought to be, surely. Surprise or confusion or censure—any of those would be natural in response to such illogical choices on my part. But no, what is natural to me in this instant—as natural as breathing, as blinking—is to want you to be safe and healthy, and more than that, to ensure that I see to it that you are safe and healthy.”

He still didn’t face you, but you couldn’t begrudge him his having his back to you, as that was the only way you could muster the courage to say—

“You are not angry, then, sir?”

His shoulders went rigid, then dropped. “After we last…parted ways, I realised you had known all along a potential motive for Sulyard’s death and never shared it. Of course, I was angry—furious, really.”

Your bottom lip wobbled. “Oh.”

“But then—” Slowly, he turned around and walked towards the bed. “Then, I realised you had not been actively undermining the case, not until that day. Which meant you had not known all along a potential motive, which meant it had not even occurred to you that the victim’s abusiveness would be a motive, which meant…”

Close enough to touch, now, Sherlock’s clouded gaze was as clear to you as his deductions were to him.

He sat down gingerly beside you. Which meant you hadn’t even thought your pain was that important.

You let out a shaky breath. Which meant you hadn’t even thought anyone would’ve cared enough to do something about it.

He cupped your cheek and caressed it with the pad of his thumb. Which meant you hadn’t even thought—

“I am sorry,” you choked out.

“My lady…”

“I am sorry I did not tell you about Edmund. Even if it were not the motive, it was pertinent to the case and I— I—”

“Do not be,” he said, his voice firm and grave even as he brushed aside your tears with utmost tenderness. “Do not be. You were right, darling. This is your life. Nobody—not even the closest companion, or the cleverest—is entitled to that.”

You leaned forward, dipping your head down. “You were right, too. Behind society’s and others’ expectations, I have hidden what is difficult to show—to share.” Mrs Rogers’s face flashed in your mind, and then Eudoria’s. “But I…I know not how to stop. I know not how to be the girl you knew, who could be free with her heart and let you in. Not anymore, I fear.”

Sherlock shook his head. “You need not. Indeed, in the past few days, I have realised that despite how I have changed and how you have changed—or due to it—you have not shut me out. I may have been wrong for forcing my way into your private information, but I stand by my belief that I know you. I do know things about you that matter; I was only mistaken in what, precisely, that means.”

Your own voice echoed in your head: You know naught what matters! Shame suffused your cheeks to recall the impetuous harshness with which you’d treated your oldest friend, but still… You could no longer blame him for not knowing you beyond his deductions—it was you who struggled with pushing him away, after all—but the fact remained that he didn’t know you beyond his deductions…right?

Using his thumb now to trace your jaw, he said, “To know you completely does not mean seeing what no one else can see. What you have endured is not who you are. To know you completely means seeing what no one else cares to see.

“I see your sweeping compassion in how you care for Pashbroke, Mrs Rogers, Enola, even Miss Algar. I see your quiet intelligence in how you manipulated your kidnapper so that you could escape, just as you controlled the conversation with Lady Brindon and Dr Crawford.

“I know your character, your values, your scent.”

You stopped breathing, his other hand clasping over yours as they trembled in your lap.

“I can envision how your hips and arms move when you walk, as clearly as I can envision how you would react in any given situation, as clearly as—”

“Sherlock.”

“As clearly as I can envision how at home the taste of you makes me feel.” His lips brushed against yours, tantalising your every sense, your very blood.

The contact was feather-light, a whisper of a kiss, yet it knocked your world completely off its axis. You were left spinning, dizzy, as he eased away.

“You are still the girl I knew,” he breathed into your space. “To know you completely is not a matter of deduction, but of devotion.”

Both of his hands moved to frame your face, leaving yours to tremble all the more freely now. As he drew you closer, your thoughts scrambled for justification. Surely now, surely if, surely with—?

But no. Now that you had gotten the hitman involved, there was only one way to end this without any more bloodshed: to close the case.

Clenching one hand into a fist in your lap, you lifted the other to hold Sherlock back. “We should not… I cannot…”

The hurt in his eyes nearly did you in.

“There are aspects of this case that you do not—cannot—understand,” you whispered. “Sherlock…I still plan to turn myself in.”

For some reason, that seemed to assuage some of his pain. “I see.” He paused before clapping his hands together. “Well then, I am in the mood for a walk.”

You gaped. “A w— What?”

“A walk,” he said, rather cheerily for a gentleman whose advances had just been rebuffed yet again, as he climbed to his feet. “Not far, of course, but you mentioned some weeks ago that light exercise is better for your knee than sedentariness.”

He held out his arm, and through your bemusement, you managed to grab onto it and be pulled up. “I did mention that,” you said, dazed. What was going on?

Slowly but steadily, Sherlock led you to the armoire for a robe, out of the bedroom, across the hallway, into the living room—

You froze. “Is that…?” You strained your ears to confirm that the banging and puttering-about noises were coming from this flat’s kitchen. “Is somebody else here, Sherlock?”

Before the detective could answer, an exclamation came from whoever had evidently heard you speak. Then, there were rushing footsteps, and in ran Viscount of Pashbroke, The Right Honourable William Voss.

Sorry for the extended wait with this one, but hey, it’s the longest part so far! Which I did not expect at all from my outline lol. THIS chapter beat the tearoom and the art gallery and the kidnapping scenes? Okay. xD Thank you for reading. Sickfic stuff is not my forté, so feedback is always welcome!

Taglist [comment below if you’d like to be added!]: @theyaremorethanjustfictional @wonderlandfandomkingdom

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill sherlock x reader #protective sherlock holmes #x reader sickfic #henry cavill fanfiction #enola holmes #a galling yoke #the dimensions of fandom

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