#mycroft x sister!reader

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Whoa Baby

Sherlock and Mycroft x little sister!reader

Requested by @shinypandacherryblossom

Synopsis: you have startling news for your big brothers

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, this is kinda short.

Rain pelted your back as you pounded on the locked door of 221B Baker Street.

“Alright, alright, don’t have a-“ Mrs. Hudson froze at the sight of you shivering at her front door. “Oh dear, hurry in.” She stepped aside to let you through.

“Thank you,” you tried to wipe the tears away along with the rainwater, but of course you didn’t fool Mrs. Hudson.

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing,” you cursed the quaver in your voice. “Is Sherlock in?”

“Yes, Mycroft too, he just popped in for a case or something,” the disdain in Mrs. Hudson’s voice made clear her opinion of your oldest brother.

“Thanks,” was all you could manage as you made your way up the stairs. You thought you’d have more time before you had to deal with Mycroft, but you supposed only having to tell the news once might be better anyway.

You didn’t bother knocking, and by the awkward silence that engulfed the room you could tell you’d interrupted something.

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock inquired.

“It’s good to see you too,” you scoffed.

“What’s wrong?” Mycroft noticed your state half a second faster than his little brother, and was therefore the first to bring it up.

You were sure you looked like a mess, and it didn’t take a Holmes’ skill to notice it; you’d rushed here, in the rain, without an umbrella, and you were sure that your tears still left a visible trace on your face.

“I-I need to talk to you guys,” once again you hated the quaver in your voice as you took a seat on Sherlock’s couch.

“We’re in the middle of something,” Sherlock said indignantly.

“It’s important,” you insisted, your tone leaving no room for argument.

“Tell us then,” Mycroft urged.

“Would you sit down, please?”

Sherlock was already seated in his chair, and Mycroft hesitated for a moment before going to John’s chair and sitting.

“Now, what could possibly be so earth shattering?”

“W-well…” you struggled with where to begin. “You remember Y/BF/N?”

“Your boyfriend?” Mycroft nodded. “Of course, what about him?”

“You interrupted us to tell us about a breakup?” Sherlock’s annoyance was evident as he stood.

“How did you-“

“Your appearance is fairly self evident. Is that really all there is?” Mycroft asked, and you could tell his impatience was growing as well.

“No,” you insisted, and with a sigh Sherlock lowered himself back into his chair.

“What, did he cheat on you? I could do something about him, if you’d like,” your annoyance was triggered when Mycroft’s bored tone reached you.

“It’s not just about that jerk, ok? And no, I don’t want you to do anything to him,” you took a deep breath. “He did leave me…be-because I’m pregnant.”

The silence that followed was like a thick mist that hung over the room, all encompassing and ominous.

“He doesn’t want it,” you were crying again now, and Sherlock quickly got to his feet. “H-he…” you stiffened in surprise when Sherlock wrapped his arms around you. “Sherlock?”

Mycroft looked surprised as well, but still he rose to his feet and came to stand by the two of you.

“Forget him,” Sherlock insisted. “We’re going to help you, alright?”

“I want you to stay at my place during your pregnancy,” Mycroft broke in. “It’s the safest for you.”

You felt the corners of your lips twist into a smile. Your world felt upside down right now, but at least you had two brothers to hold onto.

#sherlockholmes #sherlock imagine #sherlock x you #sherlock reader insert #bbc sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock and mycroft #sherlock bbc #sherlockbbc #sherlock holmes #sherlock fanfic #mycroft imagine #mycroft x reader #mycroft x you #mycroft bbc #mycroft holmes #big brother mycroft #mycroft x sister #mycroft #sherlock x sister #sherlock x sister reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock Holmes x sister

[platonicfanfiction]

BBC Sherlock

Living With Moriarty

Living With Sherlock

Hero

Danger Nights [TW] (F)

She’s My Sister [Holmes!Sister]

Proud Of You [TW] [Holmes!Brother]

Adjustments [Austistic!Reader]

The Other Brother [Holmes!Brother]

Brother My Brother [Holmes!Sister]

In Your Silence [Mute!R] [Holmes!Brother]

Dear Sweet Sister [Holmes!Sister]

How do I Hold This [Holmes!Sister]

You Think I’m Dating a Man? [Holmes!R] (F)

Operation & Princesses [Holmes!Sister]

The Safest Place [Holmes!Sister]

Home for Christmas [Holmes!Sister]

#sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x reader #platonic x reader #platonic fanfiction #john watson x reader #mycroft holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #mycroft x reader #holmes!reader #male reader #x male reader #mute!reader #autistic!reader #sherlock x autistic!reader #sherlock x sister!reader #sherlock x brother!reader

[specialagentlokitty]

Mycroft/Sherlock x sister!reader - support

Hi! Can i request one or both of the Holmes brothers with a teenage sister being bullied in school and they find out that she's been hiding it from them? - Anon💜

Sitting on your bed, you read the messages that your friend was sending to you, messages that people were sending him about you.

You sighed and put your phone on silent, setting it aside as you laid down, taking a deep breath.

“(Y/N), Mycroft is asking for you.”

You sat up at looked at your door, giving John a small smile as you nodded your head.

“Alright, I’ll be a second.”

He smiled and left, and you took a deep breath, composing your emotions as you left your room and headed across the flat to the living room.

Giving your two brothers a smile, you stuffed your hands into your pockets.

“Myc, what’s up?” You asked.

“Take a seat.” He said.

You frowned and nodded.

“Is everything okay?” You asked.

“You tell us.” Sherlock said.

He walked into the room and set a cup in front of you and you frowned even more.

Sherlock wasn’t one for making drinks.

“Mrs Hudson made it for you.”

“Ah.”

Taking the cup into your hands, you happily took a sip before you set it back down.

“So, what’s wrong (Y/N)?” Mycroft asked.

You looked up in confusion.

“Huh?”

“We know.” Sherlock sighed.

“Know what? I don’t understand.”

Sherlock pulled his phone out, unlocked it then handed it over to you and you looked at it in confusion.

You recognised your friends number at the top, and all the screenshots she had been sending you this whole week, she had sent them along to him.

“I have them as well.” Mycroft said.

You sat the phone down and stood up.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

You tried to walk away, but Mycroft stopped you, he reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Why did you tell us…?” he whispered.

“Because I can handle it Mycroft! Okay?!”

Sherlock came over and stood in front of you, arms crossed over his chest.

“You can’t, your friend has been telling us all about it.” Sherlock said, “we can see you’re struggling.”

“And he had no right to!”

Tears were streaming down your face at this point, you didn’t know what to do so you fell into Mycroft.

He quickly held you and sighed deeply.

“Let us help you…” Sherlock whispered.

You shook your head, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

“No… no.. I.. I have to do this alone…”

He sighed and nodded.

You were stubborn and he knew that, so did Mycroft.

They knew if you put your mind to something you could do something, and if you wanted to handle this on your own then that’s what they would let you do.

They were going to be ready to step in whenever you needed it, but for now, they would just let you lean on them for support

#bbc sherlock x you #bbc sherlock mycroft #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock #Sherlock Holmes x sister reader #Mycroft Holmes x sister reader

[holylulusworld]

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

[fairy-writes]

Would it be too much to ask for a William James Moriarty x Holmes sister reader? Like she's a travelling archaeologist/anthropologist who's a genius in the field and has found many artifacts and lost cities and can be a bit of an eccentric looney like her older brother Sherly but she's also incredibly kind to those in need and often donates her treasures to the less fortunate and even helps Sherly from time to time which is how he meets her and is impressed by her smarts and sarcastic wits. Also, a bit of a parkour junky likes to wear mens clothes tailored for her measurements and often wears her hair in loose buns or ponytails and loves riding horseback much to Mycroft's displeasure🤭

A BUSINESS PROPOSAL

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): William James Moriarty x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Holmes!Reader, Mildly sexist behavior from Mycroft? It is the 1800s after all.

Notes: So this was super fun to write! 

Fun fact! I took an archaeology class for my associate’s degree in criminal justice and highly recommend taking one to anyone in college! 

I actually took several anthropology classes (intro to anthro, bio anthro, and archaeology). I even considered switching my major to anthropology at some point! (I switched it to English lol)

PART TWO HERE

__________________________________________________________________________

Otis whinnies, and you reach forward from your place in the saddle to pat his neck.

“Easy, Otie, almost there.” You whisper to him and gently nudge him to turn down the familiar road of Baker Street. You could spot your brother’s flat from where you were at, an unfamiliar carriage parked in front. You frown briefly and then shrug. Sherlock could have whoever he liked over. 

But… he did promise to take you out on the town in celebration of your latest discovery. Did he forget?

No… He wasn’t the type to forget something like that. You had been exchanging letters for weeks about your coming home. 

A tall man was at the front of the carriage, tending to the horses. He had spiked black hair and a glove on one hand. He looks at you with skeptical eyes as you draw near and dismount your horse. The Cleveland Bay snorts, ruffling your hair as you smooth your hand up his snout and between his eyes. Then, you promptly tied his reins to the post outside 221B Baker Street and went up to the front door. 

The door knocker was more worn than you last remembered, with the shiny brass turning a glimmering gold color from all the hands touching it. You rap the door once, twice, then a third time, and wait, stuffing your hands in your trouser pockets. 

A young man opens the door, sandy blond hair combed neatly and brown eyes alight with curiosity. A grin breaks your face, and you step forward into his arms as he realizes just who is at the door.

“My dear John!” You shriek, and he chuckles, lifting you off your feet and spinning once in a circle before setting you down. 

“I thought you weren’t due back for another two weeks!” He replies excitedly, and you laugh gleefully. 

“We finished early! Anyhow, how’s Mary? Sherlock said you two were expecting!” You say and slap his shoulder good-naturedly. He ducks his head, a pink flush on his cheeks as he nods.

“She’s home at the mo. But yes, we’re expecting. The midwife thinks it’ll be a girl based on how she’s carrying.” He said, and before you could say any more, there was a noise at the top of the stairs. 

You turn, and your grin widens even more until your cheeks hurt. 

“Sherly!” You crow, and he bounds down the stairs to sweep you up in a bear hug. His boisterous laugh made your heart sing, and you buried your nose in his hair. He smelled like cigarette smoke and whiskey. He must have been on a case. He squeezes you tight and sets you down. 

“I thought you were coming back in two weeks!” He exclaims, and you roll your eyes,

“So John said, I told you we finished early!” You tease, and it is then that you notice that there is someone else in the flat. 

He was tall, probably around your brother’s height. He had blond hair and deep scarlet eyes that studied you with interest. He was dressed in a brown suit with a crimson tie. A lord. That much is obvious.

Sherlock notices that you notice his friend and gestures to the man at the top of the stairs. 

“This is Liam! A mathematics professor at Durham University and a friend of mine who helps me on my cases.” He says proudly as “Liam” descends the stairs and approaches you. 

You stick out a hand and introduce yourself. His hand is smooth like you expected, as opposed to your calloused one. You had bandages littering your fingertips from blisters from shovels and tools. 

“William James Moriarty. I’ve heard stories about you.” His British lilt is proper and endearing. You feel your heart flutter and your ears burn. But you smile warmly nonetheless and give his hand a firm shake.

“As much as I’d like to say the same, Sherly has yet to tell me about you in his letters.” You direct the last sentence to your older brother in the same teasing tone as before. 

Sherlock rolls his eyes and punches your shoulder lightly while William watches on in amusement. 

“I got distracted!” Sherlock complains, and you break out into giggles. 

“I would love to hear some stories if you’re up to it.” William cut in gently before you, and Sherlock could start bickering. You brighten. A chance to tell stories of your work and not have someone get bored? It sounded like heaven!

That was how you got to where you were at the current moment. 

You were seated next to Sherlock at the Moriarty dining table, regaling them with a story of the most current dig you had been on.

“—and Egypt was absolutely smashing! It was so beautiful!” You say, waving your hands excitedly as you describe the tomb that had been uncovered. It had taken weeks to uncover everything, almost months. But oh so worth it. 

“Might I ask what you did with all the artifacts you found?” William inquires, and you hum as you sip at your wine. 

“Donated it all back to the locals. It’s the least I can do. Plenty of archaeologists steal their finds and bring them back to England to show in museums. I try and do the opposite.” You say and were pleased to see William nod in approval. 

At least someone shared your sentiment. 

You got a letter to your very old and very dusty flat a week after your return to England, summoning you to your eldest brother’s estate. You had been dusting and cleaning your furniture when the postman knocked on your door. You frown, brushing your pants on the seat of your trousers, and answer the door. 

The letter was short. 

Dearest sister, 

I have received news of your return to Egypt. I would like to have your company at the family estate for dinner to discuss business and your adventures. 

With best regards, 

Mycroft Holmes

A summons to the Holmes family estate that your oldest brother had inherited after your parents retired to the country. You look at the ceiling and groan, eliciting a funny look from the postman. 

This was going to be fun.

As soon as Otis realizes where you are, he tosses his head and tries to turn around. You tug the reins so he faces the right direction and nudge him into a walk down the road.

“Otie, I don’t want to do this either. But I’d rather not have Mikey send special forces after us or something.” You say to Otis, and when you reach the stables, Mycroft’s hired stable hand takes your beloved horse’s reins. “Take good care of him!” You nearly reprimand the stable hand who agrees and welcomes you back with ease. 

The maids welcome you in excitedly when you rap on the massive double doors, and you are ushered upstairs into the dining room. 

Mycroft was seated at the head of the table, where your father would be if he were here, and he stood to greet you. He offers a handshake, but you simply smile warmly and hug him tightly. He may have grated on your nerves, but he was still your brother. Mycroft stiffens and pats your shoulders awkwardly when you step back.

“As awkward as always, I see Mikey.” You said and took a seat at the table next to him like you did when you were kids. He clears his throat and calls for the kitchen staff to bring in the food. 

It wasn’t much, considering there were only two of you. But it was as extravagant as Mycroft always demanded it to be. 

“Would you like to change into dinner attire before we eat, sister dearest?” Mycroft says suddenly, just as you are about to dig into the delicious roast prepared by the staff of the household. You put your fork down and scowl.

“Don’t start with this, Mikey. You know I hate dresses.” You snap, and he raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push the issue. 

At least… he doesn’t until you are done with your meal and in his study, talking about your travels to Egypt. 

You down the rest of your whiskey and set the glass whiskey tumbler on the table between you two. 

“More whiskey?” He offers, and you shake your head.

“I want to be able to ride home after this.” You say and hold in a yawn. The excellent food combined with the fireplace blazing with a crackling fire is lulling you to sleep. 

Suddenly, Mycroft stands and walks in front of the fire, setting his own glass down on the mantle and turning to face you. 

“Might we talk some business?” He inquires, and immediately, your mood sours. 

So this was his end goal? Get you sleepy and drunk so you couldn’t ride home and were subject to his pleadings?

“I don’t want to hear it, Mikey.” You say and stand, holding onto the back of the wingback chair for a moment as the dizziness sets in. 

He scowls, 

“You are of perfect age. The season is just starting. You could still join in and find a potential suitor!” He tries, and you scrub at your face.

“I already told you I wasn’t interested in courting! I’m interested in—”

“Your work, I know. But what happens when the digs dry up and there’s nothing else for you to do? What will you do when you get too old for this?!” He snaps, and you whirl, steadying yourself with the chair as your anger flares. 

“It won’t dry up! There are thousands of years of history still to be discovered! Hundreds of thousands of cities and archaeological finds!” Your voice rises to a shout, and you hear distant footsteps as maids scurry away from you and your brother’s anger. 

This goes on for several minutes until Mycroft a bomb on you. 

“Mother and Father have decided. If you don’t find someone to court, they will no longer fund your excavations, and you’ll be stuck here with me.” 

You freeze, hands wound tightly in your hair, and argument dying on your tongue. 

“B—But that would mean—” Mycroft cuts you off gently and approaches, putting his hands on your shoulders. 

“You’d be stuck here until you find a husband—no more digs. No more artifacts. Not until you do as they and I ask.” Tears well up in your eyes, and you shrug off his hands violently and flee. 

Your boots pound against the hardwood floors, and you run outside where it has started pouring rain. Instantly, your clothes are soaked as you make it to the stables, dress Otis in his saddle and bridle, and swiftly mount his back. He tears out of the stables at a thundering gallop, and the stable hand barely dives out of the way to save himself from being trampled. 

Otis’s hooves dash against the cobblestone roads. You cling to his reins and hunch over his back as tears stream down your face and sobs wrack your body. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Taking away your funding? 

No one wanted to fund a woman on an archaeological dig! 

Much less one as young as yourself! 

You were screwed! Doomed to live as a housewife because that was society’s and your parent’s expectations of you!

Otis eventually comes to a halt, and you dismount, collapsing onto a bench, breathing hard as rain pours down your body. Your shirt sticks to your skin, and your trousers swim in water as you sit in a puddle on the bench. But you can’t bring it in you to care. 

A carriage rumbles to a stop before you, and you look up as the door opens. 

“Might I interest you in some shelter?” Comes a proper and endearing accent that you recognize. 

“William?” You sniffle, and he smiles, extending a hand. 

“If you’ll let him, Fred will handle your horse. How about you step inside the carriage, and we’ll take you back to the Moriarty estate.” He says over the rain. A young man with a blue scarf wrapped around his head gets off the front of the carriage and approaches. You hiccup and nod, handing Otis’s reins to the young man and accepting William’s hand into the carriage. He sheds his overcoat and offers it. 

It’s warm and heavy as you wrap it around your shoulders and sit down. Your boots squelch against the floor, and William knocks twice against the carriage's wall, and it starts moving once again. 

The Morairty estate is even grander than you remember, looming over you as the carriage stops by the front doors. You nearly slip in your haste to get inside and are taken up the stairs to one of the many bedrooms. 

“Draw a bath and get warm. I’ll have some clothes brought by. We can have a talk after you’ve collected yourself.” William says gently, and you nod, taking off his overcoat so he can have it back. He excuses himself, and you are left alone in the suite. 

The bath is nice and hot, and you let out a sigh as you shed your clothes into a pile on the floor and sink into the warm water. Your tears are drying, but your emotions are still raging like a rabid dog inside you.

How could they? 

Didn’t your family know archaeology was your passion? Your dream?! Of course, they did! You never shut up about it when you were but a little girl learning to play the piano! You babbled on and on about fossils and artifacts in between lessons until you were blue in the face!

It wasn’t long until you were done in the bath and dried off. As William had promised, some clothes were left on the bed. A button-down that looked like it might fit you, a pair of trousers that might be a bit too long, and a pair of undergarments. You tugged on the underwear and then the trousers, having to cuff them at the bottom so you didn’t trip. The shirt fit better than you thought so you pinned your hair out of your face and left the bedroom and down the hall. Hadn’t there been a sitting room just down the stairs? 

William was inside, stoking a fire with a poker, his back to you. He stood and turned when you rapped lightly on the entryway. His lips curled in a welcoming smile, and he gestured for you to take a seat. 

“Would you like some tea? I had Louis put the kettle on.” He said, and you nodded, sitting on the couch beside the fire.

“Thank you. For the clothes and… everything else.” You mumble, and he shakes his head,

“Don’t mention it. Sherlock mentioned you hated dresses.” He says and pours you a cup of tea.

It’s delicious. It warms you from the tips of your ears to the ends of your bare toes. You scuff them on the plush carpet as William sits across from you. His scarlet eyes are illuminated like glittering rubies in the oranges and yellows of the fire. They’re alive like a torch resides inside. 

“Now, might I ask why you were out in the rain?” William asks as soon as you’ve settled into your spot. You bite your lip and wonder if you can trust him with your problems. 

Sherlock trusted him well enough… 

Perhaps…

“I got into an argument with Mycroft. He said my parents will cut off my funding for excavations if I don’t find a proper husband.” You blurt, and he hums as he takes a sip from his cup. 

“I assume they’ve been funding your past archaeological escapades?” He says, and you nod.

“Correct. But that is going to change unless I get married.” You grumble, and he cocks his head to the side, setting his cup down on the tea table next to him and seemingly mulling something over. 

“This may be a bit forward, but I have a proposal. A business proposal, if you will.” He starts, and you narrow your eyes. A business proposal? You set your own cup down and cross one leg over the other. 

“Go on…” You say hesitantly, and he clasps his hands together as if working out a problem in his head. Sherlock did say he was a mathematics professor.

“I could marry you.” You inhale sharply and proceed to choke on your saliva. William half gets out of his chair to come to your aid when you finally get your coughing under control. 

“Why?!” You demand, and he shrugs, 

“I’ve done some research into you. You are spearheading the way in new archaeological techniques. You donate your finds back to the locals in need. And frankly, I find you fascinating. If we go ahead with this, you’ll have access to my brother Albert’s influence as well as the Moriarty name and fortune.” He says, and you sit back, stunned. 

“I could continue my work?” You say skeptically, and he nods. 

“Indeed. There’s no reason to stop you. I might ask for a lecture or two from you at Durham University. But that’s it. So…” He extends a hand for you to shake. “Have we reached an accord?”

You are speechless as possibilities run rampant through your brain. You’d be free from your parent’s influence as well as pleasing them. Though pleasing them was the last thing on your mind. Yes, you’d be married. But like William said… it was more of a business proposal…

You reach forward and shake his hand. His smile widens marginally as you speak,

“I accept your proposal.”

#william james moriarty x reader #william james moriarty x you #william james moriarty x y/n #moriarty x reader #mtp william #mtp william x reader #ynm william #ynm x reader #mtp x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #fairy writes

[cinebration]

What Purpose? (Sherlock Holmes x Reader) [Request]

hellooo, if you taking requests, you could do sherlock holmes (of enola holmes) x reader fic inspired by theo sharpe and eloise bridgerton?? I’d Sherlock to be very in love with the reader, and tells her something like: when I read something new or interesting or provoking, it is you who crosses my mind. It is you I would like to speak with about those thoughts and so I am wondering if you might also have thoughts of me when you think.—Requested by @kelloggs-world​

I slightly modified the quote. I hope you don’t mind!

Warnings: Mycroft

Gif Source: henrycavilledits

“The society papers say you’re cavorting with Lady Thornton’s personal maid,” Mycroft noted dryly, one eyebrow arching in ill-disguised disdain. “A maid, Sherlock, really.”

“A companion.”

“A glorified maid, then.”

Sherlock snapped the newspaper shut and fixed his brother with a stare. “Do you know anything about her?”

“Yes, the heiress to the modest trapping fortune not dominated by Astor. Which makes it all the more disgraceful that she is an old lady’s maid.”

“If her official title were to change to lady’s companion, would that appease you?” Sherlock shook his head. “I forgot to whom I was speaking.”

Mycroft sniffed and plucked up his snifter of brandy. “Really, Sherlock, what purpose does this woman serve?”

Sherlock straightened in his seat, spine dangerously rigid.

Mycroft snorted. “Every person and every thing serves a purpose, Sherlock. So what good does this woman do? I can’t imagine it’s much.”

The words slipped out through clenched teeth, barbed. “She does more than you.”

A brusque laugh tumbled out of his brother. “I highly doubt that, Sherlock. Our own sister isn’t comparable to either of us, and at least she comes from the source.”

Shoving himself out of his seat, Sherlock straightened his suit jacket and shot a glare in Mycroft’s direction. “Enola is more than a match for you, Mycroft. That’s why you failed to bend her to your will.”

A livid flush crept up Mycroft’s neck and into his cheeks. “If I recall, you stepped in as her guardian.”

“Consider that, brother. She convinced me against you.” Sherlock flashed an insincere smile. “More than your match.”

“Here I thought Enola was the problem, scurrying around town like some low-bred urchin, yet I hear you are cavorting with nothing better than a maid.” A sneer curled Mycroft’s lips. “My God, the pair of you. I don’t know why I even bother!”

“No one asked you to bother, Mycroft.”

Sherlock strode for the door, refraining from snapping a goodbye.

“She can’t be worth much,” Mycroft called after him. “Even if she did throw you a bone by sending you on that murder investigation!”

Teeth grinding, Sherlock all but slammed the door shut. Anger radiated in unexpected waves through him, his frustration tantamount to whenever an investigation thwarted him unnecessarily. He couldn’t understand why Mycroft’s words stuck within him. Though his brother was insufferable, most if not all of his barbs passed through Sherlock without so much as an abrasive touch. That he should so infuriate him confused Sherlock as much as it riled up his ire.

Sheets of rain poured down on the city, drowning all light in gray. Hansoms darted down the cobblestone streets, streaming water in their wake, impossible to flag down. The pavement was nearly empty, everyone huddled someplace out of the deluge.

In his haste, Sherlock had forgotten his umbrella. Turning his coat collar up and shoving his hands deep in his pockets, he cut across the street, dodging a hansom he heard before he saw, and stormed in the direction of his flat. The stinging cold of the rain beating into his face and running rivulets beneath his shirt did nothing to cool him of his anger.

“It wasn’t just the murder,” he hissed between his teeth, hands balling into fists in his pockets. Although the death of your last living relative had proven an intricate and thorny case, one that had taken twelve day to solve, it wasn’t as though you were a treasure trove of such cases. In the months since the investigation’s resolution, you had not required Sherlock’s services again.

Lady Thornton, however, had used them in a theft case shortly after Sherlock solved your case, causing you both to cross paths again. Sherlock had taken the time to interview you regarding the theft and any information you might know. As with your own case, you presented facts and evidence in a logical, rational manner, offering up details that surprised Sherlock and gave a glimpse into your perceptiveness, leaving an indelible impression on him.

The theft was resolved in less than two days. Yet Sherlock had returned again to Lady Thornton’s estate to see you. He had recognized a sharp mind desperate to be seen and engaged, and despite himself, he decided he was the man to do it.

The old woman acted as chaperone, but the shrewd and experienced Lady Thornton recognized what was unfolding before even the faintest hint of it brushed either Sherlock’s or your mind. Melding into the shadows as much as possible, a smirk playing on her lips, Lady Thornton contented herself with providing only the barest level of propriety for the sake of the papers, allowing you and Sherlock as much privacy as she could.

Sherlock had found you eager to discuss all manner of subjects. He brought books for you to devour in days so that there was new topics of discourse the next time you met. Your voracious appetite for knowledge and conversation—proper conversation, not the societal niceties that amounted to nothing but superficiality—secretly delighted Sherlock, such that he took great care to select the most interesting of texts to deliver to your door.

What purpose did you serve? The question tasted vile on Sherlock’s tongue, though he hadn’t been the one to ask it. Like a wound, he returned to it again and again, suffering the indignity of it. Did a person have to serve?

As he turned down one street, then the next, he found himself contemplating it. Loathe to admit it, he realized that Mycroft had something akin to a point. Neither Holmes brother wasted time on anyone without reason. For Mycroft, it was blackmail and state secrets, government and high-society connections; for Sherlock, anything to do with a case.

Therefore, why did he spend so much time with you?

The thought spun so quickly through his mind that he grew dizzy with it, pausing to lean against a lamppost. The answer was there, just beyond his reach, and any attempt to grasp it made him ill, the world tilting beneath his feet.

They carried him through the rain until they found a cab unloading an elderly couple. Sherlock flagged the driver and hopped into the hansom, the carriage dipping low beneath his formidable frame. He had to bribe the driver several extra quid to ensure the man drove him out to the estate.

When they arrived, he paid the man and refrained from asking him to stay. Lady Thornton would never allow him to return home in such weather, not without sending him off in her own carriage. Seeing as she wouldn’t subject her own driver to such inclement conditions, Sherlock would be stuck there until the weather cleared.

The staff recognizing him, they let him enter and stripped him of his soaking overcoat and jacket.

“I believe the former master of the house,” the butler informed him in crisp tones, “had trousers you could use.”

“I can dry before the fire,” Sherlock assured him.

He paced in front of the crackling flames for what seemed like an eternity while he waited for you to arrive. When the door opened softly, it took all his self-control to avoid spinning sharply to face you.

“You’ll catch your death, Sherlock, getting caught in the rain like that!”

Suppressing the faint upward twitch of his lips, Sherlock slowly turned to you. The anger at Mycroft’s words melted as he peered into your face.

“What is it?” you asked, reaching up to touch your cheek self-consciously.

“Nothing. I merely…” Sherlock frowned, casting about for words that suddenly eluded him. “Do you believe that every individual in one’s life must serve a purpose?”

Eyebrows arching, you chuffed a quiet laugh. “My, has the weather made you maudlin?”

“No, it isn’t…my brother made an insinuation, and I thought it worth asking you your opinion on the matter.”

Head cocking to the side, you scrutinized Sherlock’s features. “What sort of insinuation?”

“Well…” Sherlock laughed, shook his head. “Mycroft is uncannily skilled at insinuating more than one thing with few words. It would take hours to parse everything he means from what little he says.”

“You are stuck here until the weather improves, so we have the time to spare.”

Sherlock met your gaze, your eyes sincere and curious. Struck suddenly with the urge to fidget, he turned back toward the fireplace and leaned against the mantle, his soaked trousers and collar slowly drying.

“I think,” you answered carefully, “that whom we choose to spend our time with speaks to their importance in our lives.”

Sherlock glanced over his shoulder at you.

“For Lady Thornton, my purpose is to be a companion. She may compensate me for it, but I would be her companion for free, because I enjoy spending time with her. Her purpose for me, if it matters to know, is as mentor and friend. That is sufficient.”

The words sunk into Sherlock’s thoughts, quieting them. The flames popped behind him, crackling as the logs shifted.

“Mycroft asked me what purpose you served,” he heard himself say. “He doesn’t understand why I spend my time with you.”

Your throat moved as you swallowed reflexively, your gaze dropping away from his. “Frankly, I’m inclined to agree with him. I don’t understand why you spend your time with me.”

Sherlock frowned, his chest tight. Were there words to explain why? He considered it for several moments, his heart an uneven metronome in his ribs.

“When I read something new or interesting or provoking,” he began, the words passing softly over his lips, “it is you who crosses my mind. It is you I would like to speak with about those thoughts. So I come here and I share them, and I enjoy hearing your replies.”

You glanced up at him, your gaze sharp and hesitant simultaneously.

“And I find myself wondering…” He swallowed thickly, the words on his tongue as if they had waited his whole life to be there, his thoughts roiling in confusion but the conviction that this was right, inevitable, felt firmly in his deepest self. “I am wondering if you might also have thoughts of me when you think.”

Your lips trembled, caught between a smile and panic, triumph and anxiety. Pressing your fingers against them, you inhaled sharply and attempted again, this time managing to speak. “I think of you often, Sherlock. How could I not?”

Something sharp buried itself in his chest, but the feeling was not altogether unpleasant. Sucking in a breath, he gripped the mantle with both hands, knuckles white with the pressure. He didn’t know how to proceed, the confession having worn out any social manner he had been forced to learn.

Gently clearing your throat, you offered, “So when next you see your brother, tell him the purpose I serve is…as your other self, as you are my other self.”

Your hand touched him lightly on the elbow. Shifting, Sherlock watched your hand slide down the length of his forearm, fingers gently entwining with his. The touch sent shivers through his arm and down his spine, startling him with their strength.

“He will never understand that,” he managed to say, his voice thick.

“Then we should pity him.”

Meeting your gaze, Sherlock laughed, unable to let the sharp ha! stay buried. You smiled, flashing teeth in a beautiful face. He hadn’t realized you were so beautiful…or perhaps you had been beautiful all along, and it had taken all this time for him to see it.

#Sherlock Holmes x Reader #Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock Holmes imagine #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill imagine #Cavill!Holmes #Henry!Sherlock #Enola Holmes 2 #Enola Holmes #requests

[princessaxoxo]

Strangers to lovers part 4

Sherlock x reader

Summary: Being Enola’s sitter was an adventure, but not as much as falling for her brother, Sherlock.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Implied Alcohol consumption, Major fluff (finally) 

Word count: 2.1k+

Sherlock staggered out of the pub and into the street. "Sherlock?" his younger sister's well-known voice called out to him. "Enola, my beloved sibling," and he asked, "How are you on this nice evening?" as he struggled to return to walking. "From what I can tell, significantly better than you," she said, shaking her head. "Mycroft would scold you for acting in such a manner if he could see."

Sherlock laughed drunkenly at his sister's obvious acknowledgment. "Come with me; let's travel home so you can recuperate from this." Sherlock collapsed onto his couch as she pulled him to his apartment. "I'll stop by tomorrow to see your state of mind." As his eyes drifted for the night, he witnessed Enola depart. Sherlock grimaced when the strong sun shone through the tiny gap between the curtains the next morning, as he woke up with a headache. He put his hand over his eyes. With a groggy expression, he got up and went to take a soak in the tub.

Soon after, he heard Enola calling from behind his front door, "Come in." Sherlock shouted. A smile spread across her face as she said, "Oof, you look horrible." Sherlock tightened his jaw and said, "Thank you; that is how I feel right now."

"With her, communication, patience, and listening will work better than drinking until you can no longer stand or function."

“Indeed, but it appears that the situation is insignificant. I'm not wanted by y/n. Although I've changed significantly since then, she wants the man I was four years ago. She loves him, not me now.”

“She wouldn't have accompanied you yesterday if she didn't want or love you now. Perhaps go meet her; tomorrow is best. wouldn't be a wise decision to travel today."

Sherlock glanced sideways at Enola before averting his eyes.

//

At the precise moment his door opened, you raised your fist to knock; however, your move was cut off, and you spoke first. "Good morning. After yesterday, I wanted to stop by and see you."

Sherlock widened his door for you to enter.

You could smell booze as soon as you came in. "Have you drank today?" you asked, turning to face him. "Ah, no. Simply put, yesterday's evening wasn't pleasant.” Seeing how you made him feel that way, your face sank. Sherlock became increasingly uneasy since he could see by the expression on your face that you felt deeply guilty. "Don't worry about me. What happened last night was, in my opinion, difficult for us both."

"Yesterday is behind us; I wanted to speak with you today. And while I am aware that we have had a lot of conversations lately, I hope that this one will make us both happy.” Sherlock started to feel anxious and wondered whether this was it. Your talk of happiness was merely a means of telling him it would be better for you both to part ways.

You took a seat on his couch, close to him. "I have taken note of your efforts. Please don't think that I didn't find it beautiful or that I didn't appreciate the gesture, especially yesterday. And the conversation we shared made me consider accompanying you on your endeavors because I truly want us to work," you said, and Sherlock listened to you intensely before replying.

"Are you certain? We may be in love, but the future is not clear. If we decide to have children, it will be difficult, love—not the typical difficulty that parents go through with raising kids, but the kind of difficulty where you will be alone with our kids for months or even years at a time, and I know you want them. However, you would have to accept that. I want you to feel that you are not required to do something simply because you love me. To you, that wouldn't be fair."

You gave what he said some thought. You had not completely contemplated the possibility that he would leave even after the two of you established a family together, and you had desired to have children with him. However, you grinned and said, "I'm certain, Lockie." He arched an eyebrow at you and asked, "Did you just call me Lockie?"

"That's right, your assigned nickname." After kissing him and putting your hand on his face, you began to move away, but he stopped you and drew you closer to him. His tongue skimmed across your lower lip, causing your lips to part and allowing him to enter. He filled the air with his scent, and his kiss was tender and loving rather than forceful and demanding.

“Stay here for the night," Sherlock said against your lips, and you obliged by giving him a peck on his lips.

//

Sherlock made multiple unsuccessful attempts to prepare a supper for you. Your gut ached from laughing at him more and more each time. You continued to giggle as you said, "Okay, stop, I'll do the cooking." He nearly set his kitchen on fire. "I think you should watch me so you know how to feed yourself when I'm not around." You possess a sarcastic tone. You jumped as his hand gave you a little smack across your bottom, so you struck his arm in return, saying, "Hey!" and continued to say, "I was joking," and then paused for a short while before continuing. When you turned to face him again and said, "Or maybe I wasn't," he initially gave you a grim look, but as he turned away, you could see a tiny smile.

//

"No, you are my professional chef, and you will never leave my apartment. Baby, this is too good. You've been hired," he declared, his mouth full of food. Being the sole person to whom he has shown this aspect of himself gives you great joy. It was more intimate because he had never revealed it to his own family. "Thank you, my love, but that is unfortunately not acceptable."

He asked, "No, and why is that?" to you.

"Neither can you buy me, nor can I be employed. I'm not a lady of the night.” He agreed, "No, you’re surely not.”

He said you two should take a bath to unwind after you finished dinner. Sherlock came up behind you and assisted you in getting out of your dress as the hot water was poured into the tub. Untying your gown and letting it fall, following your undergarments. He grasped your hand and eased you into the bathtub. Your skin felt warmed by the water. You turned to watch him take off his clothes, observing as each article of clothing dropped to the ground until his bare body was visible.

As you turned, he murmured, "You have very watchful eyes, my love." "What harm does that cause?" You questioned him, "Not at all, particularly with your wandering eyes upon me." He joined you in the tub.

Your laughter echoed through him after he said that. Sherlock desired to enjoy that indefinitely. When he brought the sponge near the water, it began to absorb the water, and he began washing you. "Darling, how does it feel?" You closed your eyes and hummed in return, saying it felt wonderful.

Sherlock kept lifting the sponge over your body and letting go of the water it contained, and for the next few minutes, you spent each other's presence in a relaxed silence. As the water trickled down your breasts and down your stomach, you two gazed. He kissed you on the side of your neck, and you could feel how silky his lips were at all times.

"Do you want to go to bed?" You agreed with him; Sherlock took the lead by removing himself first. You bit your lip and poked his buttocks with the end of your foot while his body was still turned away from you. After a little period of inaction, he snatched you from the bathtub and flung you onto the bed. "Ah! Sherlock!" you exclaimed. With a playful "You think you can kick me and there will be no consequences?" tone, he started to tickle you. "Sherlock, stop, stop," you would say between chuckles. Your laughter never stopped.

He nuzzled his face into your neck and started kissing every inch of your face. "That was sufficient punishment!" you told him. "You asked for it when you kicked me," he shrugged. "But you know I don't like being tickled," you said.

Afterward, you demanded that he get you both some clothes.

He looked at you and said, "Demanding now? Politely ask, and I'll retrieve them."

"I'm not saying please, and I’ve always been demanding."

"Yes, of course you have," he responded with pursed lips, "but I'd much rather stay here and stare at you."

You shooed him away and said, "We have all night for that Lockie. Now go."

"I refuse to allow that nickname to stick."

"Yeah, it will; I'll make sure of it, Lockie," you added, and he glanced over at you. "Plus, you can never say no to me." With a smile of amusement, you both acknowledged you were right.

//

A couple of hours later, you were laughing at his foolishness while lying on top of him behind the covers. "You're just an idiot, baby, but it's funny how the most notorious detective in history is deemed to be a genius."

He turned you over and said, "You may be right, but I'm your idiot, and you also happen to love it." You scowled as he gave you a shocked expression.

"Yes, tragically, I do," you replied to him.

"I have no fear of tickling you again," he said, and you rolled your eyes at him.

He bent down and smiled cheekily at your request to "shut up and just kiss me."

He moaned under your intense kiss as you encircled his neck with your arms. He kissed you again, tracing his nose along yours.

"Are you interested in knowing something?"

"Of course," and he swept your hair aside from your face.

He kissed you on the lips, saying, "I love your lips, and I love your cheeks that always have a rosy tint to them; I love your hair that always smells of flowers," and brushed your hair behind your ear. “I love how your arms fit so perfectly around my neck,” he remarked. He took hold of your arm and planted a kiss below it. He made his way down to kiss both of your breasts. "And naturally, I adore both of these," he chuckled. With your eyes fixed on Sherlock, he continued to descend. Your heart enlarged as he kissed your stomach and said, "I love your stomach, which will someday carry our children." After kissing your thighs on the inside, Sherlock proceeded to kiss along your legs. "Y/n, I adore every aspect of you. I will always love and cherish you."

It was as though you could explode at that very moment, the way his declaration of love for you made you feel. He kissed you again, this time up your body to your lips. It was unbelievable to hear what he had just said. It was not what you had anticipated. As for your response to him, you had no idea.

"I love you so much," you said, peering between his blue eyes.

He reclined next to you, entwining your legs with his. All night long, he kept you near, keeping you warm with his arms encircling you. Sherlock was always wide awake until he heard your sweet, soft snores. He was soothed to sleep by your steady, peaceful breathing.

//

You whimpered when you woke up the next morning and felt empty where Sherlock had previously been lying. You could see your eyes straining to open and acclimate to the new light when the curtains were slightly drawn. When Sherlock came into his room with a tray of food, he noticed that you were stirring. "You're awake at last," he said, and you raised your head. And as he got closer, you could see that food had been ready for you. He planted a kiss on your forehead and said, "I wanted to surprise you with breakfast; I did not burn anything this time." You chuckled at him.

Despite your messy bed hair, he felt you looked as stunning as ever, and he crawled back into the bed and watched you eat in awe staying with each other for the rest of the day.

Part 5

#henry cavill #first post #fluff #henry cavill x reader #sherlock holmes #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock fandom #sherlock fanfic #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x you #enola holmes #enola 2 #enola and sherlock #ofc x sherlock holmes

[espinosaurusrexex]

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?

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#1k follower celebration #megs imagines #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #henry cavill sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes x y/n #enola holmes #henry cavill sherlock holmes #henry cavill fanfic #sherlock holmes x you #enola holmes fanfic #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes #henry cavill imagine #enola holmes imagine #sherlock imagine #sherlock holmes fanfic #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry sherlock

[temporaryrose200]

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

✩You’re something✩

✟pairing: William James Moriarty x Fem Reader

✟genre: Fluff?

✟warning:Not proof read

✟One-Short

✟fandom: Moriarty The Patriot

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

✟a/n: None

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#moriarty the patriot #yuukuko no moriarty #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukuko no moriarty x reader #x reader #william james moriarty #william moriarty #william james moriarty x reader #william moriarty x reader #sherlock holmes #⚰️

[maaarijaaa]

Mine ❦ Sherlock Holmes Part Eighth

Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: Sherlock Holmes, the most famous detective in the world. After finishing a case, he decided to visit Enola and his mother. On the first day of the visit he laid his eyes on a beauty, you 

Disclaimer: I do NOT allow for my work to be translated or posted anywhere else on this app or other platforms. English is not my first language so let me know if I made any mistakes!

Words count: 1.5k

A/N: I am finally done with this story🫶🏻The prologue would be posted in a few hours to see their married life with some kids maybe👀 This part might be bad but I have tried my best❤️‍🔥

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated🫶🏻🫶🏻

Its been a week since you have sene each other.

A week of both of you crying, not sleeping and worst of all, not eating.

Your own father could not recognize his own daughter. He was there for you the whole time and you were thankful for that but you were still angry at him for even trying to set you up with Mycroft.

While you and Sherlock were heartbroken, Mycroft on the other hand was very happy. He knows that soon or later you will be his and your father and him would finally start a business together.

You did not know this but Mycroft was coming over to your fathers house to chat. What you also did not know is that Mycroft brought a red velvet box with him, with your engagement ring being inside of it.

What Mycroft did not know was that a little bird was watching him while he prepared the ring in his study, that little bird would be Enola who would later tell her other older brother,Sherlock, before its too late.

Mycroft gets out of his carriage and sees that your dad is waiting at him at the porch of your house.

“Nice to see you again, Mycroft” your father spoke.

“Well its been a week since I last saw you and your beautiful daughter so I thought why not visit you” Mycroft spoke.

They walked into the house and later on into your fathers study room.

“Before we talk about some business I wanted to show you something.” Mycroft spoke to your father.

“I have brought your daughter a gift and wanted to ask for your permission…”

You father first stared at the ring then Mycroft.

“To take her hand in marriage. I love her deeply.” Mycroft knew himself that it was the biggest lie he has ever told your father but, business is business.

You father was in the disbelief, he did not expect that.

“You know, she is going thru a hard time but maybe you should ask her the question, you have my permission. I want what’s best for her and I think you marrying her would be a great idea.”

While Mycroft was happy that he got your fathers permission to marry you, Enola struggles to get Sherlock out of his bed.

He was very angry at himself for hurting you.

He was not getting very much sleep or eating very much. All he could think about is you.

Your beautiful face, your soft lips that stretch into a beautiful smile whenever you lay your eyes on him and your eyes that he always found beautiful.

While Sherlock was lost in his thoughts, Enola successfully got her brother out of the bed by pushing him and Sherlock falls on the floor.

“Ouch! What was that for?” Sherlock asked his sister

“Well since you did not wanna listen to me, I had to do it the harder way!”

Before Sherlock could even say a word, Enola cut him off

“If you don’t do anything, Mycroft is going to marry Y/N!”

Sherlock’s eyes widen at what Enola just said.

“What do you mean he is going to marry her?” He asked his sister.

“He went to visit her and her father this morning and brought a ring with him!!!”

Sherlock looked at his sister before rushing off to get ready. He needed to fix this.

While getting ready he wondered why Mycroft would marry you. Mycroft had zero interest in you and then it him.

The woman that was flirting with him at the event came with Mycroft and saw her around him few times. He formed the dots and realized that it was Mycroft’s plan all along.

“That son of a bitch!” He mumbled

After getting ready, he rushed down the stairs and ran to your house.

Meanwhile you were getting ready, you heard the voice that sounded too familiar.

Mycroft.

You rolled your eyes. He just loved destroying your life at every chance he got.

You dad knocked on your bedroom door.

“Honey, are you awake?”

You quickly grabbed your robe and put it on before shouting

“Yes father, I am awake! You can come in!”

Right after you said that you see your father entering your bedroom with no other than Mycroft him self.

Your father came up to you and hugged you.

“My only daughter, you have grown into a smart and beautiful woman. I am becoming old and when my time comes there will be no one to take care of you.”

“Father, what are you talking about?” You shed a tear.

“This morning, Mycroft came up with a wonderful request.”

You looked at your father and then Mycroft who was pulling out a red velvet box and was getting on his knee. You stopped breathing at that moment.

“Today is one of the happiest days of my life. Today I came to ask your dear father to take your hand in marriage and to my surprise he agreed. So will you, my beautiful Y/N, be my wife?”

He then opened the box and reveled a beautiful ring with a diamond on it but you knew you could not accept it. Your heart still belong to Sherlock.

Just as you were about to open your mouth, you heard someone running through the door.

“Y/N!!!” Sherlock shouted.

You then ignored your father and Mycroft and ran down stairs.

There he was. He finally came for you.

You ran into his arms and kissed him passionately.

Mycroft was pissed to say at least while your dad was more confused.

“What are you doing here Sherlock?!” Mycroft asked angrily.

Sherlock pulled away from you and looked at his brother.

“I came here to see the love of my life and I also came here to make something clear. Don’t you have anything to tell, Mycroft?”

You and your father stared at Mycroft slightly confused.

“Where is your friend Vanessa by the way, is she destroying other relationships and marriages now?”

You stared at Mycroft and then you too collected the dots. This was one of Mycrofts shitty plans.

“It was one of his many plans. Enola searched your office this morning and found out that it would be easier for you to make money and become businesses partner with her father by simply marrying her. When he passes everything that he would leave for her would be given to you. You found about our relationship and decided to use ur friend, paying her to play my so called “mistress” so that you could end us, but you know what?”

Just then, Sherlock put his arm around your waist and pulled you to his chest.

“Even if you tried it a million times, you would not succeed because my love for her and her love for me is stronger.”

Just then, Mycroft leaves the house, throwing a tantrum outside your house.

Sherlock pulls you close and presses a soft kiss on your lips.

“What now?” You asked him

“Well, do you want to get married. I don’t have a ring with me so I can not really propose you in a traditional way but..”

Sherlock could not finish the sentence since you cut him off with a kiss and said

“Being your life would be the best thing that has ever happened in my life.” You said while pressing your foreheads together.

You then turned around around and saw your father smiling

“I am sorry I wanted to do what’s best for you. And you Sherlock, have my full permission to marry my daughter.”

You and Sherlock looked at each other, smiling before kissing again.

You could not wait to get married….

Tag list requests are closed since there are just too many requests❤️ turn on you notifications to get notified🫶🏻

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[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Take Care

Sherlock and Mycroft x little sister!reader, John x teen!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you get a startling diagnosis that turns everyone around you overprotective

Warnings: cancer, mentions of death (no actual death)

“She…she has what?”

John looked up from his newspaper at the sound of Sherlock’s distress. He had picked up a call from Mycroft and answered with the usual bored disdain, but after listening for a moment he had sat up rigid in his chair.

“I see,” Sherlock went on. “I’ll be right over, I…oh. Yes, alright.”

“What was that all about?” John asked as Sherlock put the phone down. After a moment, John thought he wasn’t going to answer, but finally he spoke, his voice dazed.

“What? Oh, Y/N, she’s…Mycroft is bringing her over for a bit.”

“Is she alright?” John asked hesitantly.

“I…no. I don’t know,”

“Sherlock this is ridiculous, what’s wrong? You’re worrying me.”

You had become quite the regular at Baker Street, sleeping over there almost as much as you stayed with Mycroft, your legal guardian.

“Y/N…she has cancer.”

“She what?” Surely he had heard wrong.

“Mycroft took her in for an appointment, routine check up, that’s all, but…” Sherlock swallowed, and didn’t finish.

“How…I mean…” John wasn’t sure how to ask about the severity.

“I’m not sure,” Sherlock said finally. “Mycroft didn’t say much.”

“Hey Sherlock!” To say Sherlock was surprised when you came bounding into 221B like nothing was wrong would be a severe understatement.

“Hello,” he greeted hollowly. You stepped past him to bring your bag to your room, and Sherlock turned to look at Mycroft.

“She knows?” He asked quietly, and Mycroft nodded.

“I believe she doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“How bad is it?”

“They said they aren’t sure about the outcome. They want to start treatments as soon as possible, and it all depends on how she responds to it. All we can do is make sure she gets enough rest and water between visits for now.”

“Alright,” Sherlock sighed. “Then we do all we can do.”

…

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You looked up at Sherlock with a frown.

“Just for a walk.”

“No you’re not,” he responded. “It’s time you took a nap.”

“Gee grandma, you first,” you scoffed.

“Y/N, don’t be like that,” John insisted.

“You guys really aren’t gonna let me take a walk?” You glared at the two men, who didn’t waver an inch. “Fine,” you groaned, brushing past them to your room and closing the door.

…

“Drink.”

“I’ve had like four glasses of water today Mycroft, I’m not thirsty.”

Mycroft gestured to the glass in front of you insistently. You rolled your eyes and took a sip.

“Finish that, and then you should take a nap.”

“I’m fine.”

“He’s right,” Sherlock chimed in from the sofa.

“Since when do you two agree on anything?” You scoffed.

“Since now.”

You glared at Mycroft.

“You can’t lay off for one afternoon?”

“No.”

“Ok, I’ll nap on one condition; you let me go to Christie’s later, she wanted to study together.”

“You’ll take a nap either way,” Mycroft responded.

“Wanna bet?” You challenged.

“No, because I don’t have to. You’ll do as you’re told.”

“John, a little help?”

“Don’t look at me,” John raised his hands. “I’m with them.”

“Could you guys stop treating me like this for two seconds?” Your tone rose with your anger.

“Like what?” Mycroft’s resolve hadn’t changed.

“Like I’m an invalid!” You shoved past your brothers and slammed the door to your room.

…

“She won’t answer.”

“I know that,” Sherlock griped at his older brother.

“Should we pick the lock?”

“She’d kill us.”

“Well, she’s worrying me, she’s been in there for a while,” Mycroft pulled out a lock pick and got to work.

When the lock clicked, he called out a warning.

“We’re coming in if you don’t open this door!”

Silence.

Mycroft pushed open the door, and sighed in relief when he saw you on your bed, a book in your lap and headphones in your ears. You looked up in disgust.

“Privacy much?” You growled as you pulled your headphones out of your ears.

“You’ve been in here for too long, and you wouldn’t answer when we knocked,” Mycroft insisted.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“Because we need to talk,” Sherlock came to stand by your bed.

“About what?”

“About ‘how we treat you’,” Mycroft sighed.

“Alright, talk.”

“You know why we do it,” Sherlock insisted.

“Yeah, because you’re nosy control freaks.”

“Because we’re worried,” Mycroft corrected.

“You shouldn’t be.”

“That’s a load of crap,” everyone turned in surprise when John entered the room. “You know full well why they’re scared, and you are too. There’s not much we can do, alright? The only things we can do is make sure you get your rest in between treatments, and try our best to take care of you. So that’s what we’re doing.”

You were silent for a long moment.

“I-I just…” the tears in your eyes were perhaps the most surprising because it was the first time your family had seen you cry since the news came. “I don’t want to spend what could be my last few months just…resting. Wasting time, relaxing, and-and-“

“Hey,” the sternness in Mycroft’s tone shut you up immediately. “These aren’t your last few months. That’s what we’re trying to ensure by keeping you rested, and able to fight this.”

“We’re not letting you die, understand?” Sherlock lowered himself to meet your gaze.

“Ok,” you choked, and you were relieved when John stepped forwards and pulled you into his arms.

“You’re going to be ok,” he promised.

You smiled.

“Thank you.”

#Sherlock #Sherlock holmes #sherlock x sister reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock x little sister #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlockholmes #sherlock and mycroft #sherlock fanfic #mycroft #big brother mycroft #mycroft holmes #bbc john watson #john watson x reader

[jwnchstr]

THE LOVE LETTER | sherlock holmes

Title: The Love Letter | sherlock holmes

Pairings: Henry Cavill!Sherlock Holmes x Y/n!Reader

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: In which, Enola found her brother's love letter.

*

“Dear Scherlock,”

     Enola hasn’t finished the whole letter and yet she already pulls a face, disgusted with the sender. It’s not because of a thought of her favourite brother having a partner. If anything, she would be the happiest person on Earth seeing Sherlock standing with a woman—a remarkable woman—beside him.

     But, out of the many outstanding, smart, remarkable women in this century, why must this woman Sherlock choose? Who did this woman think Sherlock is? A German?

     “By the time you’re reading this letter, I might not be in England anymore. And I should’ve told you this a few days ago, but nowhere seemed the right time.

     “But then again, when is the right time when it comes to me and us...”

     Enola wonders how long is a few days ago. Has it only been a few days? Well, she would like to think that it’s only been a few days since Sherlock received the love letter. But judging by the faded ink, she thinks it must be three weeks the least.

     And the hole at the centre, and the rips at the edges give Enola an impression that Sherlock must have been rereading the letter since the day he received it. With that case, Enola wonders how much his brother likes this woman, how much this woman means to him.

     She wonders if she knew this woman because let’s face it—since Enola knows Sherlock, she never not know Sherlock’s lovers. Call it a perk of being an inspired detective. She might learn one or two tricks to spy on her brother from her brother himself and she’s guilty to pull the tricks on her own brother.

     Enola continues reading the letter out loud even though she is well aware that she could be caught by Sherlock at any moment seeming that she is, indeed, in Sherlock’s apartment. (One of the places where she enters and leaves anytime she’d like.)

     Enola could feel this woman’s frustration with Sherlock through the letter. Glad that she’s not the only person who feels like it. Even being his sister is frustrating.

     Everything is a no, for instance. Like “No, I don’t need your help.” Or “No, you can’t stay.” Or “No. Just no.” And then there are times when he acts like he loves you yet says the opposite. It’s frustrating to make Sherlock opens up upon something. Just anything.

     Enola guessed, he is the same in romance.

     “I just wanted to let you know that I—”

     “That’s enough now, Enola.”

     Sherlock, out of nowhere, without warning, snatches the love letter from his sister’s delicate hands, leaving her agape in shock.

     “I suggest you leave before I call Mycroft to make you leave,” Sherlock threatens while refolding the letter and carefully slips it into the pocket of the same vest he wore to sleep last night, securing it as if it’s the most vulnerable thing in the world.

     Ignoring her brother, Enola says, “Would you care to tell me—”

     “And for the thousandth times, Enola, stop touching my belongings!” Sherlock turns around and starts making his way towards the living room, where he works most of the times, before turning back around to face Enola.

     Enola frowns. “What?”

     Squinting his eyes at his sister, Sherlock says, “How did you get in?”

     “How did I get in?”

     “Into my apartment. How did you get into my apartment? Did you steal my spare keys? Ah, wait. No. Don’t answer. I don’t think I want to hear it.” Sherlock sighs before making 180 degrees turn and gets back to his desk.

     Her eyes trail after her brother’s figure before he stops in front of his desk and sighs and runs his hands through his face and hair.

     “God...” he whispers to himself.

     Enola observes Sherlock’s living room. To her, there’s nothing wrong with it. There are still papers on the floor though on a stack rather than scattering all over. His working desk is neater unlike last night where there were unwashed coffee mugs here and there. His journaling pens are inside their holder—right here they belong.

     “It was all a mess, Sherlock. And I was bored while waiting for you to wake up so I helped a little.” Enola shrugs rather than coward away. “Plus, now you can work without difficulty.”

     “Work without difficulty? I almost had everything figured out, organised to its timeline.” Sherlock wants to shout but it’s impossible with Enola’s innocent doe eyes staring back at him. “This is… this is why I never invited anyone into my apartment. Now, leave before I—”

     “Oh, don’t play that Mycroft card on me, Sherlock.” Enola puts a finger up to warn her brother. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me about that letter.”

     Sherlock hung his hands on his waist. Annoyance is creeping inside him. “What about that letter?”

     “Who sent you that letter?”

     Sherlock shrugs. His face barely showed any emotions when he answers, “I don’t know.”

     Enola narrows her eyes at her brother. It’s still hard to read Sherlock’s facial expression but she knows he is lying to her right now. “Do I know her?”

     “Either you know her or not, that’s none of your business. Now, before I use a force on you, I suggest you leave.”

     Enola smiles mischievously, crossing her arms on her chest. “Is it? Well, let me tell you what, brother. Whomever that girl is, I really think you can get a smarter woman because who the hell misspells Sherlock ‘Scherlock’?”

     Something inside Sherlock twists. His eyes darkens as he looks into Enola’s eyes. “Hey. Don’t talk about her like that.”

     “So you know her?” Enola’s face lights up as if she’s on the verge of getting the answer she wants. “And if you know her, than I must know her, too! Or is she someone new?” Enola beams.

     A random curse escapes Sherlock’s mouth.

     “Oh, come on, brother! Tell me! I swear I won’t tell mother and Mycroft about her.”

     “Really? You would do that?” Sherlock doesn’t fully trust Enola despite her being his little sister, despite how she knew every woman he spent the time with or had a relationship with.

     Hell, Enola even saved him from bad relationships on several occasions. But, regarding the current topic, not everything needs to be told, isn’t it? Even when she claims that she won’t spill anything to their mother—the woman whom she freakily closed with. And he knows that there’s nothing good coming out when Enola and Eudora together.

     However, like Enola said over a few months before, that there’s nothing wrong in admitting that he could use a friend. Being constantly on the run, solving puzzles, fighting people, can get lonely. And seeming that the only friend he has now is Enola, there’s nothing wrong in confiding her, is it?

     Sherlock finally let out a heavy sigh. Defeated? Maybe. How could he not when Enola is giving that innocent, puppy-dog eyes to him? That bright smile, curiosity in those similar dark brown eyes? Sherlock envies her sometimes. She seems to know nothing except laughing even though they’re under a difficult situation. So much reminds him their mother.

     “It’s… Y/n.”

     “Y/n?” Enola raises her eyebrows, confused for a split second.

     She doesn’t believe her brother because she didn’t think it would be her to send a letter with a misspell, to be honest. Because the Y/n that Enola knew is clever and precise in her works. There’s no way she could misspell a name or a phrase especially when it comes to Sherlock.

     Enola stares at her bother for a few seconds longer, waiting for him to tell her that he was joking. And maybe even an explanation, but nothing came. And Enola starts to try to read her brother’s facial expression.

     First, Enola notices how serious he looks. But isn’t that how his face looks like all the time? Then, there is a tell on his face. One that means that Y/n purposely misspelled Sherlock’s name and that Sherlock knew it and he didn’t try to correct her because... that’s the only way for him to know that it’s Y/n.

     Seriously, come to think of it, that was a brilliant way to communicate so neither of them get caught by enemies.

     “Oh. Y/n.”

     “Now, that you got your answer—” Sherlock closes the distance between him and Enola. He doesn’t have to put extra energy on her when he pushes her by the arm because her weight is nothing to be compared to his size, but it could be a struggle when she is pushing against him.

     “But what does she want? Where is she now? When did you get that letter? It said—”

     “No. you’re not getting anything else.”

     Enola tries her best to fight her brother’s strength, but seems to no avail. The more she fights, the more she loses, and the more she’s tired. So instead, she let Sherlock leads her towards the front door of his apartment.

     “Sherlock, please! I need to know that she’s okay. Are—Are you meeting her? I’d like to meet her. You know I missed her! I missed playing problems solving together. And—urgh—I would like to invite her to be on my team.”

     “To be on your team?” Sherlock laughs sarcastically at Enola.

     Why does she think that it’s a good idea to drag Y/n into this detective-spiralling world? And where did that idea come from?

     Y/n isn’t a detective herself. She is a daughter to a duke and a pioneer—a brilliant pioneer and gambler, he must say. Her charm would melt every man in the room and her wit would make every man in the opposite chair to give up everything before the game even started. He was one of her victims. However, the harder he pulls away from her, the closer he gets. Now, here he is.

     “I thought you said she was stupid.”

     “But that—”

     Before Enola could finish her sentence, Sherlock closes the door at her face with a loud bang. He intended to leave Enola hanging, but that loud bang, though. That was not intentional.

*

Y/n is mad at him. Sherlock knows that. And he will let her stay mad at him because he knows he was wrong. And he will let her stay mad him for as long as she wants even if only that would make the letters keep coming.

     But, no matter how much Y/n has been writing for him, she never sent a letter twice in one week. Meanwhile she had explained how marvellous her voyage had been, another letter came only a day after Sherlock received the last one.

     Sherlock didn’t think how crazy it would be to cross the ocean under one night for Y/n to meet him in England. Perhaps, he has lost his mind as well, but when Y/n says she wants to see him, Sherlock drops everything and instantly decides he will, too.

     Sherlock may seem calm on the outside. After all, he is a detective. He cannot show any less emotion on his face or he would be the one in danger. But only God knows how nervous he feels inside when he sees Y/n’s beautiful figure (even though only from behind), waiting in her new dress (at least, the one Sherlock hasn’t seen she worn before), under the big tree.

     After all these years, out of the many extravagant, nice places they have in England and yet Y/n chose a place where they had their first meet.

     If Enola knew how much he had been practicing a reunion speech for Y/n, not only that young girl will mock him for the rest of his life. But she will make sure their mother knew how weak her middle son is despite being the most grudged-looking. And not only that Eudora will laugh at him for that, but will also treat him as if he is a baby. Not like that never happened before, but he definitely doesn’t want that to happen again.

     “Y/n,” Sherlock greets the apple of his eyes.

     When she turns around like a slow-motion, Sherlock feels the world stops. He lost every word. That reunion speech he had been mentally practicing disappears. It seems that he cannot do anything except stare at her.

     It’s only been a few weeks, but she is already looking different. Sherlock isn’t sure if it’s the make-up that is making her looking more mature than the last time they met, or the way she pulls her hair into a neat bun, but either way, she looks prettier. Vibrant. Sherlock doesn’t know why he hasn’t asked Y/n a picture that he could keep in his coat watch.

     “Hello, Sherlock,” Y/n greets him back. Her voice melodious. It sounds like she is singing in his ears. That snickers at the end of her lips. Oh, how much he missed those lips. “What, you’re speechless now, Mister Holmes? If I didn’t know you any better, I would think that you think I’m ugly.”

     Yeah, it’s weird that Sherlock is speechless in front of a woman while he never have done so before... before he met Y/n. And he’d met a lot of women in his life before and even after Y/n left, but none of them were as beautifully confident as Y/n. It’s scary especially how she could drive Sherlock, a great and flawless detective, crazy and weak. But it’s also sexy as hell.

     Sherlock licks his lower lip. Smoothing the front of his coat and clears his throat. “Sorry.”

     “Don’t be,” Y/n smirks. “Though I would love to hear you plead for forgiveness after those times you left me without any goodbyes.”

     “I—I thought you’re in Spain.” Great. Now he’s stuttering.

     “Oh, I thought you never read my letters,” Y/n teases.

     It’s her defence mechanism that she had learned over years of spending so much time around people with titles, who think that they know more than somebody else, who think that they can get anything they want with a snap of their fingers.

     “Y/n, I’m—”

     “Sorry?” Y/n laughs. “After so many letters I sent and you only replied one? I have to be honest with you, Sherlock, I don’t know why I’m even here to see you. Perhaps, I missed your face. Perhaps, I’m here only to see my own heart breaks… again.”

     “I never meant to treat you that way.”

     “I could say I never meant to tell you I love you in those letters, ignored the one you decided to reply, and agreed with my father’s decision to marry me with another man in Spain.”

     Y/n had done many things that could leave Sherlock heartbroken (that night when she beat him at poker, that day when she told him she had a date, that evening when Enola brought her to his apartment with blood pooling her dress, that day when she told him she was leaving). But to hear her to marry someone other than him makes his heart scattering to pieces.

     “I could be pregnant with his child by now, Sherlock, and you still hadn’t replied my letters.”

     “Y/n, I swear to you, I want to—”

     “Is that why you wanted to see me? To tell me that you wanted to reply letters, but barely had enough time to do so?” Y/n makes a sound coming from her nose and shakes his head. “Write one alphabet if one second was the only time you have and I would still appreciate it and keep it with me everywhere I go.”

     His heart blossoms with the thought Y/n bringing his love letter everywhere she goes. They can’t be together at most times, constantly feeling half a heart, but if a love letter makes them whole again. If only Y/n knew how he has been bringing that one letter with him everywhere he goes…

     “But you didn’t reply my letters so, of course, I tried to forget you. And when you replied, asked to see me at a place where we first met and had an ideal date...” Y/n trails off, chuckling to herself at how crazy her life has been. “Your word. Not mine.”

     Sherlock doesn’t need her to remind him that because he remembers everything that happened that day. He remembers how he felt before he asked her if she would like to have a date with him. In fact, it was similar to the one he is feeling right now.

     He used to not believe in true love. But if what he is feeling right now was the sign, maybe he will have to believe it. Eventually.

     Still tongue-tied, head in the cloud seeing Y/n for the first time after weeks, Sherlock tries to register what she had been delivering: One is about how she wants Sherlock to plead for forgiveness for all those times he left her without even seeing her first. One is about how she was expected to marry a man of her father’s choice. In between these, his mind suddenly takes him back to when he saw how sweet Y/n had been with Enola.

     Then, she talks about how he had replied one of her letters that leads her to see him here. And—

     Hold on a second—

     Now, Sherlock must admit that he was drunk several times, here and there, especially when the case gets really tough with no leads. Also when he misses her so much that he can’t handle his emotion, but never in his drunkest mind that he would reply Y/n’s letter. No matter how keen he is because he thought Y/n would be safer that way.

     Now he wonders...

     “Y/n—”

     “No. Don’t stop me,” Y/n slaps her hand in the air in front of his face. Indeed, she was in the middle of talking about how she had to run away from her own wedding, to get back to England and to be near Sherlock. “I’ve been saving this story for you to listen so that you know how you were at a massive lost.”

     “I’m sure I have plenty of times to hear that story in the future,” Sherlock says, “but I need to know—that letter you said you received. You said it was from me?”

     “How could have you forgotten the letter that you wrote yourself?” Y/n’s heart breaks with the thought of Sherlock writing the letter to other women.

     “Tell me what does it say in that letter, my dear.”

     Y/n feels her face heart when she hears Sherlock calling him with a pet name that he barely uses. She wished she knew why.

     “Was it intended to be sent to someone else? Another women women perhaps?”

     The end of Sherlock’s lips twitches with the thought of Y/n being jealous. And as much as he likes seeing that on her face, with a little argument about how she’s not the slightest bit of jealous, it’s not the time.

     “Please. Y/n. That letter. Tell me.”

     Y/n sighs, knowing that she won’t win this time. “It says, ‘Afternoon, December 24. Meet me at a place where we had our first date. I have something to tell you’.”

     “Did you have that letter with you?”

     “Why is it so impor—”

     “Y/n.”

     Y/n reads Sherlock for a few seconds before she takes the letter out from her purse and hands it to him. Indeed, she brought the letter with her. Brought it all the way home from Spain. And she’s not humiliated by it.

     Suddenly, Sherlock laughs.

     Y/n looks at Sherlock as if he had lost his mind. “Would you care tell me what’s happening? Why are you suddenly asking me about that letter? Why are you suddenly laughing? Sherlock?!”

     “Oh, Y/n, how stupid can we be.” Sherlock is smiling, one so big that is showing his teeth and makes Y/n’s heart flutters. “Darling, I think we’ve been set up.”

     “You’re saying you didn’t even want to see me in the first place? That me being here, running away from my own wedding, has been a useless effort?” Y/n doesn’t know what to feel. She thought she finally could hear everything Sherlock didn’t tell in the letters he didn’t reply. After what she had been through, Sherlock is telling her that he didn’t even want to see her?

     “No, sweetheart, no.” Sherlock shakes his head.

     Three pet names in one day, after months of not seeing other, after years of drawing the line? Sherlock must be out of his mind.

     “You’re overthinking, my love—”

     Four.

     “—I’m just saying that someone set us up to meet here.”

     “Who could—”

     “Enola,” both of you say once that particular, mischievous young woman, cross both of your minds.

#sherlock holmes #henry cavill #enola holmes #detective #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes x reader #netflix #sherlock fandom #henry cavill sherlock holmes #millie #harry potter #bellatrix

[specialagentlokitty]

Mycroft x sister!reader - caring

Could you please write a Mycroft x sister reader where she tries to be invisible to him because she thinks he hates her (maybe shen they were little he said that) but he in fact really loves her and maybe one day she is attacked and mycroft sees. He nearly kills the person trying to save her then he takes her home to care for her. But his sister doesnt want to let him help her so he has to convince her to let him and its all fluffy? Really sorry if thats too much - Anon💜

You were nearly home, you were only around the corner so you felt pretty safe. You knew this area like the back of your hand, so it wasn’t uncommon for you to wonder around late at night.

Walking around the corner, you were met with someone shoving you backwards and a quick punch to your face.

“Where’s Sherlock Holmes!?” The man screamed.

Before you could reply you were pulled behind someone and all you could see was their back.

“How dare you lay a hand on her.”

Mycroft.

You watched as he punched the man again and again until he was unconscious on the floor before he turned around to face you.

Wiping the blood from his hand onto a handkerchief, Mycroft gave you a small frown and reached out to touch your face but you quickly slapped his hand away.

“Don’t touch me.”

Walking around him, you started making your way back to your flat.

But you knew he wasn’t going to leaved he trailed behind you glaring at anyone who happened to be on the same side of the street as you.

Making your way inside, you walked over to the couch and set down, letting out a soft sigh as you brought your fingers just under your nose.

Pulling away, you looked at the blood on your fingertips.

“Let me.” Mycroft smiled.

He went into the kitchen and came back out with a damp cloth and sat on the table in front of you.

“I’ll do it.”

Taking it from him, you held it to your nose and started to clean the blood, all while Mycroft watched.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he ran a hand down his face.

“Why are you here brother?” You mumbled.

“Is it so wrong for me to come see my sister?” He asked.

You got up and walked to the bathroom, grabbing the first aid box, you stared at the nasty looking cut along your nose.

Grabbing an antiseptic wipe, you tried to clean it but every time you touched it you pulled away with a hiss of pain.

“Here.”

Mycroft reached out but you moved away.

“I can do it!”

“You can’t tend to your wound, let me at least clean it.”

“Mycroft I’ve got it! I’m not a stupid kid anymore!”

This made him flinch back slightly.

“I know that.”

“Well you don’t act like it.” You scoffed.

Mycroft looked at you in shock, you spoke to him with nothing but hatred in your voice.

Ever since you were kids that’s all you spoke to him with, and it confused him.

“Please? Just let me help, then I’ll go if you want.”

You scoffed and tossed everything into the sink, clearly fed up with trying to tend to your own wounds and stormed back into the living room.

Sitting on the couch, you folded your arms over your chest and stared at the picture hanging on the wall opposite you.

Mycroft noticed this and he looked at the picture as well.

“Childhood, was good.” He mused.

“Really?”

You turned to him.

“Yes, I looked after you and Sherlock while you both grew up. Sherlock was good at looking after himself, but you? You followed me wherever I went.” He smiled.

You stared at him, it was probably the first time you’d seen him smile thinking about the memories from the past with you.

Mycroft never messaged you, never spoke with you or met up with you.

“You said you hated me. Then you left.” You grumbled.

His face changed from happy to shocked, before it flooded with regret.

He turned to face you and he sighed softly.

“I never meant it, I was angry, but not at you. I would’ve never been angry at you, but when I came back to apologise you were gone.”

You simply just nodded your head and never said anything else on the matter.

Sitting down, Mycroft help up an antiseptic wipe and a bandaid.

“Let me at least do this for you?”

Looking at him, you sighed.

“Fine.”

He came over and carefully wiped away the dried blood before sticking the bandaid over the cut and gave you the tiniest of smiles.

You looked away but you couldn’t help but smile back as well.

All you ever wanted was for Mycroft to notice you, you just wanted your big brother to love you.

Your whole life you thought he hated you, resented you for some unknown reason, but it turns out he didn’t.

“You can… stay if you want…”

“Thank you.”

Mycroft sat next to you and asked you about your life and everything you had missed since you guys had been out of touch.

The smile on your face made him smile, it had been years since he saw that smile and he was glad to finally see it again.

You were his sister, and he hated being out of contact with you even if he wouldn’t admit it

#bbc sherlock mycroft #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock #Mycroft x sister reader #mycroft x you #mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft holmes imagine

[fairy-writes]

Can you do a part 2 to your MTP William x archaeologist sister reader I would like to see the Holmes brothers reactions. ❤️

A MIGHTY SURPRISE OVER DINNER

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): William James Moriarty x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Holmes!Reader, Archaeologist!Reader, Sexist behavior from the Holmes family? (not Sherlock)

Notes: We’re pretending courthouse weddings were a thing back in this time period

PART ONE LINKED HERE

__________________________________________________________________________

Your marriage to William James Moriarty was a secret well-kept until a snowy winter day in December. 

It had been a simple courthouse wedding. His family had been there. Albert and Louis as witnesses. But the rest of his little ‘entourage’ had shown up in celebration as well. James Bonde and Sebastian Moran had shown up with bottles of wine to celebrate what they said was “a day that they thought would never come.”

Fred Porlock had been sweet and gifted you a bouquet of daffodils. He had told you later that they represent new beginnings, and he wanted to welcome you to their little family.

It took all your strength not to burst into tears right at that moment.

You hadn’t even worn a wedding dress, for heaven's sake! Instead, you wore a simple white blouse with beige trousers because you didn’t want to purchase much less tailor white ones. William had worn his regular brown suit and red tie.

Oh, how your mother would’ve had your head had she found out. How improper you were!

You didn’t even take a proper honeymoon persay. William had instead surprised you with a trip back to Egypt to visit the locals of your latest dig. You hadn’t been on an excavation in ages, and they were more than happy to welcome you and your new husband with open arms.

Husband…

You were officially married. No longer a Holmes and no longer tied to your family.

You were free.

Well… as free as a woman could be, that is.

All that was left was to tell your parents and brothers.

The aforementioned secret marriage was kept a secret for approximately thirteen months before it got out. In fact, you managed to keep it a secret up until William asked if he could break the news to your family over Christmas dinner. 

He asked you over breakfast around a week before Christmas Day. You had moved into his estate soon after the marriage was finalized. 

“Might I ask you a question?” He asked politely, and you looked up from your ham and eggs, raising an eyebrow as you did so. 

“Sure.” You said as you swallowed your mouthful and cleared your throat. 

“How do you feel about telling your parents about our marriage?” At this, you choke on your inhale and proceed to cough until you almost feel lightheaded. 

William—used to your dramatic reactions by now—sits patiently as you try to gain some semblance of control over your body. 

“What brought this up?” You demand, and he shrugs, taking a sip of his tea. 

“It’s been over a year now. Don’t you think it’s time to tell them?” You look down at your hands, fisted in your shirt, and grit your teeth, mulling it over. 

He was right… it had been over a year since you went no contact with your family save for Sherlock. Of course, he relayed messages from them to you. But you never responded besides telling them to sod off. 

At least Sherlock understood where you were coming from and didn’t push the issue too much. Perhaps then he would know why you had kept your marriage a secret until now? 

So… with that in mind… you agree, and William sends out invites to Sherlock, Mycroft, and your parents that day. You also send out an invitation to John and Mary and their new baby girl as moral support. 

Sherlock responds almost immediately by phoning William and enthusiastically saying he’d be delighted to come to the Moriarty estate for dinner. Mycroft responds via phone the next day, confirming his and your parents' attendance at this growing Christmas party. 

The day of the surprise comes all too quickly. 

You dress that day in a white blouse, a bold, crimson suit coat, and matching trousers. Just as you’re buttoning your blouse, you hear a knock on your bedroom door. 

“Come in!” You call as you finish the last button and turn to see William closing the door behind him. 

“Are you ready?” He asks, and you shake your head almost immediately. 

“I never am when it comes to my parents.” You say honestly, and he offers a smile that you like to think is reserved just for you. It crinkles the corners of his eyes and curls his lips rather attractively. You smile back and then head to the bathroom connected to your bed chambers for your jewelry box. 

It was William’s wedding present to you. A beautiful cherry wood box that contained jewelry you had collected over the years. Most of it was gifts from the locals you had gone on expeditions to. 

But…

There was one piece of jewelry that was not a gift to them. 

And that was your wedding band. 

It was a plain gold band, nothing too extravagant. Just the way you wanted it. And while it was simple and nondescript, you only wore it if you were going to events with William as his wife. He wore a matching one for the same reasons. And he slid his onto his ring finger just as you did the same for yours. Then, your husband extends a hand.

“Shall we go downstairs to greet your family? Sherlock is already in the parlor, and we are expecting everyone else soon enough.”

Your parents arrive just as it’s beginning to snow outside. 

Mycroft is watching disapprovingly as you coo over baby Clara, John, and Mary’s baby girl. She’s almost a year old and already starting to crawl and toddle about. You could practically smell his disapproval of your outfit, but you paid him no mind. Once this announcement is done with, you never have to speak to him again.

Your parents burst into the parlor, spooking you and Clara. The baby girl starts to whimper, so you hand her back to Mary and go to greet your parents. 

“Oh, dearest, couldn’t you wear the Christmas dress we purchased for you this year?” Your mother says immediately as you approach, and your face sours. 

“Well, hello to you too, Mother.” You grumble but give her a hug nonetheless. Your father extends his hand, and you shake it. Luckily, it was your right hand, so you simply kept your left with the ring in your trouser pocket. 

“If I might interrupt,” Comes William’s smooth voice, and you jump. You hadn't heard him come up behind you. “Dinner is served.” He finishes and ushers everyone to the dining room. He offers a comforting smile, and you reach out boldly to squeeze his hand. 

He doesn’t pull away. At least not until you reach the dining room and have to separate to sit with your respective families. 

Dinner was brought out, and just before everyone dug in, William stood and tapped his spoon against his wine glass. 

“Before everyone tucks in, we have an announcement to make.” He says, making eye contact with you, and you realize very quickly what he is doing. 

It’s time. 

Your heart starts thundering like horses in your veins, and you hear blood roaring in your ears. But you get up and make your way around the table to his side and take his hand just as he says,

“I suppose I should say my wife and I have an announcement to make.” 

It’s silent for a beat. Then two. 

Then noise. 

Your mother promptly bursts into tears. Whether out of happiness or disappointment, you have no idea. Your father grew red in the face and nearly started shouting before he remembered his manners. Mycroft simply sits back in his seat, stunned into silence. Sherlock’s face broke into a brilliant grin.

“I knew it!” He crowed and slammed his hand down on the table happily. 

You stand awkwardly as you wait for the noise to die down. William doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time. But… eventually… your parents get their emotions under control.

“Absolutely not! I will not have you associating with someone as stained a reputation as the Moriartys!” Your father bellows, and you hold back a flinch. It wasn’t often he got this angry.  And, of course, you knew what “stained reputation” your father was talking about. The burning of the Moriarty estate back when they were mere children had been quite the scandal. You remembered hearing about it when you were but a tiny tot. 

“You asked that I marry. I did. So now you have no right to judge whom I court, much less marry. I expect my dowry is still in your hands? And that you’ll keep your promise?” You say quickly, curtly, emotionlessly. You didn’t have the patience for his antics right now. He wanted you to marry in order to fund your excavations but didn’t want you to marry certain people? Where was the logic in that? And your family was all about logic.

“Please, dearest, think about what you’ve done! To marry into the Moriarty family is to stain our family name!” Your mother pleads, but you just roll your eyes. 

“I don’t see you chastising Sherlock about his choice of friends.” You snap back and very nearly leave right then and there. 

William is the only thing keeping you here. You can feel the tears burning as they threaten to fall. You just wanted your family to be happy for you. Was that too much to ask?

“That’s different!” Your father all but shouts, and you watch your husband raise an eyebrow. 

“Pray tell me how it is any different?” He says, and you shiver at his frosty tone of voice. 

“She’s a woman! That’s reason enough!” Your mother blubbers, dabbing at her falling tears with a handkerchief. Now, it’s William’s turn to roll his eyes. He takes a moment, entwining your fingers together as he looks at the ceiling. 

“Your daughter is perfectly capable of marrying whom she wishes. This is precisely why we didn’t say anything when we married nearly thirteen months ago.” 

That sentence sends your father into another shouting fit. 

“Thirteen months?!” He roars, and William smirks, letting go of your hand in order to lean both palms on the table. 

“Yes, quite right. And you will listen closely to my next words.” He said smoothly, and your parents both went silent. Mycroft still has yet to say anything, and Sherlock is simply sitting back in his chair with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

William leans back once again to take your hand. 

“You will fulfill your promise to your daughter. And hand over her dowry. Though we have little need for the money. But imagine the scandal that would erupt if you didn’t?” Your mother swallows audibly, and your father glares at your husband. He looks back cooly, not backing down. 

In the end, William wins the little starring contest, and your father averts his eyes. 

“Fine.” He growls, and William smiles,

“I’m glad we could come to an understanding. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go comfort my wife.” He says and gently turns you around to head for the dining room doors. 

“Wait, Liam.” Sherlock’s voice breaks through your raging emotions, and you stop, turning to face the middle child of the Holmes family. Your husband turns and looks at him,

“Yes?” Sherlock stands, that same smile on his face as he studies the two of you. “Was your marriage the only announcement you had to make?” He asks innocently, and you glare at him. 

Of course, he knew already.

William hums briefly before his lips curled in a devious grin,

“Oh yes, I almost forgot.” He says and puts a hand on the small of your back.

“We are expecting.” He says and leaves your brothers to deal with your dramatic parents once again. 

#william james moriarty x reader #william james moriarty x you #william james moriarty x y/n #moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #ynm x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #william james moriarty #ynm william

[neontokyoo]

Hii can I request headcanons of being mycroft’s and sherlock’s spoiled little sister?<3

Of course! This one was a lot of fun to write because I grew up with two older brothers who are huge Holmes kins, so I hope you like it. Lmao 💙

Pairing: Sherlock & Mycroft Holmes x Reader

Relationship: siblings

Genre: headcanons (does that count?)

Summary: Your the younger sister of the Holmes brothers.

Birth:

Sherlock and Mycroft weren’t very excited when they were told that they would be older brothers. Sherlock absolutely hated the idea of a new baby—afraid of having another brother—and Mycroft didn’t really mind, but he also didn’t want another brother because he didn’t want to have to deal with another Sherlock.

The boys much rather have a dog than a sibling.

But the pregnancy was different than the other two, so their parents had a strong feeling that the baby would be a girl instead.

When Sherlock and Mycroft heard about the baby possibly being a girl, they became even more excited.

They had a little babydoll that they named “Baby Pink”, and they took turns taking care of her throughout their mother’s pregnancy.

Well, until they ended up fighting over it and accidentally ripped its head off

They felt really guilty and came up with the conclusion that if they couldn’t even take care of a doll, they weren’t at all ready for a baby sister.

But when you were finally born, they weren’t able to ever let you go.

Once you were, like, nine months old, your mother had to yell at the boys to put you down and let you do things on your own.

You were never going to be able to walk or anything at this rate.

Sometimes they were caught trying to take you to school with them.

Since they couldn’t take you with them anywhere, they were constantly bragging about you to their friends.

Childhood:

The older you got, the more protective the boys became.

Whenever you went anywhere, you were always sandwiched between your brothers while they gave dirty looks to anyone who dared to look at you.

You know the “scary dog” videos on TikTok? That’s exactly what it is.

It got even worse when you started bringing friends home.

Your father had bought a Courting Candle after it was confirmed that he would be having a daughter, and, despite the purpose of the candle, your brothers would use it for the friends you bought home and purposely make the candle last five minutes.

As you can tell, Mycroft and Sherlock don’t like sharing.

Early Adulthood:

When it was finally time for your father to actually use the courting candle, your brothers did everything they could to sabotage your dates.

They were constantly being assholes towards your suitors—making snide remarks and asking uncomfortable questions, etc.—just to make them leave early.

Sometimes they’d even go as far as making the suitor look bad in front of your father just to get him to lower the candle.

Other:

Whenever you’re bored and want to tag along with someone, Mycroft and Sherlock are always fighting over who gets to take you to work.

They put someone in the hospital once just because they were flirting with you.

They’re even more protective when they take you to work. They’ll take you to work, but won’t always let you do anything for “safety reasons”.

You probably weren’t able to get married until you were, like, 23–when most girls are already courting by the age of 14-15.

#moriarty anime #moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot x reader #ynm #yuumori #yuukoku no moriarty #big brother mycroft #mycroft imagine #mycroft holmes #ynm mycroft #ynm sherlock #sherlock imagine #sherlock holmes #mtp #mtp x reader

[frost-queen]

Outmatched //Part 8 (Reader!Holmes x Anthony Bridgerton)

Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, 

@queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr,    @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @october-leaves, @m-rae23,@kazbekkarluvbot, @freyathehuntress,

@kneelforloki, @mamaj-right, @queensgirl718, @abaker74, @thescooby-gang, @readers-posts, @randomstory56, @aureolinb, @fictional-hooman, 

@nyenye,  @loliakeoghan23, @heyheyheyggg, @aizawash0e, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @novas-dreamworld, @preciousbabypeter, @magical-spit, @heyheyheyggg

Summary: A new truth reveals itself as family bonds together with a plot to perhaps allow Lord Bridgerton to open his feelings up to you. Will he do so or will you remain unloved and unmarried?

Read part 1  & part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 9 & part 10

“Father… when… when did you return?” – Mycroft asked nervously, stepping forwards. Sherlock took you by the wrist, subtly pulling you behind him. – “This very morning.” – Your father answered delighted. Mycroft aided father when he coughed loud trying to reach for his handkerchief. – “Father please, you should not be here.” – Mycroft insisted, holding him firm by the arm. Father waving his handkerchief around like a flag. – “It is only briefly…” – he coughed out, straightening his posture. – “Father.” – Mycroft turned his father towards him, making clear with his eyes he requested a private gathering.

“I’d like to have a word about.” – Mycroft motioned with his head to the unknown suitor in the parlor. He was observing the fineries in the parlor, hands folded behind his back. Mister Holmes’s smile faltered. – “Ah yes him.” – he spoke in a low tone. Mycroft quirked his eyebrow up, waiting for an explanation. Your father took a deep breath, coughing a bit. – “It was not intended I swear.” – he tried to explain, looking over at you. – “The truth papa!” – Mycroft insisted. Sherlock stepped forwards.

“As I like to know as well, father.” – Sherlock interrupted. – “That includes me too!” – you came standing between your brothers, arms crossed. All three scowling in your father’s direction. He swallowed nervously. He gestured for a member of the staff to enter. – “Will you be so kind as to escort the gentleman to his carriage.” – the maid nodded with a bow. Asking for the lord to follow her out of the parlor, outside. – “Father!” – Sherlock spoke loudly with furrowed brows.

Mister Holmes got in motion with a deep breath. Your brothers and you following him out of the parlor into the hallway into the study. You shut the door behind you. Mycroft and Sherlock positioned close to the desk. Your father revealed a letter from his inside pocket, laying it down on the desk. Both Sherlock and Mycroft reached for it, but Mycroft was the one to snatch it up first. – “I received it yesterday.” – mister Holmes started while Mycroft unfolded the letter. – “Your aunt was very specific in the matter.” – he added making you widen your eyes.

The mention of your aunt send a shiver down your spine. Mycroft desperately moved his grip on the letter while his eyes read down quickly. Words whispering out of his mouth. – “With none of my sons married…” – he sighed out coming to sit down behind the desk. – “The prospects of my health unclear.” – he continued pressing a hand against his forehead. You swallowed already having a feeling of where this was getting.

“The chance of losing your dowry.” – he leaned forwards, palms pressed against his eyes. Mycroft gritted his teeth, moving the letter away from his eyes. – “That deceitful woman!” – he hissed out. – “Mycroft!” – Sherlock called out. – “She is still your aunt.” – he made clear that Mycroft should not curse her despite her character. Mycroft puffed loud, tossing the letter onto the desk.

“She’ll have our dear sister engaged to Lord Hill.” – Mycroft made clear. – “Engaged. To be married?” – you repeated in disbelief. – “Yes of course Y/n. What other kind of engaged is there.” – your brother replied slightly annoyed. You turned your gaze towards your father. He lifted his head up, feeling your stare pierce right through him. – “Oh for heaven’s sake Y/n, don’t look at me like that.” – he breathed out with pain in his heart. – “It is what your aunt requires of you. She requires my daughter to be wed to this man for else she’ll take you away for proper preparations of finding a suitor.” – your father explained.

“I barely know him.” – you called back, getting in defense. – “Oh hush!” – he breathed out, silencing you. – “None of us can afford your aunts meddling. The prospect of this family relies on you Y/n. With Sherlock and Mycroft not wed, nor do I see them wed any time soon. It is up to you to do so. You are getting older my dear Y/n.” – you gasped silently knowing how he was close to comparing you to an old spinster. A woman unsuitable of finding a husband. – “He’ll offer you a comfortable home and protection.” – Mister Holmes continued. – “There is a lot to be thankful for.” – he made clear despite not liking his sisters proposal much.

“Father!” – you called out as he cut you off. – “You are five and twenty of age Y/n!” – he jumped up, slamming his fist on the table. In doing so he started coughing loud. Sherlock coming to his aid to assist in sitting down calmly. – “You’ll have no money and I’m…I’m frightened…” – he said after a deep breath. – “So please… don’t judge me daughter… don’t…” – his body started to shake from the intense feeling coming up. Sherlock wrapping a comforting arm around him.

“Papa please… you cannot allow this.” – you begged. Mister Holmes taking a deep breath. – “What if she were to marry someone else?” – Sherlock interfered. – “Sherlock!” – you called out, stepping towards him. Sherlock ignored your call, kneeling before his father. – “What if Y/n were to marry someone else. Someone she truly has a heart for would it please our aunt? Would it settle her with the comfort of knowing our dear Y/n is not lost. That she’ll have the prospects of a good home, money, and protection.” – he pleaded trying to offer you a way out.

A way out of a settlement set long ago by your father and your aunt. When the loss of your mother came, they set up an arrangement that your aunt would be in charge of your engagement when you would not be married within the first few years since your debut. Your father exhaled loud and deep. Mycroft setting his hands on the desk, looking over it. – “Would it father?” – he asked hopefully. You smiled with teary eyes at how well your brothers thought about you.

How they would take your opinion into matter. Something not so long ago seemed unattainable. Mister Holmes looked at both his sons. Then his gaze moved towards you far behind Mycroft. Standing quietly with your hands folded in front of you. Head lowered to the ground. – “I’ll… I’ll give it a chance.” – he told them. – “If this gentleman is willing to engage himself to her.”

Sherlock motioned with his head to the door. Mycroft and you nodding. – “I’ll request some tea to be delivered to you father.” – Sherlock spoke squeezing father’s shoulder tightly. Mister Holmes exhaled weary, clear it was weighing down on him. Mycroft and you were already making your way to the hallway. Sherlock joining after. He addressed a maid to deliver tea to his father before joining the two of you. – “What will we do?” – Mycroft asked. – “Not here.” – Sherlock responded, grabbing his brother and you by the elbow.

Pushing the both of you into the library. He shut the door firmly, even closing the curtains. – “I am under no circumstance to marry Lord Hill.” – you outed, crossing your arms. – “You won’t.” – Sherlock breathed out. – “What the did letter say.” – Sherlock asked his brother as the three of you joined together in a circle. For the first time in a long time agreeing on a matter. – “Simply that Aunt Mathilda has set in writing that our sister is to wed Lord Hill. The suitor of her choice because she is becoming of age of the agreement she made with father.

If she does not agree or is still unmarried by the end of the season, she’ll come for Y/n. Taking her away and comfort herself over her as a proper parent should in her words.” – Mycroft explained. – “She’ll take me away to mother me and force me into more matchmaking.” – you repeated to be clear. The panic slowly worrying you. Sherlock noticed it, taking you by the arm. – “She won’t take you away from us Y/n. You are a Holmes, and you are to remain here with us.”

Sherlock pulled you against him, wrapping an arm around you. – “What will we do?” – you asked frightened of your own future. – “It is quite easy.” – Sherlock responded. – “Anthony Bridgerton will have to marry you.” – he outed as you pushed yourself off him. – “It is undeniable how much you care for him dear sister.” – Sherlock continued as you had turned yourself away from them. – “All we want is for you to marry for love, I will not have you have a relationship like our aunt and uncle.” – Mycroft interfered. – “I am nothing like my aunt!” – you said snappy.

Sherlock and Mycroft moving their hands down. – “We know…” – you slowly turned back towards them. – “What if he does not propose?” – you questioned out loud. Sherlock took a deep breath, laying a hand on your shoulder. – “Then we’ll make him.” – your brother made clear. – “Can we even ask such a thing of him? I never want to force him… no matter the value of my future.” – Both your brothers approached, wrapping an arm around you.

“You are too kind for this world.” – Sherlock whispered. – “Witty and stubborn too.” – Mycroft added, receiving a slap against the back of his head from Sherlock. You laughed loud, hugging them tightly. – “I promise I’ll do my task as matchmaker perfect Y/n. No more slip backs.” – Mycroft spoke pinching your arm.

Birds were chirping loudly. The sun leaving a warm glow upon this very earth. Tents set up around a large garden estate. Suitors walking closely to their hoping beloved. The Bridgerton’s were present as well. You arrived arms in arm with both your brothers. At the sight of Anthony, you looked down at your own dress. – “You look lovely Y/n.” – Sherlock commented. Looking up to him, you smiled. – “Shall we?” – Mycroft proposed. Suddenly the doubts started kicking in. – “What if he does not want me in return? What if I make a fool of myself… perhaps it wouldn’t be that bad if Auntie would take me away.

It would certainly rid me of everlasting shame.” – you tried to stay humorous about it, but deep down you feared it might become truth. – “Hush!” – Mycroft breathed out. With each step closer to the Viscount, your heart thumped louder. It would take one more step for it to fall out of your chest. Swallowing nervously it felt as if you couldn’t think properly. Then you spotted Lord Hill. You signaled to your brothers with a head motion. Sherlock and Mycroft both nodded.

They let go of your arms, walking steady over to Lord Hill. You watched as they grabbed him each by an arm, pulling him away before he could even reach you. Alone and frightened you made your way over to the tent where Lord Bridgerton was. Palms sweaty as you moved them behind your back. – “Miss Y/n.” – Anthony bowed as you curtsied. – “How… how… are you feeling?” – he asked nervously.

Curling up a nervous smile you replied. – “Much better, my lord.” – Anthony smiled hesitantly, letting his gaze settle down. Hands behind his back. Blinking quickly before settling them upon you once more. Was he perhaps feeling nervous as well? You looked briefly away, unsure how to act around him so suddenly. Before it was quite easy. Whatever came out of his mouth, you responded to it. Not afraid to insult the man if he needed a proper lesson in keeping his ego in check. Now that things have changed, you were more hesitant to speak.

Not wanting to scare him off. A wave of relaxation washed over you when his mother approached. The same seemed to be the fact for Anthony. – “Miss Y/n what a delight to see you.” – Violet spoke. – “Anthony has spoken many times of you.” – she confessed as you watched Anthony’s expression tensed. – “Mother.” – he hissed out, trying to keep up his smile. – “Is that so?” – you teased with a chuckle. – “I do pray only good.” – flashing a smile at the Viscount. – “Oh most certainly he did.” – Violet responded as Anthony looked nervously away.

“He told me all about how good of a shooter you are Miss Y/n. Although I did not expected a lady such as yourself to exile in the matter, but my son had high praises of you.” – she continued to compliment you and her son. You smiled. – “Lord Bridgerton is an excellent shooter himself and player of cards too.” – you responded. – “He bested me once.” – Anthony cleared his throat, meddling himself into the conversation. – “Twice.” – he smirked, holding the amount up with his fingers.

You held up the number of three with your fingers. – “Shot three birds.” – you clicked your tongue with one eye closed. Anthony started chuckling. – “Do remind me Miss Y/n how many points was shooting a peacock?” – he asked. You started laughing. – “I do not know, perhaps we should ask lord Enfield.” – Anthony and you were smiling at each other. Violet observing with a smile of her own. She was not needed anymore. She left quietly as Anthony and you moved closer, loosening up.

Anthony took in a deep breath, almost haven forgotten how delighted it felt to laugh in your presence. He noticed his younger siblings running over. – “Please excuse me.” – he said meeting them half-way. Your smile faltered reminded once more of your future that seemed not so bright. You tried picking up hints of lord Bridgerton’s mutual affection. Trying to see if he would be in character to propose any time soon. Yet it didn’t seem like it. You took your leave from the tent, coming to sit down at a bench.

Watching Lord Bridgerton play around with his younger siblings. It made you breath out short with a smile on your lips. Seeing how tentative he was around his siblings. Exhaling deep, you fidgeted with your fingers on your lap. Till the end of the season you had. If you declined Lord Hill. The very suitor your aunt set you up with. Perhaps you had taken all the chances at love that you deserve. All declined to be left with nothing more.

You got back up, slowly approaching the crowd once more. Remaining in the background, not participating in any games or conversations. Your eyes became teary when you saw your brother Sherlock approach. – “Any luck?” – he asked. You shook your head with a forced smile to stop yourself from crying. – “Then I simply will have to do more.” – Sherlock spoke out to reassure you. – “Brother please… you cannot force him… he does not love me… not romantically. Not good enough to propose.” – you told him blinking your tears away.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around you. – “I know you are frightened sister, yet I promise you I won’t let you go down the path set out for you.” – you hugged him tightly, closing your eyes. Mycroft joined moments later to escort you inside. The sun had begun to set as it announced the ball. Everyone entering with loud chatter. It didn’t take long for dance cards to be filled in and dances to begin. Violet furrowed her brows, gathering with her other sons by the candles.

“Benedict why is Anthony not dancing with Miss Y/n?” – she asked confused. Benedict pulled his shoulders up. – “I do not know mama, was he supposed to dance with her?” – both of them watching Anthony dance with another young lady. Clearly getting annoyed and agitated by how unsuitable his dance partner was. She was rather clumsy in her dancing and too short for his height. The dance had the visual of being clumsy and sloppy rather then graceful.

Violet looked around for any sign of you. The dance came to an end as she clapped mindlessly, occupied in looking around. She found you in the crowd, moving to the dancefloor with a gentleman. You had accepted Lord Hill’s request of dance as he led you up to the floor. Anthony who was just finished stepped away from his dance partner, coming face to face with you. His eyes widening at the gentleman holding your hand. He stepped back but kept following your movement with his eyes.

He joined his siblings sight still staring in disbelief. You curtsied as Lord Hill bowed. There was no smile on your lips when you danced. Hands held against each other as you circled around with him. They lowered as you stepped in a circle around. Your eyes falling briefly on Lord Bridgerton. He gasped silently at how pitiful you appeared. As if all the sunshine had been sucked out of you. Lord Hill placed your hand on his shoulder, moving a hand to your lower back. Waltzing he let the music take over. Performing the steps numbly as if someone else was operating for you. Lord Bridgerton keep his gaze constant on you.

Violet noticed it how yearningly her son was staring at you. How infuriating it was for him to see. A loud rumble outside startled you. It snapped you out of the pitiful dream you were having. – “Miss Y/n is everything alright?” – Lord Hill asked having come to a stop. You were breathing loud, looking over your shoulder to Lord Bridgerton. To his mother and his siblings. Turning your head you looked at your own family. Then back to Lord Hill. This was not what you wanted. Far from.

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