#sherlock fluff

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

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

wedding fluff and angst

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

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

Sherlock had never seen such perfection.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She's beautiful," Sherlock repeated.

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

He loved her from the start.

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

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

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

A slow tear trailed down Sherlock's cheek.

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

"You're crying," she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

John waited beside the priest.

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

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

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

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

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

Things would be brighter in time, he told himself.

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

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

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

#sherlock #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock #reader x sherlock #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock x you #sherlock fluff #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #reader x sherlock holmes #you x sherlock #benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock imagine #sherlock self insert #sherlock fic #sherlock holmes fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #sherlock holmes fluff #bbc sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock comfort fic #y/n x sherlock #sherlock holmes x you #you x sherlock holmes #sherlock fanfic #sherlock bbc

[bakerstreethound]

Congrats on 5 years! 🎉

Can I get a Sherlock fluff with Sherlock is awake first, hes looking at the reader with utmost love. But he wakes up the reader with kisses and nuzzles.❤️ I adore the way you write & I cant get enough of soft Sherlock🍓✨

Thank you so much for sending this in. I finally completed the story (I apologize for taking so long) I hope you enjoy it! There is a bit of light smut at the end so 18+ only.

Light in the Darkness

Summary: Waking up in Sherlock's arms is one of the highlights of your day, and he shows you how much he adores you; how grateful he is to have you in his life.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound​ (Do NOT copy, repost, claim, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Sherlock groans, wiping the remaining sleepiness from his eyes. Outside, the sun barely makes itself visible, the night holding fast to London, unrelenting in its grasp over the city. Sherlock yawns, reaching out to the other side of the bed, your sleeping form breathing softly lost in the throes of sleep. 

He smiles, his hand brushing softly along your side watching as you lean into his touch. Even your subconscious knows you’re at peace here with him and you snuggle further into him, allowing yourself a moment of extended comfort before reality pulls you into its clutches. 

Lips travel softly along your neck, the soft brush of curls following in their wake as gentle nuzzles replace the kisses, going back and forth simultaneously. A smile tugs at the corner of your lips and your eyes flutter open, met with the face of your husband looking at you with simmering eyes, half lidded, the sleep not fully leaving him, yet.

“Good morning to you, too Sherlock.” 

He melts against you, your fingers running through his curls, massaging them as he likes it, earning an appreciative groan. You continue at it, relishing in the soft noises he makes, not yet ready to let any of his cases take him from you. He looks content enough, his breathing slow and steady, much the opposite of your own when you wake up startled from nightmares.   

“That feels nice,” he gazes up at you eyes shimmering in adoration, overcome with unspoken emotions he can't fathom. It’s more than nice, something you could’ve conjured in a dream.

His arm laced around your waist pulls you impossibly closer, the feeling of his bare skin against yours a reminder of the night before, allowing you to admire the marks you left behind, mingled with the scars of a time long past you knew wouldn’t disappear from his skin, a permanent reminder of those times alone. But nothing like that will happen again, not with you by his side. 

You press a kiss to his cheek, pulling him from his thoughts, and what a sight you are, eyes wide looking at him with more adoration than he could possibly fathom. His hand reaches to you of its own accord, stroking your cheek softly.

You lean into his touch, his warmth kindling a spark inside you, firing into your heart, electricity rampant between you. He doesn’t want to look away, even as the sunlight barely parting through the ever-hanging fog beckons a new day, he doesn’t want it to begin.

He only wants to remain here with you for the moment, though his mind protests, his legs aching to run down the ramparts and alleyways of his beloved town. It will always be there for him. 

London isn’t you. 

And you are more than the city that soiled his name, his reputation, slandered him for a penny here and there to get the inside scoop. 

You are his, his to cherish and damn it you are one of the only ones he truly finds some semblance of the concept of love, the feeling of you next to him makes his head spin, fathoming the possibilities of how you both ended up this way together.

It is a bond of unbreakable trust between you, beautiful and understood looming and intertwined with truth. 

His forehead rests against your and you lean up into him, your arms wrapping around his neck, your hands carding through his beautiful mass of curls, twirling a rogue strand around an index finger. 

“You’re wonderful, Sherlock. What would I do without you?” Or, rather, what could you do to help his racing mind. His eyes dart back and forth, deeming to bury his face in your neck inhaling your scent.

What was he supposed to tell you?

This feeling inside him blooming further over the past year makes him nervous, even trying to voice how he feels won’t do it justice for what he can’t fully express. 

When his lips brush yours, his arms caging you to him, encompassing you in his safety and warmth, it’s all you can comprehend consume and breathe. It’s him all-encompassing and nothing more. Nothing feels more right than this moment. 

“Sherlock,” your voice falls from his lips in a perfect incandescent harmony, one he wants to breathe, to sing to create with you and you alone. 

Fiery desperation fuels the strength of his kiss drowning you further into the heat of his flames, the coolness of your water evaporating his lips in a breath of fresh air.

You don’t want it to end, despite the time, the hour, the plans for the day, all is obsolete and his hands brush under the seam of your shirt, slently asking for permission. No other words are needed, you welcome him without question, shivering as your form is revealed to him, inch by inch, each intake of breath anticipating his next move.

Lips grazing your neck, hands falling to your hips, stroking circles just so. Your hands dig into his back, clinging to him like a lifeline, not daring to let go.

His body pressing against yours, groaning at the friction makes you shiver in anticipation. The full feeling of his skin against your laid bare to him is nothing more than comforting. 

It’s home, it’s where you belong.

Only he got to see you in such a manner and you for him.  Such is the manner of things and how they’ll always be. You want no one else but him. His feelings are indescribable as his fingers work you slow, your mouths falling open at the sensation, digging into his back harder, begging and pleading his name. 

He loves you like this, would frame it if he could. Another memory another shot of the countless images in his mind palace he keeps. Memories of you always flutter near and you’re where he belongs, his northern star the compass pointing him home.

For London may be his city, but here with you in his arms, falling apart through his love, he is home at last. A beacon of light in the darkness.

******

#sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #strawberry!sherlock #strawberry sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock smut #sherlock fluff #sherlock holmes imagine #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock tv #my writing #strangelockd #beloved friend #writing request

[strawberrywinter4]

Watch and You’ll See

"John takes up birdwatching. Sherlock is baffled but supportive."

Thanks to @stellacartography for the prompt!

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Tags: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Birdwatching, Cheek Kisses, Reassurances, John’s new hobby, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Angst

Read here on ao3.

*•*•*•*•*

“You didn’t have to come with me, you know,” John says as they stroll down the path.

“I didn’t,” Sherlock confirms. “However, this new… hobby of yours leaves me no choice but to find answers.”

John only rolls his eyes, the conversation morphing into silence.

Sherlock eyes the book titled Birds and All You Need to Know in John’s hand, a bag slung around his shoulder. Sherlock just doesn’t understand and it’s bothering him considerably. John Watson is a veteran, a man who’s killed several, a professional doctor, and, in all honesty, a dangerous man in some situations.

And he’s taken up birdwatching.

Yes, he’s also taken up blogging as well, but his therapist requested that, and he’s gotten quite the following. So, Sherlock can’t ponder why John would dive into a hobby such as watching birds; a calm and overall observant activity on which one must focus.

It started as a slow process. On days when they didn’t have a case, John would slip out of the flat without a word, a slim bag over his shoulder. Then, the bag turned into an obvious organizer for supplies. Sherlock could make out the outline of a binocular, but that’s all. Once he finally confronted John and asked where he was headed at least two times a week, John casually responded, “Birdwatching,” with a happy-go-lucky smile on his lips.

Sherlock blinked, baffled by the statement.

Now, John has taken his hobby to the next level and decided to take a day trip to Sussex, where there is more nature to be appreciated. John only mentioned that he was off for the day and that he probably wouldn’t be home until late afternoon, but Sherlock was having none of it.

This was piquing his interest.

Sherlock insisted on accompanying John, which John first protested, but Sherlock didn’t care for his argument.

They sit on a bench that overlooks plenty of branches and slim trees. John sighs, setting his bag down and grabbing his binoculars from inside.

“Again, you really didn’t have to come,” John says again as if that will get Sherlock to disappear.

Sherlock can tell John expects him to poke fun, to laugh at such a contrasting hobby to which he would usually have. But Sherlock does nothing of the sort.

Instead, he leans forward and kisses the doctor’s cheek. “You are ridiculous sometimes,” Sherlock says. He then takes the book from John’s hands and begins observing the hardcover.

John continues to stare at him in bewilderment.

“Tedious… but probably factual,” Sherlock murmurs. He then looks at John. “Do you have a notepad?”

John blinks, then nods slowly. He gets out a notepad and a writing pen from his bag, handing it to Sherlock. Sherlock sees that John has already scribbled down on each set of paper, filling up almost half the notepad.

Sherlock feels warmth overtake his chest.

It’s… quite adorable, really. John is so dedicated to this activity and it shows in his writing, each category of birds having notes of specifics under them.

Sherlock hides his smile, eyes settling on John.

John huffs a laugh as he sees Sherlock’s expression. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want, you git,” he says as he reaches for his notepad.

Sherlock holds it out of reach with ease. “I’m doing no such thing,” Sherlock tells him. “Now, I suggest you start before it gets dark.”

“What, so you can take pictures and send them to Greg?” John questions.

“Who?”

“Never mind. Just- Sherlock, it’s embarrassing.”

“Why should it be?” asks Sherlock. “I’m simply watching you enjoy something that you’re fond of.”

“Sherlock-”

“John.” Sherlock’s voice is, for once, genuine. “Please. I’m… glad you have something to pass your time with. There’s no need to be embarrassed.”

John smiles gratefully at him.

For the rest of the day, the two men observe different birds, Sherlock admittedly finding this hobby fascinating as well. The majority of it consists of observations, so why wouldn’t he? Sherlock also can’t be blamed for correcting John’s monitoring throughout their experience or slipping the notepad out of John’s hands to write his own set of notes.

And he can’t be blamed for staring at John in awe every time the blogger acquires a glint in his eye when he sees a new bird, or when he pats Sherlock’s arm excitedly when a bird appears close.

All the more reason to love John Watson.

*•*•*•*•*

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

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#johnlock #sherlock #bbc sherlock #johnlock fanfiction #writerscommunity #ao3 writer #ao3 #sherlock fandom #sherlock tv #sherlock bbc #sherlock fanfic #sherlock x john #sherlock and john #sherlockbbc #sherlock holmes #established johnlock #john watson #sherlock fluff #birdwatching #ao3 author #ao3fic #ao3 fanfic #writer tumblr #writers #writers on tumblr #writers on ao3

[j-eryewrites]

Too good to be true

Anonymous Request: Maybe the reader is a university student and everyone around her is trying to woo her but they don't Sherlock is her boyfriend, so one day protective Sherlock appears and, shows them she's his.

MAIN MASTER LIST | REQS OPEN

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Jealous Sherlock, Major fluff, mentions of sex, Sherlock is in love with you. No use of y/n. 

“Guys, I swear on my life,” you chuckled as your finger crossed over your heart, “I’m taken.”

Your friends rolled their eyes at your declaration. 

“What?” 

“Babes,” Lucy said. “You keep telling us about this guy, yet….” She looked around the bar that your friend group was drinking at. “I don’t see him.”

“He’s just…” You began. 

“Married to his work. We know.” Miri said. She took a big swallow of her martini. “Well, I’m off to get another round.”

She quickly excused herself from the table and walked over to the bar. 

You sighed. It wasn’t your’s or Sherlock’s fault that there was a new serial killer in town. This one seemed to evade your boyfriend’s and John’s attempts of catching him at every turn. You your friends. knew what stakes his job had, including late nights and missed opportunities to introduce him to 

Lucy called your name. “You don’t have to keep lying just because all of us are taken. I promise, as your friends, we won’t judge you.”

To this, you rolled your eyes. When were your friends going to understand you were taken? 

“Plus,” Lucy continued. “I’ve heard that Garreth has an eye for you.”

You snickered. “Garreth, the heartthrob of our year. I call bullshit.”

Lucy nudged you on the shoulder. “Is it bullshit that he’s been staring at you this entire time we’ve been here?” Lucy’s grey eyes peered behind your shoulder. 

Quickly, you turned around and saw him: Garreth. His bright green eyes lit up the moment you saw him. You had to admit, he was attractive. He was tall, with curly red hair, and freckles all over his face. Not to mention, he was quite smart in all of his subjects. He flashed you a smile, one which you returned. It would have been rude not to, you thought. 

“See!” Lucy exclaimed. 

“See what?” Miri asked. Her hands were full as she juggled the new round of drinks. 

“Garreth’s been checking out, our friend here,” Lucy explained. 

“Again? He does that all the time. I swear to god that the man is in love with you,” Miri said in a teasing manner. 

“Guys,” You said sternly. “I’m taken which means I have eyes for only one person.”

“Sure,” Lucy and Miri responded at the same time. 

You took a shot. The fiery liquid traveled down your throat and spread warmth to your body. 

“Look,” Miri said. She herself took a shot of alcohol. “If we haven’t met this…”

“Genius, tall, beautiful man of a boyfriend,” Lucy finished. 

“Yeah that. If we haven’t met him by the end of the month. I’m setting you up on a date with Garreth,” Miri said sternly. 

You groaned. Your finger pinched the bridge of your nose tightly. This was going to be a long night. 

_________

It was a quarter after midnight when you walked into the doors of 221B. A bright light shone from on top of the stairs. The warm golden light could only mean one thing: Sherlock was awake. 

You smiled softly at the thought of your boyfriend, as your feet sluggish in movement carried you up the stairs. Sherlock appeared in the doorway watching your climb. It was as if he knew you were coming from a block away. He probably did. Sherlock had a way with those types of things. 

The first thing you did was envelope your boyfriend in a warm embrace. Something he gladly returned. The comfort you felt in his arms was unmatched: his heart beating underneath your ears as you rested your head against his chest, his soft hands cradling your lower back and hips pulling you taut to him, and how his head dipped to kiss the crown of your head. If you died right now, you were sure that heaven would be in Sherlock’s arms. 

The two of you stood at the top of the stairs holding each other. Your bodies swayed back and forth in a slow dance. It had been a rough day, it seemed, for the both of you. 

“Any luck with the case?” You inquired, pulling away from the hug. 

Sherlock shook his head. “Not as much as I would have liked. We’ve narrowed down the possible location of the next murder, but that’s all. He seems to have avoided our every plot to catch him.”

“You’ll solve the case and catch him. I believe in you,” you comforted. 

Sherlock smiled and whispered your name. “If only the world revolved around your belief in me, I’d have solved the case by now.” 

Then Sherlock brought his lips to yours in a gentle manner. He was savoring the kiss. It was one of the only things he cherished. Your lips could bring him out of the grey haze he often found his mind in. He loved the feeling of you flushed against him. He loved you. 

“Now,” he said with a hand on your lower back leading you into his flat, “mind telling me what’s on your mind.”

You sighed and shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it’s bothering you, darling.” 

An electric wave shot down your spine. Even after months together, you still weren’t used to that nickname. The things you would do to have him whispering it in your ear like a prayer. 

“You were supposed to meet my friends tonight, Sherlock.” You said. 

“I know, but Lestrade found another body and…”

“The case is important and I understand, it’s just my friends don’t believe me.”

“Believe you?” Sherlock asked. His brow raised. 

“They don’t think you’re…” Your voice grew quiet. “...real. They think I’m making you up.”

Sherlock reached out and laid his hands on your forearms, running them up and down in a comforting manner. He stepped closer. His piercing blue eyes are on you. You had his full attention. 

“They gave me a vendetta. If they haven’t met you by the end of the month, they're going to set me up with Garreth.”

Sherlock’s jaw clenched. “Garreth? Who’s…”

You cut him off before he could finish. “Just a guy in my year. Apparently, he’s in love with me or something.” Your eyes lowered as you muttered those last words. 

Sherlock’s hands stopped tracing your arms. You could hear Sherlock’s entire body grow tense and his breath becomes slow and calculated. 

“They just need to meet me?”

You nodded, too embarrassed to say anything. 

“I’ll meet your friends. Now tell me about Garreth, it seems I need to have a word with him.” Sherlock began. 

You chuckled and pulled him down for a kiss to silence him. 

Sherlock’s mind was made up as you kissed him. He’d let Garreth know you were his. He’d make your friends into believers. If there was any truth in this corrupted world, it would be that Sherlock loved you and that he was yours and you were his. 

________

“Next class, I would have liked you all to have read chapters sixteen and seventeen,” your professor announced to the class. “These chapters are crucial for the discussion, so please come prepared. Class dismissed.”

It was as if a wave of vitality drowned the class. Students, who were moments before drooling onto the desks and their eyes closed, now shot to life. They stuffed their computers and textbooks into their backpacks. 

As you gathered your things at your desk, you noticed a shadow fall over your figure. You peered up to glance at the person. It was Sherlock. 

You looked around confused. “Why are you…” 

“Thought I’d come to visit my girlfriend and take her out to lunch. Seemed to have a break from the case for a moment,” Sherlock replied. The corner of his eyes crinkled as a grin flashed across his face.

You couldn’t help but match his smile. It really was contagious. “Perfect. I know just the place to eat,” you said. “And it just so happens my friends are working there.”

There was a sparkle in Sherlock’s eye. “Perfect indeed.” He extended his elbow out to you. You linked your arm with his and led him to the cafe for lunch.

________

“Miri, the girl’s got three more days in the month,” Lucy said. “You can’t set her up on a date with Garreth.”

“Oh, and how much do you want to bet that her boyfriend will magically turn up in those three days,” Miri shot back. Lucy sighed in defeat. “That’s what I thought…I just worry about her. She needs to go and find her person. I care about her too much. Plus, Garreth is a big sweetheart and everything she’d ever want in a man.”

“I care about her to Miri, but…” 

A bell rang from above the door. The sight left both Miri and Lucy’s eyes to bulge out of their heads. The two of them had to do a double take. Once they certified with their brains that what was in front of them was real, they couldn’t help but squeal. 

There stood their best friend, you. What the real sight was the man linked to your arm. They ran through the description you had given them of the mysterious man. 

He was tall, check.

He had a head of gorgeous dark curls, check. 

Cheekbones that could cut, check. 

Entrancing ocean blue eyes, check. 

A smile that puts the greatest celebrities to shame, check.

A gentleman, check, 

Absolutely and irrevocably in love with you, check, check, CHECK. 

“It’s him!” Lucy and Miri whispered to each other. 

“Hi, Luc and Miri,” you chirped. You lifted a hand and pointed to Sherlock. “This is my boyfriend, Sherlock.” The two women eyed you and Sherlock. They were doing a horrible job of hiding their excitement. “Sherlock, these are my best friends, Lucy and Miri.” 

Immediately the two stuck out their hands to shake Sherlock’s. 

“Damn, you have nice hands. Nice fingers as well,” Miri blurted. She sent you a wink to which your face flushed with embarrassment. 

Sherlock chuckled unsure of what to say. “Nice to finally meet you two.” He flashed your friends an awkward grin. They couldn’t help but ogle at Sherlock. 

You cleared your throat. “Can we order, or are you just going to stand there and stare at my boyfriend,” you teased. 

Now it was your friend’s turn to be embarrassed. 

“Right,” Lucy cried. “What can I get you two?”

The two of your ordered lunch and then found an open seat in the cafe. Sherlock sat with his back facing your friends, which allowed you the full view of their gawking. Miri kept winking and making sexual references with her fingers. Lucy just flashed you a thumbs-up before preparing your order. 

“Sorry about my friends,” You whispered to Sherlock. The evidence on your cheeks let Sherlock know just how embarrassed you were. 

“It’s alright,” he said in an attempt to soothe your embarrassment. 

Again the bell above the door rang long and clear. In stepped Garreth. He had his backpack swung over his shoulder and a witty smile adorning his face. 

“Afternoon, ladies!” He greeted Lucy and Miri. 

“Hey there Garreth,” Miri replied as she winked at him. 

Sherlock’s ears perked up. He turned to look at you. “Garreth?” 

You looked over to the man who just entered the cafe and then back at Sherlock. Your boyfriend had a look on his face. A wave of butterflies was released into your stomach. Sherlock raised his brow up and had a smirk on his face. 

As Garreth noticed your presence and uttered your name, Sherlock grabbed onto the collar of your shirt and yanked you to him. His lips met yours in a possessive kiss. It was strong and secure and much brasher than you were used to receiving from Sherlock in public. The man tended to stick to more subtle ways of showing others that you were his: a hand around your waist, his figure standing not far from yours, a glare to anyone who dare look your way as if their eyes didn’t deserve to see you in all your glory. 

As Sherlock slipped his tongue into your mouth, dancing alongside yours, Lucy and Miri gasped. You could just imagine the look on their faces. You did tell them he was a good kisser after all and now they just got front-row seats to the show. 

You had to pull back from Sherlock. Your breath was heavy as your lungs remembered what it was like to breathe. From the looks of it, Sherlock would have kept kissing you until he passed out and you’d let him. You let out a giggle seeing your friend’s amazed faces. Sherlock pecked your cheek lightly as a small reminder. 

“Someone’s jealous…,” You giggled. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I’m just letting the world know what’s mine,” he said in a low voice only you could hear. 

“Well, from what I could tell, you’ve only shown three people. If you want to show the whole world, you’ve got a lot of work to do,” you winked. 

Sherlock smiled. “It’s a good thing I like kissing you among other things.” There was a suggestive look in his eyes. 

You gasped slightly and hit him on the shoulder. “My friends are right behind you Sherlock.”

“I know.” 

You rolled your eyes as Sherlock turned around and asked your friends to take lunch to go. He explained that he needed you for the afternoon. Lucy and Miri played along and quickly finished your order. They shoved in your hands and pushed you out the door whispering words of playful encouragement. 

“You scored the lottery,” Lucy whispered to you. 

You smiled and looked at Sherlock. You really did. Sherlock was everything you could ask for and more. 

Once again, the two of you linked your arms together and scurried back to Baker Street. Your takeout left on the counter was forgotten. Unlike that afternoon, when Sherlock showed the world again and again that he was yours and you were his.

_____

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#sherlock BBC #bbc!Sherlock #bbc sherlock #sherlockbbc #Sherlock Holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #Sherlock #sherlock fanfic #jealous sherlock #sherlock fluff #reader #sherlock reader insert #reader insert #no use of y/n #benedict cumberbatch #benedict!sherlock #your friends don't think you have a boyfriend #Sherlock proves them wrong #I AM SHERLOCKED #fanfic #Fanfic writer #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x you #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes imagine #William sherlock scott holmes #reqs open #sherlock request

[classickook]

safe in your arms | sherlock holmes

pairing: sherlock holmes x gn!reader

summary: sherlock can only fully relax when he’s in your presence so after he comes home from a frustrating case one day, he’s more than happy to be in your arms again. (based off this request by anon.)

warnings: fluff, non-sexual nudity, clingy!sherlock

word count: 0.8k

a/n: sherlock is pretty ooc here but it’s a nice change every once in a while! feedback is appreciated <3

where are you? -SH

you briefly glance at the short message sherlock sent and type back a quick response: at home, why?

no reply. no text bubbles, nothing.

it wasn’t uncommon for sherlock to be so short or distracted in his texts, but it worried you sometimes when he didn’t respond right away.

your fingers move across the screen with the beginnings of a new message when the door suddenly bursts open, followed by a very grumpy looking sherlock.

he storms into the flat with an exaggerated pout on his pretty pink lips and presses his back against the door after shutting it firmly closed.

you’re currently lying on the sofa and reading a book when the noise causes you to jump slightly, nearly dropping your cell where it had been balancing on your leg. “oh hi, sherlock,” you say sweetly. “you’re back early.”

he doesn’t respond. instead, he simply drags his feet toward you, ridding himself of his coat and scarf along the way, and quickly kicks off his shoes before moving to rest his lanky body on top of you.

you release a gentle ‘oof’ before marking the page and setting your book aside. “what’s wrong, hmm?” one hand caresses his back while the other reaches up to cradle the back of his head, fingers toying with his soft curls.

“people are dreadful,” he groans into your chest.

you giggle as you squeeze him in tighter, kissing the crown of his head and then resting your cheek there. “poor baby,” you coo teasingly.

“i’m serious, y/n,” he sighs, slightly aggravated and perhaps overwhelmed by the day he’d had. “i missed you today. i would’ve much rather stayed here with you.”

your hands still against his back. “really? but what about all the excitement of a new case? the game of it?”

he shakes his head, causing his curls to tickle your chin. “i don’t care. it wasn’t worth it anyway. a complete waste of time.”

you hum in response and sherlock practically purrs at the gentle vibration of it against his cheek. “i’m sorry today didn’t go well,” you sympathize. “but you’re here now and i’ve got you.”

“thank god for that,” he mutters oh so quietly, like he hadn’t intended for you to hear it.

sherlock had never been very fond of physical contact or intimacy, from what you’d heard amongst the others, at least, but he tended to be rather clingy around you, especially after a bad day like today. it brought a smile to your face to be wanted—needed—like this, like you were the only person who could bring him this level of solace and comfort, offering a safe space where he didn’t need to worry about prying eyes or carrying the mantle of the famous consulting detective.

here in this tiny flat with you, he could completely unwind and rest in your arms.

his large hands suddenly move beneath your shirt and along your sides until they position themselves under you to rest just below your shoulder blades, cupping you there with slender fingers.

silence settles about the room aside from sherlock’s soft breaths. you continue playing with his hair, applying gentle pressure as you lovingly massage his scalp and twirl your fingers around each messy curl.

sherlock then adjusts slightly before unexpectedly lifting the hem of your shirt and sliding his head beneath the fabric to rest on your bare chest, feeling the warmth of your skin and beating heart against his cheek.

you peer down at him beneath the collar of your shirt, holding back a laugh. “what are you doing in there?”

“just wanted to feel you,” he mumbles, breath hot on your skin and causing goosebumps to rise in its wake. he presses lazy kisses against your sternum and sighs happily.

sherlock rarely ever got this clingy, only on stressful days when he became overwhelmed by his thoughts and senses. he always turned to you in those moments, taking comfort in your embrace and your soothing words. the man wasn’t usually one for physical contact with anyone, unless it was you. you were different. you were special.

“read to me, please?” he asks quietly, voice muffled from where he is pressed into your chest.

you smile, running your hands up and down his back. “what would you like me to read?“

“anything. whatever you were reading before i came in. just want to hear your voice.”

“all right, darling,” you say quietly. “whatever you want.”

he snuggles further into your chest before a heavy yet contented sigh escapes his lips, and you shiver slightly at the way his long eyelashes brush against your skin.

“love you,” he whispers.

your heart flutters at his sincerity, so sweet and gentle with you. a tender smile pulls at your lips before opening your book to the page you left off on, feeling mutual comfort in sherlock’s presence. “i love you, too,” you reply softly and begin to read aloud to him.

#bbc sherlock #sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock fic #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x you #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes fic #sherlock holmes fanfic #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock fluff #sherlock holmes fluff #requested #soft!sherlock

[iamsherlocked1479]

Jealousy

Description: You don’t want to get caught up in a friends with benefits situation with Sherlock so you attempt to go on a date. Key word attempt.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: 18+ p in v sex, oral (male recevng) kinda shaming but not too bad.

——————————————————————————

Your intentions were never to get caught up in a friends with benefits situation with anyone, especially not with someone as peculiar as Sherlock Holmes, but that was before the worst and probably most stressful days of your lives. He had to admit he couldn’t solve a case and you barely got through the day while managing to keep your job after the mess up with authors and the books they had written, honestly there needs to be less people with the surname smith in the world. You had both found yourself collapsed and slightly drunk on the sofa of 221B, you’re not denying it wasn’t good sex. Because in all honesty it was probably the best sex you’d ever had and he clearly enjoyed it because he kept coming back for more, to be specific exactly twenty three times in the space of three and a half weeks. It was becoming clear he never really was stressed every time, but how can you reject an offer from a man so good looking. You’d always been fond of his dark curls, baby blue eyes and especially the way he sirts clung around his biceps. But you hadn’t looked at him that much? Well that was a lie you found yourself staring at him whenever you could, and he enjoyed it, especially when he mentioned it during the deed. But now it has to stop, you have a date and you’re walking down the stairs in the nicest dress you could find, because you like this guy, and that's when he saw you.

“Can we have a moment?” He stood up eyes already scanning your body

“I told you last time was the last time.” You sigh picking up your keys 

“Why?” He moans almost like a child

“Because it's not good for roommates to be in a friends with benefits situation. It causes problems.” You weren’t exactly lying, every American rom-com had explained that.

“Fine then, what if we weren’t friends? I never liked you much anyways, there's more to life than books you know. One has to open their eyes to broader horizons” he sighed moving in front of the doorway

“Good to know, now one has to go, I have a date.” You mock him as you push past. You feel his hand on your wrist stopping you in your tracks, his touch burned your skin, your body craves him.

“A date why would you do that to yourself?” He asks

“What do you mean?” You say pulling your wrist away subtly checking it to see if he really did burn you, of course he didn’t.

“Why would you want to go to a semi decent restaurant and conversate with a person you barely know and hope that they’re not just looking for a one night stand?” 

“Because I barely know him and he’s a sweet guy who can pick out a good restaurant. How would you know anyways, you’re afraid of commitment.” You snap back but he pulls you again, you can tell by the look in his eyes, somehow you were going to pay for that.

“Don’t make me order you.” His tone depended and his eyes were filled with lust. You rolled your lips together before you said your reply

“I’d like to see you try.” You gulped, never letting go of your eye contact. He let go biting the side of his cheek as he watched you leave the building, he was angry but he felt the need to ruin that confidence. He knew by the end of the night he’d have you on your knees one way or another begging for him.

———————————-

Somehow despite the slight detour of that conversation you had managed to make it to the restaurant on time. Jamie was already there dressed in a smart shirt, fitting for the restaurant you were at. His eyes lit up when he saw you.

“Hey i’m so glad we can finally do this” he stood up and made his way to your side of the table and pulled out your chair.

“Such a gentleman” you laughed as he tucked you into the table. You open the menu and he surprises you with ordering a bottle of wine for the table.

“So how is work?” He asks 

“Oh you know same old same old” you sigh

“Yeah but did you close the Anderson deal?” He pressed on

“Unfortunately not yet, but let's leave work at the door.” You ask

“For now sure.” He smiles, the rest of the date was fairly normal with all the usual things being asked. Your gaze switches from picking at your sub average food towards the man entering the building. Oh god, you could recognize those curls from a mile away. For fuck sake Sherlock. The waiter smiles warmly at him as she leads him to the table exactly next to yours.

“I think- is that, Sherlock Holmes?” Jamie exclaims

“Yup” you sigh “unfortunately so” you head falls into your palms

“Oh I didn’t expect to see you here!” He wears a fake smile as he sits down at his table shuffling his seat.

“You two know each other?” Jamie asks excitedly 

“Yes we do.” Sherlock replies looking at the menu

“Remember that weird roommate I was telling you about?” You glare at him, ensuring he knows what you’re suggesting 

“That's him, no way!” 

“This is Thai food, I thought you hated Thai food.” Sherlock looks at you “and have you not noticed the sub standard way he’s dressed along with the notebook he has to take notes to improve his publishing skills. What was it? Uhh, Jason, are you sure this is a date?” He smirks

“It's Jamie, and uh I- well maybe I was” Jamie stutters and looks over to you.

“Why are you here sherlock? And if you wanted help you could’ve just asked. Don’t lead me on for three months then take me on a crappy date.” You begin to pack up your stuff.

“Wait, please I- uh i’m sorry.” Jamie does move from his seat

“Uh huh sure looks like it, hope you enjoyed your free lesson because my meal was crap.” You look over to the manager of the restaurant who looks somewhat hurt by your words. Feeling bad you slam a £10 note on the table before storming off.

“What can I get you?” The waitress asks Sherlock.

“Sorry but change of plan.” Sherlock folds the menu up and places it on the table and hands a tip to the waitress “sorry for the trouble” he smiles and follows you out of the restaurant.

———————————

You stood outside the door to baker street red with anger, not only did he push his way into the date, but he also ruined it. Yeah maybe it was a bad way but it was supposed to be a way to get over his stupid dick, not that he needed to know that.

“I’m sorry, my intentions weren’t-

“Don’t start that Sherlock, you’re a good detective but a shit liar.” You huff pushing through the door.

“Well i was unsure given how you left” he followed you up the stairs, you stopped in your tracks. Oh he’s really done it now.

“How i left?” You sighed, Sherlock stood back slightly he’d never seen you like this before “you mean me telling you didn’t wanna be your stress relief anymore and actually trying to be an adult. What were you so unsure about? Please enlighten me.”

“How about the past three weeks of practically begging on your knees for me?” He snapped back

“Oh yeah sure because it only takes one person to fuck, how about last week or about two hours ago if I remember correctly, do you want me to go on. I told you we can’t do it anymore! Why do you think I was on this date?!” You paused knowing you’d said too much

“What are you talking about?” He tilts his head

“I may have only gone on this date because I didn’t want to think what we had was becoming something else, you don’t do all these normal people things.” You laugh to yourself “I was trying to get over your dick.” 

“Why should you?” He stepped closer, you took a stepback back until you hit the wall.

“What do you mean?” You ask, he answered swiftly by latching his lips to yours, pining you between him and the wall, your lips part as he pushes his tongue through causing you to send a whimper into his mouth

“Just admit it, you need me. I know I need you.” He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist, he carried you into the apartment and dropped you against the door where he began to take off your clothes. You reached to undo the buttons of his shirt and he smacked your desperate hands away.

“Why?” You whimpered 

“Because you wanted someone else, you denied me of what i wanted. Now you have to wait for what you want, until I decide you’re forgiven.” His eyes were dark with lust as he pawed your body removing your layers. He turned you around and spread your legs apart. You heard the familiar sound of his belt unbuckling and then the tingling sensation of him rubbing his cock up and down your slick folds. He entered you with one hard thrust causing your face to press into the hard wood of the door as he fucked you.

“Fuck-sherlock plea-“ he cut you off covering your mouth with his hand.

“Wouldn’t want Mrs Hudson to hear now do we?” He continued his movement causing the door to rattle, he rubbed against the soft spot inside, his thickness and curve entered you perfectly. His cock rubbed your insides just right, tightening the coil inside you.

“F-fuck Sherlock. Gonna cum.” You whimper as he grunts, pushing you closer to your release. 

“Fuck- so tight.” He moaned. Your body’s heat began to rise as you grew ever closer to you release, he let it build up gripping harder and pushing deeper waiting, until he stopped. He pulled himself out, wiping the sweat from his brow and straightening his collar. 

“What the hell?” You turned around watching as he sat in his chair tucking his hardness away.

“I’m stopping you from getting what you wanted.” He said holding his hands together in his usual pose

“Why would you do that?” You ask slightly irritated at the mess he left you in

“You did it to me, I thought it was only fair.” He tilts his head pulling a sarcastic smirk.

“You’re a drama queen.” You walk over to him “and an ass” you kneel between his legs “and you’re-“ 

“Choose your next words wisely.” His hand gripped your chin pushing your lips together. You gripped his wrists and pulled them away, snaking your hands down his thighs, back to his hardness.

“And you’re incredibly jealous.” You say with a smile, his thighs clenched as your hands run over his crotch and unbuckling his belt. He let out a long sigh as you took his cock into your hands. You pumped him for a moment, allowing his body to relax into the chair before circling your tongue around his tip, your saliva mixing with the salty taste of precum dripping from him. You licked a stripe up his shaft eventually sinking your mouth down, swallowing as much as you could.

“That's it, take it all for me, good girl.” He hissed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You bobbed up and down moaning onto him, sending vibrations down his shaft.  You pulled back up, sucking on his tip and pumping him with your hand. His thighs clenched as he pushed you away. “Not yet, can’t cum too soon.”

“Why? can't go again?” You smile

“Don’t ask stupid questions love.” He sniped back as you straddled his waist “you gonna cum around my cock” he watched as you placed your entrance above his hardness.

“You going to let me this time? Or are you- shit!” You yelped out as he thrusted up into you. You panted over him as you sunk down pushing him deeper

“What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?” He smirked and began pushing back up into you as you grinded along with the pace. Your hands gripped his shoulders to steady yourself as the motion rocked his chair. His lips traced your jawline down to your neck, he sucked leaving red marks along your neckline. His arm wrapped around your waist allowing him to hold you up as he thrusted hard into you.

“Fuck sherlock , j-just like that.” You whispered as he cock pushed deeper rubbing perfectly on that sweet spot inside. He groaned at the sensation of your walls tightening around him.

“Fuck, you gonna cum on my cock, soak it, just the way i like it.” He moaned moving his thumb to your swollen clit adding to the sensation. The chair began to rock and creak with the motion of your bodies colliding.

“Oh god Sh-Sherlock gonna cum.” You squealed as your body clenched around him, his touch burned your skin. You needed him, the way he made you feel didn’t even come close to the way anyone else could.

“I bet Jamie couldn’t make you look like this, paralysed over my cock.” He let out a groan as his pace stuttered. “You want me to cum pretty girl?”  

“Yes, please, I want it.” You begged rocking on his lap.

“Where do you want it pretty girl?” He grunted

“In me, please, I want you to fill me up. Sherlock please, I need it. All yours, only you.” 

“I’ll give it to you- fuck. Gonna paint your insides white.” He bit down on your shoulder, lavishing you neck with kisses as he came, the squelching sound of him pushing his thick white ropes further into you filled the room. You stopped rocking, resting your brow on his with a smile, his eyes locked on yours before he leaned in for an exhausted sloppy kiss. He pulled away admiring the marks he left on your neck.

“What?” You asked as he traced his fingers around them.

“Now when you or anyone else looks at these, they’ll know you’re mine.” He smirked as you sighed 

“Your arrogance will be the death of me”

“As long as its only because i fucked you to your grave, thats fine. But don’t go too soon.” He pulled you in for a tired hug, you hummed happily, savouring the moment. It wasn’t often Sherlock Holmes showed you affection.

#bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #benedict cumberbatch x female!reader #friends with benefts #sherlock smut #sherlockbbc #sherlock bbc #sherlock fluff #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock fanfic #benedict cucumber #benedict cumberbatch #Spotify

[thegildedbee]

*Pixelated* [fluffbruary-ing 🐇 2024]

Chapter 1 [2.1 prompt: clinic] ................................... John stands next to the kitchen table, his recently charged laptop tucked into the crook of his elbow, strangely reluctant to set it down and get about the business of setting up a zoom call. It's not the call itself that is problematic: oddly enough, it's the fact that the table's surface is completely empty.

There's no need to wrangle space for the computer -- to try and wedge it in amidst the footprint of a large and unwieldy microscope, dubious solutions and dodgy specimens in fragile glassware, and an aggravating assemblage of Sherlockian detritus. The microscope, the dubious and the dodgy, the aggravating detritus, and the man himself are all resident elsewhere -- Sherlock having reluctantly slipped away just under the lockdown deadline to rusticate with his elderly parents, so as to be close at hand due to the unpredictability of the threats posed by the spread of COVID-19.

[ Read the rest here: continued at ao3. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged :-) ]

xoxoxo to the @fluffbruary honor guard for providing guidance and infectious enthusiasm in spreading fandom fluff to one and all: [prompt list]

@totallysilvergirl @mydogwatson @calaisreno @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @blogstandbygo @fluffbruary

#fluffbruary 2024 #sherlock fluff #all hail fluffbruary! #bbc sherlock #fanfic #everyone sing with me #here we come a-fluffbruarying among the fics so keen

[futureplayboibunnie]

Hello! I really luv your work so maybe could you do more smutty sherlock stuff? Maybe dom!sherlock and a reader with a praise kink?

‘Distraction’

Sherlock x fem!reader

- I’M BAAAACK w another smutty ass sherlock fic. i swear all my sherlock fics are always so long, i need to get a grip but i really enjoyed writing this one. love u xx

Sherlock's mouth was twitching and his mind was in a constant state of strained unease. The world was asking too much of him and it irritated more than anything, Mycroft was breathing down his neck with a mountain load of cases he would never even get around to looking at and sometimes Sherlock just wanted to kick someone in the teeth, feel the blood pumping through his veins in a way a lousy case couldn't satiate. He was angry, annoyed, restless and uneasy.

Sherlock put himself in that situation though, he was being a hermit hiding out in his flat and he didn't even let John come in to entertain him- Sherlock could only think of you.

This was bad. He was in demand...but he didn't know what he was demanding for…you? He didn't know how to control his emotions, he felt something heady and particularly intoxicating about you, he was almost drunk off it. You were insatiable and it piqued his interest, you were a curious little thing, always poking your nose in places it didn't belong- including just Sherlock. Sometimes he just wanted to scold you for being too daring and risky, he didn't like the idea of you putting yourself in a dangerous situation for the sake of it...but you liked the danger of it all just the way Sherlock did. He didn't like that at all, it was like you could see through him in a way no one else could.

Sherlock knew you wanted him. It was obvious by the way you would eye fuck him in socially inept situations, in a crowded room- he admired your callousness although deep down he wanted to put you in your place. His accolades made you blush, his praises made your eyes gleam slightly, you loved him complimenting your work and he knew it was a big weakness within you. Your breath halted everytime you were near him and your mouth would pry open slightly and he had to surpress the urge to close your pretty little mouth for you- it was adorable and distracting at the same time. The universe was determined to pull him next to you...or was that Sherlock himself admitting he wanted you...in more ways than one? The calculations of it didn't make any sense and it was clouding his head, he didn't know how to make any of this go away, if only he could show you instead of talk.

You were bored of his moping, you wanted him to have some fun with you on another case and it was to cheer you up more than him. You just wanted to know what he was up to, Sherlock was always up to something, in a grey area of nothing inherently bad but nothing inherently good. Although he wasn't allowing anyone to visit him, you took it upon yourself to tease him out of hiding. You didn't really care for the ramifications, you never did.

You trodded up the stairs of his flat and you open the door slightly to let yourself in. Sherlock was pacing around, messing with the multiple experiments he was conducting at the same time. He was just trying to take his mind off of you, but these little thoughts kept meandering into his head.

You. Just you.

Sherlock heard the tremble of your breath first and he could practically hear your raised eyebrow at his strange but not infrequent behaviour- it was endearing. He got up from looking at his microscope when he heard your footsteps enter, he scrambled to look at your face again and it was etched in judgement but at least it was that of endearing judgement. He felt his ego straighten up, Sherlock couldn't remember the last time his ego was shaken, he was always so sure of himself but you obviously had to fiddle with things that best be untouched. Including Sherlock's innermost desires.

‘’You've been busy.’’ You remarked with a quirked eyebrow and a small smirk.

‘’Get out, I'm still busy.’’ Sherlock said breathlessly and it made him straighten his posture, he didn't like how uncertain and certain he sounded at the same time. He definitely didn't want you to go, but like always he had to act as if he didn't care for anyone or anything...especially something as useless and pathetic as desire and sex.

God he really wanted it though. You were wearing a skirt.

He could just hike it up and easily…

You interrupted his wayward thoughts as his blank face met yours.

‘’You're not busy, you just want a distraction. Any other day conducting this many experiments would've made you lose your mind. How can you be so detail oriented when you've got so many things going at once?’’ You walked around the room, tapping on the things Sherlock wouldn't let anyone touch. He was actually thinking of an answer to your question, though.

‘’I multitask. It can challenge narrow minded people.’’ His eyes thinned as he squinted at you intently, you twirled around and you met him with a knowing flirty half smile, scoffing at his insult.

‘’So snippy, need a distraction? Got another case.’’ You offered as you walked over to him to stare into his dark cerulean eyes, Sherlock was glaring down at you as your face was near his.

‘’I'm already distracted.’’ Sherlock admitted way too hastily and it made your eyes prick up.

Sherlock Holmes? Distracted? You were half joking when you said he just wanted a distraction, but he was? Even though your eyes were widening in surprise, you couldn't help but provoke him even further. You felt incredibly special seeing him so frail.

The things you wanted him to do to you was unspeakable and you felt a heated blush creep on the back of your neck and your cheeks.

‘’Wow. I never thought I'd live to see the day.’’ You smiled at seeing his hubris crack before you.

‘’Yes. It's a novelty for me too.’’ He said plainly, trying to hide and feign his hidden desire for you.

‘’What's got you like this then?’’

‘’You.’’ Sherlock blurted, but it felt deliberate. The perfect opportunity to just finally admit with a heavy heart that he wanted you, feel the weight of his innate desire free from his broad shoulders.

‘’It's your fault.’’He muttered.

‘’My fault?’’ You repeated.

‘’Yes.’’ He breathed as his fingers fell and brushed against yours and you felt your heart halt in its beating, scoff catching in your throat.

‘’Who do you think you are?’’ Sherlock's lips were dangerously close to your ear and it made you still against him, body heat merging with one another as you slowly pressed yourself against him.

‘’Who do I think I am?’’You scoffed as you blinked up at him, being a flirt as always. ‘’What about you….Sherlock.. what do you want?’’ Your voice was low and less immediate, stretching out whatever this was as a means to revel in it.

His hands travelled to cradle your face softly, large hands feeling the skin of your cheek as his thumb grazed the soft pink flesh of your lips. Sherlock felt oblivious to the world around him when all he could see and feel was you in his palm.

‘’I want to feel you. Naked. Beneath me.’’ His words were potent, dense and you felt like you had to pinch yourself, it must be a dream. Your heart was pounding in your chest and Sherlock could feel your sweet breath fan his face, eyes fluttering a little as you registered his words.

Sherlock Holmes...having a dirty mouth...is something that felt fictitious and delicious. The man was divine, so intense and brutal when he wanted to be- exactly your type. Your mouth was dry, the functions of your tongue forgetting how to move as his stare was that of raw intensity and pure longing. Mind racing and unable to pump the breaks, you were wondering how he would be in bed as of this moment. It wasn't an infrequent thought but you never in a million years thought it to be a reality, only to be conjured in your wildest and wettest dreams. You contemplated if he would be a dom or sub. It honestly could be either, he was so damn unreadable, you didn't know what was going on in that beautiful mind of his. You were keening to find out. The posh twat always loves the divine feminine dom, maybe that's a clue. Although, the way his eyes were scorching into yours made all of your thoughts draw to a blank.

‘’Are you going to talk sweetheart or are you just going to stand there gawking at me so vacantly?’’ His fingers jutted your chin up so he could make you squirm.

Sherlock loved it when he got that bodily reaction from you, it just confirmed that it was definitely not one sided and you were thinking of the lascivious things that best left unseen.

‘’I think I'm enjoying my mindless gawk thank you.’’ You flirted but he wasn't in the mood for any of your games. He's come to love that look in your eyes, the one of need, desire, to put it so crudely- eye fucking. Sherlock grabbed you by the cheeks, his fingernails indenting into the skin of your face, you were taken aback when he finally made his intentions clear. You honestly thought this was a part of a sadistic sort of experiment, but now it was actually piecing together- he wanted you. Sherlock Holmes wanted to undress you, feel your skin, fuck you in his bed.

‘’Don't be difficult, you surely can't be after your incessant need to catch my attention. Well, consider my attention caught...I'm simply asking because it's polite. Do you want me to put you out of your misery and make you finish or not?’’

‘’So vain.’’ You muttered, chewing on your lip slightly unsure of what to say without sounding like the thirstiest person ever.

‘’Do you want me to fuck you on the stairs because right now I will.’’ Sherlock was deadly serious, he didn't care if it was uncomfortable for you, he would take you in any shape or form, pin your hands behind your back, pull your hair make your brain melt with how good he made you full but you were still staring at him blankly.

‘’For fucks sake.’’ You finally breathed out before colliding your lips to his.

Like two magnets, like a moth to a flame- you simply just couldn't resist each other. Your fingers were in his hair as your body moulded to his, Sherlock was also quite surprised with himself, he'd never let anyone touch his hair but when you tugged on his curls he let out a delectable hiss. He really liked that. He wanted you to do it again. His kiss was passionate, certain and beautifully cruel.

‘’Tell me you want me.’’ You hummed against kisses, your fingers immediately crowning from his hair to his blazer and button down. Sherlock's hands were roaming around your body as if he owned it, his insanely large palm went to your ass and squeezed tightly over the fabric of your skirt. He was feeling brazen. His fingertips toyed with the hem of that skirt he just wanted to rip off, and felt at the skin of your ass under it. You shivered into his touch, every single feeling driving a new unforgivable sensation.

‘’I'll show you. Forgive me if I'm not polite about it.’’ Sherlock had never been this desperate before, to openly obey an order was foreign to him but you could pry just about anything out of him.

Sherlock clasped your hand and quite literally dragged you to his room, you had to suck in your squeals of delight, you couldn't believe any of this was actually becoming a reality. Your reality. He fucking wanted you. He slammed his door and pinned you up against it, lip to lip. Your moan echoed through his entire body, his soul rocked at the sensation. His lips found that spot behind your ear where your pulse was hammering, Jesus your heart was beating fast. It brightened his mood and amplified his ego.

You went to shrug him of his blazer but he got there before you. Sherlock ripped off your top with his bare hands, you inhaled sharply as the cool evening air hit your torso. He quite literally tore it off, the look in his eyes were that of ash and fire. Your lip quivered and your eyebrows tensed with that one look. The fact that he was the only one that got your legs wobbly and your heart stuttering was making him so insanely happy. The reaction to his kiss allowed hiim to deduce that you've been kissed before...but not often. The thought pleased him.

Nimble fingers went to unbotton his button down. You took your sweet time with this just to be a teasing little bitch. Your eyes went doe as you gave him a look of foax sincerity and sweetness

Oh...so that's how it's going to be.

You finally discarded it and the bulk of his biceps alone could crush you, his arms, his hands, his chest were so finely crafted he was akin to that of a Greek God. Sherlock pulled you from the door frame, he sat on the edge of the bed and you were standing infront of him.

‘’Strip for me.’’

He whispered, the fated words making the atmosphere damp and heavy and you enjoyed revelling in it. The way he said it made your mouth pop open slightly.

You were more than happy to oblige with his delicious demand. Your dignity was deteriorating with every moment you spent with him. Sherlock's blue eyes darkened as your fingers went to the zipper of your skirt, your intense gaze met with his, unwavering, downright carnal. His jaw clenched when you teasingly shimmied your skirt down your long, smooth legs. Your frame was fucking remarkable. Dear Lord it looked like you were crafted by the angels in heaven above. His stare fell to your feet, he smirked when he still found you in your impossibly high heels, he wanted to feel them dig into the small of his back when he finally fucked into you.

Sherlock wanted to paw at you like a filthy animal, his inhibitions fleeing him the longer he gaped at you. You bit your lip sweetly as your fingers fell to your back as you began the slow pace of unclamping your bra. You were so deliberate and he wanted to just fuck the pettiness out of you. Sherlock watched intently as you flung it to the other side of the room to care about later, your tits fell free and he just stifled the urge to grab you right now.

He just had to remind himself: patience is a virtue.

Giggling, your fingers hooked on the lace of your underwear and shimmied it down. He let out a scoff, almost entranced and confused at how beautiful you looked. Sherlock gripped onto your waist and tugged you between his legs, his fingers pinched onto the bare skin of your hips. His lips met with your soft lower stomach and he planted a kiss there.

‘’Beautiful...’’ He exhaled as he breathed in your intoxicating scent.

‘’So you can be nice.’’ You smirked down at him.

‘’Only to you. Only. You.’’ He said deadpan, you gushed when he emphasised the word 'you.' You tucked your hair back behind your ear bashfully as the waves of anticipation began creaking back into the airwaves. You weren't sure where he was going next with this.

Sherlock's grip daren't soften, he pulled you down onto the bed, your head hitting the pillow allowing your hair to sprawl out, he thought you looked like an angel- hair casting a halo like figure in your stance. He kneeled between your sweet thighs to stare down at you, face contorted in pleasure already. He hadn't even done anything yet, it made him chuckle lowly. Mocking you condescendingly but you didn't have it in yourself to care or argue.

‘’You've been begging for it haven't you? Just admit it. It's only us. Only you and I here...together. Don't be coy now.’' Sherlock was just revelling in your desperation and it made your insides sizzle and burn, it was almost unbareable. Your lips twitched as you flushed, unable to control how your body was reacting.

Sweet. Jesus. The effect this man had on you.

‘’You're quite the distraction.’’ You said meekly, they were the only words you could muster up. Your voice wasn't a reflection of your actions though, your hands had a mind of their own, flying to his zipper and roughly undoing his pants. Sherlock caught onto your wrist to stop you in your tracks, he would be lying if he said he didn't like the direction in which you were going in. Images of you choking on his cock flashed through the forefront of his mind, his breathing became heavier. His tongue glazed his lower lip as he let out a breathless scoff.

Yeah, maybe later.

‘’Ditto.’’ He muttered.

Sherlock pinned your hands against the bed beside your head, excitement thrumming through your veins at whatever delicious torture he was bound to inflict. His fingers pinched and palmed at your tits, a broken moan fell from your lips as his long thick fingers travelled down the skin of your stomach to your glistening pussy. You threw your head back. He swiped up and down before finally inserting a finger inside of your wetness, you squirmed under him as he bent down to kiss at the crook of your neck.

‘’Fuck...Sherlock.’’ You moaned out, physically incapable of keeping it in anymore.

‘’You can take it.’’ Sherlock reassured deadpan and impassive, almost like an

You huffed as he pistoned another finger inside of you, he was delighted with how wet he got you. It was an indicator of the amount of pleasure he was drawing out of you, his ego boosted tenfold. You exhaled as he finally pulled his fingers out, in the pale moonlight his fingers glistened. Giving him a perplexed look, Sherlock wanted to rattle you even more, drag it out, surprise you.

‘’Open your mouth. See how sweet you taste.’’ He chuckled, so obviously pleased with himself.

Your eyes widened slightly at his request but his hard glare made you believe that it wasn't a request but an undeniable demand. You couldn't say no to that look, that scorching, firey look. You opened your mouth and he was beaming at the sight. He stuffed his fingers into your wet mouth, suckling on his fingers to taste at yourself. Humming against his fingers, Sherlock felt his body buzz and his cock harden. You gawked up at him through your lashes, the look of neediness etched all over your face- the cherry on top of the cake, his fingers in your mouth. He wondered what you looked like on your knees. You let his fingers go with a pop.

‘’Good girl.’’ He praised and it made an incredibly obvious blush stain your face.

Oh, you loved that.

Your mouth slanted against his, tongues dancing against tongues as you felt your heartbeat hammering against your chest. Tugging his pants down, Sherlock's cock finally sprung free. You glanced down, eyes unable to comprehend how fucking big he was. It was curved, thick and leaking. You felt yourself salivate at the sight of it.

‘’Sherlock...please.’’ You begged and he decided to give you the mercy.

He pushed himself inside of you, clinging onto him for dear life. Sherlock burrowed and nestled himself in your hair and your skin, spiralling wih the fact he got you like this- this has to be a dream of some sorts. It simply cannot be real. Fingernails digging into his shoulderblades, he hissed into your skin as he rutted in and out of you. Your moans and groans creating a symphony of euphoria. Sherlock gazed into the vast planes of your glassy eyes, he could simply get lost in them forever. Your heels dug into his back and the pain was stunning.

‘’You make me weak...pretty girl.’’ Sherlock admitted breathlessly.

The whole world stopped. It felt like it was tipping on its axis. You made Sherlock Holmes weak. You couldn't fathom the power you held, you were drunk off it and it made you moan loudly against his lips. It felt like music to his ears.

‘’Sherlock.. you're a God.’’

‘’Not quite, but almost.’’ He teased as he kept up the brutal pace.

Sherlock just kept going and going. His libido was undeniably high. His stamina unrelenting. He was lost in the sweet sounds you made, the quirk of your body with every thrust was something he committed to memory. You felt yourself spiralling out of control. The intensity increased tenfold, the intimate eye contact the driving force of it all. You couldn't hold back. You were right at the edge. Euphoria hit you like a ten ton truck, waves of pleasure like lightning down your thighs; your knees buckled under the pressure as you gushed onto him, coating him in the generous amount of wetness he so easily illicited out of you.

‘’Stunning…’' Sherlock murmured before he was cut off by a gutteral groan rumbling from the insides of his gut. He stilled as he finished inside of you, completely and utterly spent. You grabbed his face and planted a kiss on his lips, curls wild as you carded your fingers through it.

Pants covered the room. Air thick with post coital bliss.

Sherlock rolled off of you and lay beside you in attempt to regain his breath.

But you were far from done. You darted your face to the side to remark at him.

Without thinking, you impulsively clambored onto his lap and his eyes widened in surprise. Fucking hell, you were insatiable. Your lips shattered against his again, his large hands roamed the expanse of your back and goosebumps littered your skin.

Sherlock spanked your ass and it made you rip your lips away from his.

‘’Christ. So insistent aren't you?’’

#sherlock fanfic #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock angst #sherlock x fem!reader #sherlock fluff #sherlock smut

[a-cup-of-earl-grey-please]

Sincerity (BBC Sherlock x Fem!Reader)

Word count: 1,967 words

Pairing: BBC Sherlock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes realizes you are feeling insecure— how does he remedy it?

Warning: fluffy fluff, detailed description of reader and Sherlock’s insecurities, it’s been a while since I wrote anything so go easy on me, not proofread carefully

(Inspired by a line from my previous oneshot Beg For Forgiveness. I put the line at the end to avoid spoiling this fic.

You don’t have to read Beg For Forgiveness before reading this. They are both standalone fics. But I would love it if you also gave it a try.)

“There’s got to be something I’m missing!”

“Now Sherlock, if you calmly sat down—“ You tried to console Sherlock, your boyfriend, but it was no use. He was on one of his rants again. You have been dating him for over two years, and you learned that your words never really worked. 

There had been a serial killer case, and there was something missing. The serial killer left flowers between the victims’ eyes every time, but the flowers were not always the same. A bud of a white rose for a middle-aged woman. A blossom of Buttercup for a little child, the middle-aged woman’s son. A deep red carnation for a middle-aged male. No more victims. Just those three. Sherlock was so sure that there would be a fourth murder, but no news came from Lestrade. 

Sherlock turned around and grabbed your shoulders. His eyes were wild, full of frustration, and a tinge of confusion rarely seen in Sherlock Holmes flashed in the blue. He looked at you with such intensity that if you did not know better, you would have thought you were one of the corpses he was examining for clues.

“Sherlock,” You tried to bring him back to Earth. He did not respond to the nudge in your voice. “It hurts, Sherlock.” You said, a little louder. His hands left your shoulder and his blue eyes snapped back to the walls full of gruesome photos. 

“Y/N, we’re heading out.” He said, suddenly confident. 

“Where? Did you discover something?” You stood up excitedly. You could not wait for this case to be over. You were absolutely exasperated with how Sherlock showed his frustration— shooting the wall, paper flying around, and staring at you intensely for hours. 

“No. We’re taking a walk. A short walk. I feel like I have bothered you enough today. You need some air.” 

“You didn’t bother me—“ You started, but Sherlock interrupted you by shoving your jacket into your arms. 

“Don’t even try. I’ve shot the wall exactly 4 times today and stared at you for approximately 4 hours and 38 minutes.” He replied with a little huff of a laugh.

As you stood dumbfounded in the doorway, you heard him shout from the stairwell— “And I need this walk as much as you do, so stop feeling sorry and come down!”

“Sherlock, it’s spring now. Isn’t that coat a bit too warm?” You tentatively asked as you pull him closer to your body. You two were walking arm in arm— Sherlock was not particularly fond of hand-holding, and you didn’t mind as long as you could have some sort of physical contact. 

“It’s barely spring. Besides, I like this coat.” He replied, prompting you to roll your eyes. Everyone knows he loves the coat. Damn it, I love it too. It smells like him; it feels like him; it is practically Sherlock. 

“It’s April, love.” You answered, and he hummed dismissively. Both of you savored the moment: you two arm in arm, walking down Baker Street. 

The moment was interrupted by your yelp. Alarmed, Sherlock turned to you so quickly that he almost hit you in the face with his elbow— you were bending down to look at something. 

“What is it? I thought you were in danger—“ His indignant words were stopped as he notices the flower you were crouching to look at. Blue hyacinth— he vaguely remembered. He studied quite a bit about flowers for this case. 

“Look at the color, Sherlock.” You pointed at the flower, though fingers did not dare make contact with the flower. “So delicately beautiful. It looks so fragile. I am almost scared to touch it— what if my touch ruins its perfection?” You felt strangely emotional looking at the blossoms. Perhaps it was because you were cooped up in 221B for at least a full day. Perhaps it was because….well, because. Oddly feeling like you didn’t deserve anything of this kind of beauty in the world, you looked down into the soil instead of bearing the soft beauty of the petals. 

You didn’t deserve any of this. None of the sweet moments of love you shared with Sherlock on this walk. None of his attention— he was too brilliant for you. Why would the world’s greatest detective love you when you were not even worthy of a mere flower’s beauty?

“I… I agree.” Sherlock breathed out. Little did you know, Sherlock was looking at you, not the flower. His little flower. Delicately beautiful. So strong yet fragile. He was always scared that his corrupted touch might ruin your beauty. He shook away the thought. You loved him— you took every opportunity to tell him. But did he take any opportunity to tell you that he loved you? He did sometimes— maybe once a week on a good day. He had to tell you that he loved you so much. 

He made a note of the flower’s color. Anything you like or dislike was carefully stored in a room in his Mind Palace— a library dedicated to you, full of information on you. The room informed him that he had informed you of his love exactly 34 times in the past six months. That averages to fewer than once every five days. That’s not good. Maybe he should buy you a bouquet of flowers like others do. That seemed to work out well in those crappy romcoms. 

He started to think—the flower… that flower… What does she mean by its perfection— what does the flower mean to her? What does the flower mean? Yes, what do those flowers mean?  

“Darling, you’re a genius!” With that declaration, Sherlock snapped out of his trance. Swiveling around, he kissed you square on the mouth— with a loud smack. Smiling at your dazed face, he placed a wet kiss on your cheek. He called a cab and jumped in, leaving you alone on the street. He was already texting John.

John, come if convenient or inconvenient. I may have cracked the case. Also, I need help buying something.

-SH

You shrugged off his odd behavior, still blushing from his overt public display of affection. 

Sherlock and John shared a little smug glance. Sherlock, as always, was right. Anderson was going to handle the paperwork.

“What did you need my help buying?” John asked as they walked out of the Yard.

“A gift for Y/N.” Sherlock curtly answered.

John interrogated Sherlock on the purpose of the gift, but Sherlock refused to answer anything.

They ended up going through 32 stores, spending a total of 2 hours 37 minutes on shopping. 

They bought one single item for you.

Sherlock came back around 10 PM. You were dozing off in front of the telly when he barges into the flat. Your heavy eyelids flew open as he pushed his face right in front of yours. 

“Goodness, Sherlock.” Startled, you jumped in your seat and Sherlock guffawed. That’s new. You thought drowsily. He picked you up and swung you around in the air. 

“Y/N, I solved it! We solved the case!”

You were giggling as well as he put you down— not before he kissed you on the forehead again. That’s new as well.

“Sherlock, what has gotten into you?” You smile, bewildered but happy. He was not the one to openly show physical affection in this manner. 

“The serial killer was the middle-aged male victim! The one with the deep red carnation, remember? He committed suicide after murdering his love— because it was unrequited— the middle-aged woman! The one with the white rosebud! He then, killed her son because he had witnessed his mother’s death and threatened to report the killer— that’s why he had a buttercup on him!” 

The last sentence caught your attention. What does he mean by “that’s why he had a buttercup”?

“Don’t you see? The killer was a hopeless, though psychopathic, romantic! It’s the Victorian flower language! Deep red carnation stands for ‘Alas! My poor heart!” The white rosebud means ‘heart ignorant of love.’ The buttercup means ‘childishness’ or ‘ingratitude’— which explains why the flowers were different for each victim.” He excitedly ranted as he ran across the flat toward the doorway. You groaned as you thought of Mrs. Hudson being woken up by his heavy footsteps. Sherlock was adorable when he was drunk on victorious spirits and adrenaline, but Mrs. Hudson always suffered the consequences.

“And guess what I got you!” Sherlock ran back to you with childish glee and thrust a gift box into your hands. A gift? Is this our anniversary? Did I miss it? 

“No, it’s not our anniversary. It’s not anything special. It’s just…” As always, Sherlock answered your unspoken questions— but something was odd. His adrenaline must have pushed all the blood up to his face because you had never seen your boyfriend blush this scarlet. 

You carefully sink down into John’s armchair. The gift box was tied off with a bow— your hands trembled as you gently tugged it off. 

It was a dress. Perfectly your size. Perfectly your style. Perfectly lovely.

And a perfect replica of the blue flower’s color. 

Before you could react, he finally composed himself enough to continue speaking.

“Well, it’s just that I learned a lot about flowers as I went through this case. The flower you were looking at, for instance, was blue hyacinth. The Victorian flower meaning for blue hyacinth is…” He was blushing down to his collarbones now. Now, that’s new.

“Is?” You said, your voice barely a whisper. Something had definitely gotten into him, but you didn’t mind. Not one bit. 

“Sincerity.” He replied, his voice quieter now as well.

Oh.

“Oh.” You dumbly reply. 

“You also said that you liked the color, so I went and found the color for you.” Oh.

He kept talking as if he could not stop himself now.

“You were scared to touch the flower, but I hope you’re not scared to touch the dress. It’s for you, you know.” Oh?

“You should wear it because it took me thirteen women’s clothing stores before I found the right shade. Only took me an hour though. Sorry I was late.” He cleared his throat— he never liked lying to you, but this lie was necessary. He did not want you to feel overwhelmed or by the inordinate amount of effort he put into finding this dress.

“Anyway, I deduced that you were having a moment of insecurity back there. I had to solve the case first, but I wanted you to know that…” Oh! That adorable bastard, I can’t even keep a single secret from him!

“That you are my blue hyacinth.” That was an unexpected end to his sentence. You looked up at him, nudging him to elaborate.

“You take all my sincerity. You represent everything I am sincere about. And ask anyone except you, John, and Mrs. Hudson, they will swear on their life that I am not a sincere man in any way. But I am for you. And sometimes, you have a look in your eyes that makes me feel like you don’t hear this as often as you deserve to hear this from me.” This was all said in a swift manner he reserved for his most brilliant deductions, the words simply cascading off his tongue. 

“Also, I’m hungry. You’re obviously hungry. You’re also craving something spicy. What about I order us some Thai for dinner tonight?” You break into laughter. His eyes widen at the unexpected reaction. 

You stand up and grab his cheeks firmly— and give them a little squish. He was just so adorable! His eyes narrowed indignantly, his mouth opening to object. 

Going on tiptoes, you kissed him into silence.

And you decided you would love him forever

with all your sincerity.

(The line from Beg For Forgiveness that inspired this fic is “A passing comment on a shade of blue you liked in a flower made him go on a wild goose chase for a dress that had the exact same shade once—just to see that smile on your face.”)

#earl's cup of tea #bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x fem!reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock fluff #sherlock bbc

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When Sherlock comes home high off the thrill of case solving, he proceeds to drive Y/N insane (in the best way, of course). Though he refuses to wind down and take a break, Y/N must use her wits to CALM. HIM. DOWN.

Sleepy Sherlock + fluff! ♡

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

The drone of Mrs Hudon's vacuum thrummed below the flat. It was a lazy day on Baker Street, and Y/N could feel it's droll effects.

She stood by the kitchen table, steeping a cup of tea. It's colour drained out in ribbons as she watched with unenthused interest. Sherlock hadn’t made it home that night, so the flat was painfully quiet.

Y/N prodded at her teabag. She squeezed the last of its flavouring out with a spoon and sighed. "So this is what he means when he's bored," she muttered.

She was about to dump the tea for the sake of steeping another batch, when a familiar voice boomed from the front door.

"I AM BRILLIANT! Oh darling, I know my mind is first-rate, but there are moments where even I'm impressed by its rampant  luminosity!"

Y/N gave a jolt at the sudden intrusion. The door crashed against its frame and she nearly lost grip of her teacup. The drink sloshed and burned the back of her hand.

"SHERLOCK!" she cried out. "You startled me!"

Sherlock ignored the reprimand and followed the sound of his partner's voice. His steps were quick, nearly giddy.

Y/N frowned when he creeped into the kitchen. "Three cases solved within a twelve hour span!" he hissed, excited. "I am on FIRE!"

Sherlock's hair was mussed and his eyes gleamed wildly. He sounded breathless when he spoke, as though he had raced across the city.

Y/N bit back a smile and tried to remember her annoyance. "What are you going on about?" she demanded.

Sherlock grinned, nearly buzzing. "A magnificent performance on my part! A tri-movement concerto where I cracked the cases in an eloquent sequence of acuity and guile!"

"Good day, I take it?"

Sherlock dragged his hand along the edge of the countertop until he reached Y/N. His rushed strides were clumsy as he stumbled towards her. He squeezed her shoulders and planted a fervent kiss on her cheek. "Oh, you have no idea!"

"Sherlock, maybe you should take a breather now. You've been out since yesterday. Don't you think a bit of rest is in order?" 

He looked down and noticed the steaming teacup still in her hands. "No time for that," he chided. "Come hear about the investigations!" Sherlock tossed the drink to the sink, making the porcelain clatter. Before Y/N could object, he gripped her hand tight and led her to the living room.

Sherlock drew open the curtains with great zeal, his open arms casting shaded silhouettes against the room. "Let's set the scene," he said with a dark smile. He turned back to his partner and stalked around her, building up his narrative.

"A robbery, six missing persons, and a murder. All distinct at first glance, wouldn't you say?"

Y/N perched on the edge of an armchair and crossed her arms. She was amused by his dramatization but worried about his lack of rest. In the moments where Sherlock Holmes was still high off the thrill of case solving, he was nonstop.

"Yes, I suppose so. But maybe you can finish your story in the morning? A good night's rest will---"

Sherlock bent down and kissed the tip of her nose. His eyes were bright. "That can wait, dove. As I was saying, Lestrade believed the three events to be mere  coincidences as well. But I soon discovered that---"

"--- that everything was interconnected? Yes Sherlock, that's very impressive."

Sherlock glanced at Y/N and quirked a brow. "I'm sensing disinterest," he noted.

Y/N sighed. She stood up and took his hands in her own. "Not at all," she assured. "I'd love to hear of your triumphs, but I'm more concerned with your wellbeing at the moment."

"I don't understand. I'm perfectly fine!"

Y/N quirked a brow. She studied the dark shadows beneath his eyes and the slight tremble in his hands. His scarf was done up in a knot, and he seemed pale.

"Take a quick look in the mirror and tell me again that you're fine."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "A look at the mirror won't prove anything other than the fact that you worry too much."

"Then it won't hurt to look, now will it?"

Sherlock scoffed and glanced at the mirror hanging from the back wall. He studied his reflection in silence.

"Clever girl," he murmured, finally. "I've seen better days, haven't I?"

Y/N dipped forwards and kissed his jaw. "I would say so. You're not invincible, you know."

Sherlock sighed and pulled her against his chest. "True as that may be, there are certainly moments where I feel invincible."

Y/N felt his deft fingers trail through her hair. She leaned against him and listened to the steady beating of his heart. "Do you mean when you're out case solving?"

Sherlock pulled back until his eyes locked with hers. He tapped a finger to the tip of her nose and grinned. "Not quite. I mean to say that invincibility lies in the moments I stand by your side."

Y/N giggled. "You've gone soft from your sleepless nights," she hummed. "Let's get to bed." Before Sherlock could protest, she gripped the end of his scarf and pulled him away.

"But the sun is still shining! London won't sleep until nightfall, and I'm sure I can hold up another few hours!" His last words were muffled by a yawn that he tried and failed to suppress.

"Somehow, I'm not convinced!" Y/N laughed. "You're exhausted. Come on, I'll fetch you a pillow."

Sherlock smiled. There was no use countering her. Secretly, he didn't really mind. He felt a profound sense of comfort in Y/N's care.

He squeezed her shoulder from behind. "I'm in your hands," he whispered.

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

Give Fixation a shot!

I haven't written anything in a while, so I'm just glad to have finished this!!! 😭

tagging:  @twisted-monster @starryeddie @high-functioning-lokipath @the-chaotic-cow @turkisherlockian @kabubsmagga @aephereal​ @andthevillainshallrises​ @baby-bloos ​ @cookiemumster1​​ @eternal-silvertongued-prince​ @bogginsreadings​ @lumosouls  @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson​ @lucywrites02  @danzalladaggers @mrs-holmes @pytharuw @msseijii @serenity-lattes @spencerrxids

#sherlock #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock #reader x sherlock #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock x you #sherlock fluff #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #reader x sherlock holmes #you x sherlock #benedict cumberbatch x you #benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock imagine #sherlock self insert #sherlock fic #sherlock holmes fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #sherlock holmes fluff #bbc sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock comfort fic #y/n x sherlock #sherlock holmes x you #you x sherlock holmes #sherlock fanfic #sherlock bbc

[strangelockd]

A Queen For A Mindpalace

Pairing: Victorian Sherlock x Reader

Synopsis: You and Sherlock have a past, but before you attempt to move on. You stop by to make amends, only for a realization to take place. The question remains, will you stay or go?

Word Count: 2,750k

Warning: Angst,Pining,Tooth Rotting Fluff,Male Masterbation,Thigh Riding,Mentions Of Past Sexual Encounter,NSFW Themes

•If you enjoy the song you can find it on my Sherlock Playlist•

Slouching deeper into his favorite chair Sherlock stared up at the ceiling, she will come back. Casting his weary gaze to a small side table the detective reached for his trusty pipe, taking a few pinches of tobacco; his nimble fingers effortlessly stuffed the brown dried herb into the blackened wooden chamber. The leftover soot always stained his fingers with just a tinge of black. Packing the leaves snugly into the wooden bowl he smiled proudly. His fingers went groping inside his silk-lined pocket fishing out for the matchbox, sliding the paper box open Sherlock pinched out a match striking the side of the box and igniting the pipe chamber. Releasing a satisfied exhale, the smell of tobacco loomed in the flat leaving a smokey haze. It was the ideal evening after the week he had but something was missing. A sigh escaped his lips as he leaned over grabbing the violin trying to banish any thought from his mind.

You had your chance…many times, but now you really screwed it up. You brainless old fool….

Releasing a sigh, Sherlock brought the violin up resting it under his chin. His fingers effortlessly danced along the neckline as he got lost in one of his favorite pastimes. Closing his eyes, Sherlocks mind could not help but wander to all the memories. How could he forget the first-time you showed up on his doorstep in the middle of the night soaked from the storm, asking him to help find her father's killer. The case that would change his life forever in more ways than one. His mind wandered deeper as he recalled your first night together. How your delicious sex swallowed him perfectly like you were tailored just for him. Or the countless times those supple ruby-red lips moaned as you devoured him whole with a fiery passion. Little would he find out how much he craved that flame, your desire…the way you moaned his name as you reached the crescendo of your climax was better than any drug he ever consumed. 

He missed the nights he would worship at your feet getting drunk off you. The supple bounce your breasts made as you rode him again and again into climax. He missed the way they felt under his touch, the way your nipples would pebble under his touch as he would tease and pinch them into flushed sensitive buds. The way his hands would travel down the small of your back as he rested them on the swell of your hips. Oh, how he missed the way you tasted, the way his tongue traveled from bud to bud as he trailed his mouth up your sex-flushed skin leaving purple blossoms in their wake. The way you felt under him, the way your body bloomed only for him, for you were a force of nature, and he wanted to be in the center of your storm. But all of that was in the past now for he had to focus on the reality at play. You moved on, and he was stuck here in London…alone.

Sherlock groaned, noticing the stiffness in his trousers he rolled his eyes, for he was now conflicted with an obvious but still awkward choice. Setting the violin down, Sherlocks large slender digits slowly grazed the outside of his seams as his mind trailed back to you. Thumbing through a drawer he fished for a rag, his hips bucked at the increasing sensitivity of his pressing member making Sherlock groan. His eyes caught a white handkerchief, and hastily pawed for it, pulling it closer Sherlock noticed the lipstick stains…. Y/N. Lifting it to his nose he took a deep inhale taking in the remnants of your scent…lavender. The smell shot right to his cock as he felt the pressure grow greater. 

Oh, bloody hell screw it.

Lifting himself upward Sherlock quickly unbuttoned his trousers allowing as much that was necessary to do the deed. Once they rested on his knees Sherlock quickly sunk once more into the chair. His palm stroked across his virility thats now standing practically at the ready. As he grazed the bulbous head of his member, leaning his head back becoming lost in his own pleasure. Lost in the smell of you…His cock oozed out the hints of glistening pre cum as he groaned in ecstasy chasing his chemical high. 

Knock knock knock

Dropping the handkerchief to the floor Sherlock quickly adjusted his trousers breathlessly, “Mrs. Hudson, will you get that! I- I’m in the middle of something!” stuffing what he can into his pants with little avail he managed to finally straighten himself out. 

Her voice trailed off in the distance with that sweet tone, “Sherlock I’ve told you this before, I’m not your housekeeper,” hearing her bedroom door close shut Sherlock rolled his eyes again. Apparently, she was not going to accommodate.

Knock knock knock

“Ugh!” he scoffed standing up lazily. This better be worth it. Sherlock stood up reaching for his silken robe, tying the matching beige belt around his toned waist he looked around one last time. Making his way to the front door he turned the latch; suddenly having to catch his breath once more because it was you, of all the people standing outside looking beautiful as ever. Your corset hugging you in all the right places as his eyes trailed back to the ruby red lips he remembers so well. All those nights where you would entertain each other with the pleasures of your flesh and conversations, but those were faded passions burned to memories. His eyes casted his gaze to your voluptuous bosom. Admiring the rise and fall with the swelling of your breathing as his trousers slowly began returning to their previously stiffened state. Leaning against the doorframe Sherlock cleared his throat; an obvious poor attempt at maintaining composure. 

“Y/N…to what do I owe the spontaneous visit,” Sherlock stammered while his fingers nonchalantly adjusted his robes attempting to hide the growing stiffening arousal. Shrugging your shoulders, you allowed yourself in, “I was in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by.” Taking a seat in his chair you smirked knowing it would annoy him. Closing the door Sherlock turned walking back placing his hands in his pockets, staring at you flatly, “you know there’s another chair right there” gesturing with a finger masking his annoyance. Setting down your reticule drawstring bag smiling, “Ya but I like this spot and besides,” crossing your legs with a smug expression,” I’m a guest.”

Sherlock released a scoff rolling his eyes. Taking out the pipe he reached for the tobacco box. “You’re not a guest, you’re more of an annoyance” a beautiful annoyance, taking a step closer his eyes glowed against the fireplace. Igniting the chamber he exhaled a puff of smoke. 

“That’s mighty bold of you to say considering US,” spitting with venom in your tone. 

He paused returning his gaze to you, taking in his expression you noticed his eyes harden, “There never was an us Y/N,” those six words cut through your heart like ice. At that point you didn’t care anymore, you just wanted to get your point across and take your leave.

“Look I didn’t come here to argue Sherlock. In fact, I came to say goodbye.” That look of earnestness in your eyes left him dead in his tracks. He knew you were not lying this time about leaving England. You have an offer for a job overseas in the new world. It was going to be a fresh start for both of you since there was no future in London, especially with Sherlock Holmes.

He took another step closer his eyes never leaving yours, “Well if that’s the case, then I feel like there’s nothing much left to say” he took another puff, Tell her the truth…before it's too late. His mind screamed to stay but his feet lead him forward as he took the seat across from you.

Pausing, your mouth parted open in shock at his lack of response, “that’s it? That all you have to say Sherlock Holmes?” your tone above a whisper. Desperation hazed as you fought off the tears.

 He wasn’t going to fight for me after all…

“It’s just that…,” Sherlock took a deep sigh, “I don’t want to be the one who holds you back. You deserve a future and need to go on and forget about me Y/N.” By this time, he couldn’t look at you for it was too painful. He can already picture the devastation in your eyes. Peaking over, he was right. Tears streamed down your face as you reached for a tissue from the mahogany chaise lounge. You were always stunning, but when you cried it was devastatingly beautiful. It aroused him in some way. This look of pure innocence, walls completely torn down. You were a goddess of grace he couldn’t stay away from anymore no matter how hard he fought it.

Fight for her you idiot…just ask her, now!

Leaning forward he sat the pipe down next to him taking a deep breath. His gaze locked yours as he slowly raised a hand upward, “Y/N, you know this is for the best” his chest rose and fell quickly as he attempted to steady his breath all while convincing himself that this is even what he wanted. Sherlock couldn’t help his rapid heartbeat as he was sure you could hear it through his starched white shirt. The ring was burning a hole in his pocket at this point. Normally he was an excellent liar, but with you, he couldn’t mask the truth for very long.

“You don’t get it, do you?” wiping your eyes you noticed his eyes widening, “every time I walk away from you, I feel like a piece of your soul is with me. You’ve stolen my heart Sherlock Holmes, the least you can do is tell me what you intend to do with it before I g—.”

Before you could finish Sherlock lunged forward, his form towered over you on his favorite chair as his mouth consumed yours with a slow passion. His lips parted yours ever so slowly but begging to taste more. Despite the time apart your bodies still moved in sync with each other. As eager as he was to have you, Sherlock wanted to take his time to savor every bit of you. He noticed your hands instinctively trailing through his slicked-back hair, tugging the ravened strands gently. He released a hiss as his palms trailed down the chair to meet your face, he will have to fix his hair later no doubt. Sherlock smiled wide, he knew his hands were always your weakness, for you couldn’t help but lean into his touch making him smile all the brighter. 

Tilting your head back he dove deeper into your mouth savoring the taste of you. You moaned as he pulled away slowly, his nose just a hairline away. His thumb gently rubbed a tear away as he smiled sweetly at you. Your eyes widened as you saw your reflection in his sea-glass gaze. “I intend to never let it go again…because you are everything,” his gaze unwavering, he pressed your palm to his chest. Feeling the rapid tapping of his heart under his shirt, you realized he was not lying. “For you are worth the fight my love”

Your eyes lit up as he leaned into you once more feeling the warm tears stream down your cheek. Parting your lips, he moaned as he shifted your weight to his lap. Lifting your skirts, you adjusted yourself as you rested on top of his stiffening trousers. 

“Oh!” You exclaimed feeling yourself turning bright red. Even when not fully erect Sherlock’s cock made you blush. The reaction went straight to his cock as he smiled widely like the Cheshire Cat. 

His tone laced with lust and longing,

 “Like what you feel?” One hand wiping your tears as the other trailed down resting on your hip.

Rocking back and forth chanting like a prayer, “always…” you missed this. Missed the way he made you feel. Arching your back you rode him slowly, leaning into his hand enjoying every twitch and response Sherlock made. You always had a way of breaking him, turning the great detective into putty. You couldn’t help but grin as your eye caught something on the floor. Pausing your movements Sherlock groaned in protest. Leaning over scooping up the material immediately noticing was it is. The old handkerchief that you swore was “lost.” Returning upwards facing Sherlock you noticed a rosier tone in his cheeks as he looked away sheepishly. Dangling it in front of him you teased, “what's this?”

His ears flushed a bright red as he snatched it from your hand inhaling the thin cotton smiling sentimentality, “Oh, just a souvenir,” tucking it into his pocket he couldn’t wait any longer. 

“There’s been something I have been meaning to ask you”

Fishing out a small velvet box he grabbed your hand.

His voice was slightly shaking as Sherlock fumbled with the box, “I should have done this the first morning I woke up next to you Y/N”

Opening the box slowly your eye’s widened as they gazed upon a gorgeous diamond halo engagement ring. The beautiful rose gold complemented the fiery opal that stood in the center. It left you speechless. 

“Y/N, please stay. For I cannot survive another day of you not being my wife. I love you. Please, marry me” his eyes never left yours as he waited for an answer. Your hands shook as you sat there going through thousands of options at once. But all the options always lead back to him, this man in front of you who choose you above everyone else. This consulting detective was yours and you wanted to be his and his alone. Jumping off his lap you squealed, “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes! Of course, I will marry you!”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as Sherlock grinned from ear to ear. He stood up, placing the band on your finger before giving your palms a gentle kiss. His lips were warm and inviting as they danced up your arm. Peppering your face with kisses, he pulled you in for an embrace. The feeling of his sturdy form made you feel so comfortable and safe. Bringing your hand up he laced his with yours to gaze upon the glittering ring resembling your future together. 

“It really is very beautiful Sherlock, where did you even find it?” Leaning your head into his shoulder, Sherlock moved a lock of hair kissing your neckline whispering, “oh this, it was Mrs.Hudsons. She thought it would look perfect on you. She’s been hounding me for months to puck up the courage to ask you.”

You chuckled, “not surprised the great detective is bashful”

“Not bashful,” he chuckled placing another kiss against your neck, “just a old fool who kept waiting for the right moment”

His hands trailed to your waistline as he slowly turned you around. Arms laced around each other you both got swept away in the moment and began swaying back and forth together. A small, adorable dance that was shared between the two of you. Taking his hand up he spun you around slowly bringing you back to his chest. Leaning your head against him you took in the strength of his forearms, how you missed his embrace. Sighing with joy Sherlock sat back down in his chair, pulling you in his lap his arms laced around you, “Im sorry for saying such hurtful things my darling,” looking you in the eyes his voice lowered, “I love you more than anything in the world Y/N. And I can't wait for you to be my bride”

Lacing your fingers with your future bridegroom you brought them up to kiss his hand gently. The ring glimmered in the light as your forehead rested on his,“Its ok Sherlock, its in the past. What is love without forgiveness.”

Words were no longer needed as Sherlock held you tight, he was always a handsy man even though Sherlock would never admit it. Especially when after a case there was nothing he wanted more then to come home and just hold you. No words. Just the pure feeling of you with him. For you were not just his fiancé, but the queen to his mind palace, and you finally made your way back home. 

Heres the ring that inspired me…❤️

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[strawberrywinter4]

John’s Jumpers

I feel like Sherlock secretly loves John’s jumpers.

Even if he outwardly speaks against the “hideous” material, he loves the days where he gets to bury his face in them.

Cuddling on the sofa, arms and legs tangled around each other on a winter afternoon, snow falling outside and plastering on the window as the sound of the fireplace crackling is heard through 221B.

Sherlock breaths in the scent of John as his head rests on the blogger’s chest, his nose pressed into the soft material of the jumper. A hand runs through his curls as his eyes begin to flutter shut, the tiring day of thinking and using all his brain power can offer taking a toll on him. But Sherlock will never admit that, of course.

The cotton of the jumper feels nice against his cheek, a nice feeling that a proper pillow could never outperform.

Sherlock’s fingers play with the material, picking at every thread and design, allowing himself to get lost in this rare moment of relaxation.

Sherlock supposes John’s jumpers aren’t so bad on days like these.

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[j-eryewrites]

Something You Taught Me

REQUEST PROMPT (from anonymous): Maybe a sherlock fluff where reader is sick and sherlock takes care of them? I just absolutely adore the way you write fluff :)

Thank you so much for this prompt. I love writing fluff especially when it helps me get out of a writing slump! Thank you so much for the request.

Word Count: 1. k

Warnings: Major fluff, sick-fic (mentions of symptoms, the flu, etc.), Sherlock realizes that he is in love. 

______

There was one thing that was guaranteed with the winter months. One thing that Y/N terribly hated, getting sick. It seemed to be unavoidable no matter how many vitamins they took, how healthy they ate, or how much they exercised. They always seemed to get sick. Now, if it were just the common cold, then it would not be so much of a burden. However, when Y/N got sick, they were bedridden for at least two days. 

Two never-ending days where their muscles ached too much to move. Y/N often thought if they tried to move all the bones in their body would shatter…or they’d puke. One or the other. Both are horrible options. But the worst side effect of being sick was boredom. There were only so many books they could read, or hours spent on the couch binging the latest television series before the dread set in. 

It was moments like these, that Y/N began to understand why Sherlock would do the things he did: shooting guns, creating bizarre experiments, composing new songs, chasing after criminals, solving case after case, bothering John, having tea with Mrs Hudson, and plotting out new ideas to piss off his brother. 

Y/N pondered the idea of being Sherlock for one day. Oh, the things they could do and the trouble they’d get into. Soon the thought weighed on their mind just as the weight of their bones sunk into the soft mattress below them. 

Suddenly, there was a knock. A singular knock. It was loud and clear. Then came the silence. A breath was taken before the onslaught of banging began. That knock could only belong to one person and one person only: Sherlock. 

Y/N groaned. This was the worst possible time. The sweat on their burning forehead made their hair stick. They were still wearing their pyjamas from two nights ago. Feeling a twitch in the back of their throat, Y/N quickly reached for the tissues next to them, just before a thunderous sneeze ripped through the air. 

As their nostrils cleared for the 7th time that day, Y/N realized that the banging had stopped. Instead, the sound was replaced with footsteps heading toward their room. 

Sherlock opened the door with a bang. Y/N winced at the sound. The loud noise echoed in their head. Bang. Bang. BANG. BANG! 

“Christ, Sherlock. Would you be a bit quieter? I’m …” Y/N coughed. “I’m sick.” 

Sherlock’s nose twitched and his blue eyes softened. Y/N sounded as if they were talking underwater. 

“Symptoms?” Sherlock announced. 

Y/N clutched their head in pain. 

“What are your symptoms?” Sherlock whispered. He removed his jack and hung it over the back of the bed. Then he gently sat himself down on the mattress. He was at arm's length now and slowly creeping closer. 

“No, Sherlock. Stay back. I don’t want to get you sick.” Y/N whined. 

Sherlock chuckled. “Me? Sick. Never heard of such a thing.” He placed his hand on Y/N’s forehead. His hand felt like ice against their skin. Y/N sighed at the feeling. 

“High temperature, stuffy nose, and sore throat” he muttered. “What are your other symptoms?”

Y/N brushed his hand away. “I’m fine. I can take care of myself.” 

“Y/N.” Sherlock said sternly. 

“My whole body aches. It hurts to move. Hurts to do anything and…” Their voice grew quiet. 

“And?” Sherlock asked. He took their hands into his and rubbed small circles on them. 

“I’m bored,” Y/N mumbled. 

Sherlock smiled. His bright blue eyes glistened as if the sun was shining down on the rippling surface of the sea. He wiped away the stray hairs sticking to Y/N’s face before cupping their flushed cheek.

“I don’t think being bored is a symptom of anything,” Sherlock teased. “I think you have a bad case of the flu and I know just the thing to help.” 

He began to draw away from them, and Y/N reached out clasping his wrist. 

“You don’t have to help me. I can…”

“Take care of yourself. Yes, I know. You’ve told me. However, something I have come to learn is that it doesn’t hurt to let others help.” Sherlock sat back down on the mattress. He brought his forehead to Y/N’s and whispered, “Something you taught me. Let me take care of you.” 

Y/N tried to respond but the words got lost in their throat. Instead, they nodded. 

“Now, lay down and I’ll go get some soup.”

“Get soup?” Y/N asked quizzically. “Don’t you mean make soup?”

“No. I going to get soup. Mrs Hudson’s cooking abilities are far superior to mine. I’d rather not poison you with my cooking.” Sherlock joked. 

“Alright, hurry back,” Y/N whispered. 

Sherlock smiled and was out the door. 

Y/N’s head fell back on the pillow with a thunk. As they stared at the ceiling, they thought of Sherlock. Their cheeks flushed now, but for a different reason. Sherlock. Who knew the great consulting detective could be so compassionate? Y/N was sure John would love to hear about how kind Sherlock was being to them. However, before they could finish the thought, sleep took over. 

Soon Sherlock returned with a steaming bowl of soup. His hand was careful not to spill any of its contents. Y/N needed every ounce of the soup that they could get. He placed the soup on the bedside table turning to the Y/N. He smiled as he took notice of the slowness in Y/N’s breath. Sherlock looked around the room and pulled up a chair, sitting himself down in it. His eyes once again found the sleeping figure. Even in their sick state, Y/N was beautiful. Their lashes fluttered against their rosy cheeks. Their lips lay slightly parted with small sighs exhaling from their mouth. 

Sherlock would sit there until Y/N woke up. Sherlock was determined to sit by their side as the soup cooled. He would keep the boredom at bay. Just as Y/N did for him. Though, how could he ever be bored when they were around? Sherlock knew he’d never get bored being in Y/N's presence, carefully watching over them as they slept. 

A singular thought popped into Sherlock’s head. I’m in love. How could he ever be bored with someone he loved?

__________

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[worldofheroes]

Do You Love Me?

bbc!sherlock x reader

summary: When someone says some things to you at work, you wonder why Sherlock is with you.

warnings: angst (I guess?) and fluff.

a/n: don’t come after me regarding how Sherlock is written, we all know he’s super sweet to people he cares about. 😉 also this is pretty short, wanted to get something out to y’all!

People suck.

That’s what you tell yourself as you make your way back to Baker Street after work.

One of your coworkers, who has a crush on Sherlock, found out that you are dating him, and have been for a while. She got upset and said he deserves better than you, among other things.

You fumble with your keys to find Sherlock’s, and you let yourself in. Closing the door behind you, you set your things on the floor by the couch.

You fall onto the couch, not wanting to spend the energy to walk to Sherlock’s room. You grab the pillow at your feet and wrap your arms around it, pulling it into your chest. A few tears fall from your eyes, and you hope Sherlock comes home soon.

As if he knew, Sherlock walks through the door just a few minutes later.

“Y/n,” he calls out, hanging his coat up.

“Right here,” you mumble from your spot on the couch.

“Y/n,” Sherlock says worriedly when he sees the state you’re in. “What happened, my darling?”

“People suck,” you tell him.

He holds back a chuckle as he squats down beside the couch. “I know,” he says, caressing your head with a large hand. “What happened?”

“Do you love me?”

“What? Of course I do. Tell me what happened,” Sherlock softly coos to you, gently rubbing his thumb on your temple.

“I was told you deserve better than me. That I’m not smart enough for you. And I can’t help but wonder if they’re right,” you say, not making eye contact with the man in front of you.

“Y/n,” Sherlock breathes. “Please don��t listen to them. You are so smart, you keep me sane. You make me so unbelievably happy.” Sherlock leans in and kisses your head. “You are my perfect person.”

You don’t say anything as you squeeze your eyes shut as more tears come flowing out.

“Hey,” Sherlock says softly, gently wiping your tears away with his long fingers. “I love you so much. Please don’t listen to them.”

“It’s hard to.”

“I know, darling, I know.”

You find the courage to open your eyes and look at Sherlock. When you make eye contact, you can see how worried he is and how much he loves you all at once.

“Come here,” Sherlock says, sitting down on the couch.

You reluctantly sit up and move towards him. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you onto his lap.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes and begin breathing deeply to calm yourself. He overwhelms your senses, and it’s like nothing else matters - or even exists in the moment.

“I love you,” Sherlock says again, whispering into your ear and then gently kissing it.

“I love you,” you whisper into his neck, kissing it.

#benedict cumberbatch x reader #bbc sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock fluff #sherlock imagine

[iamsherlocked1479]

I have a Sherlock request if you’re happy to do it!

I’d love it if you could write something friends-to-lovers / idiots-in-love like where Y/N is on a case with Sherlock + John and she starts saying how romantic the place is so Sherlock takes her back there later and confesses his love to her 🥹

I love your writing!❤️

All I wanted to say

Sherlock x fem reader

Fluff only no warnings

Word count: 3.1K

Exactly as asked Sherlock has a crush and wants to confess. Hope you enjoy :)

“Are you sure I should be coming with you?” you say being pushed into the back of the cab by your unusual flat mate.

“Oh yes you’re perfectly qualified.” he smiled as he hurried along the cab driver.

“Sherlock, I own a bookshop.” you reply with a tone of irritance in your voice.

“Well nobody’s perfect but that's not what i mean.” he says keeping his eyes to the window

“I know, you mean John is busy with Mary and you need somebody to show off too.” you roll your eyes.

“Well, no. I don’t show off, we’ve discussed this.” he adds

“When?! When did we discuss this, I called you out on it last week.”

“Exactly and i told you i wasn’t showing off i was in fact you stating the obvious.” he says finally turning to you.

“No you didn't, you just stared at me.” you huff

“Did I?” he fixed his eyes elsewhere

“Uh huh.” you say crossing your arms like an unhappy toddler. “Where are we going?”

“Apollo victoria theatre. Lead to one of their most popular shows was murdered” he says texting away on his phone.

“No way” you brow raises in excitement

“What?” He looked confused. “It was murder, usually only I am excited over these things.” a small smile began forming at the corner of his mouth.

“No it’s just the history in that building and the shows, god what i’d give to see one.” your eyes lit up.

“Oh, right. One has to understand when they’re different I see.” his smile dispersed. His heart fluttered as he watched you watch the streets as you grew closer to the destination. He couldn’t understand it, he did actually bring you along to the case as you were useful, but he needed time. He needed time to study you more, he was going to eventually tell you his findings, just how he would explain it after watching you cry to countless romance movies and going on about relationships where for small minded people. But for you, he would be small minded.

You followed him out the cab in awe, the way his mood changed when he got to the crime scene was almost instantaneous like the flick of a switch, you enjoyed watching Anderson’s face drop as Sherlock entered the building. You followed him through the halls past the police giving you, a civilian, strange looks. You shouldn't be here but you were with him and that sugar coated the whole thing, but it’s not like he could ever know that, he was your friend and a good one that is. You couldn’t risk losing that he needed a friend and you needed him. For one he makes sure the crime story you’re writing is factually correct, whether you like it or not, but you did appreciate the time he spent with you. You’d take anything at this point, you were starting to become desperate and it stupid. But here you are following him through the place you’d always wanted to visit to look at a dead body, how romantic.

“I got here as soon as you called.” John appeared from the hallway as you walk down the aisles and rows of chairs towards the stage where a woman laid in the centre of the stage face down and a pool of blood leaking from her head.

“Have you examined her yet?” Sherlock commanded pulling rubber gloves down his wrists

“I thought John was busy?” you question

“Why would I be busy? This is my job?” john asked confused as you both look at sherlock who looked up from the body

“You didn’t answer my call. And i needed her.” he nodded to you who began to lose it

“Why would you possibly need me? I had to close the book shop I'm already behind on rent.” you pace as you lecture. You were stopped by his tall frame gripping your shoulders.

“Shh.” he says the taste of latex edging your lips as his finger covers them. “I need you to rule out the possibility of suicide. When was the building built?”

“1930.” you mumble “Did you just touch a body and then put your hands on my mouth?” you say pulling away

“Uh, maybe.” he holds his arms behind his back looking up to the ceiling “when was it last refurbished?”

“1981, why?”

“Look at that, your history degree is finally coming into use.” he says running backstage.

“Wow, I'm so happy about that.” you sigh sarcastically. You shuffle about the stage for a moment taking in the room, it was amazing the rows of velvet red seats climbing their way to the seats. The golden patterns on the railing, the way the dust trickled to the floor.

Dust? No that's not right, you look up to see Sherlock boxing on the railing above the stage that technicians would use to lower props.

“Sherlock, get down from there!” John yelled as sherlock stepped out closer to the edge.

“This plank, its broken.” he shouted back down

“Its an old building” john replied

“I’m coming back down. I know what happened.” the sounds of footsteps eagerly coming towards you echoed through the halls as he worked his way down.

“That was fast.” you say impressed

“Usually it doesn't take him this long, he seems a bit distracted.” John smiled

“Yeah, he hasn’t seen you in a while.” you add to his statement

“That's not what i meant.” he said still smiling

“Then what did you mean?”

“Suicide” sherlock interupted you

“But all the evidence leads to the backup lead.” john replies

“Just because the lead and the backup argue does not mean the backup would kill the lead. No, the lead was stressed, you can tell by the amount of loose hairs around her head. Probably because she was behind on her rent obviously doesn’t pay well in the west end, dark circles around her eyes and pale skin add to that conclusion, malnourishment, come on john you're a doctor after all. No my friend she couldn't handle her life anymore the pressure from the backup obviously wasn’t helping either but they are completely innocent.'' He turned to you and winked as he walked away correcting the collar of his coat.

You stood in awe. He really was impressive, but as you reminded yourself time after time he wasn’t interested. No matter how many times he would appear in the corner of the bookshop because he was, as he claimed, bored, no matter how many times you could have sworn you felt him watching you as he played his violin. He never really would be yours, all you could do was hold on to what you had.

Sherlock hoped that his quick conclusion would entice you to join him on more adventures. He smiled to himself as he approached the theatre owner, remembering the look of awe on your pretty little face, the way your hair followed the neat shape of your jawline, oh sherlock, he was becoming flustered. He hated how no matter how many times he tried to tell you nothing would come out. He would wait until the shop was empty and appear looking through the rows of books just so he could watch the way you made the young children smile with your stories or help a stressed student find their textbook. His favourite would be when a husband comes in looking for the best “i forgot our anniversary book” the way you would approach the confused men in the romance section and hand them the most popular romcom at the time, always worked. He just loved being around you, he just loved you, and he was never one for keeping things to himself. And he wasn’t going to let this be the only thing he would keep to himself. The one thing you might want him to say.

“Mr holmes?” the owner stood with his hand out towards him

“Huh? Yes?” Sherlock snapped back into existence, how long was he gone for?

“I said thankyou for solving the case, so glad it’s not going to be too much paperwork, i asked if you would like some tickets, as a thankyou i mean?” he still held out his hand waiting for Sherlock to shake it.

“No thanks not really my-'' wait that's it, your face lit up when you saw the theatre he could take you. It could be a date? Sherlock on a date, god if Mycroft where to find out he’d think sherlock had gone insane. “Yes uh, any shows tonight?”unlikely he thought, suicide and all.

“Yes, once we get the stage cleaned up, we have wicked if that's your thing?”

“None of it is but I know someone who would love it.” he smiled shaking the man's hand

“Great, I'll tell the office you’ll be joining us tonight, with a guest I assume?” he smiled

“Uh yes”

He walked away feeling accomplished, his plan was perfect, all he had to do was not freeze.

…………………………….

It was around 4:30pm when you finally managed to get back to the bookshop. There were only two hours left of your usual hours, but being behind on rent meant every minute the bookshop was open counted.

“Thanks for visiting.” you smile at one of your usuals, a ginger haired english student from the local university. You often found her sitting in the corner of the shop studying until just before closing time. It didn’t bother you that she rarely purchased anything you were just glad she had somewhere to lay low.

“y/n?” Sherlock cleared his throat from behind you, causing you to almost drop the books in your hand with his sudden appearance. “Erm sorry i didn’t mean to-”

“It's fine.” you laughed it off “What can i help you with?” you smile placing the pile of books in his hand for him to hold why you find their places on the shelves.

“I uh was wondering if- of course if you’re not busy i-” he stuttered his words as you turned to him tucking you hair behind your ears

“Are you okay there?” you ask, taking a book, your hand slightly tracing over him.

Oh god did you, you did. You touched his finger, whether you meant it or not he couldn’t tell. It was hard enough when you turned around giving him a good look of your emerald green eyes, and the slightly too low neckline of your sweatshirt, but as a gentleman should, he never looked too much. At least he tried to. But your touch burned his skin, he needed more, he needed you. Why was he here again? Oh right.

“Theatre.” he suddenly blurted out

“Pardon?” you say confused at his sudden outburst

“The owner gave me two tickets for tonight's show, wicked, I believe and I was wondering if you weren’t too busy would you go with me? I saw how excited you were and-” he paused realising he was rambling.

“You want to go out with me? Like a date?” your eyes widened slightly, maybe all this time the feeling was mutual.

“A date?”

“Well two people go out, they enjoy each other's company and do something fun.”

“Isn’t romance usually part of it?” he asks leaning on the shelf

“It can be, but friends can have dates too.” you smile warmly

That word left him confused, friends? Is that all you saw the pair of you as? Was it even worth asking? He couldn’t change the plans now, you love the theatre and even if you didn’t reciprocate the feelings, he would still get to see you smile. Sherlock Holmes was never one to back down because he was afraid of the outcome. And he wasn’t about to do it now.

He stood pacing in the living room of baker street, wearing his usual smart attire. Black dress trousers and a purple shirt. He paused as you came down the stairs looking a lot smarter than earlier, it was the theatre after all, he admired your outfit, a denim dress accompanied by black tights and your favourite pair of doc martins someone in your financial situation definitely shouldn’t own.

You moved in with Sherlock when John moved out after being friends for nearly two years, with you knowing him as the detective above the shop you figured having someone to help you pay rent wouldn’t cause you any problems. Only just leading to having a crush on the only man in London who didn’t seek out a relationship. People often seemed surprised when you told them you owned a bookshop, in the politest way girls who look like you don’t usually ever pick up a book after the age of five.

“Ready to go?” you smile picking up your coat. He stood silently observing you, his eyes tracing up and down your body. “Is everything okay? Is it too much?” you ask, becoming insecure.

“No, you look fine. Apologies for staring just, wow.” he smiled picking up his coat.

“Are you sure?” you ask as he ushered you out the door.

“Positive.” he smiled, this smile was real. Finally just you and him, he couldn’t wait for the show to be over, so he could tell you.

You gripped his arm as you entered the theatre heading to the ticket office, admiring the building in its true glory. The golden archways and marble floors are traced with a red carpet, leading to the box office. You were like a kid in a candy shop, it was amazing.

“Are you okay?” sherlock asked with a smile

“Better than okay.” you exclaim

“Two please, for Mr Holmes. Mr Thompson said i could get in on him.” he asked the booth worker

“Of course, we’ve been expecting you Mr Holmes.” she smiled and handed him a set of tickets.

The look on your face was what brought Sherlock to pause in his mind. She had never looked this fascinated with any case that he had brought her to before and… was she holding his hand? It must be awkward both holding arm and hand but… what could it mean? For one, Sherlock Holmes couldn’t find an answer.

The two of you walked to your assigned seats and found that the owner had given you some of the best seats in the house. Sherlock watched your eyes light up even more as you sat down and looked out over the other seats and the stage to fully take in what was happening.

“Thank you for this, Sherlock,” you looked over at him with a smile and watched as he tensed up, awkwardly looking for an answer under your gaze.

Awkwardly clearing his throat, Sherlock nodded to you and gave you a gracious smile before replying, “you’re welcome.”

“Doesn’t it look amazing?” You smile admiring the mechanical dragon hanging above the stage.

“Yes, one would say even intriguing.” He smiled, keeping his eyes on you. He sighed as he watched the grip you had on his hand tightened as the lights dimmed. Maybe this show would be the best thing he’d seen in a while.

The show itself was more amazing than you could have ever imagined. The voices of the actors were amazing along with the choreography they had paired with the songs. You watched as even Sherlock seemed to enjoy it, smiling every time you looked over at him. You finally concluded that defining gravity was your new favourite song and just as quick as it started the show was over.

“Oh my god that was amazing, maybe the wicked witch wasn’t so wicked after all.” You beamed

“Perhaps she wasn’t.” Sherlock laughed at your excitement, his chest tightening as you once again looped your arm with his.

You wandered the streets before eventually stopping at a chip shop Sherlock had insisted you eat from instead of the closest shop you could find.

“These better be worth the blisters these boots are giving me.” You sighed as you slumped into the bench.

“Believe me it's one of the very few things I enjoy in this life.” He sat next to you, moving the chips in your direction allowing you to share.

“Okay, these are pretty good.” You smile as you push a chip into your hungry mouth.

“I told you so.” He smiled, the knot in his stomach tightened again as you knee touched his, the feeling he had come to find an answer too becoming more prominent than it ever had been. “Y/n I- there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” He put the chips aside and turned to you.

“Okay then.” You watched as his baby blues were now fixed in your pupils, dilating as your gazes met. You looked away trying not to bring too much attention to yourself as you felt the heat of your blush appearing on your face, all because he looked at you.

“I uh, erm. As you know or as I explained in my speech at john's wedding, if you remember.” He shuffled in his seat and cleared his throat. “Relationships are a strange thing to me, the way humans feel the desire to find a specific partner to spend every moment with repulses me.”

“Oh” you sigh, looking away again, “I know that.”

“But that was before i met you, before i too found myself feeling that I didn’t function properly without you and I still don’t understand it, i find myself thinking about you constantly hoping you notice everything i do. I hope that I never disappoint you or cause you harm and i- well. I don't understand these emotions I'm feeling, but I know that I can't imagine my life without you. You make me feel things that I never thought possible, and I want you to know that I care about you more than anything and-“ he wasn’t able to finish the speech he had prepared before your lips where on his, a surge of electricity flowed through your bodies only being satisfied when he wrapped his arms around you pulling you in as close as possible you let out a small hum as his tongue pushed into your mouth, dancing with your own before finally pulling away to catch a breath.

“I uh, sorry i cut you off i just wanted to-“ you laugh tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“No, no it uh it pretty much had everything i wanted to say.” He smiled, taking your hand into his. “It was all I wanted to say.” He repeated before pulling you in again

#bbc sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock fluff #bbc sherlock x you #benedict cucumber #benedict cumberbatch x female!reader #spotify

[thegildedbee]

chapter six of six: completed fic! :-)

Chapter 6 As the year, the day, and the hour merge into one moment as they draw to a close, John and Sherlock have returned to 221B, re-aligning the stories they had set in motion earlier that day and that had been rewritten out from under them. Enveloped within the walls of the home they've created together, they ring in the new year, rearranging what has been, what is now, and what will be.

@totallysilvergirl, @mydogwatson, @calaisreno, @elwinglyre, @keirgreeneye, @helloliriels,@blogstandbygo [and, no worries, let me know if you'd prefer not to have me add to the clutter in your stream!] ....................................

#sherlock fic #bbc sherlock #new year's eve #sherlock fluff #reblogging helps the love go 'round :-)