#sherlock x fem!reader

[futureplayboibunnie]

‘Innocent’

Sherlock x fem! reader

- oh. my. god. i got a few requests for this virgin/ inexperienced smutty fic and lord i got so carried away. I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH IT TOOK ME SO LONG BUT MY OWN WRITING HAS ME FERAL??? help x 

Sherlock was feeling completative, pondering upon forbidden grounds that he wouldn't usually travel. He was walking through the avenues of his mind, the thoughts reeling through him- even though it really wasn’t a good time.

You were next to him, he was being awarded another stupid gift for his incredible and somewhat pretentious sleuthing skills but he really wasn't paying much attention. Not after what he did. Not after what he felt.

Sherlock accidentally grazed your fingers while you were standing next to him, he was versed enough to catch onto bodily reactions but yours was incredibly different. Your breath caught in your throat but you still let out an audible gasp, you stiffened under his glare and your face started to blush a heated rose with every moment he stared at you. Lips parted, eyes widened with a surprised sheen, teeth clamping onto your lower lip- he didn't know he had the ability to draw that type of reaction out of you. He hasn't really seen a woman react like that before. Especially because of something he did.

Jesus Christ, it's like you've never been touched before.

He stole another glance at you. You were incredibly bashful, not in a nervous way but in an endearing shyness. Naive but knowing, chilling but warm...sexy yet sweet. A mystery altogether and Sherlock wanted to uncover all the secrets you were hiding, you were concealing something and he wanted to find out what it was. It was nagging him relentlessly. He was in spite of it. Sherlock was able to deduce anything about anyone but he couldn't place his finger on you, maybe it's because he couldn't but maybe it was because he didn't want to. This helpless attitude he was beginning to adopt was disarming him and he did not like it one bit. Even if he did want you, he simply wouldn't have the opportunity, you were as blocked off as he was.

Stop, Sherlock. She's much too young.

Sherlock's sex life was incredibly demanding. It never really occured to others that he had a sex life at all but what he demanded in the bedroom was intricate and detailed- he fucked his women in the way he alone wanted. He pushed the limits of every woman he had ever bedded and to some it may be shocking that he had a line of women begging for him.

Sherlock's tastes were very singular, specific and he was beggining to question if...you...were adventurous in bed. He shouldn't even be thinking about you in this way because you seemed so...innocent. Normally he didn't find that attractive but you were a fascinating creature altogether.

His brow creased. He could quite literally feel you shiver. He wondered if you were cold or nervous, but it all began to click- the puzzle pieces began to fall into place and he only realised once you were alone in his presence.

He asked you to meet him at Baker Street.

You were filled with dread and pining, you weren't even sure if it was quiet or loud pining but the desperation that was beginning to bubble within you was becoming very difficult to control and hide. Especially when the object of your desires wanted you to meet him..alone. You were so sweet for him. So ready for him but concern began whirring the cogs in your mind...for one, Sherlock Holmes was quite frankly unattainable and you were...inexperienced. Either way you were fucked, and not in the way you wanted too. He was just too potent, too strong and he could see through anything and everyone, you couldn't deal with the embarrassment he would be so unashamed to put on you- dealing with the ramifications of that would simply be your downfall.

But you couldn't find it in your bones to say no. Saying no to Sherlock Holmes? It simply wasn't within you, you couldn't find the strength to pretend not to want him anymore. Your heart thundered with every step you took up those stairs. Velveteen and living single wasn't really cutting it for you anymore.

‘’Sherlock?’’ You called after him as you creaked the door open, not really expecting an answer from him. ‘’Sherlock, what do you want?'’ You sighed exasperated and annoyed by the way he was keeping you waiting.

He was very certain with himself. He had a simple hypothesis but he wasn't sure if it was true, it really couldn't be true. Sherlock came out from the kitchen to see you standing there, trying to keep yourself cool, calm and collected but anyone with a brain stem could see that you were filled with panic. He straightened his blazer and unbottoned it as he made his way over to you.

‘’Can I try something? Please.’’ Sherlock asked with inquisitive and dark eyes, you were wondering what he wanted, what he was going to do. ‘’An experiment of sorts.’’

All you could do was mindlessly nod. ‘’Yeah.’’ You breathed.

Sherlock gazed into the endless summer of your eyes. If time stood still you'd take this moment and make it last forever. Your pupils dialated and that was something to cross off his checklist, his face was nearing yours and you blinked up at his dumbly. Your breath mingled with his and you stilled once his fingertips grazed up the bare skin of your arm, the pads flowing on the suppleness like oil upon water. Smooth skin left with goosebumps, you let out a shaky breath- completely confused yet enthralled with what he was doing.

His head dipped near your ear. Sherlock could feel your pulse kick into overdrive, he felt your body alight as he neared you- warm breath coating your skin. You were so damn shy, bright, deep and arousing as hell.

‘’No. It simply can't be true.’’ Sherlock muttered, he let go of you and you felt as though the sun just left everything in complete darkness.

Sherlock swayed slowly to lean on the edge of the table, arms crossed and the way he stood was enough to make electricity shoot down your thighs. Sherlock was shocked. It really couldn't be true but he secretly hoped it was.

‘’What are you talking about?’’ You asked impassively, afraid to reveal too much of yourself and the desire to jump his bones you were feigning in.

Sherlock finally pieced together you hadn't had anyone. You were a virgin.

It made his breath halt in his tracks when he came to the realisation, aren't people your age supposed to be fucking like bunnies? It was an objective expression: you were beautiful, sweet, charming and completely disarming. You had barely been touched. The thought is strangely appealling. Inexperienced? He could work with that, God knows he wanted to.

‘’Have you been kissed before?’’ Sherlock asked out of the blue, completely oblivious to how dumbfounded you were.

‘’Of course I have.’’ He thought you looked offended.

Yeah, you've been kissed but not often.... for some damn reason, it pleased him.

‘’Have you ever been touched before?’’ He questioned as if it was a normal thing to say.

You opened your mouth to talk but you couldn't find it in yourself to speak.

Hmm…interesting.

You were so...different. So different to his other women. He liked that.

And he wanted to fuck you, spank you and watch your skin pink beneath his cold hands. You weren't talking, that's out of the question now- isn't it?

He wanted to whip you into shape, your mouth would need training of course but he liked your naivite- it provided a challenge. Well maybe not fuck, that's too heavy handed for you. Maybe he could break you in...show you the ropes. It would be a novel experience for the both of you.

The look in Sherlock's eyes was that of fire swirling into a cylone, he sauntered his way over to you like a sly fox. Your chest was heavy as you looked up at him, the proximity between you two growing smaller and smaller. You daren't blink when he hooked his fingers up from your chin and jutted it up slightly- the feeling of his hands on yours was enough to do you in.

‘’I would like to bite that lip.’’ Sherlock grumbled concisely, his voice low and authoritative and your lips parted in surprise, he grazed his thumb over the soft pink flesh of your lips.

‘’I think I'd like that too.’’ You whispered, shocked by your own words.

‘’Where have you been? How have you been- how could you…?’’ Sherlock breathed, eyes inquisitive. Imploring you to make him understand how no one had taken you, no one had had you or touched you. How could it be possible?

‘’Waiting.’’ You breathed as you felt his hands cradle your face. ‘’For you.’’

‘’And a nice young man hasn't swooped you off of your feet? Men must throw themselves at you.’’

You were melting, knees buckling- you felt pathetic.

‘’No. No one. Just wanted you.’’ You exhaled, so intense and certain of your desire for him as you give him a bright come hither look, he was startled by the fact you weren't feeling so innocent now.

‘’Can I kiss you?’’ Sherlock asked politely and under his breath, which he wouldn't normally do but for you he was willing to bend the rules, his rules and it made him irate. He didn't like his specific rules he set be broken...he was just so curious about you that he was pushing to just get you out of that skirt, gag you and fuck you over the table but he had to tread lightly.

You shocked him when you grabbed him by the collar like instinct and slanted your mouth against his. Sherlock twisted his hand in your hair while your lips seek to find his. You moan into his mouth, the call of a siren and finally he could sample you: mint, tea, peach and an orchard of mellow fruitfulness, a fresh full supply that he wanted to drown in. Innocence and sweetness.

You taste every bit as good as you look.

You reminded him of a time of plenty. Good Lord, he was yearning for you.

Sherlock grasped your chin, deepening the kiss and your tongue tentatively touches his...exploring. Considering. Feeling. Revelling. Kissing him back.

Good God in Heaven. You thought you would grow wings before you could see the day, this could only happen in your wildest fantasies and dreams. A manifestation of sorts. You were punch drunk off of his taste, completely intoxicated beyond your reach and you didn't want to let go but you had to tear your lips away from his to breathe.

‘’I want to take you now...can I?’’ Sherlock had to ask politely, he couldn't just jump your bones although he wanted to.

‘’Sherlock, please. Do whatever you want with me, take control, I don't care. Just because I haven't been touched in this way doesn't mean I'm fragile and breakable. Fuck me how you want to, show me what you like. I've waited long enough, just do something.’’

Your voice sensual and that of an exotic creature, far too holy to be considered earthly. Sherlock had to contain his amusement and surprise, wow you were pulling the rug from under him and he liked that a lot. Those big doe eyes wide and gleaming to give you a morsel of the pleasure you were craving. He loved your incessant blushing.

‘’You don't mean that.’’ Sherlock warned.

‘’Yes I do.’’ Your voice timid.

‘’You're incredibly brave. I'm in awe of you.’’

‘’I feel like I'm too clothed.’’ You flirted.

Sherlock wanted to taste you, eat you out until tears were leaking down your face and then shock you with his cock.

He'd get there soon...in time. Maybe next time, he'd use the riding crop.

Yeah, yeah keep dreaming Sherlock. You have her here right now, just ease into it.

When he gripped you by the hand and lead you to his room, you felt your cheeks pink in desire. Sherlock felt a wholly unexpected thrill unfurl inside of him. He held you flush against his body. You gasp in surprise and his loud thoughts were subdued by his libido, he was so damn horny because of you- you had no clue how arousing you where. So alluring.

Sherlock's fingers tug at your hair, pulling your face up to his as he gazed into your captivating eyes.

This is so different...so intimate. It felt so heated. Although there was no arrangement made between you two, nothing placed, no limits set, you weren't his to do with as he pleases but yet he was still excited.

Aroused. It was obvious the way he was trying to reign his eagerness in when he was peeling you out of your clothes. You were shivering into his feather light touches, your body was alight like the fourth of July- a million fireworks exploding into the clear night sky and you were bathing in the feeling. He was so damn seductive. It was an unfamilair and exhilerating feeling, the desire for him coursing through you, at the tipping edge of a giant rollercoaster.

Sherlock got you half naked fairly quickly, he kneeled in front of you as you stood and your eyes widened. Sherlock Holmes on his knees? Dear God. You felt so special. He got you in your bra and now he wanted to peel your skirt off. His gleaming eyes met with yours and they daren't waver, they were blown out and dialated. Sherlock hands gripped onto your hips and he kissed the skin below the hem of your skirt and it began riding up with his nose as it travelled north. You whimpered and threw your head back in pure ecstasy. Your brows tensed as he stopped kissing you and finally shimmied your skirt down your legs.

Damn it.

His cock hardened in his pants. You in stockings? You in fine lingerie even though you had no one getting to see you like this, this…intimate? Who were you wearing them for? Him? Oh fuck. He was on top of the world.

His nose trailed over your panties and the scent of you was simply perfect, so delicious, he was salivating.

‘’Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you?’’ He grumbled, planting kisses on your thighs.

You whined at nothing, the words filling you up entirely. You were entranced- lost in his spell- he was clearly happy with himself.

‘’Do you want me to kiss you here, sweetheart?’’ Sherlock asked and you nodded fervently as his mouth was dangerously near the place where your ache was.

Lord, you were pulsating. Soaked.

‘’Yes. Please.’’ You agreed politely and he loved how naive and cute you were, it was delightful that you remembered your manners.

Sherlock's thick finger pulled your panties to the side as he kissed and suckled on that spot that no one else had touched. You felt electricity course through you, your hands flew to his soft curls to tug at it. It made him feel so good. His tongue was doing his magic now, swiping and suckling on your swollen clit, illiciting these lewd noises out of you in the process.

You were seriously about to cry, it was all so much.

You grabbed his face to make him stand and he got on his feet in quick hot flashes, his mouth was fastened to yours again. You moaned into his mouth when his tongue tangled with yours again, you could taste yourself off of him- it was so damn erotic, something out of a dream. When he ripped his lips from yours to see the wanton look in your eyes, he found that you were covered in a delicious rose, your breathing shallow and quick. You were clearly embarrassed at how quickly he got you like this.

Sherlock groaned when you gripped onto his arms, he finally reached behind you and unclasped your bra. Your tits fell free and he immediately palmed at them, your nipples were painfully hard and it made him realise how badly you actually wanted him. Your skin was warm as you flushed. It was the first time anyone else had seen you naked and the fact it was the infamous Sherlock Holmes made it all the more better.

'So pretty, I want to mark your skin up, make you mine." He wasn't sure why he blurted the last part. Would he make you his? Well you weren't.

‘’Do it then.’’ You breathed.

Like clockwork, he obeyed. His teeth sunk into the skin of your neck as he littered bites all down the column of it, leaving his mark on you.

His mark all over you. You then noticed that he was still fully clothed and it made you frown and Sherlock saw that as he peeked at you.

‘’What's with the frown? Am I not satisfying you enough?’’ He taunted.

‘’You've still got clothes on.’’ You pouted. ‘’Let me take it off for you.’’ You offered so deliciously and for once, Sherlock let you. It was unheard of, but you were already bending his rules.

You unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off him, but before you could revel in his physique he pushed you onto the bed. Your face contorted into different scenarios of pleasure and he wasn't even inside you yet. Sherlock fawned over you, hands roaming every inch of your skin, your hands raking in his hair. Breath warm as he kissed you. Your hands flew to his pants.

Whoa...gentle. Easy. So...eager. He liked that. The naive innocent itching to just get into his pants- interesting.

You unzipped it and Sherlock finally let his cock spring free. He peeked up at your face to check that you were still keen but it was more than that. You were desperate. Your mouth formed into an 'o' as it popped open, eyes wide with how big he was. It startled you, even envisioning what it would look like. He was leaking. Fuck.

‘’You still want this?’’ He checks again and you nodded furiously, already panting. Has he ever been this aroused? He didn't get it…it must be you.

Sherlock postioned himself in between your thighs as he slid into you so he could take you on his whim. Your eyes were open wide, imploring him as you strained. Should he be gentle and prolong the agony or just go for it?

The need to posses you clouds him. He goes for it.

You cry out and the pain felt so fucking God, the sting burned and you fucking loved it.

‘’Is that okay?’’ Sherlock checked as his eyes bore into yours, your face was etched in pure pleasure.

‘’Mmhmm...fuck...it feels...nice.’’ You whisper in his ear, moaning and whimpering and it was like his favourite sound of music.

Nice?

Sherlock? Nice?

Oh no, that's not good enough.

Sherlock wasn't nice in bed he was downright devilish in bed but for you he was willing to be soft, maybe later he'll fuck you in every way possible.

He had never felt this desire. This hunger before. He wanted so much from you but for now, he wanted you to cum on him.

Sherlock eased in and out of you slowly, eyes connected and scorching. Intimate. Hot. Slow. Normally, he would've pinned your hands above your head but right now they were in his hair and that's exactly where he wanted them to be right now. He began to pick up the pace and your moans echoed throughout his bedroom. It was just beginning to dawn on you that you were being fucked by Sherlock Holmes in his own bedroom.

‘’You're so fucking wet, I love it.’’ He cooed condescendingly and you didn't find it in yourself to care.

Sherlock reached you at the hilt, hitting that spot over and over as he kissed your lips and your jaw. He was just relentless and perfect.

‘’..God..'’ It was more of a strangled cry than an actual word.

‘’Cum with me...feel it with me, baby.’’

That's it…Feel it.

He loved that you were so responsive, he'd have to keep you in line for that later though. The pet name drove you to insanity as you bottomed out, gushing onto him as the flood gates opened and you had none of the means to keep them closed. Your cry was incandescent and it made him follow you in your footsteps. How telling. It was an explosive collision, a once in a lifetime event. That blush began to coat and prick your skin again.

When he finished, he rolled off beside you to regain his breath. The air was so thick and fulfilled, fire and erosion turning the atmosphere to molten lava. You cut through the pants.

‘’Am I supposed to thank you...because..uhm. Thank you.’’ You breathed bashfully, so sensual in your stance but you attempted to collect yourself and he wanted to laugh.

You were so amusing. So fun.

‘’This was more for me than you.’’ Sherlock admitted truthfully.

‘’Humility will always be a mystery to you.’’ You raised your eyebrow as you leaned to your side to peek up at him. Silence encompassed the air as your statement was incredibly true, he wasn't oblivious to it.

‘’How on Earth have you avoided…?’’ Sherlock seemed exasperated, confused as his brows creased but you cut him off.

‘’I told you, I wasn't interested. I only wanted you.’’

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

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Answer The Phone (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader) *PARENTAL

Characters: Mycroft X Daughter!Reader, Sherlock X Niece!Reader

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: mentions of being drugged via gas (fun story, this happened to me once lol), bomb, explosion, burns, unhealthy relationship with parent

Request: Hello could you do mycroft x daughter reader. Final problem the two have really broken father and daughter relationship and they haven't express themselves and because of it sherlock is kinda the father figure of the reader. So instead of Sherlock doing the phonecall its the mycroft who did the phonecall and reader almost said 'I love you ' to mycroft but its time up and mycrift witness the explosion in reader apartment and the Holmes are broken as they heard the shrill scream coming from the reader. Its up to you if you wanna turn out to let reader died. 😊

It had been a long time since you had actually gotten along with your dad. A long time since tensions weren’t running high when in his presence, well aware that things were one thoughtless comment away from a bicker or an argument. Whether it was wanting something from one another- more affection from him, or a more agreeable personality from you- or just not agreeing on things in general. He often commented on how you were more like your uncle Sherlock, even when you were young. Back then you took it as a compliment, seeing your uncle as a genius who adored you and was by far the funnest uncle in the world, but in your pre-teens you realised he meant it as an insult.

You could never forgive him for doing that, even if he didn’t mean it, or didn’t even realise what he was saying. Everytime he said it, it made you pull away from him even more. Spend more time with the man he compared you to, the only person who seemed to actually care about you. Of course, that was until you met Mrs Hudson and then John moved in with Sherlock. Mrs Hudson kept you company when your uncle was busy and you were avoiding your dad, and she’d softly poke into your home life and your relationship with your dad and try and give advice. John thought you were Sherlock’s assistant for a short while before Sherlock corrected him, acting insulted that he thought you were ‘just an assistant’. When he met Mycroft, he immediately began to understand why you weren’t close, and tried to be a responsible adult you could turn to. In the end, when you became a legal adult, you moved to an apartment much, much closer to Sherlock than your dad, and never in the 3 years you’d had it, had your dad stepped foot inside of it. He wasn’t allowed to. 

You had a lot of feelings towards your dad from childhood to now. Anger, resentment, distrust. A disconnect you never thought and come to accept could ever be fixed. Whenever you needed support, you went to Sherlock. John. Mrs Hudson. Never him. But this time was different. 

You were currently trapped in the said apartment. The one place you were supposed to feel safe no matter what, yet here you were, eyes focussed on the bomb that had been planted in the middle of your living room, the heart of your apartment, with several wires linking to it all across the apartment like spiderwebs. Linked to every possible escape route- the windows, the fire escape, and the only door in and out. You didn’t remember what had happened- you vaguely remember an odd smell as you wet to sleep last night, and when you awoke, you found yourself laying on the floor of your living room, and sitting up and seeing the device. Whoever had done this, had been nice enough to leave your phone right beside the bomb. You didn’t call anyone or even turn the phone on for several hours, scared that it had been tampered with as well and that was also a trigger, but you grew desperate. The first person you tried to call was your dad. You didn’t get through, so then you called Sherlock, and he picked up almost immediately, and you told him what was going on. 

That was about two hours ago now. The police cars littered the streets outside, the complex and surrounding buildings completely evacuated. It was just you and this bomb within a 50 foot radius. Well, for a period of time, both Sherlock and John were on the other side of the door, asking you a billion and one questions about what you could see, and you described everything to the best of your abilities, and it was useful. One, Sherlock was able to piece together it was well made, and whoever made this was an expert and had experience with this- probably a military man, working in a bomb squad or something, and that this was purely explosive, no nails or anything to cause more damage, and due the size, the blast wouldn’t go far past the walls of your home. However, after demanding his honesty, he admitted he also had no clue how to diffuse it, or if that was even possible. It seemed too fragile, that even a light breeze could set it off. That solidified your decision to remain perfectly still within two of the wires attached to your windows, too scared to even touch the glass or move to quickly, remembering his comment on a breeze, and didn’t want to risk vibration. 

You still hadn’t been able to reach your dad. 

“John?” You had asked over the phone. The phone was often being in call between people, mostly Sherlock and John, though Mrs Hudson had called when neither were available to try and keep you calm. It was John’s turn as Sherlock was following leads. 

“Yeah? Is something happening?” John asked. 

“No it’s just… I can’t reach my dad. I keep trying to call him but he won’t pick up… I… I just want to hear his voice.” You admitted. It sounded ridiculous, childish, but you were tired, hungry, and the adrenaline had drained your energy a while ago now. “Does he know what’s happening?” You asked. He was silent on his side for a minute. 

“I don’t know, but I tell you what, I’m going to personally find him, and drag him here, and make him answer his phone, okay?” He promised, and you could hear the anger oozing over the phone, which you couldn’t help but smile at. “In the meantime, I think Sherlock is going to call you later, I think he’s onto something. Hang on, alright?” He said, before handing up. You placed the phone on the floor, carefully standing up, and with distance between yourself and the window, you peered out of it, able to see John as he dashed off towards Lestrade, telling him something, before the pair got into a car and took off presumably to go and find your dad. Looking around more, you spotted Mrs Hudson peering up. She waved when she saw you, and you waved back. With nothing else to do, you sat back down in front of the bomb, trying to examine it to the best of your ability, seeing nothing of importance, before you laid down on the floor, closing your eyes, and waiting.

You flinched when your phone rang. You flinched every time it rang, even if someone had told you just a minute prior it was coming. You reached over, picking it up and placing it to your ear, remembering what John had said. “Sherlock?” You asked. 

“How many pieces of furniture in your flat can you crawl under?” His question was far from reassuring, as you bolted up, on high alert. 

“U-Um, I don’t know, why? Do I need to hide? Take cover? What’s going on?” You panicked. 

“The wiring to the bomb is far too fragile for someone to be able to rig it from the outside after escaping. They must have either found or made another way inside, somewhere where you wouldn’t have noticed. If we can find it you can get out yourself, or we can get inside. Think. Lay on the floor and look around for anything, furniture that you can get under, or furniture light enough but large enough to cover an escape but be able to move from below. Be. Careful. Watch the wires. Call me back if you find anything, I’m on my way back.” He said before hanging up, leaving you alone with silence and overwhelming pressure. You looked at the wires around you, before trying to think of the best places for someone to hide a hatch- under the coffee table, the recliner that you knew was easy to move, your wardrobe in your room which had some crawl space underneath, and for you, the most creepy- under your bed. You quickly checked under your coffee table in front of you, of course finding nothing, because of course that would be too easy. Your recliner was across from you, so after a deep breath, you got down on the ground, and carefully crawled under the wires, spotting a wire that was too low to crawl under, and you stood and carefully stepped over it. You then carefully moved your recliner, checking underneath, and found nothing. That left your bedroom. 

Your phone rang again, and your cursed yourself, realising you left it beside the table, and you hurriedly but carefully moved back, grabbing it and answering it. “Hello? Sherlock?” 

“Y/N?” Your dad’s voice caught you off guard, and you gasped in surprised. “What’s going on? John told me to call you and said it was dire.” He asked. A relief came over you just from hearing his voice, your eyes burning as you sniffed. 

“Dad… it’s bad.” You started, getting silence on the phone. “There’s… someone put some sort of sedative gas into my flat when I went to bed and broke in- they moved me into the living room and- there’s a bomb. There’s a bomb in the living room and it’s wired up to every escape and I can’t get out and I’m scared and I don’t want to die-” You rambled to him before you heard him finally repeating your name to try and interrupt you. 

“Y/N, Y/N, breathe. Is Sherlock working on it?” He asked, that last sentence sound a little distance, and you faintly heard John confirm in the background, before he returned to the phone. “Alright. Sherlock’s working on it. What has he told you?” 

“He um… He said that he thinks there’s a secret entrance somewhere- and that’s how the person who did this escaped after rigging everything. He told me to look for it- I’m going to check in my bedroom next.” You explained to him, looking over, being relieved when you saw no wire attached to the door. 

“Is that door rigged?” 

“No. Hold on, I have to crawl under the wires.” You explained, getting back down, crawling under the wires, before reaching it the door, and holding the phone to your ear. “Okay, I’m at the door.”

“Do you feel like a secret agent?” He asked, catching you off guard. 

“What?” You asked, pausing in your plan. 

“Crawling under and over the wires. It’s like the laser lights and those agents avoiding them. You used to love those movies when you were little. You thought that was what Sherlock did in his cases.” He reminisced. A faint smile met your lips. You’d totally forgotten about that. 

“Yeah… I remember one time when I pulled out all the red thread from a jumper you had gotten me, pinning it all over the house so I could pretend to be a secret agent and then using it to make an information board… you were so mad when you came back home because the jumper was some expensive brand and I’d made the board on a wall and wrote on it and everything… sorry about that.” You told him, somehow finding the energy to chuckle pathetically. 

“Don’t apologise.” Mycroft told you. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. You were 6, you were just being a child.” He pointed out. “I’m… I’m also sorry that I didn’t answer your calls. I should have known something was wrong when you kept trying to reach me.” He apologised. You hummed, before you realised something. 

“This is the first time we’ve been able to actually talk without bickering or arguing in years.” You pointed out. You heard him sigh. 

“When this whole mess is over, I promise you we’re going to have a proper family dinner, catch up, and actually talk. No bickering. No arguing. A genuine conversation. How does that sound?” He asked. You smiled to yourself. This was the best thing that had happened all day, not like that was hard. 

“Yeah. Let’s hope the escape is in my room.” You said, remembering your task. You reached out, grabbing the handle of your bedroom door, and opening it, and pulling the door open. “Hey, you know, despite not really getting along my whole life, I want you to know that I do love-” You looked up to search your room, but the sound of a beep made your eyes focus on the bomb attached to your bedframe, this one a lot bigger, that was rigged to your bedroom door, that you had just set off.

Mycroft heard you gasp, the sound of you running, hearing you muttering repeatedly ‘no, no, no, no”, the sound of you trying to open a door before the call ended. “Y/N?” Mycroft asked. He heard nothing. He tried calling you back, and it didn’t even ring. He got an awful feeling in his stomach and he wanted to be sick, but he looked up at John who looked confused at what was happening, having not heard what he’d heard. “Get me to her flat right now.” 

By the time the pair arrived on your street, it was already blocked off and there was more than one firetruck trying to subdue the fire that was blazing where your flat used to be. Mycroft didn’t speak as he approached, seeing the sight, realising what it was exactly that he heard. He heard his daughter realise she triggered an explosive. He heard his daughter run across the one place she was meant to be safe to the front door. He heard his daughter try and open the door, and realise it was locked and she was trapped inside.

He heard his daughter die, terrified and alone. And for what? Why? Why not him, or Sherlock? He wanted to be angry, demand answers, find who did this and get revenge even if it isn’t lawful, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry right now. Only guilty. He should have spent more time with you. He should have tried harder to be a better parent to you, he should have been kinder, more understanding. He should have been there. 

“John! Mycroft!” Mycroft didn’t hear Mrs Hudson at first as she dashed over as quick as she could- she was sobbing and sniffling, clutching a handkerchief to her face as she approached. 

“Mrs Hudson, what happened?!” John asked alarmed and out of breath. 

“There was a second bomb in the bedroom, when she opened the door it set it off.” She explained. Mycroft finally looked away from the blaze to look at the woman. The call had ended only 20 minutes or so prior, and since the flat was still in fire, so there was no way to examine the scene. 

“How do you know that?” He asked her. She didn’t say anything, simply grabbing his arm and pulling him down the street, pass the firetrucks, past the police who looked defeated, and towards an ambulance. The back doors were open, and inside he was able to see two paramedics tending to someone in the bed. He felt his heart leap into his throat as he sprinted to the edge and jumped inside, able to finally see your face, an oxygen mask over your face, burns littering your body, and you were unconscious as a paramedic was placing bandaging on one of your burns. “Is she okay? Is my daughter okay?” He demanded answers, one of the paramedics looking up at him. 

“She’s suffered burns and blunt force trauma from the explosion. She was conscious when she was able to get out, but she fell unconscious, and we need to get her to the hospital now. Please sit down if you’re coming with her.” He instructed, and Mycroft followed and sat down. He turned, seeing John and Mrs Hudson stood, staring at you. 

“Please make sure Sherlock finds out who did this. They need to pay for this.” Mycroft demanded. John nodded firmly, before the doors shut, the sirens turned on and the ambulance began to move. Mycroft put his whole focus on you, making sure your chest moved up and down, looking for any sign of you waking up, and more importantly, any sign you were in pain. He only saw you breathing, and he decided for now he should be thankful for that. He didn’t know what exactly he was going to do, but he knew that somehow, someway, he was going to fix this. He was going to make everything better. He had to.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @holy-tea-cup-blog @sassy-specter @keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey @courtneychicken @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines@huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

#sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock #mycroft #mycroft x reader #mycroft x fem!reader #mycroft x daughter!reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock x fem!reader #sherlock x niece!reader #one shot #story writing #writing #question #ask questions #ask me anything #send me asks #send me anything #send me questions #oneshot #request #reader #x reader #fem!reader #x fem!reader #daughter!reader #x daughter!reader #niece!reader #x niece!reader

[annesthaeticc]

lovers rock | sherlock x fem!reader

| Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader

| one shot , song fic

| 961 words

| 'because love can burn like a cigarette, and leave you alone with nothing...' What Sherlock and Y/N had was beautiful, but it crashed and burned.

A/N okay bear with me it's short, but hey it's something, right? testing the waters asi hopefully hopefully come back into writing. let me know what you think!

————————————————————————————————

“Such a small world,” you quietly said and watched as the air escaped your lungs, echoing your words. The party inside was loud, but not loud enough for the silence outside was piercing yet calming. And so, he heard you. Slowly, he turned to see who spoke and found your silhouette, your shape outlined amongst the trees and the pillars.

Slowly, he walked towards you. Yet another mistake he was about to make. For all the choices he made that involved you, it led to one.

One. Big. Mistake.

Sherlock heard his heart thudding. Crashing and breaking in every step he made towards you. You sat there frozen, your eyes unblinking, or at least trying not to blink for you feared that if you do so, he might disappear.

Just like he did back then.

Sherlock sometimes wished he never pursued you, but here he was, about to do the very same thing. He never learned.

“Indeed it is.” he replied, his very perfect presence now crowding over you. His shadow embraced you and your eyes finally blinked only to find he was still there, standing in front of you.

He was taller. His face is more defined. His curls, curled to perfection. His perfume was the same, or is it? His lips fuller, more inviting than ever.

Sherlock noticed this, and cannot help himself but do the very same. You were perfect in every shape and form, as the day he met you. He committed crimes before, but his favorite might be the one he is about to make; to kiss you.

Silence passed by the small distance between you and him and it was almost deafening. You were waiting for him to say something. Something along the lines of “I’m sorry I left you…” And he was doing just the same, waiting for the words like “I’m sorry I couldn't wait for you…”

“Best man leaving early?” you finally said, shyly asking. He nodded and looked away.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, cutting you off before you could even say anything.

“I was invited, well not just me really, Ian and I were…” your voice trailed off as your husband's name left your lips. Again, he nodded.

Ah yes, Ian. Sherlock knew more than you. He is decent enough, this Sherlock could guarantee. But not decent enough to leave you on your own for days, even weeks or months on end while he was traveling the world on some sort of opera tour. Sherlock didn't care enough to dig for more details.

All he knew was deep seated anger and sadness.

And this resonated through the walls of the second floor of 221B Baker Street for months. Your wedding invitation sent for him lay hopeless on his desk, waiting to be written on to confirm his invitation. He was about to decline after finally making a decision that went on for weeks, only to find out it was pointless to respond because your wedding was already done.

And so, he threw the invitation in the fire. He watched as the intricate paper got swallowed by the flames, melting into ashes, into nothing. He was mesmerized by it. How something could be nothing because of the burning flames.

He was shaken from his thoughts when he saw your hand, holding a packet of cigarettes. You were offering him one and Sherlock accepted. You sat down again on the bench and he followed, allowing a few inches between you.

Quietly, the two of you smoked. Avoiding glancing or talking. You were caught up in a trance and were shaken out of it when you felt movement. Sherlock stood up and stepped on the cigarette. His shoe dug into the grass as the last of the embers glowed.

“Going somewhere?” you asked.

“Home.” he replied, his voice deep.

“I could drive you.” you offered.

“No thank you. I’ll catch a cab.” he replied, slowly walking away.

“Sherlock, wait, please—” you caught up with him and offered to drive him once more. He declined and you almost gave up.

His figure faded into the darkness when you cried out, “Sherlock, I'm sorry.”

Tears flooded your eyes and you couldn't help. It fell from your eyes, flowing down your face. Everything was blurry and you felt your hands shaking from the nicotine and from the adrenaline of your apology.

“It's been 12 years, Y/N,” he replied. “Why are you saying sorry now?”

“Because…”

“You will not tempt me to play one of your games, Y/N. Not this time. Not ever again.”

“Sherlock, please,”

“I'm sorry? Is that all you could think? You left me, Y/N,” he cried. And now you see his face. Anger, despair, and longing painted his face,

“You left me first!” you accused him. He really did.

“And yet you couldn't wait for me, couldn't you? All the promises I made—”

“Were gone as soon as you disappeared, Sherlock.”

“Oh ye of little faith!” he said, his voice booming.

“Sherlock,” you breathlessly begged. “I'm sorry.”

Sherlock heard you, and saw your eyes. He hated you for marrying someone else, but what he hated most is seeing you cry. He pulled out his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed your face, wiping away the tears. He pulled you into his embrace, just like he did back then. When your cries died down, he pulled away then planted a kiss on your temple.

“We would never work out. You're happier with him.” Sherlock said.

“I realized that what he had, was all that it was. Nothing more, nothing less. We burned too fast until we became nothing, Y/N.” he continued.

“I loved you,” you whispered.

“And I did too. So much.” he said, his voice breaking.

————— • ————— • ————— • ————— • ————— • ——

TAGLIST:

@migurin @damiensoda @inas-thing @peachywoong @ruevz @sammiisnthere @srapalestina @winchestersgirl222 @taramaria @alexag-barnes @sleutherclaw @will0wfairy @vexedvalerie @lovecleastrange @evelynrosestuff @azu21 @getlostsquidward @bubu890 @strangefilms @ice-ksk @my-beel @doctorswitch @tuitiononlivings @windchaser1990 @swds @andrewgarfieldsloml @spencerreidslittleslut @sherlockstrangewolf @littlebadariell @whosgwyneth @cumberbitch @lostfleurs @strangeobsessed @slvtforstr4nge @jyessaminereads @dancerpanda04 @stephenstrangeaddictions @starryeddie @cemak @valoa3s @paola-carter @runningnannie @siredlust @stupidthoughtsinwriting

#benedict cumberbatch #sherlock fanfiction #sherlockbbc #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x you #sherlock x fem!reader #sherlock fanfic #sherlock holmes angst #sherlock holmes jealousy #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock holmes fluff #sherlock fandom #fanfic writing #sherlock holmes fanfiction #benedict cumberbatch fanfiction #lovers rock #tv girl #sherlock song fics #sherlock x reader fanfic #Spotify

[wordywarriorwrites]

Mystery

Title: Mystery A03 | Master List | Rating: E Summary: A spoiled Duchess, a famous Detective, and a bathtub built for two. Written For: Milestone '23 Prompt: Sleepy/lazy, Sherlock, Bath or Shower Sex Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader Warnings: Smut. PWP.

As a Duchess in your own right, as well as the sole heiress to a vast fortune, you had access to the very best. Clothes, jewelry, theatres, art, food, even stationary. You catered to your own whims and spoiled yourself whenever you saw fit - which, to be honest, was quite often.  

One of your most recent indulgences was your newly remodeled bathroom, with a waffle ceiling, tile-covered walls, a custom toilet, and a separate shower. There was also a double sink, with a mirrored, multi-drawered vanity that housed a variety of towels, robes, scents, oils, sponges, and brushes, but the crown jewel was the custom-made bathtub.  

Instead of having it tucked away into the wall, the porcelain-lined, pool-like behemoth was the centerpiece. It offered a perfect view of the estate gardens, was deep enough to submerge yourself in, and the swaths of fabric bolted to the ceiling could be pulled around it for additional privacy.

You chose to leave the curtain open and observe a late afternoon storm build along the horizon. The clouds rolled in and darkened the skies, which prompted the gardeners to head for cover and the servants to light the lamps. Once your hair had been washed, you refreshed the water, dismissed your lady’s maid, and ensconced yourself in the bath’s rose-scented depths.

Finally, you were alone, and able to have a private moment with your thoughts. And there were many things on your mind - after all, you were solely in charge of your household and had a lot to attend to before the London season got underway. You intended to host a ball next month, and there were several details to iron out, but the combination of steam and heavy rainfall quieted your racing mind and soothed you.

Sleep beckoned, but just as you began to nod off, a soft knock roused you. Perturbed by the disturbance, you opened your mouth to send whoever it was away, but then, the door creaked open without your permission, and you knew of only one person - one man - who had the audacity to do such a thing.

“Detective,” you murmured.

“Duchess,” he greeted as he bolted the door. 

You were fortunate. Privileged. Your title alone commanded respect, but you didn’t always behave as a lady of well-breeding should. Unmarried, with no children, and no guardian to watch over you? An independent woman of wealth and breeding who wasn’t a widow? It was unheard of, even obscene in some circles, but you were determined to retain your freedom for as long as you possibly could.  

There were many suitors vying for your hand, but none who genuinely cared for you beyond your position and wealth. It was why you’d decided to forego the marriage market and take a lover instead. But only someone who understood the necessity for absolute discretion could be considered a candidate, and Sherlock Holmes certainly fit the bill.

But being alone with a man who was not your husband or familial relation was forbidden. Enjoying a man’s company was unseemly. Being naked in a tub, while watching a man undress and ready himself to join you, was also a wicked offense - one that would surely result in damnation should anyone learn of it.  

Sherlock lowered himself in across from you and sighed, “Forgive me for my tardiness.”

You quirked a brow and dropped your foot between his pectorals, “Why should I?”

He grinned. Pressed a kiss to your ankle. Massaged from heel to arch while he shared his good news. Another case successfully closed, this time by his extensive knowledge of perfume and pipe ash. You laughed and reheated the water as he washed and regaled you with the tale. After a while, Sherlock fell silent, which prompted you to sit up and press a hand to his chest.

“Hungry?” you wondered. 

“Famished,” he replied.

“Tired?”

“Exhausted.”

You straddled his lap and cupped his face in your hands, “Let me make love you?”

Sherlock sat up and brushed his lips across your chin and cheeks, “Please.”

For all the dangerous, social landmines the two of you navigated, what you and Sherlock had was surprisingly uncomplicated. Your impeccable reputation and his unshakable honor afforded you both a lot of privacy and leeway. You also shared mutual acquaintances and occasionally saw each other at the same soirees, but neither of you made any overtures or public displays other than simple politeness. No flirting, no dancing, and absolutely no calls or gifts or letters. You were also friendly with his sister, Enola, and her close connection with Viscount Tewkesbury squashed any potential rumors and prevented tongues from wagging.

Besides, you were aware that Sherlock was married to his work. And he knew you wanted to remain independent for as long as possible. Yet, you also recognized the loneliness in each other.

And the desire for connection, too.

“You smell wonderful,” he observed gruffly between kisses. “Taste good, too. Like strawberries and hazelnuts.”

You grinned and dipped your tongue into his mouth, “You taste like beer. And cheddar cheese?”

“Such powers of observation, Duchess. You’ll put me out of a job.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much, Mr. Holmes.”

Sherlock’s chuckles morphed to contented groans the moment you wrapped your hand around him. You stroked him with the firm grip he preferred, with a twist of the wrist at the tip, and felt his hips lift slightly with every tug. Your front row seat to the beginnings of his undoing excited you, and when you took him inside, he moaned and gripped your waist tight.

This wasn’t the first time - far from it, in fact - but it still managed to stun you both. You took a moment before you allowed your head to fall back and your body to move. You used his shoulders for leverage as you built a steady rhythm. You weren’t sure how long you had. Didn’t know if he was staying the night or taking off right away. How long it would be until you saw him again? If your lady’s maid came searching…

“Slowly, Duchess. We have time.”

You met his eyes and frowned slightly, “Of course. I’m just--”

“I know,” he interjected quietly, reassuringly. “Me, too.”

Another kiss was all it took to distract you both. The water sloshed with every movement and threatened to spill onto the floor. You watched his pupils expand and his tongue dart out to lick wayward droplets from his lips. His nipples were pebbled, and the spread of his thighs beneath yours ensured you remained wide open and able to take him to the hilt. As you languidly sought your peak, he helped you along - slipped his hand beneath the water, right between your legs, and used his skilled fingers to stroke and pat at your clit.

Sherlock was massive and warm and beautiful beneath you. Plump mouth and flushed cheeks and curls even more riotous from the movement and heat. His shoulders rolled and his arms flexed as he maneuvered your legs around his waist and twined your arms over his shoulders. Once you were settled, he splayed one hand on the small of your back, planted the other on the bottom of the tub, and drove up and into you with considerable force. Still drawn-out, of course, but much sharper than you were capable of, and precisely what you needed.

You came undone embarrassingly fast. So fast, in fact, that you were dumbfounded into utter stillness. Sherlock was delighted, perhaps even charmed, because he laughed into your slack mouth and made a low, pleased sound deep in his chest. The spark in his eye was akin to the one you’d often seen when he’d unraveled a particularly difficult riddle, but it wasn’t smugness or male pride. He was satisfied simply because he’d satisfied you, and that was one of his most endearing and appealing qualities.

Sherlock hummed and nipped at your breast, “Another?”

You moaned against the crown of his head. Gripped the sides of the tub with both hands. Allowed him to give you more of what you both wanted, however he wanted, because it felt good.

Sherlock Holmes made you feel good, and even though you knew the two of you were well on your way to getting a bit too carried away, you had no desire to stop. You muffled the sounds of your pleasure in the crook of his neck, and each of his ragged exhales were interspersed with throaty growls and pointed thrusts that made you delirious.

Some time later - after you’d fed him, made love again, and put him to bed for the night in the guest room across from yours - you put on a nightgown, and slipped beneath your own sheets.

Sherlock would be gone before daybreak. You’d be up early, too, because you also had things to do. You’d enjoyed a rare night with him. You’d indulged in each other and made tentative plans to see each other once more before your time was taken up with early morning callers, afternoon teas, and balls that ran late into the night. 

You were happy - even if weren’t sure how long your affair with Sherlock would last.

But then again, you supposed it was just another mystery yet to be solved. 

#sherlock fanfic #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock x fem!reader #rabbitsmilestone23 #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #wordywarriorwrites #mystery

[willieverseetheland]

spring cleaning.

sherlock holmes x fem!reader summary: your annoying, yet admittedly hot, neighbor drops by unannounced while you're busy cleaning. Things get a little, heavy?

WARNINGS: sherlock being sarcastic as ever, suggestive flirting, implied smut ig?

wc: 762

The only sound in your flat is the loud whirring of the hoover. It's so loud that you didn't hear the door open.

You had decided to do some deep cleaning today. So far, you've swept, washed dishes, done the laundry, and cleaned the toilet. You still need to mop, organize, and clean the oven. At least you have nothing else to do today.

You power off the hoover and hear clanging coming from the kitchen. You turn to see your neighbor Sherlock Holmes standing in your kitchen, rummaging through the fridge.

"Excuse me?" you exclaim.

"What?" He looks at you with a genuine confused expression.

"Don't you know you're supposed to knock before you enter someone's home? Or do you just not care?"

"The latter." He says with his head buried inside the refrigerator.

"I assumed."

Classic Sherlock. It's his world and we're all just living in it. You normally wouldn't care actually. It's just today your flat is a disaster, and you're still in your pajamas, which is just a camisole and your underpants.

"What are you looking for?"

"Baking soda." he replies.

"And why do you need baking soda?" you're sure you already know the answer.

"An experiment."

Of course.

"Okay..." your voice trails off, you're a bit concerned because you can never know what to expect with Sherlock. He could explode the entire building and you and Mrs. Hudson along with it.

"You should really dust over here." He slides his finger across the top of the cabinet, and then rubs his index and middle together to remove the dust from them.

"I'm working on it. I can neither see nor reach up there, so I forget about it." you sigh.

"I'll do it for you, if you want." he turns to look at you.

"And why would you help me? Sherlock being nice isn't something you see every day."

"Because I'm attracted to you, and we're more inclined to do things for people we're attracted to."

You can't help but blush. You've had an interest in him for a while now. He's not charming in the traditional sense, but that's exactly why you like him. He tells things as they are.

"The duster's in the cabinet under the sink, thank you." God, you hate how flustered he makes you. It's embarrassing.

He notices that you're blushing and smirks. He knows how you feel about him. He deduced it weeks ago, after noticing your body language changing slightly. Pupils dilated when he got close, cheeks slightly pinker, you started wearing more makeup as well. The nail in the coffin, however, was when he brushed your thigh slightly with his fingers, and he saw your whole body tense up and your cheeks redden.

You'll admit, you do think of him as more than a friend. You're worried he's caught on. Has he noticed how you stare at his lips for a second too long, or how you can barely look at him without blushing when he wears that godforsaken purple shirt, or how you focus on his hands and fingers when he plays his violin?

"And by the way, I 'm aware of your feelings for me. Very aware." You know that he's looking at you, but you can't muster the courage to reach his gaze.

"Sherlock, I don't know what you're talking about." you scoff.

He slowly walks over to you, eyes locked on your figure.

He's analyzing you, something he does often, to everyone. But right now, you are more aware than ever. It feels as if he's looking into your soul.

"At first I wasn't so sure. It didn't seem possible. But the closer I watched, there was no denying it. You hid it quite well, I will admit." He's only inches away from you now. You feel so hot and honestly a little out of breath.

He reaches out to grab your wrist, you flinch but his grip is strong.

"Quickened pulse, reddened cheeks, dilated pupils. All signs of arousal and attraction. Or maybe you're just embarrassed, considering the lack of clothing on your lower half."

"I am... just embarrassed, that's all. May I go get dressed?"

"What's the point in that when we both know your clothes will be off soon after?" he says with a smirk.

You almost gasp at the boldness of his words. You feel like you could melt into the floor. This man really has you in the palm of his hand and he hasn't even touched you yet.

"Well then, I suppose you're right."

"When am I not?" he grins. --

I'm not british so I'm sorry if I used the wrong words LMAO.

#fanfic writing #fanfiction #sherlock bbc #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock #sherlock x fem!reader

[iamsherlocked1479]

Masterlist

This is what i like to call a sorry excuse of a master list, so sorry if you're a user who actually knows what they're doing, I know its bad but it's all i have time to do right now. it will get better (i really hope so).

🔥= Smutty

⭐️= running series

❤️= Stand alones

🥴=skits

🎶= music

📖= request

🥰= fluff

Playlists:

🎶The detective

🎶Doctor Stephen Strange

..............................................................................................................................

Doctor Strange:

⭐️🥰🔥A Strange feelng

❤️🔥What Doctor Strange was actually doing before infinity war

❤️🔥I missed you too

❤️🔥I can tolarate it

❤️🔥Something more

❤️🔥A lot of explaining to do

❤️🔥📖Victory is ours

❤️🥰Heal

❤️🔥Happy New Year

..............................................................................................................................

Sinister Strange:

❤️🔥Darkest Disires

..............................................................................................................................

Sherlock Holmes:

🥰⭐️🔥That's not how I'd do it

❤️🔥Jealousy

📖🔥Hold it together

❤️🔥 Admit it

❤️📖🥰 Kiss me

📖 🥰 all i wanted to say

..............................................................................................................................

Random things:

Everything is going to be okay

Doesn't have a name

🥴Pappa pedro

#benedict cumberbatch x female!reader #masterlist #sherlock x fem!reader #sherlock holmes #marvel smut #doctor strange x female reader #doctor stephen strange #sinister stephen strange #sinister strange #sinister strange x you #benedict cumberbatch

[cumberlocked4everr]

Tell Me I Still Have You...

A Sherlock x fem!reader imagine

With his best friend married and a expected father to be, Sherlock is concerned about what's going to happen next. He will experience the absent of John for a while, but he's still got you to aid him on cases and otherwise the daily life. Doesn't he?

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: None really. Mention of Sherlock's "death".

The guests were gliding, spinning and turning around the detective, the music was a little too loud for speaking, and the lights shifted between colors every second. The case had been solved, a man was arrested and taken to the station by Lestrade and the wedding could continue as it should. John and Mary were now a married couple and smiling of pure love at each other. Part of the reason was because Sherlock had just told them of their pregnancy in his usual deduction explaining method.

You were happy for them. They deserved this. Though you couldn’t help but feel a little envious. Not about marriage. That wasn’t so important. Nor that they had a baby on the way. You didn’t see yourself as the mother type anyway. No, it was the affection they had for each other. To have someone who shares your feelings and shows them in public as well as in private. This was something you had never prioritized before, but as you stood here, watching him….

It was difficult to put a word on it. But no matter how much you had tried to push it away, it only grew stronger, like your own body was taunting you. Because having a shot with him was like shooting an apple off a person’s head while blindfolded and said person running. Alas, impossible. It didn’t stop, however, that you were taking a step closer.

“Not much of a dancer either?”

You halted and turned towards the man who had approached you. It was the same guy from earlier. He had taken the initiative first and spoke to you on several occasions when you were otherwise not occupied with John’s friend almost being murdered or Sherlock’s usual rant about everything and nothing. He seemed like an alright bloke, but you weren’t interested in the slightest. But since he was kind, you chatted along with him yet again.

His eyes moved, scanning the room. Not for danger this time, more so of setting the scene. John and Mary swayed close along with everyone else. Although Sherlock enjoyed how things had been, he wouldn’t deny his friend this happiness. And both he, Mary and you had assured him that things wouldn’t change but they had to change. John had a much larger responsibility now as a husband and soon to be father. Even Sherlock knew that. But when John couldn’t trot along on cases, he would still have you. Right? The detective wondered why he asked himself that. There hadn’t been any indications that you were leaving the flat as well. So why was he uncertain of that fact?

Once his sight landed on you, he stopped moving further. You were currently in conversation with Philip from earlier. Sherlock could tell what his job was, his personal life and current living statues before Philip could tell it himself. He believed that living with two cats and working in an office all day wouldn’t be of much interest to you, but here you were, smiling and giggling at something he said. It was as if all the other people disappeared and it was only you and him.

He shook that thought out as soon as it popped in. He blamed it on the curiosity of the future, whether you would continue to stay and help on cases. It was nothing more than that he simply was accustomed to having colleagues he could actually work with.

His thoughts were interrupted when a girl bumped into him. She laughed and mumbled what could have been an excuse without meeting his eyes before continuing to dance. In fact, no one was looking at him. Everyone so occupied with each other he might as well be invisible. Though he was used to not getting the attention or being the center of a crowd except on cases, he admitted that he felt ignored tonight. Especially from his own friends. John and Mary had a somewhat excuse, this being their marriage, but you… You had never denied your fascination over him, and it was often the two of you in situations like this one because you got along. But now, some ordinary, boring he would say, man had stolen your attention.

The song ended and a new one started and in that moment, Sherlock had made a decision. If he were to just stand in the middle of the dancefloor, he might as well leave before he disturbed more people with their dance by being an obstacle in their way. But first, he had to get out of this crowd.

To be honest, it had been a long time since you had been as bored as you were right now. Philip rambled on about something at work but you had stopped listening long ago. Your eyes led you back to where you had originally been staring. Sherlock was still there, but he looked like he wanted to flee the scene. You apologized to Philip and left him before he could say more.

“You okay?”

The question caught Sherlock off guard. He hadn’t noticed you coming up to him and his expression seemed to worry you. “I’m fine,” he said quickly in hope to ease your mind.

“Alright.” You looked at each other before you both moved away, the silence of conversation getting uncomfortable.

“Do you want to dance?” Sherlock asked the question before he could think thoroughly before doing so. He expected you to say no but found himself surprised when you said,

“I thought you’d never ask.” You gave him a smile that warmed him in a different way than the room filled with people did. Sherlock found the corner of his lips curving as he held up his hand.

Yours was not too warm, nor too cold. Just the right temperature to his own and he couldn’t deny that it fitted rather perfectly in his grasp as he drew you closer to him. It felt as time moved slower when he did. Even surrounded by so many, his cologne still found its way to you. It had the same effect on you as it had for many months. Soothing, protective…

“A penny for your thoughts?” Sherlock asked after you had begun to sway to the music.

You tilted your head. “Short of deductions, Mr. Holmes?” The sarcasm wasn’t hidden in your question. You loved taunting him now and then, especially when you received those annoyed looks from him in return.

This time, Sherlock smiled awkwardly and defended himself by saying, “I attempted to make small talk.”

“You? Small talk? I thought you wanted to dance. Are you sure you’re alright?” You were a bit amused, but also confused. Sherlock had never shown any interest in such human behavior.

“Perfectly,” he stated and swirled you around once before returning to the basic position. His left hand was steady on your back while he led you with such precision and confidence you wished you had danced with him long ago. The lights seemed like they had a dance of their own as they reflected on his face. Still, his eyes shined down at you and in this moment, you felt like the most important thing in his life. Like for a minute, you had what you wanted. Him.

After the song had ended, Mary came over to steal you for a moment. She wanted to discuss the pregnancy and usual lady talk before the night ended. Meanwhile, Sherlock had withdrawn to the hall to get his coat. He hadn’t said he was leaving to anyone. Partly because he never did. He ran by his own schedule, not everyone else's.

*

No matter where you searched, Sherlock was not to be found. Neither John, Molly or anyone else had seen where he went and after discovering his absent coat, it didn’t take you long to deduce he had left. But to where?

Baker Street was your first guess, but when you found the flat empty, you thought you were back to scratch. He didn’t answer your call or text, he hardly did if it weren’t utterly important.

You decided to try the hospital next. You went through all the rooms he normally used and rooms he hardly or never were in, but came up with nothing. You were about to give up and head back to the flat and wait for his return instead when the door leading up to the rooftop stood ajar. It was supposed to stay closed, and locked, at all times and no one else was here at this time of night. Except…

Your fear rose as you walked up the stairs and out on the roof. The air was even more chilly up here and you had only a thin shawl over your shoulders. Your dress didn’t apply much warmth either, but that thought faded when you saw Sherlock standing near the edge, gazing over the city. The first thought coming to mind was unpleasant, and one you had long since tried to forget.

“Sherlock?” You approached him slowly when all you really wanted was to rush over and pull him away from the dangerous edge. He stood completely still when you came up beside him, his gaze fixed on the city lights. Your pulse raced through your body and you felt your heart hammering against your chest as one more step would have made you fall. “Sherlock, please.”

The pleading in your voice was what finally brought his eyes to you but you were now trying to not let the height drag you down. Sherlock saw the fear, not just in your eyes but in the way you shifted weight on your legs and drew closer to him. It didn’t take much of a deduction to know why you were reacting this way. Not here, not on this building. He should’ve known you would leave when you found out he had, but he didn’t know you’d find him so quickly.

“Thirty-two minutes and twenty six seconds.”

“What?” you frowned.

“It’s how long it took you to find me. Impressive. John would’ve taken at least twice as long.”

He had been timing-? Sure, he times many things but only when it’s convenient to him. So why was this important? “Well, this is his wedding night, you couldn't place blame if it took him a day or two.” Sherlock gave a “hmm” in response and returned his admiration of the night sky.

“Could we please step away from the edge?”

The detective exchanged glances between you and the free fall in front of you. He gently placed his hand on your arm and guided you a few steps back to safer ground. “Sorry.” His hand lingered on your arm still, though now would be a time to remove said contact. “Why did you come after me?”

You took a deep breath before answering. “You left without saying anything. I thought something had happened or that I did something wrong-”

“Why would you think that?” It was like you had struck him in the face the way he asked that. Before you could say more, Sherlock continued. “I eh…” he cleared his throat. “I was testing a theory, that’s all.”

“A theory? Here?”

Sherlock shrugged. “It’s a good place to think.”

A sudden, strong breeze hit your bare arms and legs, causing you to tremble. You embraced yourself in hope to warm up but it did little to not help. Sherlock’s eyes followed your movements. “Cold?” The sarcastic tone wasn’t helping. Bringing a coat with you when you left the flat hadn’t even crossed your mind.

“What gave it away?” you playfully say back to which he chuckled. “Can we just go home?” His head raised at that last word. Home. It took him a few seconds but then he agreed and together, you walked back down. Instead of taking a cab, you suggested walking for a bit. It was late and cold and probably a bad idea, but you wanted to have more time just the two of you alone before arriving back to the flat and your lives continued as normal. And damn it was cold. Your shivering only intensified the longer you kept walking but you didn’t complain out loud. The quiet of the night, with only the sounds of your shoes against the pavement was nice.

You kept your gaze on the ground or on your surroundings, not noticing Sherlock taking off his coat before you felt it over your shoulders. The instant warmth from his body met your cold one and you sighed in relief at the comfort it created. You mumbled a thank you and pulled the - his - coat closer around you. Sherlock walked in a half circle and stopped right in front of you while removing his scarf. All you could manage was to watch him as he folded it in half and placed it around your neck. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending a different kind of shiver through you. He then pulled one end through the other until it wrapped nicely around your throat. “You should’ve brought a coat,” he simply said as he adjusted the length of the scarf so it covered your chest. His former teasing tone had been replaced with a softer one, one you could almost take as a concerned one. But you didn’t let yourself go there.

His scent attached to his clothes found its way to you once more and once again, it calmed you. “Yeah.” It was all you could muster to say and Sherlock returned to your side.

The silence reappeared as you kept on walking but it wasn’t as unbearable as before. You enjoyed his company and just because he was silent didn’t mean he was uncomfortable. His arm brushed against yours and still with his thick coat in between it sent electrifying waves through your whole body. You could blame the cold for walking so closely to him, but to you it was more reassuring. The closer you were the safer you felt.

A sudden honk from a car made you jump and grab his arm. Someone shouted and you saw some people down the street on the opposite side of you, waving their arms at the passing car. You kept holding onto Sherlock though. He didn’t object to the matter and it wasn’t until your heart rate had returned to its normal state that you let go.

You passed one block, then another. It would take you a while to get back, but you hadn’t meant to walk all the way. But you had passed very few cabs so far so the chance of getting one seemed slim.

“A penny for your thoughts?” You asked his own question from earlier, suddenly craving some noise and right now his voice was what you wanted to hear. You could often listen to him for hours. When others found him annoying, you found him intriguing. However, Sherlock kept quiet. “Come on, you’re never in this deep thought unless it’s of some importance to you.”

When he still didn’t say anything you grew worried. It was normal that he kept things to himself, but this time you had a feeling it had to be something bigger than information about a case. You remembered then that he mentioned a theory he had. That could be why he’s acting distant. “Don’t push me away, Sherlock. Not again.”

Not again. Sherlock felt his pulse take a few fast beats. As a man prepared to do anything, nothing had prepared him for the blow he would face when it came to you handling his fake death. That included the fact that he hadn’t meant for you to watch him fall. But you had and it was the worst sight you’d ever laid eyes on. And the following two years were the worst time to be alive.

That time still had its claws deep into your heart, and since he had come back, you had been more cautious on cases and wouldn’t let Sherlock put you in the shadows and withholding stuff anymore.

Finally, Sherlock halted and turned so his whole body faced yours. He looked at you in such a way it felt like he was reaching your soul. “Tell me I still have you.”

His words sent you off guard and you didn’t know what to say because you weren’t sure what exactly he meant by that. “I- I don’t…”

He read the confusion on your face and sighed, ready to walk on but you grabbed his arm. “Sherlock. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” He observed your state. His coat hadn’t ridden entirely of the cold from your body. “We should find a cab for the rest of the way.”

You didn’t get another say in the matter because all of a sudden, you were attacked from behind. A man caged you in his arms so tight you couldn’t get free. “Sherlock!” Before he could help, Sherlock too got caught by two others. He fought them off as long as he could, but they had the upper hand. You struggled too, not letting them capture you so easily. The man behind you brought a damp cloth against your face, pressing it against you.

Sherlock managed to knock one of them away, but the other gave him a hard blow to the head. You couldn’t see with what, but you saw Sherlock fall right before darkness closed in on you until it consumed you.

#bbc sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock holmes #sherlock imagine #sherlock x fem!reader #the sign of three

[pinkthick]

For the request fic:

4. repositioning the mistletoe because it annoys them

5. repositioning the mistletoe because they need MORE kisses

With BBC Sherlock Holmes x Reader

[Ngl, the #4 one made me laugh my ass off cuz it reminded me of Sherlock 🤣. Like he would canonly do this fr💀]

Hi. 🙃

I am aware that Christmas has long since passed, but I've had such a writer's block because of this request, and even now I'm not happy with how the fanfiction ended, but I hope you'll forgive me. I do, however, hope you enjoy it.🫶🏻🫶🏻

Where are the mistletoes?

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader

Sherlock Holmes & Mrs. Hudson & John Watson & Reader

Summary: Although your relationship with Sherlock is still relatively new and he still has a lot to learn about how people interact with one another, the two of you are beginning to understand each other better, even if Sherlock did believe that he should attach mistletoes so that he could kiss you whenever he wanted.

John began decorating the apartment an hour ago, but he didn't get much done. He wasn't sure how long the detective would be entertained by just trying to assist you in purchasing gifts for the others and items from Mrs. Hudson's shopping list that weren't really necessary for Christmas. Sherlock would soon understand what everyone was attempting, it was pretty obvious. Get him out of here so they can at least decorate this apartment for the holiday.

He abruptly halted what he was doing when he suddenly heard someone climbing the stairs. Mrs. Hudson opened the door while holding a little box and John abruptly let out a breath after realizing he had been holding it just moments earlier, feeling relieved that it wasn’t Sherlock.

“Oh dear, perhaps you should take a break. It is obvious that you won’t finish decorating anytime soon.” the elderly woman smiled somehow sadly at him.

“Well, if I had help from others, it would have been finished by now.” John spoke aloud in a harsh manner.

“Don’t hold that against me. I am the one doing all the cooking.” As Mrs. Hudson eventually set the box down on the couch and made her way outside, she stated in an irritated voice.

As he went to check what was in the package, John sighed. It was disappointing to decorate an apartment alone when it was supposed to be something you would do with your friends and family. However, he didn't have the right to snap at the poor woman because she had already accepted so many things Sherlock and he had done. But was it really that simple when you shared a home with Sherlock Holmes? But when it came to the detective, nothing was, in fact simple.

He was a little shocked by what Mrs. Hudson had brought him. But not in a bad way. The box was filled with mistletoes. Even though he had no idea how she could have obtained this, he knew better than to question her. He could take one or two, they wouldn’t hurt anybody hopefully.

He grabbed one and walked up to Sherlock's armchair, but before he hopped on it, John placed a newspaper over it since he didn't want Sherlock to become upset that he climbed on it while wearing his shoes. Only the great detective could do that since it was his chiar. He could be such a drama queen sometimes, but that’s just how the young Holmes is.

He took the tape from the small table and the doctor lifted the mistletoe over his head and eased it up to stick it on the ceiling. As he climbed down and took the newspaper in his hands, he wrinkled it as he threw it in one of the small trash cans. Might as well get rid of the evidence, right?

Perhaps he could hang one more right at the door? Even though it was a bad idea, nobody could have stopped him. He managed to climb on a small chair, but attaching it to the ceiling was a little bit more difficult. He did lose his balance once, but it undoubtedly didn't seem to stop him.

Although he was pleased with himself, John felt as though he would never be able to finish decorating this apartment as he once more glanced out the window and noticed that the Christmas tree was still slightly blank. He went to begin decorating it once more after retrieving the box of decorations.

The grocery store isn’t a place you would normally consider crowded. It's rather easy to get in and out of aisles without having to weave through threads of people, but Christmas was coming up and everyone was buying food like there was no tomorrow. It didn’t matter that they would have throw out half of the food when the holidays are over.

Sherlock worked very hard to keep himself entertained since he didn't want to be a burden to you. He scrutinized everyone who passed him, looking for even the smallest detail that wasn't even really significant in order to infer something about their life. The seconds were flying by, and he was beginning to grow increasingly bored and everyone knew that Sherlock Holmes should never grow bored. He was perplexed as to why fewer crimes occurred over the holidays. It didn't matter whether anyone died during them. A crime was a crime, as if the killers would receive acclaim if they avoided killing around orthodox holidays. The way regular people thought was so bizarre to him.

He watched you as you read the list Mrs. Hudson provided you while growing increasingly impatient as he struggled mightily to come up with something he ought to do. He snatched it from you against his better judgment since he didn't want to be here anymore, eliciting a startled gasp from you.

“Sherlock!” You said as you turned to follow the detective.

"I feel that if I stay here any longer, my brain will rot. You can attempt to keep me outside the building all you want; I don't care. The sooner we leave, the better.” He gave an explanation as he started to select the items Mrs. Hudson had written.

“Was it really that obvious?” You asked in a defeated tone while attempting to match his pace.

He slowed down and nodded briefly as he gave you a faraway "yes" while turning his head away from you and looking ahead. You weren't surprised, but you were a little let down. Well, you did know who you were dating.

As he started to make is way straight to the baking aisle, you were a little held back by other people. It’s not that it was that hard to pinpoint where the detective exactly was, thanks to his height, but somehow you couldn’t see him. Just then someone slipped his hands into yours and you glanced up, seeing Sherlock.

“If we want to get home sooner, it would be beneficial if you didn’t get lost. It would take some time to find you.” He said as you felt his fingers thighten around your hand.

As you allowed yourself to be dragged by him, you grinned a little. Maybe you should text John to let him know you'll be home sooner than expected.

While listening to Christmas music and halfway through decorating the tree, the doctor was unaware that the door had been opened.

Even if you did send him a text, it wasn't very effective because he didn't see it. In addition to the music playing through the entire apartment, John left his phone in the kitchen and set it to mute. He couldn't really do much at this point, especially since both of you had returned.

You initially went to Mrs. Hudson and left her the grocery bags, saying you would return to assist her as soon as you had left the gifts upstairs. Maybe, just maybe, you were interested in Sherlock's reaction as well, hoping that he wouldn't act out as he did the year before.

For a short while, the detective remained silent, and you were staring directly at him while he examined the entire apartment. You weren’t sure if he had any issues with the decorations or not.

"Why is this parasite hanging over my chair?" he asked at that same moment.

Yup, there it was.

Swiftly approaching it, Sherlock snatched it off the ceiling and dropped it into the trash. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed how you and John were looking at him.

"You and Y/N were just standing under the mistletoe moments ago," John said as he observed the detective's devastation. How could he fail to notice something that was right in front of him?

Your boyfriend wasn't even concerned about what it truly meant as you walked over to him; instead, he was only pondering on how he hadn't been able to notice the mistletoe at the entrance the first time. He was startled out of his reverie when you rose to your tiptoes and gave him a swift kiss, noticing a hint of pink brightening your cheeks.

“What was that for?” He asked bewildered

“You are familiar with the tradition, right?” You looked at him while chuckling slightly as he didn’t know what to say.

Given that Sherlock Holmes believed his brain to be similar to a hard drive, it only made sense to store useful information there. He didn't think the customs of Christmas would be useful after all.

“John, see if you can make him help you, I’ll go aid Mrs. Hudson.” You said while also leaving the flat.

As John began to assemble some candy canes on the tree, the doctor did not even make an attempt to persuade him to assist him. It appeared as though he was actually looking at the Grinch. He didn't understand why Sherlock was so opposed to anything that was Christmas-related.

John continued to embellish it with globs and some lights but the detective suddenly disturbed the comfortable silence. “Where are the mistletoes?”

Sherlock would occasionally come across you throughout the day, lead you somewhere where there was mistletoe, like outside the kitchen or the hall, and give you a short kiss before leaving you so he could clean the apartment. Even though you didn't understand what was going on with him, you would just resume helping Mrs. Hudson since you didn't want to question him.

He occasionally had you go where there was mistletoe hanging from the ceiling even after the guests arrived and the party started. This was the first time that the presence of other people didn't matter. Sherlock never kissed you in front of others, so you knew something was off. So, you began to ask yourself even more questions, even if you did know that you couldn't find your answers yet.

You didn't even have the courage to ask him what had actually happened today while you were lying in bed with him. Yes, Sherlock would typically behave strangely, but not in that way. And that kept you up.

You have a routine of rising late at night to get a glass of water. Really nothing out of the ordinary for anyone, but because you were having trouble falling asleep, Sherlock realized that something wasn't right.

You were being held by the detective in a soft yet firm manner. Unaware that he wasn't even sleeping, you made an effort to escape his grasp. Just then Sherlock Holmes' anxious voice suddenly reverberates through the empty space. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, don't worry. Just want a glass of water.” The detective eventually let go of his hold on you. He just realized how big of an impact you had already had on his life as he saw you discreetly stand up and leave the room. Now that he was accustomed to your touch, being alone didn't feel right. It's strange to consider that he reacted negatively when you originally suggested cuddling.

He began to wonder what was keeping you up at night and somehow came to certain conclusions without knowing if they were true. As he lifted his head to look at you, Sherlock must have been too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice when you entered the room.

“Is everything all right?” As you once more get onto the bed and sit next to him, you inquire.

“You have a question, don’t you?” He states bluntly as he wraps his hands around you again. “So let’s have it.”

“What was up with you today?” You asked as you tilted your head slightly.

“I am— not quite following Y/N.” He says unsure as he changes his position, allowing you to get closer to him.

“The mistletoes?” You ask as Sherlock becomes more rigid “They were everywhere today.”

“I should have asked you if I could kiss you, right? I’m sorry. I thought that I could do it without asking for consent if I used the mistletoes.” He says quietly.

“What?” You chuckle a little, which only confuses the great detective further. Despite his brilliance, it was obvious that he still had a lot to learn about emotions and interpersonal relationships.

"I don't—"

"Sherlock, you don't have to ask me every time you want to kiss me. We are a couple. We didn't snuggle like this before, but we do now because it's pleasant for both of us. You don’t need my consent for some things and that includes kissing for me.” You explain as Sherlock brings you closer to him.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.” You informed him as he nodded and silently uttered ‘oh’

For a while, neither of you said anything, but then Sherlock probes once more: "But are you really sure that you are fine with it?"

You stayed quiet beside him and the detective raised a hand to your nose. Of course, now was when you fell asleep.

His eyes rolled under his eyelides as he rolled over. “Goodnight, Y/N” he murmured, aligning his arm over the curve of your side. “And Merry Christmas..”

Tagging list: @rhasima @fictional-hooman @so-this-is-a-thing-noww @bumblebee0609 @vynrichtermybeloved @xx-sonofabitch-xx @realityisadamnlie @friendlydemon @sleutherclaw @k1mikoz @spadequeen22 @justanotheromen @kh-aii @paola-carter @alahmorah @quesowakanda @jyessaminereads @harukaaaaa172993 @whiteboycarlgallagher @couldntbedamned @marebare21 @scar-lett-mess @lokiethar @chorraich

#sherlock x fem!reader #sherlock fandom #sherlock x you #sherlock bbc #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #sherlock fanfic #bbc sherlock #john watson #mrs hudson #sherlock x y/n #sherlock reader insert #sherlockbbc

[lokidokieokie]

BBC Sherlock Masterlist

ONESHOTS

Under the Lamppost

Reunion Admist Illusions

DRABBLES

The Case of the Broken-Hearted Stranger

A Love that Defies Conventions

The Second Anderson

Crime and Chemistry

Navigating the Grey Area

#bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x fem!reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock x fem!reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x fem!reader #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fanfiction #bbc sherlock fanfic #bbc sherlock fanfiction #benedict cumberbatch character

[love-strawberry]

enola holmes

masterlist

navigation

- sherlock holmes

we'll be alright

#enola holmes 2 #enola holmes #sherlock holmes blurbs #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x you #sherlock x fem!reader

[futureplayboibunnie]

‘Weak’

BBC! Sherlock Holmes x fem! reader

- just had to jump back on the bandwagon with some smut that makes me need to find God.

Sherlock's fingers trembled and stilled against the fine string of his violin. His mind was cloudy grey, his throughts strayed to the black of the night that was cast outside. He was distracting himself with some composition because he was distracted from work by being distracted by you. He was shaking, or was that just the skill needed for vibrato?

He couldn't get a specific section of his composure right, every single trial and error ended up in his frustration levels increasing.

Sherlock just couldn't get it right, and he always got it right. Foggy minded and exasperated, little thoughts of you popped up in the forefront of his mind. His fingers couldn't help but create brash, jagged sounds with his violin with every fleeting thought of you and it made his jaw tick.

She's good Sherlock. Kind. She's not like you.

Shut up, he grunted to himself. His inner consciousness and his inner most desires in a constant and escalating battle, teeth grinding against each other - he tried to ignore it.

She's confusing, effortless wit needed to be performed as always but you can put up with that, can't you?

Sush. Now. He countered.

You gazed at the bare skin of her back once.

That was by accident.

Don't you want to see more?

No I don't.

Yes. Yes you do. Call her, make her come here.

To Sherlock's twisted intuition, he called you about three hours ago for you to come to Baker Street three hours after the call. He knew he would want you near him due to your incessant distraction, might as well have you in the flesh instead of his imagination. His imagination was...vast when it came to you. His fingers dug into the string and indented with every step that echoed with your footsteps. You were here, and he didn't know what to say to you

"Hey, you called for me.' You declared sweetly.

His eyes pounced on you and he clattered his violin onto the floor, pupils never wavering. You were waiting at the door with an inquisitive look on your face, waiting for the hail mary or help with another mind boggling case. Sherlock straightened his posture up as well as unbuttoning his suit blazer, he needed to kill time, fill the air up with nothing in order for it to mean something. His brain was fogged up like a never ending unnatural mist. Sherlock came behind you and shut the flat door. You realized that he had been pacing, his eyebrow creased when he had been pacing or if his mind was heavy with something. And as if it was clockwork, he was pacing up and down the room and his fingers were triangular upon his face as if he was contemplating a choice. He stopped in his tracks and stared at you blankly as always.

'Sherlock, what is it?' You raised an eyebrow at his strange but not infrequent behaviour.

'I'm unsure if I can continue in such a way." Sherlock blurted and it confused you more than anything, his blue eyes boring into you from blank to cold.

'What are you talking about?' You sighed out tirelessly, flinging your bag onto the floor. Too concerned with your inhability to comprehend how exhausted you were than Sherlock's mind games. 'Maybe it's time to stop composing, don't you think?'

'No, no stop that. It's not about that. It's you. It's always you.’ He breathed out but he was too busy trying to intellectualise his emotions rather than looking at how dumbfounded you were. Your eyes were wild with confusion, you relayed all of your interactions with Sherlock in case you accidentally did something embarassing in front of him. Or said something embarrassing in front of him that hinted at your pulsating feelings for him.

'Have I done something?' Your voice was hushed and barely above a whisper. Your heart was humming at a commenstrual rate and you prayed that he didn't notice. Sherlock inched closer and closer to you, eyes cast down for a split second to remark at the fact vou were wearing a skirt. A short skirt.

'Yes you have. You've done something to my head and I don't like it, my mind was clear and now it's all...you. I called you earlier today because I assumed that I would feel the need to take this alarming revelation away but you have beguiled me to the point where it is becoming a disraction. I am married to my work, my work is something that never dies. I'm now deciding to do what you lot do when stunted with feelings of an enlarged nature by confessing to make these feelings go away so I can get back on track.' Sherlock's feet hand a mind of their own, he was right infront of such gleaming fascinating eyes that were flitting to his lips now.

What a sight.

'Doesn't go away just like that.’ You responded with a half smile, internally happy with yourself that you got him all messy for you.

"Silly little emotions, you people have too many of them.' He sneered down at you but you saw the truth, Sherlock was sexually frustrated and he was at his wits end. You almost felt sorry for him.

‘Another thing us humans feel is sexual desire, I doubt I've been on your mind that much you'd even consider sex a possibility.' You smirked up at him, trying to wrap up your words in sarcasm, but it was too loose. You wanted him to take you and it was obvious by your voice alone.

'Sexual desire is something the weak feel. If a person can lose their inhibitions by the slightest show of skin, or the curve of...her lips-' Sherlock cut himself off when his gaze lingered onto your lips and making the mishap and spoke the word 'her' but you picked up right where he left off.

'Or a feather light touch...’ You cast your eyes down to where your fingers were grazing against his. Sherlock sucked in a small breath and your mind was turning into static, this proximity was delicious and so unexpected. Your eyes met his and this time it was palpable and electric.

'Are you calling me weak?' Sherlock raised a questioning eyebrow, so confident in his guarded walls but you had all the means to knock them down.

You didn't respond.

'Eyes dialating at 3 beats a second, blown out, the colour is barely visible. Your knees are buckling slightly, probably due to the pressure of such discerning gazes meeting or the fact that your imagination is running wild with you in multiple different compromising scenarios. You on top, me on top. Me taking control, you taking control- it's difficult to figure out actually because you have a smart mouth yet it's as if you want to be put in your place. Maybe a psychological response, maybe a lack of a father figure. But you probably like it rough considering the fact you rip your cuticles away, breathing shallowed and laboured indicates sexual attraction. What I'm looking down at right now...is doing all those things.' Sherlock deduced lowly and it made your mouth pop open. Not in shock because of the way he saw through you...but because of the fact that he was doing the same exact thing.

Silence sprayed through the air and your teeth clamped onto your lower lip. Sherlock creased his brow and lowered his stare through his lashes and you just grabbed him by the collar and smashed your lips on his.

Like an inexperienced teenager, he was stunned but as you started glazing your tongue over his lips he began melting into you. He cupped your face before ultimately tangling his digits through your hair, you moaned into his mouth at such a delectable thing. You ripped your face away from his to look at his cool blue, breezy eyes. The man that never let anyone get too close let alone kiss him, you felt so fucking special. You leaned in, wrapping your arms around his neck, and whispered into his ear.

'Has your confession made your silly little emotions go away ?' You breathed and it sent a chill through him, the cadence of your voice was seduction incarnate. Sherlock was smart enough to never give into temptation no matter how much it shrieked his name, but you were the object of it all. He was willing just this once.

What stunted him was the fact that his nerves had boiled away and were no where to be seen, he had never carried out the physical practicalities of it but his scientific results and his incessant abilities to deduce people based on their appearance and their bodliy reactions to things is what would make him differ than the rest in bed. Sherlock wanted to give you a taste of it all, you more than earned it.

He pulled your face away from his ear by your hair so your glares could inteconnect once more, your mouth was agape and let out a breathless gasp.

'I can make you weaker than you are.' He stated lowly, in an almost growl like way if you listened to it harder. You were getting wetter and wetter with every word that was coming out of his mouth.

"Show me.' You belittled through challenging eyes.

His mouth slanted on yours again, more desperate and sloppy this time around and it made you tug on his soft curls, he let out a hiss. Sherlock crouched down and grabbed at the back of your thighs so that you could straddle him as he hurridely walked you to his bedroom, mouths still sewn together. He got you sprawled out on the bed and tore you of your clothes so quickly you would have been embarrassed any other time...but it was Sherlock. Who could blame you? You were naked before him, bar your underwear, and felt incredibly sexy under his gaze. Your body left him speechless. He had been fascinated by it ever since he accidentally came into contact with the skin of your back in your cute little dress.

He couldn't help but imagine what the rest of you looked like...and now here you both are. Fulfilling each others desires.

Sherlock locked his door instantly, rushing to get his blazer off as if he was dying to get his hands on you. The rate in which he ripped off his suit shirt was so fast the buttons popped and sprayed over the room, your eyebrows tensed in pleasure as your walls clenched around thin air.

You needed his cock in you now; he nestled between your legs and leaned up so he could drink in the sight of you. Round pert tits and hard nipples, more for him to savour for himself.

"Oh God...' He whimpered as he screwed his eyes shut. You beamed up at the fact you had got the infamous detective in such a state.

'Your heart is beating faster than mine.' You quipped with a sly smirk on your face, waiting for him to wreck you into another dimension but he was toying with you. His demeanour instantly shifted. He was going to show you a lesson.

'Shhh, let me show you how fast it can go.' Sherlock cooed at you like you were a stupid, naive little schoolgirl, your fingers were itching to get his trousers off but he kissed you so hard it made you forget your own name. Fingers tangled in your hair and the other palming at your tits, his mouth strayed away from your lips to add blossoming bruises and bites at your neck. You moaned at the sensation and he revelled in the delightful sound.

Your impatient hands travelled to his belt and his zipper and your nimble fingers found his cock in no time, releasing it from its confines your eyes widened at how thick and long it is, the girth on him was outstanding.

It was rock solid. He kicked his pants and underwear off while he was at it, your slender palm stroked him up and down it made a broken moan escape from his throat, you felt on top of the world. Sherlock intertwined his fingers with yours and held them above your head, you were so pleased at his controlling nature but he deduced that you liked that earlier. Tease.

'Can you deduce that I need you inside me?' You questioned like the twat you were, preparing to tease him to push him over the edge so he can take it out on you. Sherlock gave you a knowing yet disapproving look before tearing off your panties and shimmying the reminants down your long, smooth legs.

‘Wetter than I thought was humanly possible.' His voice was thick with need.

'I thought you weren't human.' You whined as he ran his cock through your arousal, your wetness was coating him so deliciously. You squirmed into the sheets, back arching into him as skin collided against skin.

'Shut up.' Sherlock shoved his fingers in your mouth before pushing himself in you and stretching your insides out, your attempts to scream out were hindered as his fingers blocked your throat from making any noise, he smirked at the sentiment and he hated sentiment.

Sherlock pistoned his cock in and out of you and watched it disappear and appear. His mind was reeling in pleasure, it was even more pleasurable because he knew you were feeling that same pleasure, your body was like a map and he wanted to travel everywhere. Your whimpers were bouncing from wall to wall in his bedroom and it was like the room had been christened, heaven sent. Your walls clamped around him like a vacuum and the once sentient man was starting to lose his mind.

'You feel so good.' He panted into the skin of your neck, you grasped the sides of his face to feel and taste his lips on yours once again.

'Sherlock. you're...I-.' You could barely string a sentence together you were being fucked so deep and so crazy by him. You thought his sexual prowess would be good even though he was so secretive about it but not this good.

The telltale signs of your arousal about to burst was being indicated, but what was most prevelent was that Sherlock's cock was twitching inside of you.

You clawed at his back like an animal and dug your nails in him to claim him as yours. You felt white hot heat wash over you as you came onto his cock, your thighs were tingling with a stinging sensation. Sherlock followed suit when he heard your final broken whine, that was what did him in. He was quite literally leaking inside of you.

Breathless, he rolled over to lay beside you. Sweat was rolling off of both of your bodies as you sat there breathing like you've both just ran a marathon.

'Heart is beating an infinitely higher rate than before.' Sherlock clarified and it made you let out a breathy laugh.

'I'm weaker than I've ever been before.’

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

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

I Am Moriarty (Sherlock Holmes X Reader) *PLATONIC

Characters: Sherlock Holmes X Reader, John Watson X Reader

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: Mention of murder and guns

Request: The reader is Moriarty but faked being Sherlock protége since 20. (age 25) The reader is arrested after getting arrested killing Sherlock assassin. The reader at first plays dumb but then admits that they are Moriarty. Saying "If there's one person who is going to harm THE GREAT DETECTIVE SHERLOCK IT'S ME MORIARTY." They then escape

The past 5 years of your life had been an adventure to say the least, and you couldn’t deny that you’d grown as a person. The change from the ages of 20 to 25 was vast, and a lot more than people really gave it credit for, especially when in those years you were doing more than the ordinary. 

5 years ago, you came face to face with the private detective Sherlock Holmes, him taking on your strange case of you being blackmailed and framed for a crime you didn’t commit. As you were being booked, Sherlock had been leaving, and had heard your cries that you were innocent, to please listen to you, and he did. He listened, and deduced you were telling the truth, and then worked hard to prove it wasn’t you, and when you were free, you worked with him closely to find the person who framed you. The process took weeks, and by the time the person who did it was behind bars, you had formed a friendship with Sherlock and John, and you were invited you be his assistant like John, and the duo became a trio. You fit right in perfectly. You were normal enough to understand it when John was frustrated with Sherlock’s shenanigans, but somehow also able to sort of see into Sherlock’s head and his mindset and explain it to others who couldn’t follow along, and the longer you worked with him, the better you got at it, until people referred to you as the translator. Even Sherlock acknowledged this, and if someone didn’t get his vague explanation for something, he’d simply call your name and you’d explain while he continued to work.

Sherlock considered you a friend. A good friend, on the same level as John, and John saw you as a close friend as well. They confided in you, even about each other, shared their deepest thoughts, and been vulnerable with you. You were always upbeat and there for them, though you had your own fairshare of heartfelt honesty with tears with them, and they’d returned the kindness.

Right now, your friendship with the pair was being put to the limit. Whenever you were allowed a call, John was the one on the other side, giving you reassurances that everything was gonna be alright, that Sherlock was going to fix this all, meanwhile you told him to try and get Sherlock to quit it before he got himself in more trouble and in more danger, but John hated to know you were behind bars, being interrogated for hours at a time, facing second-degree murder. It was undeniable that you did it- you had been holding the guns, not even seconds after you pulled the trigger, the police were in the room. However, you did it for a reason. The man you shot, was an assassin sent to kill Sherlock. You knew that, John knew it, and Sherlock did, but the man’s identity had been wiped clean, making you look like nothing more than a cold hearted killer, now facing a life sentence unless Sherlock could find the proof that you did it to save him. He couldn’t find that proof, and as you were deep in thought about what led you to where you were right now, sat next to a lawyer, in court, as the prosecution performed- funnily enough- an assassination of your character to the jury. Throughout it all, you kept your head low, looking at the desk and papers in front of you. You knew all eyes were on you, and you had to be careful with how you were perceived. Responding, becoming annoyed or angry would make you look volatile, looking around, moving too much would make you look bored. Looking people in the eye, especially the jury, may be seen as an intimidation tactic. Because of all this, you remained still as you could, kept your head low but viewable, making it clear you were listening, paying attention, and caring. It also showed you as meek and the opposite of what the persecution was claiming.

“Y/N L/N?” The Judge spoke your name, and you looked up at him immediately.

“Yes Judge?” You asked.

“Would you like to speak?” He asked. It wasn’t a kind action, just a mandatory one, though you weren’t forced to do it. You could deny it, but you had things you wanted to say. 

“Yes please, Judge.” You answered. Your lawyer glanced at you, before he stood, and you stood as well as security guided you to the booth. As we walked up the stairs, you looked at the few people in the booth above the court. A lot was the press, but you spotted some familiar faces. John. Sherlock. Lestrade, surprisingly. But you also saw some other friends on the other side of the room, there to support you. You immediately felt more comfortable, even if Sherlock looked exhausted, clearly not able to get his evidence in time. You entered the booth, you looked around for a moment, before focussing your attention on the judge. 

“I have a lot of things I want to say. Things I want known. Firstly, when I walked into that building with Mr Holmes and Mr Watson, we went there following a lead for another case I was assisting in, and while I understand I can’t go into the details of that case, we were simply trying to locate a witness, a witness that wasn’t the victim. When we arrived, we quickly realised something was up, that something was wrong. We’d split up to search the house for anything, and I was upstairs when I heard Sherlock and John talking to someone downstairs. I heard them asking someone to put a gun down.” You explained, retelling the story. You paused for a moment, glancing back to the booth. To Sherlock, John, and your other friends. “I met John and Sherlock through them taking on my own case, where I was framed, though this time I can’t deny I didn’t shoot that man. But I ask you to imagine my position in that moment. Those men have been my world for 5 years. Day in, day out. They’re quirky, a lot of people don’t understand Sherlock, but I do, and there are still things I’m learning about him, but I know one thing- if the roles were reversed, he would have done the same to keep me safe. So would John. I have no doubt in that. Imagine someone pointing a gun to your loved ones, to people who you care about, and you find your own weapon and are able to stop them being hurt. I shot that man. I killed that man. But if I didn’t, he would have killed one if not both of them.” You explained to them. 

“Thank you-” The Judge started, before you stood from your seat abruptly, making the Judge pause. You chuckled. 

“I’m not done.” You interrupted. You rested your hands on the wooden frame in front of you, keeping you locked in there. “I have to be honest- the police work in this case has been a load of crap. Hardly fair.” You commented. 

“I beg you’re-”

“Sherlock has been doing his digging to prove the man who I killed was either an assassin or was set up by a third party to attempt to kill Sherlock. He has a lot of enemies, it wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to kill him. However the prosecution don’t care enough to find the truth behind how this all happened, who that man really was, and possibly stop another attempt on Sherlock’s life. All they care about his locking away someone who tried and succeeded in protecting their friends. I’m not sure about you, but that sounds idiotic.” You laughed as you finished. There was a stunned silence in the room, before the Judge gathered himself. 

“May I advise that you watch your tongue- it may affect your sentencing.” 

“Oh I’m not being sentenced.” You laughed harder. “I’m not going to prison. Not. A. Day.” 

“L/N you have admitted to murder-”

“To protect Sherlock. Without me, he’d be dead, and as stated, there have been and will be other attempts on his life. Other attempts to hurt him, and well, I can’t stop that happening if I’m behind bars now, can I?” You questioned with a playful grin. You heard several people shuffling in their seats in discomfort. That included the Judge, who seemed to shrink in his seat as you continued to make eye contact with him. 

“What makes you think you’re exempt from your punishment?” He dared question you. “You are still in a court of law. You’re under oath.”

“That means I can’t tell lies, right?” You questioned back. He nodded. “Well then, let me tell you something that no one in this room is aware of. That victim of yours? Isn’t the only one with a secret life that he’s good at concealing.” You teased with a giggle, as if this was a little game for you. It was. A seeming horror crossed the faces of the Judge, the Jury, and the Lawyers. 

“...Who are you?” The Judge asked with hesitation. You let the air remain suffocating for a moment, making them silent beg for your response, before you finally gave it. 

“Moriarty.” 

You heard John and Sherlock stand up at your admission. They knew that name well, the name of the person who had been terrorizing them for years, being linked to flawless robberies of the most luxurious items, sold off without a trace months later, linked to perfect set ups. The one person Sherlock couldn’t read, couldn’t predict. It drove him mad, but he enjoyed the chase. It was something that he actually struggled with, and he loved it. So to find out you were right there the entire time? It wasn’t a slap to the face, you, right now, were taunting him in the very worst way. He questioned for a second why you’d admit this here of all places. But though he couldn’t read Moriarty, he knew one thing- Moriarty was always prepared, always had a plan that was fool proof. You had a plan. And as he thought that, your plan went into action. Your friends stood as well, unveiling their guns, several members of security, including the ones guarding your booth, turned and pointed their own weapons at the other people. All hands raised, several short cries of surprise before they silenced themselves in fear of being shot. A member of your security came and opened the booth door and you stepped out. You faced Sherlock and John. 

“Shame it had to end up like this. I genuinely did consider you my friends. But rest assured- the only person who is going to hurt Sherlock Holmes is me, and that’s a promise.” You told them, blowing them an exaggerated kiss, before you were escorted out swiftly.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS:  @hello-love-youre-pretty  @courtneychicken​  @graysonmalfoy​ @bellero​ @originalpottervengerlock​ @supernatural-pan​ @esoltis280​ @lady-of-lies​ @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980​ @cdwmtjb8​ @caswinchester2000​ @determinedpines​ @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe @holy-tea-cup-blog​ @sassy-specter​ @keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey

#Sherlock #Sherlock Holmes #john watson #lestrade #sherlock x reader #sherlock x male!reader #sherlock x fem!reader #john watson x reader #john watson x male!reader #john watson x fem!reader #x reader #x male reader #x fem!reader #reader #male!reader #fem!reader #oneshot #writing #story writing #question #request #ask questions #ask me anything #send me questions #send me asks #send me anything

[annesthaeticc]

Personal | Sherlock x Fem!Reader

Personal | Sherlock x Fem!Reader

| a song fic, kinda ; Personal by The Vamps and Maggie Lindemann (listen to the song here, watch the music video here)

| lil bit of angst, fluff, teen!Sherlock and teen!YN

| 2137 words

| He's sick and tired of being just friends. Sherlock finally lets you know what he truly feels for you on your special night.

| NOTE : been a long time since i wrote a sherlock fic, and this request had been in my inbox for a while now. anon, i'm so sorry it took so long. (i hope it was worth the wait) i finally had the inspiration to write this when i came home from a friend's 20th birthday party, a bit drunk. comments, hearts, reblogs make me really happy, so pls do!!

Sherlock carefully tread on the gravelly footpath, his every step heard throughout the empty street. As he neared your house, he could hear the muffled bass and see the dancing, colored lights. He was once again invited to your birthday, as he is every year. He intentionally cleared his schedule for the week for your party, promising to make it up to you. The two of you had been busy with your own busy lives; university does that. But he never missed a birthday party of yours, as much as he detests it.

He hates parties. It’s full of people. Full of laughing, happy people.

But if it’s yours, he’d never miss it for the world. He was always present, ever since your 5th birthday party. And now, it’s your 20th, and he had every intention to attend more parties of yours, even if it’s your 50th.

As he stepped on your house’ laneway, he grasped his gift tightly, and absentmindedly fiddled with the purple ribbon he so delicately wrapped around the box. He sucked in a breath, and withdrew it, he saw his breath fade away like smoke in the chilly air.

I could do this. He reassured himself.

So, he walked towards your house, stepped up and knocked on your door. James, one of your childhood friends, opened the door and grinned at him.

“Sherlock!” James exclaimed and opened his arms; Sherlock awkwardly stepped in and accepted the hug. James ushered him in and guided him through the throng of people.

“She was worried you couldn’t make it.” James said through the music.

“She’s worried for nothing, mum insisted I dress up for tonight.” Sherlock sighed and followed James, squeezing himself amongst the people.

“You look fine. As always.” James smiled and pointed towards the kitchen where you were standing. It was true, Sherlock, of all your childhood friends, had the best sense of style. His build was made for a fashion magazine and he commands the room with just his charisma and confidence.

“Have I missed the cake?” Sherlock asked.

“Nope, she was waiting for you. You always had the honor to bring out the cake, we’re not breaking tradition.” James chuckled and nodded at him. Sherlock made his way towards you, his eyes burning and his heart beating madly when he saw you and your new beau.

As much as he loves you, he hates your choice of men. He hates your ignorance to the fact that he is actually in love with you. He’s unbelievably and irrevocably in love with you, for years now, and until now, you still fail to notice it. Sherlock has no clue how he could feel something so strong, something so deep for you. He tried to find answers to questions why and how, and by now, he’s given up on it. He simply just loves you.

He's not one to voice out his sentiments, but he’s dangerously close to doing so. He’s had enough years of pining. He’s had enough of comforting your broken heart due to your taste in boyfriends. He’s had enough of watching you from the shadows, afraid to say the rhythm of his heart.

And tonight, might just be the night because your new boyfriend is showing signs of red flags and Sherlock doubts you have a clear sense of mind to dump the guy.

Sherlock approached you, unbothered if you were still talking to your boyfriend. From the corner of your eye, you saw him make his way to you; his unmistakable and iconic mess of curls, his crisp white shirt topped with his navy jumper, and his bright blue eyes. You turned to him and excused yourself from Vance, your new friend, and giddily ran towards him.

In instinct, Sherlock opened his arms and hugged you. You were the only privileged one to receive his special warm hug, and he hoped you knew that. That you were the only one, the only special one.

“I missed you.” you breathed against his neck. It was true, you missed him dearly and from that moment on, you promised yourself that you’d enjoy the rest of the night. Sherlock was now here, with you, and there’s no point in being a party pooper.

“I missed you too.” Sherlock whispered. He hesitantly drew away from your embrace and pulled out his present to you.

“You shouldn’t have!” you gasped as you wrapped your hands around his gift.

“And what? Miss on tradition? Plus, I doubt you’d hate this one.” Sherlock said, trying to hide his smile.

“I never hate your presents.”

“You actually do, especially the one I got for your 16th.” he smirked and it earned a heart laugh from you.

“Oh yeah, that one’s terrible.” you said and swore to open his present after the party. He nodded and agreed it would be best that way.

“So, should we bring out the cake?” Sherlock asked. You nodded and guided him to the refrigerator where the cake was chilling. He insisted you stay in the main circle and gather around your guests as he prepared the candles.

When he walked in the kitchen, everyone was there; some of your childhood playmates like him: Connor, Bradley, Jana, Layla, James, and Maggie, and some new faces probably from your uni.

Sherlock commenced the singing, and everyone followed, singing and clapping to the tune. With the cake in his hands, he stood next to you and placed the cake in front of you. He silently sang, his voice blending amongst the chorus, and intently watched you.

Your eyes bright, the glow of the candles reflecting in your dark irises. Your lips, shyly grinning. Age treated you well as grew beautifully into a young, elegant woman. Sherlock was in awe whilst his mind played the flashbacks of your past birthdays, in each celebration, you get undeniably pretty and in every year that passes, you become his definition of beauty. Your eyes, your lips, and your heart and your mind.

He was pulled out of his reverie when everyone stopped singing, and the room went silent as you closed your eyes and made your wish. With a smile, you blew out the flames of the candle, and everyone cheered, happy to celebrate another year with you. He registered your movements and felt a swift punch in his gut when you embraced the man next to you, Vance, before finally hugging him. You drew Sherlock in, rather tightly. And silently wished it was just the two of you. When you both pulled away from the hug, Sherlock smiled at you and wished you a happy birthday.

“I’m happy now, now that you’re here,” you admitted, your tongue slipping but you caught yourself before you could say more.

“I’ll always be here.” Sherlock reassured you and squeezed your hand.

But the moment was broken when Vance announced you should cut the cake. You hesitatingly parted from Sherlock’s close presence and urged everyone to get their own plates so you could serve them. With you occupied entertaining your guests with laughter and cake, Sherlock unsuspectingly slipped out of the room, and finally left your house.

He marched out and exhaled the breath he was holding in, slightly relieved to be finally away from the riff raff. Just as he was nearing the end of your house’ laneway, he heard his name being called and he mustered all his strength to face you.

“You haven’t had cake.” you said.

“It’s fine,” he replied and turned back.

“You didn’t say goodbye.”

“Why would I?” Sherlock replied. His anger started to simmer because your voice sounded so innocent in his ears, he was angry at your inability to read and follow the trail of clues he’s leaving. He’s sick and tired of playing around, pretending he didn’t feel anything for you, when in truth; it’s maddening, this pent of torrent of sentiment reserved, made, and felt only for you.

“What’s wrong, Sherlock?” you asked warily and walked towards him.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong is that guy, is a mass of red flags. Don’t come near me when you’ve got your heart broken all over again, Y/N. Because I'm tired of it.” Sherlock seethed, pointing at the window, hoping, hell— praying, you understand what he’s saying.

Personally, I think you’d be better with somebody like me, Sherlock thought.

“Vance and I are just friends, Sherlock.”

“Just like you and I, just friends, isn't it?” he spat the word friends as if it was full of venom, poison of the worst kind.

“Sherlock, you're so much more of a friend to me, please…” you begged, your eyes now brimming with tears.

“Am I? Am I so much more of a friend to you Y/N? Then tell me why can’t you see, why can’t you feel, what I feel for you?”

“Sherlock I—”

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.” Sherlock said, his voice dripping with sincerity. He watched his breath floating in the air, and the words slipping out of his mouth. He felt a great weight leave his shoulders, and his heartbeat thunder against his ribcage. He bowed his head, and slowly turned, hoping to leave freely right after his hasty admission.

You, however, were taken aback at how he said it. Could it be out of jealousy? Could it be the mere fact that he is in love with you? Who knows? All you know is that you feel the same.

To say you were scared is an understatement, you were a coward to not let him know. Your mind was always clouded with the doubt that you might shock him with your admission and scare the shit out of him, and eventually break your friendship. It's the last thing you want. And so, you suffered in silence, and daydreamed about being together for a long time. But now, he’s said it, he made the first move, and you’ve never felt emboldened to admit that you feel just the same.

Unaware, your eyes started to sting with tears that started to free flow and your lips curved into a smile. All you could do was look at him, frozen in place.

“I, I apologize for making you cry, it is still your birthday after all. Please forgive me, Y/N. Here—” Sherlock said, and walked the short distance between you. He fished a handkerchief from his pocket and moved to wipe the tears from your face. Delicately, as if you were made of glass, he banished away your tears, staining his white hanky.

He cradled your face in his hands, which were warm against the cold air, and you closed your eyes, relishing the gentle contact. You pulled him closer to you, in an effort to feel his warmth, to feel him. When you opened your eyes, you saw his bright blue gaze burning you. It was a flame ignited of love and hope, it was safe and secure, a flame that burned brightly, strongly, yet tender.

“Sherlock…” you breathed his name and held on to his hand.

“Y/N.”

“I’m in love with you too.” you said in great confidence, utterly happy to have your feelings known.

“Is he really just a friend?” he asked after a beat, his voice vibrating against your skin.

“He is.” you offered him a small smile.

“Good, because I’m going to seal this with a kiss.” Sherlock said. The two of you broke into smiles before he leaned in. He dipped his head low, and you stood up to meet his lips. When your mouths touched for the first time, you gently hummed against his lips. His next kiss was more confident and you responded in kind, together you shared the same passion, the same kind of love that ran through your veins.

“I’ll definitely pass up on the cake.” his voice rumbled against your chest and you stole a kiss.

“Why?” you curiously asked.

“Cause your lips are much more delicious, much softer than the chiffon…” he said and that earned a giggle from you.

“Are you flirting with me, Sherlock Holmes?” you exhaled, if a little breathy.

“I am, is it working?”

“You’re a romantic. C’mon let’s get back inside.” you said and held on to his hand. It felt natural, it felt perfect.

“What? Can’t we just stay here?”

“And what, leave my guests? No. Plus I’m freezing.”

“Fine, give me one more kiss, just to help me get through the night.” Sherlock smirked and pointed at his lips.

You obliged and giggled, playfully pushing him away once he tried to deepen the kiss. When you separated and linked your hands together, you realized you just had your birthday wish come true, and couldn’t wait to spend another year with him, but this time, you’d get through the year together, holding hands.

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( hello you lovely!! just a little tip; watch the music vid of the song cause it's heavily inspired by it + u get to imagine sherlock dancing u around like that on ur birthday! anyway, i hope ur staying well and safe! sending u all the love, anne <3)

#sherlock x reader #sherlock x fem!reader #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x oc #sherlock bbc #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock #sherlock fanfic #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes fanfic #sherlock fandom #fanfiction #sherlock angst #sherlock fluff #sherlock smut #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock holmes fluff #sherlock holmes angst #benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch fanfiction

[loganbcrnes]

Midnight activities

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem!reader

Words: 766

Tags: Dom!Sherlock Holmes, doggy-style, hard sex, dom/sub Ethnicity and body type isn’t mentioned. I want everyone to feel inclusive. Authors note: heyy whilst catching up on the requests, i figured i'd write this in celebration for Enola Holmes 2. I loved the movie, not as much as the first one, but seeing Sherlock again has made me feeling certain..emotions, so here's this drabble. Enjoy :)

Sherlock has you on your hands and knees, his deliciously thick body on you, weighing you down. You feel his body heat and the coarse chest hair that you love so much, on your back. Pinned down and with your legs spread apart he tells you, with your dripping pussy on display. “I’m going to fuck you, like this- hard and fast and you’re going to take it.” He brings down a hand to your ass and gives it a sharp slap, making you moan, your ass to his thick erection. As he groans into your ear. “God, you smell amazing, Little one.” He squeezes your ass. “You want it, Sir, it’s yours” you say breathlessly.

Without any other warning he slides his hand underneath your nightie that’s pulled up. He glides up and down a few times, taking in the curve of your back. He groans as his hand descend to your folds. Strumming his fingers down your center, gathering your arousal on his fingers. Circling your clit, round and round making you a delirious mess. “Stop teasing please, Sherlock… ahhh” you try saying as he smacks your apex. Making you moan loudly once more. He knew how you liked it rough. The red marks of his spanks marking you. Exciting a new wave of arousal. “Fuck, Darling, I can see how wet you are” You turn your head to the side to look at him. “then do something, you said you’d fuck me. But here we are” you say in a defiant tone. You watch him yank his sleeping pants down. You shivered, and elongated your arms up, pressing your face into the mattress. Getting ready for the fucking of the night. He rubs the head of his dick down and up your center. Groaning he slaps his dick against your clit. Making you try rolling your hips. He knows just how turned on you get when he rubs his cock over your pussy. He suddenly wraps your hair into his hand and wrist making your face lift up and making your back arch. “I wanna hear, Princess.” His low deep voice sends shivers down your spine. he slams his girth into you. Gasping from the full force of his thrust, he pulls at your hair exposing your neck. His mouth sucking a mark into your skin. Knowing damn well you have work at the bakery the next morning, he keeps sucking at your skin. He continues to pump his thick girth into you. a hand glides over your ass, squeezing the flesh. His left hand wanders up to your breast. Smacking sounds fill the room as his heavy balls slap against your clit. Coming from Sherlock a groan mixed with a moan as you squeeze his member inside of you. You feel his right hand on your clit, rubbing circles, “That’s it, Little one.” he says softly to you. “Taking your husband’s cock so well”. Your moans amplify with the hard thrusting, letting out “ahs” with each thrust. “Let me fuck you open” He keeps the pace fast and brutal making you feel full and crazy. You are almost at the brink of your orgasm, groaning he slams harder into you. “Fuck Princess, This… fuuuuck you feel like a dream” he groans loudly. He grabs at your hips with both hands with a tight grip. You know you’ll have the bruises the next morning. And you buckle and meet his pace. Both of you fucking back into each other.

“Sherlock, Sir!,” you say his name like a prayer, like a plea. You feel the orgasm forming once more. Feeling Sherlock inside your tight heat, pulsing knowing that he’s waiting for you to cum. Sherlock hand comes back down to stroke your clit, pulling a bit but rubbing in small circles. With that small administration of his hand you come undone. You yell a garble of his name. He pulls out of you, flipping you over and shoots his cum on the column of your throat. You stare up him in shock. He marked you, in a way he hadn’t in a while. His dragon eyes look down at you. A smirk playing at his lips, “why do you look so surprised Darling? You know you belong to me” he says as he spreads his cum all over your neck and with a delicate finger he brushes some on your lips. You automatically open your lips to suck at his finger. Maintaining eye contact you moan with his finger inside your mouth. His eyes darken, “Careful darling, you got work in the morning”

#henry cavill #sherlock holmes #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x fem!reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes smut #henry cavill sherlock holmes #henry cavill sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill sherlock holmes smut #sherlock holmes x y/n #henry cavill x y/n #sherlock holmes x fem!reader

[saturncodedstarlette]

Detective!Ghost : Punch me in the face!

Y/N : …punch you? 🤨

Detective!Ghost, points to his face : Yes, punch me. In the face. Didn’t you hear me?

Y/N, squints : I always hear “punch me in the face” when you’re speaking, but it’s usually subtext.

Detective!Ghost, rolls his eyes : Oh, for god’s sakes.

Detective!Ghost, smacks them hard across the face :

Y/N, gasps : 😨😵‍💫

Y/N, returns the punch to his face :

Detective!Ghost, stumbles a bit : Thank you. That was …that was…

Y/N, continues to punch him in the gut :

Y/N, puts Ghost in a headlock : You ought to remember, Ghost, I was a soldier! I killed people!

Detective!Ghost, struggles to break free : You were a doctor!

Y/N, grips harder : I had bad days!

#Cod #Call of duty #Call of duty incorrect quotes #Call of duty x reader #Cod Ghost #Simon Ghost Riley #Simon Riley #Cod Ghost x reader #Cod Ghost x you #Cod Ghost x oc #Cod Ghost x male reader #Cod Ghost x fem reader #Cod Ghost x gn reader #Simon Ghost Riley x reader #Simon Ghost Riley x you #Simon Riley x reader #Simon Riley x you #Original : Sherlock BBC #Cod Detective AU #My 2023 works #1k notes

[iamsherlocked1479]

Thats not how I'd do it: Chapter 5

Chapter 5

“Hoo hoo.” Mrs hudson knocked on the door, popping her head around the corner missing you pull your skirt down in frustration.

“Aunt Martha!” you exclaimed hugging her tightly 

“y/n you’re all sweaty are you okay?“ Mrs hudson asked wiping your brow with her hanky

“Yes i just came back to change, too warm for these clothes. Plus I had a noise complaint.” you look over to Sherlock who rolled his eyes and slumped into his seat.

“So somebody was complaining about my boredom?” he moaned

“No i think it was more of the gun and-

“My Wall!” Mrs hudson yelled “this will be coming out of your rent mister.” she wriggled her finger at Sherlock who smiled forcefully watching her mutter as she walked downstairs.

“Could have gone worse.” Sherlock smirked, you rolled your eyes and grabbed your bag ready to go back to university. “What? Now you're mad at me too. Get over it, its a wall.” he exclaimed

“I'm not mad at that.” you huffed 

“Then why?!” sherlock asked utterly oblivious

“Maybe because you-” you paused Bumping into Greg in the doorway.

“Please, continue. don't let me interrupt.” He held his arms up and looked over to Sherlock who held his fingers in a triangular shape pressed against his lips.

“You have a case for me.” Sherlock stated. “Sit, I'm bored out of my mind.” You rolled your eyes but held off on leaving, curious to know what the case was.

“Jim Moriarty” Greg sighed, throwing a letter addressed to Sherlock onto the coffee table. Sherlock shot out of his seat taking the letter to examine it. He held the paper above a light looking for anything that could be a danger. He tore into it like a child opening a Christmas present, reading it aloud.

“Dear Sherlock, as you can clearly see I'm back. I look forward to our toying. This time I think I’ll play one of my favourite games. It's going to be a blast.” Like clockwork a loud boom rumbled down the street shattering the windows Gregs protective policeman nature towered over you blocking the shards of glass from hitting you. 

“Well isn’t this exciting.” Sherlock coughed wafting the dust from the air. You and Greg turned to him scowling at the mess his words had created, the sounds of sirens echoed closer, from the sounds of it luckily no one had been harmed. 

“You need to find him so we can put him behind bars.” Greg shouted before rushing to the street to help the other officers. 

“I think its best if you return to your studies y/n that paper won't write itself, dust yourself before you go.” Sherlock smiled, patting you back before taking his coat and swiftly leaving. Your eyes scanned the room looking at the rubble before focusing on the upturned desk.

“No no no!” You rushed to the chair pushing it aside, your laptop lay crushed and cracked there was no saving it. You threw it aside angrily, all your work, all your writing. Gone, for fuck sake Sherlock better stop Moriarty before you find him yourself. You had nothing else to do but go back to university, you stepped over more rubble out on the street and got into a passing cab.

“Where to love?” The cab driver asked

“Westminster university please.” The traffic was bad, the firework display on Baker Street hadn’t helped, thanks jim. Your eyes got bored of watching the endless crowds of people pointing towards the explosion sight, so you fixated your view on the screen in the cab. It was playing the crappy shopping channels your aunt liked, not interesting at all.

“back to the windows I guess” you recognised every turn, the journey was the same every day 10 minutes, 20 on busy days. Right, left and right again. A simple task.

“Y/n” 

“What did someone say my name?” Probably not if you're a university student, sleep is not a friend.

“Y/n?!” 

“Okay that time I definitely heard something.” You eyes averted to the screen, 

“oh god is that? Moriarty?!” His face covered the whole screen, smiling and laughing at your shock.

“Good afternoon y/n, i hope you’re ready to play my favourite game.” His voice wormed through the cab.

“Can we pull over please, I want to get out.” You called the driver, he didn’t look back, it's like you didn’t even exist. Then it happened, right then left and then right. He took the wrong turn, panic flooded your body, this wasn’t the way and the most dangeman in the country, maybe even the world, had locked you in his cab.

“Don't mind Fabio over there, he’s just taking you to the first venue. I hope you're ready to be the star of my favourite game. See you there.” The screen turned to black and the cab pulled over to a rusted old warehouse.

“Out.” The driver opened the door and demanded your exit. You cowered in the cab frozen with fear, the driver sighed and pulled a gun tucked in his belt. “Now”

“Okay okay.” You weren’t stupid, scared but not stupid. You climbed out the cab hesitantly, scanning your surroundings. The driver pulled your bag from your hands “hey!” You called turning to him. 

His arm was fast, striking your head knocking you unconscious, the last thing you saw was a new figure standing over you. Everything faded to black.

…….......................................................

“John, I'm so glad you decided to finally join me.” Sherlock patted john on his back sarcastically.

“You barged into my office demanding it was an emergency, I couldn’t exactly ignore it.” John did his usual complaining 

“Don't use the, i was working excuse. This is you work and quite frankly I believe you missed it.” He chuckled walking into the Diogenes Club. 

“You’re right, why are we here?” He gestured to the posh men all sitting in armchairs in silence.

“Here to meet me I assume.” Mycroft appeared from a hallway gesturing for the men to follow him. 

“Brother.” Sherlock said irritatedly, slumping himself into an armchair. “I assume you know why we’re here.” Mycroft shuffled in his seat and cleared his throat. “What is it?” Sherlock asked curiously 

“It appears Moriarty has found your weaknesses brother.” He said turning his laptop towards Sherlock, John laughed out loud 

“You really think this man has a weakness, unless its questions on the earth orbiting the sun. I think we’re okay.” 

“Mycroft, unless you’re just wasting our time, I suggest you elaborate on my enemies' lies.” Sherlock complained, pulling his triangular fingers to his chin. Mycroft rolled his eyes and pressed play.

“Sherlock, Sherlock what a blast this really is going to be, ha ha did you enjoy my joke letter i know i did. Now lets begin Level one, damsel in distress. Recognise this beautiful girl. Of course you do” the screen cut to a recording of y/n pulling Sherlock into her room.

“What is this?” John asked

“Now I know what you’re thinking, John, if you’re there. what?! Sherlock popped his cherry ugh why couldn’t it have been me! Well sorry but it appears y/n hear stole the show. The camera zoomed in on an unconscious you, head slumped tied up in a chair. Sherlock exhaled angrily.

“Brother, this is what happens when you get caught up in human emotions.” Mycroft said smugly

“Shut up let him finish.” Sherlock shouted

“Stay tuned for episode one Sherlock, let the games begin.” The screen turned to black and Sherlock turned to John.

“Help me find her.”

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A/N: Yay! finally posted another chapter, i can tell you now people are really gonna love what i have install for this or hate it, i know i love it and i think it will be good but i'll leave that up to the tumblr critics as always if u wanna be tagged coment, if you wanna suggest anything or want a fic writing comment and most of all enjoy :)

M xx

#sherlock x fem!reader #jim moriarty #mycroft holmes #dr john watson #bbc sherlock #Spotify