Requested by anon: I
would like to request a Sherlock x reader where he has been drugged and how
he’s really cute and a little dirty towards her in front of John. Haha like
while “high”. Just super fluffy and cute and maybe a little smutty/implied
smut/ a little dirty haha. I get if you’re too busy or don’t feel like writing
it, no problem. Love you. & anon: I have a request for you (if youre still taking..?) so sherlock
and john gets drunk and sherlock starts hitting on (and gets kissy and touchy)
on reader which has been her girlfriend for months xD
Pairing: Sherlock x reader.
Word count: 2,026
Warnings: Just like in “The sign of three” this things gives a lot of twists.
A/N: Drunk Sherlock and Watson are my fave, I loved this so much!
Sherlock and John weren’t the kind of men to get drunk
every week, however and because of the stress they had been put through in
their last case, they decided to go to the bar together.
At first it was just beer and talking
and complaining, but then, someone recognized Sherlock and decided to put a
little something on his beer which, added up to what he had already drunk,
ended up turning him into a dizzy, slurry mess.
John was drunk as well, but for a
different reason: he had mixed tequila with beer.
They walked – stumbled – their way back
to Baker Street. It wasn’t even ten o’clock when that happened, so both (Y/N)
and Mrs. Hudson were up and sharing a cup of tea while the boys came back,
doing all kinds of strange noises as they walked in that called both women’s
“What are you two doing here?” Mrs.
Hudson asked as she and (Y/N) walked out to the stair case where John and
Sherlock were laying. (Y/N) couldn’t help but to laugh at the image and the
sound of her laughter caught Sherlock’s attention.
“(Y/N)!” He cheered drunkenly, “AREN’T
YOU THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BEING ON EARTH?”
“Wow, someone’s loud tonight.” She joked
and Sherlock walked to her and held her tightly against his chest.
“You are sooooo beautiful!” He slurred,
“And so hot, would you be my girlfriend?”
“I am already your girlfriend, Sherlock.” (Y/N) spoke
clamly, unable to contain the giggle that left her lips.
“I’m such a lucky man I’m jealous of myself …”
Sherlock cupped her face and started kissing her passionately, like never
before. (Y/N) tried to pull away but Sherlock’s grip was tight and it wasn’t
until he needed air that he let go off her.
“You’re so drunk!” She giggled.
“And you’re stunning.” Sherlock mumbled,
“Delightful, splendid, a Greek muse right in front of me! DATING ME!”
“Sherlock Holmes is a poet when he’s
drunk, what are the chances!” Watson spoke from behind, right before he bursted
in a dry laughter. Mrs. Hudson laughed with him and then both women dragged
Hey guys! *w* It’s been a while I hope you’re all alright!
My sister catched a a really bad cold so I decided to do a scene redraw from one of her Johnlock fan fictions! I couldn’t stop changing the perspectives.. so I drew more ^^ I can only recommend her fics they’re always so beautifully written ;w; so for all my german followers/watchers you should really check her stories out! www.fanfiktion.de/u/Misheruu
I really loved how she wrote this scene.. Sherlock and John going to the sea and John finds out that it’s the first time for Sherlock to be this close ;w; I don’t want to give away to much.. you should really read it c: It play’s after s1 and is full of fluff and stuff <33 www.fanfiktion.de/s/5812336a00…
Summary: Reader is kidnapped by Moriarty who doesn’t know that she belongs to Loki.
Women are not possessions, sorry for this poor formulation.
[NOT MY GIF]
He was yelling. Again. You could not hear what he was saying, but you knew he was coming for you. It is what he had done for the two previous days.
He had flung open the door of your cell and brought you to a darkened room where long, sharp knives were displayed on a huge table. He tied you up to a chair and stared at you for a moment. He could not understand your fearlessness and your obvious indifference towards pain.
“Why?! Why do you keep smiling? What’s so funny?” He asked, definitely irritated.
“I told you, Jim, you amuse me.” Even if he was behind you, you could cherish an incontestable annoyance in his voice.
“Yes, you keep repeating that, again and again.” He came closer. “I thought it would pass.” You could feel his warm breath behind your ear. “Do you enjoy being tortured?” He smirked.
“No, but I always enjoy a good revenge.”
“You’re threatening me?!” He chuckled. “Should I remind you who’s about to be skinned alive?” He grinned.
“Skin me? My God, no, you won’t let him do that?!”
For the first time, he had managed to frighten you and he seemed satisfied.
“Ah! I knew you were faking strength, you’re a good liar though.”
“She’s had a good master.” The voice behind him said.
“Well, well, well. Who are you and how did you get here?” Your kidnapper yelled, turning to the tall, handsome, smirking man in a black, green and golden armour.
“You took your time!” You said, ignoring Jim’s questions.
“Sorry, Love, I had important affairs to deal with in Asgard.” He answered while untying you.
“Shouldn’t your betrothed be your priority?” You asked.
“You are and you always will be my priority. But something told me you were having fun.”
“Can’t deny it.” You replied smiling. Valhalla knew he had missed that smile.
Loki opened his mouth to talk, but the sound of a throat clearing interrupted him.
“See how you distract me?” You rolled your eyes, seemingly more amused than annoyed. “I had almost forgotten about him.”
“Don’t make me ask again! Who are you and how did you come here? No one ever gets to me!” Moriarty yelled, fire burning in his eyes.
Before he knew what was happening, he felt his body crashing against the nearby wall, powerful hands strangling and lifting him.
“I did. Now, show me some respect. I am a God and I will not let a feeble mortal — no offence love — talk to me in such a way.” Loki responded.
He was about to break his neck when he heard your voice. “Wait! Please don’t kill him. Death isn’t the punishment he deserves. I told him about a revenge. I want him to be my pet.”
“Your pet?!” He mischievously grinned. “As you wish. Now, shall we go?”
Requested by anon:
Can you make a heated sherlock imagine where he hasn’t had a case in a while but hasn’t been able to go to the drug dens or smoke because of Y/N so he takes out his frustration on her ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (doesn’t have to be smut but it could be real HEATED)
Summary: Sherlock has no cases and John forbid him to smoke. (Y/N) continues to mock him about it, without telling him where his cigarettes are, which leads Sherlock to find other ways to take out his frustration and, at the same time, showing her what it’s like to be on edge.
A/N: This is the longest piece of smut I’ve written and it’s not even smut like so, wow. I hope you like this!
from one side to the other of the flat. He was frantically looking for that tiny
carton box, hidden somewhere inside that messy labyrinth he had unconsciously
created. She was sitting on the sofa, knowing exactly what he was doing but
pretending to ignore it, although Sherlock had noticed that sly smirk formed on
her red lips.
Not a case,
not a single one, and that was his curse. He had saved everyone and gotten to
be a big and famous detective, but what was the price of fame? Boredom, that
them.” Sherlock begged. His back was turned to her, but he knew exactly how big
and curved that mischievous grin on her face was.
enjoying this, aren’t you?” Sherlock finally turned to see her.
were crossed, one over the other, and her feet were pointing at him. The black
high heels matched the black pencil skirt that failed to hide the soft skin
from her thighs. Her hands were holding one of his old books, and her arms
rested lazily over one of the arm-holders. A messy strand of hair had fell over
her face, framing it so delicately it made Sherlock get distracted for a few
me you were annoying when you were bored.” She said, “But I have to say it: You
better when I’m smoking.” Sherlock snapped. He lifted his chin, trying to look
like the intimidating man from the newspapers rather than an anxious boy.
things will kill you one day.” She leaned back on the couch, allowing her head
to fall back on the pillow. Sherlock observed said movement as if it had been
performed in slow motion.
lose strand bounced over her nose before falling back to the side. The way her
eyes shut after her head touched the soft fabric, and that slight breeze of air
her lips expelled. The way her chest rose up a bit after, inhaling once more.
And her feet, one of them – the one from the leg crossed on top – still pointing
at him. How her delicate hands left the book over her lap, calling his
attention to focus yet again on her skin.
We’re loving this months theme so far! Thanks to everyone who has already submitted fic’s we get so excited when we get a tag notification, ask or email!
In keeping with May’s theme here are some fabulous stories we’ve read that we’d like to share with you! These are all lovely, sweet, sexy and just so fluffy you’ll squee. Enjoy!
A Discourse on the Inadequacy of a Duvet by guns_and_poses Words: 1,005, T Summary: For a prompt: Sherlock keeps stealing the covers when they share a bed because he wants John to move closer to him when they are sleeping but of course doesn’t want to ask. John gets annoyed at first until he realises what Sherlock wants and is more than happy to oblige.John looks over at the folds of covers gathered on the opposite side of Sherlock’s body, then glances up at Sherlock’s face. “You’re doing it again.”
Adjacent by weeesi Words: 5,711, E Summary: “Oi. I’ve just asked you twice where our bloody room is.”Oh, John.“Rooms, I meant. Obviously.”The innkeeper blew his nose into his handkerchief, already sodden with the effects of the spring bloom, and shot a knowing look between the two of them. “Ta, lads. Have a good ‘un.”Sherlock rolled his eyes and spun on his heel, leaving John trailing behind him.
A garden party in Sussex by alexaprilgarden Words: 8,681, E Summary: Mrs Holmes turns 75 and decides to have a garden party at home in Sussex. She invites Mycroft and Sherlock – and John. Sherlock asks John to play his boyfriend for that weekend. Lots of fluff, summer stuff and a bit of smut.
An Infinity Of Mornings by klein_monsti Words: 13,070, T Summary: For so long 221B had been his home, even in those last years when he hadn’t lived there anymore, it had always felt good to be there, it had felt right. And now this place, this sanctuary is gone. At least for now. And Sherlock has no place to stay. In the wake of The Final Problem Sherlock and John rebuild their flat and their relationship.
Assurance by belovedmuerto Words: 2,382, T Summary: It’s not so much the ‘you’re half-dead, you wanker,’ or even the broken ribs, the hairline fracture of the pelvis, the dislocated shoulder and knee, and the wrenched ankle.
Caught by Salambo06 Words: 1,859, E Summary: Based on a prompt : “Johnlock necessary bed sharing and one has a wet dream and the other catches them"A hotel room. They’re here for a case, hadn’t planned to spend the night and ended up sharing a room. No, sharing a bed. Suddenly John is very much aware of his own hand closed around his hard cock and the ragged breathing next to him. Closing his eyes for the briefest second, John dares to turn his head just enough to confirm what he already knows.Sherlock, on his side, watching him.
Everything by patternofdefiance Words: 4,409, E Summary: John wakes up with an armful of Sherlock.This – situation – is unusual, yes, and definitely unfamiliar, but in no way does it feel wrong.Rather, it feels the exact opposite.
Ghost Stories by SwissMiss Words: 22,256, M Summary: Sherlock’s parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.
In the Morning by erebones Words: 3,921, E Summary: for paula bennyslegs: [gets down on my knees] someone please write sherlock and john sharing a bed because of a case… and one of them waking up to the sound of the other having a wet dream please [presses face to the ground] especially if they’re saying the other persons name whilst doing it please [sinks into the ground]
Knotted by naughtyspirit Words: 23,166, E Summary: John has to cancel a date because of Sherlock’s case, which leads them to be tied up in a basement from which they have to escape.They get wet, get tied up close and John has to step up and save them.Because he’s pretty. And hot. And just a little bit of a BAMF.
Rainbow Hearts Retreat by PajamaSecrets Words: 11,638, E Summary: "It’s a same-sex couples retreat. For those experiencing troubles in their relationship. Consists of group and couples therapy as well as encouraging socialization between the couples. It’s all in their incredibly dull brochure.”“Rainbow Hearts Retreat,” John read. “Sounds… quite gay.”
Please let us know if you would like to be tagged in our future posts and challenge announcements, or if you would like to be removed!
A/N: Yay I am finally back with another fanfic! I am so sorry for the very long wait, school had been keeping me very busy. This is my first Sherlock imagine and I am starting to get used to the different characters’ personalities. Again, sorry for the wait and I hope you enjoy!
“You like her.” John states as soon as she leaves the flat, turning to look Sherlock in the eyes. Sherlock turns away quickly, his brown curls bouncing madly as he stood up from his chair.
“That is absurd, John. I see that spending time with me hasn’t made you any less of an idiot.” he proceeds to pace around the small flat, his eyes occasionally wandering to where her figure stood just moments ago. He could still feel the essence of her presence lingering. He wished that she was still standing there.
“Oh, stop denying it, Sherlock. I know a person with feelings when I see one, though I can’t say the same for you.” John replies cockily with a chuckle, completely ignoring Sherlock’s attempt at shutting him up.
“I don’t have feelings!” Sherlock snaps, his teeth bared in a scowl. “I can’t like her, I can’t have feelings-”
“Oh don’t be silly Sherlock, you’re human…I think. Of course you have feelings-”
“…Because she’s with someone else.”
John’s eyes widen and his mouth hangs agape as Sherlock falls back into his chair, putting his head in his hands. John lets the silence sink in, still processing the fact that the emotionless consulting detective before him did in fact like (Y/N).
It was true that (Y/N) was already in a relationship, one that neither Sherlock nor John approved of. It was rather one-sided, her boyfriend never really cared for her and always relied on her to do things for him when he’d never offer anything in return. Nevertheless, she insisted that they loved each other and that it was meant to be. She had just visited Baker Street to hang out with John and Sherlock before celebrating her one year anniversary with the guy and was now getting ready for her big night.
“Sherlock, I’m so sorry.” John finally murmurs, sitting across from him in his chair. The detective looked miserable and John realized with a pang that Sherlock was only truly happy when his favourite people were in the room. John Watson is one of course, but (Y/N) was also a key to filling the missing pieces of the detective’s heart.
“Why is it that people say sorry when it is not even their fault?” Sherlock mutters, standing up and grabbing his long black coat. “I don’t understand why innocent people blame it on themselves when there are others who are guilty.”
He shrugs his coat on and ties his scarf so tightly around his neck that John was afraid that he might choke himself. He heads down the stairs, his shoes echoing every time he took a step.
“Sherlock! Where are you going?” John asks suddenly, though he already knew the answer.
“I’m going out for a walk, isn’t it obvious?” he calls, his voice faint. John hears the black door slam shut and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
It was very obvious where he was actually going.
(Y/N) stood in front of the fancy restaurant, shivering from the cold. They had promised to meet there 30 minutes ago, but to no avail had he arrived. Wearing nothing but a sheer sleeved knee length dress and a rather painful pair of heels, she waited, shuffling from foot to foot in attempts to warm up
Sherlock arrived momentarily and takes a sharp intake of breath when he saw her. She had definitely glammed up for the occasion, ditching the ponytail and letting her hair fall in loose curls around her shoulders. She had also traded her comfy flats for some killer heels, giving the already confident girl a boost in demeanour. Her dress hugged her body perfectly, accentuating her curves. She truly was beautiful, with or without fancy attire. Sherlock gulped as he approached her, silently sliding in, to stand right beside her.
“Finally!” she exclaims, a look of annoyance plain on her usually happy face. She turned to face the man beside her. “I thought you were never going to show-”
She stopped mid sentence as she realized that it was Sherlock. Her annoyance seemed to melt away, and it was soon replaced with a smile.
“Sherlock!” she says, happily. “I thought you were someone else. Anyways, what are you doing here?”
“Well, I was just taking a stroll when I saw you.” she nodded, and Sherlock tried his best to sound as natural as possible. She shivered, her breath visible in the frosty air and Sherlock’s eyes widened with worry,
“Here, take my coat.” Sherlock murmurs, taking off his dark coat and putting it swiftly over her shoulders.
“No, I couldn’t.” she protested. “What about you?”
“I’m quite alright.”
She looked at him, a bit curious. It wasn’t every day you saw Sherlock going out of his way to do something caring for anyone. It felt odd and definitely suspicious. Not that she minded, she loved the feeling of the warm coat wrapped around her. It smelled distinctly of Sherlock. She discreetly inhaled his scent when he wasn’t looking. The girl smiled into the fabric, it felt comforting and right.
“I don’t want you to contaminate the flat next time you come over, it’s really quite terrible for my health and the severed body parts in the fridge when there are unwanted bacteria floating in the air.” Sherlock quickly added, trying to sound more like his bitter self. He couldn’t let his guard down, not yet.
She frowned, slightly disappointed that his bitterness had returned, but shrugged it off. It was normal for Sherlock to behave like that. Though she did love it when his occasional more caring character came to visit.
They stood in silence, side by side. Sherlock couldn’t take the ignorance of silence much longer, he had to tell her.
“Look, (Y/N). I need to tell you something-” he starts, his words rolling very quickly off his tongue as if he was going to start explaining an ‘obvious’ deduction. However, it was too late. Sherlock heard rather obnoxious footsteps and turned to face (Y/N)’s boyfriend, who didn’t look like he was hurrying at all.
“You’re late.” Sherlock hissed, wanting nothing more than to wipe the idiotic look off of the other man’s face. He smelled faintly of alcohol, his feet unsteady underneath him.
“Big deal. At least I’m here now.” the man says without a care, reaching down to grab (Y/N)’s hand. She looks at it for a millisecond before taking it hesitantly. Something that any other ordinary person wouldn’t have caught, however, Sherlock was no ordinary person.
“Why are you still here? You can leave now.” (Y/N)’s boyfriend snaps, practically dragging her inside. She gave Sherlock a helpless shrug and allowed herself to be towed inside.
Sherlock stares after them, wondering how such an amazing person like (Y/N) could be stuck with a person like him. Sherlock decided that he’d be staying for a while, despite her boyfriend’s wishes.
Sherlock peered over his menu, watching the couple at the next table. (Y/N) tapped her fingers against the table repeatedly, Sherlock knew this as a sign as to when she was annoyed or exasperated. Possibly both at that moment.
“Excuse me, sir?” a waiter comes up to Sherlock’s lonely table for the fifth time that night. “You’ve been here for an hour now and you still haven’t ordered anything. Is there anything on the menu that looks appetizing to you? May I suggest the-”
“A cup of tea please.” Sherlock cuts him off, eyes still glued to (Y/N)’s table.
“But sir, you’ve already had three-”
“Tea, please.” Sherlock repeats, turning his head to face him, his eyes piercing into the ones of the slightly terrified looking waiter. He nods, sighs and rushes off.
“You don’t deserve me!” Sherlock’s head snaps back to the other table when he heard someone shout. It was the wretched boyfriend. “I deserve much better than you!”
Her boyfriend had stood up, hands on the white-clothed table, looking beyond annoyed. (Y/N)’s head was in her hands, her figure shaking.
“Wrong.” Sherlock says abruptly, startling the two. The other man growled, throwing his hands up in the air.
“And you bring psychopaths with you! What’s wrong with you?”
“Wrong. Again!” Sherlock exclaims, jumping from his seat. “I’m a high-functioning sociopath, and she deserves better than you.”
“Ah, ah.” Sherlock tuts, shutting the guy up with a single glare. “Tell me; did you notice? Do you notice anything different, anything at all?”
The man she deserved better than opened his mouth to say something (Sherlock presumed he would say something stupid) and stood dumbfounded, glaring at the consulting detective.
“Notice what?” he asked quietly, ashamed of not knowing and feeling stupid under the detective’s cold stare.
“Hmm, I don’t know maybe the fact that she bought a new outfit for tonight or the fact that she let her hair out of the ponytail and ditched the jeans and sneakers. Or maybe you could’ve noticed the new fragrance she decided to test out when she realized that you preferred the smell of fruit opposed to flowers. You could have complimented her and made her day, women like that don’t you know? Shows you’re considerate. Oh, but let’s not talk about only the changes in her appearance, no!” Sherlock rants, his words quick, tumbling over each other. “Let’s talk about everything she does for you, you idiot.”
“I really don’t think-” her boyfriend starts but Sherlock cuts him off, he was on a roll.
“Let’s see, first off, she reserved this table for you because you were too careless to even remember your anniversary. Oh, and might I mention she specifically booked a table far from the open windows because she was considering your allergies.”
“How did you-”
“You carry around eye drops and allergy pills around in your pockets, it’s really quite obvious. Now stop interrupting me! Now, where was I? Ah, yes. You might not realize it but she keeps you out of trouble all the time. Does your taxes, pays the rent and does everything to make you as happy as possible! She sacrifices her time and energy for you. But what do you do in return? A simple ‘thank you’ or an act that showed you cared would be nice but no! You stay out late, not even bothering to give her a heads up and thus making her sit awake until you get back home so she can sleep knowing that you got home safely. Should I go on?” he pauses to take a breath, not even waiting for an answer before continuing. “You flirt with other women but then you get angry at her for simply hugging an old friend. You ignore relationship problems and never initiate conversations. You arrive late to your anniversary and leave this incredible woman to wait by herself in the cold while you mingle with strangers at a bar!”
(Y/N) gasps and Sherlock flinches at the sound. For a second, he forgot that she was there.
“You simply don’t care.” Sherlock says, coming to a conclusion.
“You don’t know this! You don’t know anything about our life, about my life!” the other man yells, shaking with rage while pointing a finger menacingly at Sherlock. He simply raises and eyebrow in answer. “You don’t know her like I do! I know her best!”
“Oh, but darling,” Sherlock whispers, coming so close to the other man’s face that their noses almost touched. “If you really did know her, you would have noticed. You would’ve noticed that she has stopped falling for you.”
The man opens his mouth to spat something in Sherlock’s smart face before thinking against it. He turned to face (Y/N) instead.
“Us? Yeah, it’s not a thing anymore. It’s-”
“No,” she says, standing up and interrupting him mid-sentence. “You always get the last word. It’s finally my turn. It’s over.”
Her faint, but powerful voice rings in their ears as her final words escape her mouth. Whether she regretted her decision or not, it was too late now.
“I suggest you leave before your ignorance starts to get contagious.” Sherlock mumbles to the enraged man. He doesn’t move.
“Leave.” Sherlock repeats more aggressively. “You are no longer welcome in (Y/N)’s life.”
The man leaves without saying another word, stopping only for a second to glare at (Y/N), before leaving her life forever. She sinks back down into her seat as he exits the restaurant, resting her head on the table. Sherlock begins to walk out as well, knowing that he was probably unwelcome to comfort her.
“Sherlock, please don’t go.” she murmurs, just quietly enough that only he could hear what she had said. He nods, assuming the chair across from her, patiently waiting. What for, he wasn’t quite sure.
“Do you really pay that much attention to me? Did you really notice all those things?” she finally asks, bringing her head up from the table just enough to look him shyly in the eyes. “Or did John give you subtle hints before you left the flat?”
She laughs gently, and he smiles.
“Oh darling, I notice everything about you - and so much more.”
Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to leave a request, my ask box is always open!
In which Sherlock comes back after pretending to be dead for two years, finds John moved out of Baker Street and nearly engaged. He’d deduced two possible reactions… but not this.
Of all the outcomes Sherlock had prepared himself for, this was not one of them. There had been two scenarios in his head, two ways John’s emotions could play out. Shock was, in both scenarios, naturally the primary stage. That is logically what happens when a previously thought dead person presents themselves. It was the stages that came after the shock is where it got tricky, given that Sherlock had to take into factor that they were surrounded by the public eye, in a very crowded, very upscale restaurant. It was where the road split. Road one: Shock would be followed by disbelieve, perhaps tears, but most likely not with John. No, it was more likely disbelief would lead to laughter, the slightly bitter kind that Sherlock could picture on John’s face, the kind that would melt into relief, maybe even a slightly uncharacteristic hug. It might be a briefer display of emotion due to the public eye but at least Sherlock would know it was alright now.
The second road was not preferred but it ended the same. On this path anger followed the shock, maybe John stormed out of the restaurant, maybe delivered Sherlock a rightly deserved punch… But they were together in the end. Sherlock was forgiven in the end.
He never thought, however, that the stage of anger would be so prolonged. He never imagined that John wouldn’t eventually get along to embracing his lost best friend. Sherlock never pictured John leaving him standing alone on the curb of a dumpy fish and chip place with a bloody nose.
Ms. Hudson, on the other hand, had had exactly the reaction Sherlock had predicted when he walked into 221B. She’d screamed, cried, screamed again when he placed a gentle hand on her arm, and proceeded to alternate between the two for the next hour. Sherlock could barely focus on her however, only being able to think about how, as she wrapped him in a very tight hug, he would do anything to have experienced this reaction twice that night.
“Oh Sherlock,” Ms. Hudson patted his cheek fondly, a smile brightening her face, “I take it you’ve seen John?”
Sherlock tense, “Yes. Yes, of course.”
She laughed delightedly, squeezing his hand before bustling into the kitchen, “I’ll get the kettle on for you two, then.”
Sherlock unknotted his scarf, hanging it on the familiar coat hanger, taking note in the back of his mind the relief that filled his chest at being, well, home, “Sorry?”
Ms. Hudson looked over her shoulder, “Well, I gather he’ll be around shortly, yes?”
Sherlock froze half way through shrugging out of his coat, the thought hitting him harder than he expected. Would he?
“Yes.” Sherlock said stiffly, dropping his coat over a chair—John’s chair—with a flourish, “Yes, of course. Tea would be lovely, thank you.”
Ms. Hudson gave him another firm kiss on the cheek and a Oh Sherlock, do play some violin for me tomorrow. I can’t tell you how I’ve missed it, and left him to “get settled.”
Sherlock had prepared the tea with shaking fingers. Of course John would be around. He wouldn’t let the night end like it had would he? He’d want to see Sherlock. Definitely. John was a man of answers, and he had two years worth of questions to ask. Sherlock had poured the water into the tea pot, set out two cups (he’d looked for John’s favorite mug only to find it no longer in the cupboard), milk, and sugar. He’d put it all on a tray, set it rather too harshly onto the coffee table, fell into his chair…
And the waiting had begun.
Sherlock was very good at sitting still usually. He could go days on end without speaking, without moving. But he couldn’t seem to manage it tonight.
He paced, drummed his fingers, watched the clock. By the time he decided to change into his pajamas, it was nearly two in the morning and he had already retuned his violin and stabbed the fireplace mantle approximately 57 times. The tea was cold and he hadn’t had a drop. He hung his coat up from its place on John’s chair, fluffing the flag pillow and smoothing the velvet out.
It was two thirty and Sherlock listened to Ms. Hudson’s bedroom door close downstairs. No doubt she had been waiting up for John. She’d given up. He wouldn’t.
Sherlock kept his phone in hand. John may call rather than come over now that it was so late. He had a…fiancé now, after all. Sherlock swallowed hard at the thought, checking his phone again. Another outcome Sherlock had not expected. Of course, he felt foolish now, thinking John had—thinking John could ever feel… whatever Sherlock had felt. Whatever Sherlock feels. That it was John and him, him and John. He never dreamt that there could be any other version of either of their lives, he never thought…
Sherlock pressed his hands over his eyes.
But perhaps he should not have left for two years. For a so-called genius, he seemed to have a habit of realizing things too late when it came to John Watson. Maybe one could only be a genius in one aspect of life, one field. Sherlock considered this. If that was the case, he’d gladly trade his knowledge of chemistry, of crime, of anything, for an upstanding understanding of John. Just John. It may not be more useful in his line of work. But he would be happier. Emotionally. Sherlock blinked at the realization. He was surprised, but it felt… true.
It was approaching four in the morning when Sherlock resigned to his bed. He couldn’t stare at the empty chair across from him any longer. If he did he was worried he may throw something, or miss the mantlepiece and stab himself instead with the amount he’d been at it. He let his phone rest on his chest, fingertips to his chin.
He didn’t want to admit it, but his hopes were crumbling around him. John was not calling. John was not coming up the stairs. John had left him on the curb after hitting him once, twice, three times. He found that his chest hurt more than his cheek or nose.
Sherlock was just beginning to resign himself to a few more hours of sitting completely still until it was considered a socially acceptable hour to rise and start a day in the life of the living, when his phone buzzed against his ribs, shocking Sherlock’s eyes open.
The screen said John.
Sherlock had barely picked up before he was saying his name.
He was met with a few beats of silence and then, slowly, “You’re awake.”
Sherlock felt pinned against the mattress, “You don’t sound surprised.”
The response was more immediate this time, “I’m not.”
Sherlock nearly closed his eyes at the familiar scoff, “Yes, of course I’m awake.”
“I… I’m not surprised… either.” Sherlock had never struggled for words so much in his life.
Silence followed and Sherlock thought he heard John pouring himself tea, or maybe a drink.
“Jesus,” A chair scooted back over the line and John sighed as he sat now, “I’ve not a clue what to say. How’s the nose?”
Sherlock felt himself smile a little at the comment. This was the most normal he had felt in two entire years, “Not as bad as the ribs.”
John chuckled softly, the way he did when he was confused, “What? I didn’t hit you in the ribs.”
“No. You didn’t.”
Silence followed again. Sherlock heard John’s breathing stop and restart, “Sherlock-“
“Don’t worry, I’m okay-“
“No, that’s not the point, Sherlock, the point is that you let me- You let me knock you around when someone else had been doing god knows what god knows where.”
“Don’t worry, you’re much gentler than Serbian interrogators.”
He heard John set his tea down too hard, “What? I- Oh my god, I swear, if you’re joking-“
“I don’t joke.”
Another laugh, this time disbelieving. It sent another shock of relief through Sherlock, “Yes you do, Jesus, Jesus-“
“John. I’m okay-“
“Well, you were dead this morning!”
John’s breathing was harsh over the phone. Sherlock could picture him rubbing his eyes. Sherlock just listened for a moment to the familiar sound. He didn’t know how to start. Sorry was nothing, not what was needed, it wasn’t enough.
“John…” Sherlock let out a breath, “I-“
“Don’t you dare say you’re-“
“I wanted to tell you so many times-“
“God, did you now?” John was nearly fuming again, “That’s the first time you haven’t given into one of your impulses.”
Sherlock closed his eyes. Hardly, John. Hardly.
Sherlock breathed deeply through his nose, “You’re right. I should know better.”
Sherlock heard a clatter that sounded like John throwing his cup in the sink, “Yes. Yes, you should.”
“Maybe I’ll give into one right now.”
A beat of silence, “What?”
Sherlock was already halfway to the door, “I’m coming over.”
The laugh was back, nervous and relieved this time, “Sherlock it’s nearly five-“
“I’m giving into an impulse, John.”
“Right…” A chair scraped back, “Yes, okay. Alright.”
“I’ll catch a cab. Text me the address, would you?”
Sherlock thought he heard a hitch in breath, a small sniff maybe. It made his chest ache, “Yeah.”
Sherlock shrugged half way into his coat, “Okay-“
“Right, can we not say goodbye?”
Sherlock’s brows furrowed, “John?”
“’s just the last time you said…” John couldn’t seem to finish but he didn’t have to.
Sherlock understood. He understood and he knew he’d never utter the word ‘goodbye’ to John Watson again.
Requested by anon:
could you do a Reader x Sherlock where she finds out she’s expecting and Sherlock has no idea how to react for awhile? Thank you :-) Also, another anon requested for a fluffy one with Sherlock so…
Summary: (Y/N) is acting strange, and Sherlock notices. She ends up confessing the truth and… He struggles to find the words.
Pairing: Sherlock x reader
Warnings: Bit of angst (not really) because of Sherlock’s reaction. Also, fluffy.
Word count: 2,807
A/N: My Sherlock feels are rising like the fenix rises from the ashes, THANKS! This is fluffy and cheesy and I love it, hope you do too. Remember feedback is highly appreciated.
never been quieter. Not a single criminal dared to show up in the past week –
or at least not one Sherlock cared about.
fiddle in hand and a melody on his head, Sherlock played for hours and hours
throughout the morning. His feet with move along the music as he followed his
girlfriend around the flat, making sure to keep his eyes on her at every
(Y/N) was tiding
it up a little since neither Sherlock nor John would do it.
you don’t have to do that.” Sherlock spoke as he waltzed his way closer to her.
“I know, I
just… Need to kill time, I guess.” Sherlock tilted his head.
She shook her head.
just bored.” Sherlock smiled warmly at her.
“I knew I
wasn’t the only one getting bored here.” He said.
You?” (Y/N) let out a fake laugh, “As far as I can tell you’re having a blast
with your instrument.”
didn’t reply with words but rather changing the tune to a faster one.
She hissed jokingly and moved to his room, where she picked up the dirty clothes
and dusted the furniture.
couldn’t help but to notice something strange in her. He couldn’t quite put his
finger on it because it was such a slight change in her – and a good kind of
change – that deducing it would take him hours. And that’s why he was following
She was resplendent
yet she looked tired. “Why are you tired?”
looked up at him; she had been dragged out of her thoughts. “Sorry?”
you tired?” Sherlock repeated, “Last night we did… We did sleep late but we
all this cleaning.” (Y/N) suggested.
followed me on cases that could get anyone tired after five minutes without
even flinching, it’s not the cleaning.” Sherlock observed. He stopped playing
and stood still, following her every move.
getting old.” Sherlock lifted an eyebrow.
He stated, “If you were getting old I would be too and I’m feeling great.”
“We are getting old.” She emphasized, “With
each second that passes.”
sighed heavily and continued to play. (Y/N) excused herself and left to the
bathroom. It was the fifth time she went and it wasn’t even close to mid-day.
stopped playing once again and walked back to the living room where John was sitting
and reading a newspaper.
something off about her.” Sherlock whispered without even looking at his friend
but rather keeping his ice blue eyes glued to the bathroom door.
knew exactly what was going on, shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and changed
the page. He had been pretending to read the whole morning, for he knew it
would be impossible for him not to react.
read this newspaper three times already.” Sherlock observed.
“I like to
re-read… Make sure everything sticks to my mind.” John replied.
a method that works for common minds.” John couldn’t help but to roll his eyes,
“But honestly, John, can’t you see? There’s something off about her.”
girlfriend, Sherlock, not mine.” John beamed.
friend, and you’re a doctor.” John sighed and scratched the corner of his eyes.
you tell?” John inquired, “Did you check her body temperature? Her blood
fine!” John assured. Sherlock, of course, didn’t buy it and waited patiently
for her to get out.
Imagine little Rosie giving a presentation at school about her family. “I live with my two daddies. One of them is the best detective in the whole world! He sometimes plays the violin for me. He likes to wear scarves, and he wants a dog but my other daddy says no. My other daddy is a doctor! He works at the hospital, and he likes to read sometimes. And he calls me ‘his little bee’ sometimes.”
And then a kid in the class raises his hand and says, “But you can’t have two daddies. You have to have a mommy and a daddy to have family.” The teacher begins to correct the boy, but Rosie is already on top of it. “No, you don’t. You can have two mommies, or two daddies, or a mommy and a daddy. My daddies love each other very much, and they love me too. You can have a family in all different ways, and this is my family.”
And at the next parent-teacher conference, when the teacher recalls the moment, Sherlock and John can only smile, and under the table, they hold each other’s hands tighter.