the real problem is that we live in a time where there are not one, but TWO Sherlock Holmes adaptions that are set in the present and nobody from either show got the idea to sit Holmes’ ass down and show him Legally Blonde, he’d be so thrilled
So, it took me forever to fix my masterlist, but it’s in my bio AND it’s fixed! Please go read some of the stuff I wrote in the past!
Requested by Anon: You’re the secret girlfriend to Sherlock Holmes, and you also happen to be living with him on occasion. Having a junkie boyfriend definitely has its cons, like unnecessary drug busts.
Anderson AND Donovan are both in this one, because lets be honest, she’d be the one to instigate a drug bust on Sherlock without Lestrades permission.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“Y/n, what have you done with it?! You know that I need it-” Sherlock halted his sentence as you sat up in his bed, quirking an eyebrow as he rummaged through the trunk at the foot of the bed. The two of you had been dating since John and Mary’s wedding, and you had somehow managed to convince him to go cold turkey for you. It hadn’t worked out well. “Please.”
“Not a chance, Sherlock Holmes-” You cried out as he lunged over the bed, straddling your hips as he pinned your hands above your head. You wiggled your eyebrows at protest and it only proceeded to make his angered facade fall into laughter. “You see, now this is something I do well.” A low growl left his throat as he moved to capture your lips but instead found himself on the side of your face. “Kissing me is not going to change my mind. Better luck next time.”
Sherlock ran his hands over his face and heaved a sigh. “You sure do not make things easy.” He muttered, peering out from behind his open fingers. “You owe me.”
“I don’t owe you crap.” You replied sarcastically, grinning as Sherlock bent over and threw your duffel bag at your face. “I’ll always be your girl, Sherlock Holmes.” Standing in the doorway, Sherlock turned to admire you from a far, his eyes drinking in the sight of you in his bed while wearing his favorite shirt. Your y/h/c hair was thrown up into a careless pony tail and your face was clear of any makeup. In others words, he thought you were the most beautiful woman to walk the streets of London.
“I’m making tea. Do you want some?”
You pulled your phone out from beneath the pillow, smiling at the lockscreen as you checked the time. One of your favorite things to do when Sherlock was in withdrawal was take him to a spot your parents had shown you when you were younger; a secluded area of the river Thames. That was the first date the two of you had been on, and you’d somehow managed to take one picture the entire night. Your head tucked beneath Sherlocks while he stared up at the stars. It made your heart race every time you looked at it, over and over again.
“If it’ll help you stop complaining, yes.” You replied. “I have to be at work in thirty minutes. Leave me to get changed.”
It hadn’t even been ten minutes when Anderson came busting through the front door of the flat with Sally Donovan in tow, several members of Scotland Yard staked outside the flat. “Anderson!” Sherlock yelled indignantly as detectives began to search the flat. “And Donovan?! What do you think you’re doing!”
“We got a tip that you were doing again-” Donovan started, smirking as Andersons eyes trailed to the back bedroom where the door was just slightly cracked. “So we came to clear out all the contraband.”
“Did Lestrade even authorize this!” Sherlock snapped, his eyes widening as Anderson opened the bedroom door and let out a rather feminine yelp. You had been in the middle of changing into your floral print sundress for work, having just put on your bra. “Oh my Lord.”
“Who is this, and why is she half clothed in your bedroom?!” Phillip exclaimed, using both of his hands to cover his eyes. You quickly pulled on your dress as Sherlock entered the room, taking the liberty to zip it up. “Miss, I am so sorry-”
Sherlock had to turn away when you lashed out and kicked the other man rather hard in the knee, sending him sinking to the floor before the following punch to his jaw made him go unconscious. “I take it this ones the idiot on Baker Street.” You snapped, rolling your eyes as Sherlock nodded firmly. “I think I lost a few brains cells and the use of my fingers knocking him out cold.”
“You want to lose a few more?” Sherlock murmured quietly, motioning to Donovan who was inspecting a baggie that happened to look like it had cocaine in it. Little was she aware of the fact you and John had hidden several of them around the flat to trick Sherlock into thinking he still had drugs in the vicinity. You’d flushed all of it down the toilet over a week ago. “That’s the woman who jeopardized my name back when Moriarty was alive.”
Your eyes widened at the memory, when Sherlock had told you about the Reichenbach at the wedding reception. “That’s Donovan?” You growled, balling your fists together. “It’ll be my pleasure.”
Lestrade had gotten notice of an unauthorized drug bust and immediately made his way to Baker Street only to find most of his men had gone back to the Yard, leaving Donovan and Anderson behind. He entered the flat rather urgently, and just in time to see you knock Sally Donovan off her feet and slump unconscious on the couch.
His eyes widened as you blew on your knuckles and stood to your feet, dusting your dress off and taking your high heels from Sherlock. “What-What happened here?!” He questioned. “And who are you?” You dangled your pumps from two fingers and turned to the Detective Inspector with a large smile.
“The Idiots on Baker Street made their usual appearance for a drug bust.” You replied, motioning to Anderson who was just beginning to come back from unconsciousness. “Should’ve known better then to mess with a woman, much less Sherlock Holmes girlfriend.’’ Lestrades jaw dropped as you kissed Sherlocks cheek and cast an incredulous look at Donovan. “Have a splendid day, Detective Lestrade. And please.. do keep your lackeys away from here. The next person to walk in on me half naked will most definitely have their teeth kicked in.”
Request: ( @bestfluteninja ) hi! can you write a john x reader (girl reader) where john brings the reader home and sherlock deducts her and she’s upset (because let’s be honest, deducting sherlock can be an asshole) so then john comforts her?
Warnings: Female!Reader, Sherlock being an ass, little angst, fluff
Authors Note: Geez, this is my first time writing in a few months! Sorry, I just needed a break, but I’m back! Hope you all like this!
“Y/N, are you, um, sure you want to come over?” John asks nervously. He grabs my hand, and starts to fiddle with my fingers.
“For the millionth time, yes,” I reply. I smile at him, hoping he’ll calm down. His eyes scan my face, and he nods. My hand closes over his, and we walk out of the restaurant. John gets us a taxi, and we head to his flat.
I’m about to meet his flatmate, a man called Sherlock Holmes. John has talked about him occasionally, but I still haven’t met him. I’m also meeting the landlady, Mrs. Hudson. I’m somewhat nervous, but it all dissipates while trying to calm John down.
“So, what is Mrs. Hudson like?” I ask, trying to keep John’s mind off of me meeting Sherlock.
“Oh, she’s lovely,” he says, his eyes lighting up. “And you’re going to get on with her so well.” I begin to say something else when the taxi stops, brakes screeching. I hit the seat in front of me, as does John. The driver turns around and apologizes as we are getting out. I nod back at him and step out into the cold air. I take John’s hand as he leads me to his flat.
The door reads 221B and has a knocker on it, a little too high for John to reach and certainly too high for me. He opens the door and walks in after me. The room I enter into is dark, with a set of stairs directly in front of me. He motions for me to go up, so I do. I never let go of his hand, nervousness curling in my chest. John gets on the step next to me and opens another door. Walking in first, he looks around for someone. I cautiously step in the room. Looking around, I see all kinds of things, from a violin to a skull. As I observe the walls and floors, I hear someone walk in.
“Hello, dear,” an elderly woman says, patting John’s arm. Wavyish hair and bright eyes, she seems to be more than she looks. “And who might this lovely lady be?” I blush, and hold out my hand.
“I’m Y/N,” I say, as we shake hands. “I presume you’re Mrs. Hudson?“
“You presume correctly,” she laughs. “Have a seat, dear, would you like some tea?” I nod, and she heads into the kitchen. John sits next to me and starts to say something when a man walks in. He has curly dark hair, dark eyes, and is wearing a long coat and a scarf.
“John, where wer-” he stops talking when he notices me. I wave slightly, and John stands up.
“Sherlock, this is Y/N,” he says, somewhat pointing towards me. “Y/N, Sherlock."
"Hi,” I say, practically above a whisper. Something about this man is different and intimidating. I don’t want to make a bad impression either. Mrs. Hudson comes back in with the tea, and smiles at Sherlock. "Thank y-“
"5 times?” Sherlock cuts me off. I look at him, confused. I can see a look of terror pass over John’s face, but it’s too late.
“Is it 5 times or 4?"
"I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I respond, “could you elaborate?"
"The last 5 times you’ve plucked up the courage to ask a man out, you’ve been rejected,” he states calmly. My mouth drops open in shock. “Your phone is on and has multiple male contacts, too many for all of them to be coworkers. Some also haven’t been checked since months before you met John. Also, she’s into that ridiculous show Supernatural.” I lift a finger to ask how he knows, but he continues on. “There’s a partially visible tattoo on your ankle of a symbol from the show. You also haven’t told John that before this job you were working at a restaurant where you barely had enough money to survive. I recognize you from a certain place downtown. Now you work in law, but you absolutely hate your job. Your clothing choices are carelessly thought out, your face shows exhaustion from work, and you left early just to come here even though you had a client, am I correct?"
I nod slowly. He smooths his coat and heads toward the kitchen. Stunned, I get up and head for the door. I hurry down the steps and onto the street, looking desperately for a taxi.
"Y/N!” I can hear John shouting for me, running after me, but I keep walking. He catches up to me after a minute. Moving in front of me, he grabs my arms. His hands tighten as I try to walk away.
“Y/N, please,” he says. Looking up at him, I can see the worry painted on his face.
“Please don’t let Sherlock get to you,” John says. His breathing is erratic from running, but he continues. “He’s an idiot and has no filter. He didn’t mean to insult you in any way, and he’s just incredibly insensitive and ridiculous. I’m so sorry."
"It’s fine, John, I’ll just go,” I say, trying to tug my arms away. Instead of letting go, he moves his hands up to my face.
“Let me make it up to you, okay?” He whispers. I nod slowly, and he pulls me in. I close my eyes, and his lips touch mine softly. Fireworks start exploding in my stomach as I move my arms around his back. I’ve never felt anything like this before, nothing so perfect and meant to be. His lips fit mine like it was written in the stars, like this was supposed to happen.
When he pulls away, he has a sheepish smile on his face.
“Okay?” He asks.
“Okay.” I reply, lacing my fingers with his. We walk down the street together, ready for whatever is to happen next.
okay but my fave headcanon is disaster child rosie because lets be honest, sherlock has probably been teaching her to deduce people since she could talk or even before and john has probably got an entire shelf dedicated to parenting books he made sherlock read and between getting dragged off on cases with her dads and having tea with mrs hudson she somehow manages to have a surprisingly normal childhood, even if she frequently turns up at school with notes that say ‘murders are more important than homework. sh.’
Sebastian Moran is grieving and angry, and seeking revenge on one Sherlock Holmes, who it seems did not actually die as intended. Unfortunately, one showman cannot simply sit back and let the pair text.. (As requested anonymously!)
feel free to request stuff through ask! i have a list of prompts up if you’d like to use it btw
You were sitting in the silent household of 221b. The only
sound echoing through the living room was you tapping your laptops keyboard. You
were writing a report of the last case Scotland yard had while your fiancé was
out solving another case, the usual.
You never thought you’d be in a relationship with Sherlock,
let alone him proposing. But being honest, youR relationship was never close to
perfect, not the slightest. But you put up with him most of the time. At worst,
you wouldn’t speak to him for a day, then everything would go back to normal.
You went to your shared bedroom to grab the paper which had
the list of evidence supporting the case. You shuffled through several drawers
and finally found it. You ran your eyes through it just to make sure you’ve
gotten the right paper.
You were about to go out until you smelt something… something
unusual, disgusting as well. You followed the Weird scent, which led you to Sherlock’s
You first thought it might be some rotten eyeballs or
fingers, but he’d always place those in the fridge. You knew it wasn’t right to
search through your significant other’s things. But curiosity killed you, you
You slowly open the first drawer to see nothing but scrambled
notes and such. You opened the second one and the smell had only gotten worse.
There were a couple of papers which you moved to the side to
find something wrapped in an old newspaper.
What is this?
You unraveled it with one hand while pinching your nose with
the other to see a clear plastic bag filled with a white powder.
Your face fell.
Your melting face soon molded into an angry frown as you
took the bag and went to sit in the living room.
“No, john. It was boring!” Said a familiar voice after you
heard the door shut.
Here he is.
The two pairs of footsteps became louder as they climbed up
the stairs. You were sat on Sherlock’s chair, facing the door. And you were
ready for confrontation.
You and john nodded at each other as Sherlock immediately
started taking off his scarf and coat. As soon as he finished, you rose up and
almost stomped to him, snatching his collar bringing him to your level, and
locking your eyes with his.
“What. Is. This?” You said through gritted teeth as you held
up the stinking bag.
You heard john gasp, while you and Sherlock maintained eye
contact. Neither of you even glancing to the side.
“Being my fiancé does not give you the right to rummage
through my personal items.” He retorted. Sort of as a-matter-of-factly.
“I wasn’t rummaging. It simply reeked out of
your nightstand which means it’s been recently used.” You said, frown
still on your face.
He proceeded to stay silent, and you couldn’t take it. You took
your right hand off his collar and slapped him, causing a red print to stain
“Well, I appreciate your use of the none-ringed hand.” He said,
as if unaffected.
Not taking your eye off his, you dropped the substance,
grabbed one of his hands and removed the ring into it, curling it into a fist.
You simply backed away from him, seeing Watson with his
mouth agape. You walked to the bedroom and closed – actually slammed the door
shut, leaning against it.
You never were one for acting, and you didn’t know if Sherlock
saw right through you, but that was the toughest you ever pretended to be in
Tears slowly ran down you’re cheeks. Were you going to pack
and leave to god knows where or are you supposed to simple forgive him?
A soft knock interrupted your thoughts. You already knew who
“No.” you said, trying your best not to let your voice
“I’m… I- I would like to… apologize.” He trailed off. You knew
it was physically paining him. It kind of pained you too.
“Save it.” There it went, the voice crack.
You instantly heard metal clicking, of course he’d pick the
lock. You got off the door and sat on the bed, knowing that you can’t stop him
from getting in.
“Y/N.” he sighed, carefully getting in. “Y/N please-“
“Just, why? Why do you do this?” You sobbed.
“It was for a case.”
“Y/N, please believe me.”
You shook your head in disbelief, laying yourself on the
bed, your back facing him.
He slowly climbed the bed, laying himself beside you and
gently wrapping his arms around you, as if you were a fragile piece of glass he
doesn’t want to break.
You didn’t stop him.
You loved him.
And he was your weakness.
You just laid there together in silence. Knowing that
nothing needs to be spoken.
This is my answer to the frustrating fact that John is demanding that Molly keep Rosie away from Sherlock as of the end of the first ep. I hate it and I want it to be resolved asap. And this is how I’d LOVE for it to happen.
Molly sat there on the couch bouncing her leg a little and wringing her hands every so often as she mulled over the feelings and words that were swimming in her brain. She jumped a little when John unlocked and came walking through the door.
“Hey,” he muttered quickly as he hung up his jacket. “Thanks again, I know this was short notice. But it’s been crazy with all the legal rubbish and at the same time trying to take some patients-” He paused when he got a look at Molly. “What’s wrong?”
Molly didn’t answer as she stood from the couch.
“Molly, what’s wrong?” John demanded more loudly. “Where’s Rosie? What’s the matter?”
“She’s fine, John!” Molly quickly clarified. “She’s sleeping for the night, don’t worry.”
He released a breath of relief. “Well then what is it? Why do you look like that”?
Molly shook her head slowly. “I just- I can’t do this anymore.”
He’d been down the row interspersed with colourful and confusing items for a good fifteen minutes. The staff would think he was a pervert of some kind, lingering in the sanitary napkin aisle. Not that John had wanted to linger especially, he’d postponed this bit of shopping for ages, filling his trolley with all kinds of important items, besides frivolous ones, stalling even the tiniest bit with surveying the savoury aisle more than he’d needed.
It wasn’t like Mary hadn’t asked him to buy this sort of thing before, though those few occasions were often months apart, and in his own opinion the entire collective line of sanitary packets had altered appearance. He couldn’t wrap his mind around them at all, and he was a doctor. It was only blood, but he didn’t know whether she wanted scented ones or ones with patterns on the inside.
Could you write a Bondlock where when Q was very little, he unintentionally did something that led to Redbeard’s death, and because of that, Sherlock hasn’t spoken to Q since, and Mycroft doesn’t really care. This leads to Q being very depressed in his teenage years. James finds an old family picture, and Q explains what happened with him and his brothers. James goes to confront Sherlock, and make him apologize to Q. – thewonderfulthingaboutfish
Teehee, I had fun. Jen, with Lex-related assistance.
“He killed my dog.”
“He was seven years old,” Bond protested, as John poured him another cup of tea wearily. “From what I hear, you blew up half his room and nearly severed his ear and he managed to forgive you.”
Sherlock paused, raised an eyebrow and took another sip.
“John?” Bond asked, turning to his friend.
John shrugged. “Staying out of it, mate,” he replied apologetically, and very swiftly disappeared to put the kettle on. Again.
Bond stared at Sherlock, unforgiving.
Sherlock, being Sherlock, stared straight back.
There was something in Sherlock’s expression that was curiously haunted; Bond couldn’t work it out, couldn’t quite grasp what he was missing in the man that was making him this.
“He loves you,” Bond pointed out quietly.
Sherlock had the audacity to let out a small, derisive snort.
“Other than an accident when he was a child, how can you deny that?”
The other man’s jaw tightened slightly, eyes darting in small convulsions, unfocused.
“You don’t know, do you?” Bond asked quietly, with just an encroaching edge of anger. “You haven’t spoken to him, in years, and…”
Sherlock stood, and walked into the kitchen, signalling a very abrupt end to their conversation. Bond watched him go, trying not to hiss with anger.
“I’m sorry.” Q blinked. Frankly, he didn’t have the slightest idea what to say. “Sorry?” he asked, a touch uncertainly; Sherlock hadn’t directed a single word at him in over a decade, let alone an honest-to-god apology.
Sherlock looked like he would far rather gnaw off his own arm and beat himself to death with it than repeat what he had said. “I’m sorry,” he emphasised, a touch petulantly. “For not speaking to you.”
For a solid thirty seconds, Q was rendered speechless.
“Why now?” he managed, eventually.
Sherlock evidently had no idea how to respond to a question of that nature. Mostly because he did not want to tell his younger brother that he had been scared into it by his own partner; John had told Sherlock, in no uncertain terms, that his behaviour was unacceptable.
“Staying out of it, my arse,” Sherlock had griped, and reluctantly gone to tell Bond he would deal with it.
Q looked at him. Stared, mostly.
“I missed you.”
Sherlock prayed, abruptly and violently, that Q wasn’t about to cry.
People are always talking about the “gains and losses,” of making Johnlock canon, like doing so would have serious loss. So I’ve decided to write it out like this.
Johnlock becomes canon
• Gains: The show gains a spot in Sherlock Holmes history for placing Holmes and Watson in the first queer relationship with mainstream media depictions of Sherlock Holmes stories, and gives their two protagonists the ability to delve into that and gain happiness, while also providing representation to the LGBT community in the form of not just one but the both of their protagonists. All in all, they literally make history.
• Losses: The loss of a portion of viewers, likely due to homophobia and/or internalized heteronormativity. With one of the two main showrunners being an openly gay married man who constantly advocates for the queer community, I can hardly see this being something he would be afraid to lose or resent the loss of.
Johnlock doesn’t become canon:
• Gains: Respect is gained from those viewers who haven’t liked the idea of Johnlock (as well as Johnlock shippers) all along. Heteronormativity wins. Honestly, there really is nothing to gain at this point, should this not be the way the show goes. It’s already “famous” as far as television shows go (especially for a show that was never intended to be popular) and has won many awards; there’s really nothing more to do for it if not to make the show be building up to anything more.
• Losses: For a show with a fanbase that is widely made up of people within the LGBT+ community, severe disappointment and upset will result in the fact that she show has been queerbaiting (again, with an openly gay man as one of the main showrunners - highly unlikely) all along, and not only results in loss of respect from these viewers (as well as quite literally the loss OF these viewers who are again, a large portion of the audience) but also will mean that much of this show was unnecessary and really made absolutely no fucking sense at all.
Now consider: Of the two, with the given cast and crew of this show and the audience it has, which seems both more beneficial and more likely? Shipping aside. Let’s be honest.