Summary: You need to take Sherlock, your boyfriend, to the doctor because he’s sick. You cannot ask John to examine him since he’s on holidays with Mary and Rosie so you resort to the best doctor you know, your father Dr. Gregory House.
Pairing: Sherlock x Reader (ft. Dr. House)
Title: ‘It’s Not Lupus’
Content: Lines from House M.D. / Humour
Warning: Mild swearing
Word count: 1.972
A/N: Ok, thank you for the opinions, guys!! Now, if you’re going to read this USE YOUR IMAGINATION, please. It makes everything funnier. I really miss Greg, I hope I made justice to the character.
PS: If you wanna die laughting, please listen to “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking” by The Rolling Stones while reading and looking at this marvellous GIF.
*not my gif
You were both walking
down the corridor. “John said I would be alright,” Sherlock lied.
“You didn’t even call
him. Actually, I wanted to call him yesterday and the line was dead, so shut
up,” you snapped.
“For the last time Y/N,
I’m alright. I’m just sneezing,” he complained. “I don’t need to get
“Please, Sherlock. It’s
for your own sake. Don’t make mention your high temperature, your coughing,”
you sighed. “Just gave him a chance,” you said and gave you a faint nod.
You turned around the
corner of the corridor and walked towards the first office. The door was
closed, with a notice stuck on it that said: “GO AWAY”. Sherlock’s
eyes narrowed as if he could not believe you made him come to the hospital and
not get examined.
You didn’t mind whether
your father was busy or not, you wanted your boyfriend to get examined for his
own sake – or yours. Since Sherlock got sick, he has gotten utterly unbearable.
Taking a deep breath
you opened the office door.
“Hello, sick people,”
he said as soon as he heard the door open. The radio was on, he was listening
to ‘Can’t You Hear Me Knocking’ by
The Rolling Stones while pretending to play guitar on his flaming cane and
singing along. “You must be joking,” he breathed as you looked at your father
He turned around to
face you two. “Trust me, this is all
real,” he shouted and then with the cane turned the radio off. “So, Wilson said
you called. The bastard told me you wanted to come around,” he gradually turned
his gaze to Sherlock, “and I now I see why.”
“Dad, this is-” your
voice trailed off when your boyfriend cut you off.
“Oh, Dr House, I’ve
heard your name a several times,” he stretched his hand out to him so they
could shake hands. Your father glanced at you noticing that you were giving him
a faint smile.
“Most of the people
have. It’s also a noun,” he said and shook hands with Sherlock, who rolled his
eyes. The sarcasm and those jokes that go too far, they were so typical coming
from a man like him.
“Sherlock Holmes,” he
introduced himself. ”Your limb,” Sherlock tilted his head to your father’s leg.
House looks down at his leg and the cane danced awkwardly. “It’s psychosomatic,
I assume” he said.
“Not this time,
Sherlock,” you corrected him.
“Right,” the doctor
vaguely said. He sourly walked to his desk and tossed the ‘Flame Cane’ to the
side. He slowly fell into his chair. “It’s a long story, buddy. I don’t think
you’d like to hear it,” he pursed his lips.
Sherlock sat down on
one of the chairs opposite the doctor’s and crossed his legs, his hands were
clasped. “Oh, I insist,” he replied.
You rolled your eyes
and joined them. “You should better shut up,” you snapped and Sherlock glanced
at you perplexed.
House leaned his back
against the backrest and folded arms. “I’m sorry?” he frowned.
“He had his dead muscle surgically removed. Although
this most likely saved his life, it left him with permanent intense pain in his
right leg,” you informed. “Months later, he became addicted to Vicodin.”
“There you go,” he finger pointed at you, though you
were glaring at him.
“You’re still taking the pills,” you said through
As much as you could deny it, you were used to live
surrounded by a certain kind of people. That kind of people that would break
the rules just to be right, knowing that they might
die trying. Your dad and your boyfriend for example; always exposing themselves
to dangerous situations.
“Interesting,” he grinned. “Then, I suppose we could
get to an agreement,” he said and clasped his hands. “I’ll get you Vicodin if you get me Cocaine,” he said. The
corners of House’s mouth turned up as if he was interested in the offer.
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes! We’re here because you’re
sick, Sherlock,” you cried out making him jump a little. Turning to your father, you ask him.“Could you just please examine
“Seriously? Do I have to examine him to tell you that it’s
just the flu?” He said. Swallowing profanities, you sat there shut down.“Oh. I can make
some tea. Y/N, told me-”
“No, thanks. I’m not that stupid. I know you’d drug
me,” Sherlock replied with sass.
“Ok, it’s official. You’ve got a problem,” he pointed
at the detective.
The phone rang all of a sudden. House checked the caller ID and heaved a
deep sigh. You and Sherlock exchanged gazes.
He put it on speaker but before he could answer, Wilson blurted out. “House,
did you just fake cancer to get high?”
you shouted and frowned incomprehension. “Oh, my God!” You gripped with a sense
of suffocation and panic as you buried your face in your hands.
“Is that Y/N?” he asked, his voice full of excitement.
“Piss off, I’ve got a headache,” he shouted and hung
Sherlock scoffed. “Oh, come on, cancer? That’s the
best you can do? I pretended to be dead for two years!” Mockery crept into his
“Sherlock-,” You spoke up again but were interrupted.
House leaned forwards the desk and support his arms on
it. “Pretend to be dead? Sorry, genius, not such a big deal,” he pouted
sarcastically. “Get a pathologist, pay them and scuttle for a two years. Well
done,” he mocked and gave thumbs up to him. Sherlock, confused, began mumbling
gibberish you both couldn’t understand. “How’s your relationship? Huh? How is
it going?” He looked at you and then fixed eyes on Sherlock. “I suppose you’ve
already got that when she’s angry, she gets sarcastic. When she’s annoyed,
she’s funny,” he paused and sighed. Sherlock frowned and quickly glanced at
you. Your mouth clamped shut, lips drawn in a bloodless gash while your arms
were folded. He went on, “But when she’s frustrated, she gets pissy.”
You glowered at your father as if you wanted to punch
him right in the face. “May I speak to you privately?” You finally asked. He turned
gaze to you, nodded and gestured down a corridor to the large, well-lit office.
Sherlock watched you walk out of the small yet comfy office.
Once outside, you turned to him. Eyes slightly darker
now, you trailed one of your hands to your hip. “Could you please stop
it?” you snapped.
“Oh, what? Is he going to run away?” he joked. “Would you like to get a drink?“ You didn’t said a word. “No, I’m serious. I drink, you drink. We could do it at the same time, same
table. Father and daughter, together. Again. Do you eat? We could do that too.”
“Look, I know you hate him.”
He looked down at you. “No. I’ve never said that. I
don’t hate him,” he said as he waved his hands in the air.
“Then what the hell
is wrong with you?!” you shouted gesturing with your hands. Everyone’s eyes
were now on you, your cheeks turned red.
“Good,” he said and gave you a slight nod. “You know how
to get everyone’s attention. I wonder myself if you learned that from me.” He played
with his can, looked down and then began walking towards his office again.
“Now if you excuse me I’ve got an arse in my office and I’d like to resume the
talk we were both having,” he said.
As he limped painfully into the office while leaning
all his weight on his cane, your father saw Sherlock holding a file in his
hands. House gave him a dirty look. “Would you be a love and close the blinds?
It’s too bright in here. My eyes are burning,” he said sarcastically trying not
to jump on Sherlock just because he took his patient’s file.
“It’s not lupus,” he
“What?” House jumped
and marched over to him.
said that it cannot be lupus. Here says ‘lupus’.” Sherlock showed him the file.
House smirked for a second. “It’s not lupus. Whose stupid idea was that?”
“That’s my case. Get
yours, chap,” he said and took the folder from Sherlock’s hands. The detective
off-lined momentarily, his eyes flickered between him and mid-air. “It’s the
best Cuddy gave me until now. Have you been reading?” Seriousness lurked in the
depths of his eye while rereading the file again.
You face-palmed. “Sherlock,
what are you doing? You’re not a doctor.”
“I’ve got bored,” his
voice was monotonous and there was no expression on his face. “I’m a graduate
chemist. Couldn’t resist myself,” he said and your father looked at him
surprised. A chemist and a detective, what a surprise; yet he’s not better than
me, he thought. “She’s six; tiny. She lives on chicken fingers and milk. Her
father doesn’t look like the type to read labels. He’s probably buying stuff
packed full of hormones,” he spit out.
“It must be a tumour,”
they both said simultaneously and then shared looks. That was a quite strange
“Tumour? What tumour? H-How?”
you broke out. You leaned forwards the desk and tried to reach the phone. “Dammit!
Give me the damn phone, I’m calling Cuddy,” you said angrily.
House was fast. Fast
enough to put a hand onto yours to make you leave the phone on its place. “Sorry,
darling. Watch your mouth,” he looked at you.
“Grow up!” You yelled
through gritted teeth. A vein was popping out from your neck. You finally gave up
and took the hand off the phone.
Suddenly, you all could
hear a phone buzz. It was the detective’s one, he got a text. Sherlock’s eyes
widened when he read the message and grinned in excitement. Your father looked
at him confused. “Good news. Excellent, in fact,” he said giving you a smile.
House spoke, trying to
get your attention. “Are you two getting married?” He said and gave a smug look
at your disbelief.
“Lestrade has a case. Scotland
Yard in an hour, let’s go.” He said as he began putting on his trench coat and
his cosy blue scarf.
“Are you two leaving
just like this?” He shoved his hand into his pocket and took out a bottle with
Vicodin pills. Sherlock’s blue eyes were now observing his moves.
“Are you even working?”
You gave him a sarcastic look.
House throws a Vicodin up in the air and catches it in his mouth. “I did not even
prescribe him medicine.”
“Uh, then, Cuddy will,”
you snorted a laugh. “Will you take care?”
“Just texting the
sentence ‘I’m fine’ would make enough. Would you do
that?” you asked him with a tender look.
“I’m not fine as in
fine, but fine as in ‘you don’t have to worry about me’,” he confessed.
“Well, I’m sorry but I
will always worry about you,” you muttered softly and rushed out the office so
you could catch Sherlock, who left without bothering to say goodbye.
Wilson walked along the
corridor and immediately spotted House. He walked up to him.
He pointed at him with anger. “Hey, that was not funny. I talked with Cuddy,
you owe me a huge one,” he fumed but House ignored him.“Oh. So, what are you gonna do with this one?” He asked
as he watched you and Sherlock walking down the corridor.
House kept his eyes on you two as he thought. “He
said it was not lupus,” he finally said.
Wilson began to look at him in surprise “Oh,
that’s…new,” he pursed his lips. “Anyway, that means you’re going to kick his
“Give him time, Wilson,“ he said as he put an arm around Wilson’s
shoulders and then walked away.
James, with a puzzled face, turned to him. “Sorry?” He
asked but there was no answer, as usual. “House,” he yelled with the hope that
his friend would turn around and explain him what did he mean with that. “What
are you doing?”
“Moving on,” replied House. “In the direction of my
office where I’ve got some extra pills.” Wilson chuckled.
The Devil Came to 221 B - Sherlock Holmes x Reader
Requested by @thefandomfairy567 : Can you do a sherlock x reader were the reader is dating sherlock in secret and irene adler starts flirting with sherlock and the reader gets jealous so she roasts irebe and kisses Sherlock?
Have a question? Request? - PM me or, drop by my ask box ;)
Y/n L/n and Sherlock Holmes has been together for the better half of a year. But of course, no one knows, Sherlock had asked to keep it all hushed, for his reasons. And Y/n never minded, it made the moments when they were alone even more special. She’s had her doubts, on many occasions, but Sherlock had always reassured her. And even though he could be quite a prick, he had his head in the right place.
But now, Y/n wished she had made it known, she knows she should have, but she wanted Sherlock to feel comfortable. She didn’t want to push him out of his norm, or push him away for that matter.
But would it have made a difference?
Sherlock is a handsome guy, nothing could beat those dark curls, high cheekbones and eyes you can’t really tell the color of. He was bound to turn heads, especially the head of this devil.
Y/n had been around when Irene Adler was a threat. A threat to British Royalty and her potential love life. She and Sherlock hadn’t been together at the time, but boy did she hate her. With her pretty face and perfect body and her great hair. She was sure that after that dilemma Sherlock wouldn’t have bothered to look at her once. But then she was no longer an issue, or so Y/n thought.
Y/n and Sherlock had come back from a lovely evening; dinner and a walk by the Thames. They had talked about finally letting everyone know and joking about the possible reactions of their friends. But a perfect evening turned to a nightmare when they found the Devil herself in their flat. Dressed in a form fitting black dress, dark hair falling elegantly over her exposed right shoulder, a smile on her blood red lips.
Y/n felt her stomach churn at the sound of her sultry voice, dripping with liquid seduction. Sherlock seemed surprised, at seeing her there, as she was supposed to be out of the country and out of their hairs for good. Y/n takes off her coat, eyeing Irene coldly. Sherlock was the first to speak, walking towards the woman, “What are you doing here?” he asks, Y/n couldn’t see his expression from where she stood a few steps behind him and she couldn’t guess it. “Now is that anyway to treat an old friend?” Irene asks, taking a step towards him as well. “What are you doing back in England?” Sherlock asks, unmoving and Y/n watches the scene with uncertainty. She couldn’t help but feel that burning sensation in her chest, as she smiled up her boyfriend. One that made her clench her fist and grit her teeth and made her want to throw Irene down the stairs. “You never answered my texts,” Y/n watched as Irene walked around so that she could clearly see Sherlock’s face.
“I had no reason to,” Even as Sherlock said this, Y/n saw something in Sherlock’s eyes, the way he was looking at her. Like he was seeing her for the first time all over again.
Y/n closes her eyes, and takes a breath.
“So, now that I’m here. Let’s have dinner,” Y/n eyes opens at that and she looks between the both of them, the burning in her chest only escalating. “And, perhaps, pick up where we left off.” She says suggestively, she had her hand on Sherlock’s arm, and Sherlock… she could tell he was thinking.
He wouldn’t dare consider that offer.
Y/n clears her throat loudly, reminding them both that she is actually there. Trying to remind Sherlock that she is there. She was staring at Irene though, her e/c eyes narrowed dangerously. “First of all, you’re not welcomed here.” Y/n says coldly, “And second, no. He would not like to go to dinner. I don’t appreciate you trying to work your charm on my boyfriend. Now if you don’t mind,” Y/n steps away from the open door, pointing out, “Get out." Y/n feels Irene’s blue eyes scan her form, and the woman laughs, looking back at Sherlock. "Oh, I like her, and I could see why you do, too. She’s feisty,” she smiles, “Can I keep her?”
“Get. Out.” Y/n seethes, watching as Irene chuckles, clicking her tongue against her teeth. “I’d keep a close eye on this one, Sherlock.” Those were her last words before she walks out the door, and Y/n closes it harshly behind her. She closes her eyes and takes a few breaths. “Y/n,” she hears Sherlock call, without looking at him, she walks through the kitchen, towards their shared bedroom. “Y/n.” Sherlock had a grip on her arm now, she refused to turn and look at him. She didn’t want him to see the tears that had already fallen. “Look at me, please?” Y/n turns around and looks up at him, “Why are you crying?”
“You were actually considering her offer,” Y/n says, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. Sherlock’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “You know I… ”
“–No, no. Don’t say that. Because if you say you weren’t, then you’d be lying to me.” Y/n sighs, closing her eyes for a brief moment, “It took you very long to notice,”
“Me.” Y/n smiles sadly, “And it only took a matter of seconds for you to notice Irene Adler when she walked into a room wearing absolutely nothing. I could lose you just as fast,” Y/n whispers the last part, afraid that if she spoke any louder, her greatest fear would come to life and she just be left there. “You silly girl,” Sherlock says with a chuckle, “She means nothing to me,”
Y/n feels Sherlock’s thumbs wipe at her damp cheeks, “You think I’d take one look at her and I’d leave you,” Y/n nods and Sherlock chuckles again, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her to him. “Then who would I have to get jealous when another woman even thinks to look my way?” “I wasn’t jealous.” Y/n states, smiling because she was, and there’s no point in hiding it when Sherlock already knows. Like she’s mentioned, she’s had her doubts, and right now, doubt is clouding her mind. But, Sherlock had always reassured her, and she doesn’t think that Irene Adler would ever be a problem. “Yes you were,” Sherlock says seriously, looking down at her, “And I don’t want you to worry your pretty little mind over silly things such as Irene Adler.” Y/n sniffles a bit as Sherlock tilts her head upwards and kisses her sweetly, “Okay?”