mycroft holmes and cake


Imagine that you are a great hacker of your country’s secret service and then you get to hack Mycroft.
Like, “who thE LORD HAS HACKED ME. SHERLOCK!!!!”, and then you are like *opens the file named TOP SECRET and sees a lot of cake photos and recipes* “what the actual hell-”

Sherlock x Reader: Christmas

A/N: I love Christmas and I’m feeling Christmassy so why don’t I use this to influence the characters?

You dropped off the bags bearing gifts onto the dining table. You had been out to get Christmas presents and it had taken you approximately 4 hours. You’d bought presents for Sherlock, your close friend Y/F/N, John, Mary, baby essentials for when the unborn Watson arrived which was soon, Molly, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, your family and the Holmes parents. You had made Mycroft a Christmas cake knowing his love for food. He always managed to help himself to your food everytime he came round to 221B. Luckily, London was the perfect place to buy presents. The only problem, is that Sherlock probably won’t be able to be grateful for his gifts. He never was.


Sherlock was off on a case and had managed to drag John a long with him as you had insisted that you could not possibly assist him on this case as you were Christmas shopping. He complained. A lot. He was saying how pointless Christmas was and how terrible it is. You however, argued against this and continued to refuse being his assistant. You did feel sorry for poor John though. You pulled down the ladder which lead into the loft and got the Christmas decorations. The Christmas tree was already up as you had placed that in front of the window the night before but it stood bare and a bit depressing. It was a fake tree as you did not like trees being cut down to only be used once. Also, the fake tree would last you quite a long time. Well, as long as Sherlock manages to not burn it down.


You brought all you decorations into the living room of the flat. Mrs Hudson had come in asking you for help or if you wanted tea. You declined and told her to put her feet up as she had spent all of yesterday baking and cleaning up for the majority of the morning.

“As long as you’re okay dear,” she stated smiling. Although Mrs Hudson thought the world of you and would have loved to help, you thought she was glad to finally have a rest. You rolled up the sleeves of your jumper (which was actually John’s old jumper) and tied your Y/H/C hair up in a ponytail and got to work.


You started with the Christmas tree. You put the shiny baubles on the tree along  with the white Christmas lights. There was only one thing left. The star. You’d taken the thing out of its box. It was a white star to match the lights and you’d had it since you were a child and you’d kept it because of its sentimentality and your love for Christmas. At that moment the door swung open.

“Y/N!” The figure from the door yelled. You recognised the voice. It was the voice of your boyfriend Sherlock.

“Lift me up!” You commanded.

“John is-” he stopped. “I’m sorry what?” Your arms were raised.

“You heard me! Up!” You hadn’t turned around to face him.

“Y/N! This is childish.” You predicted he had rolled his eyes but he obeyed your command and lifted you up so you could be the star on the tree. You weren’t small but the tree was too tall for you to reach with support from something or someone. You stared at the tree looking at your handiwork and smiled.

“You know Sherlock?” you said. “Most boyfriends would love to help out their girlfriends.” He mumbled something under his breath. You giggled and pecked him on his lips.

“I won’t help you with to rest of the decorating, you know that Y/N?”

“Yes I know,” you sighed. “But you could at least put up the holly wreath. The nail is in the door. All you have to do is hang it up.” You left the room and returned with the beautiful wreath. Your mother had taught you how to make great wreaths when you were growing up. You always watched her handmade them until you were old enough to learn. Sherlock took your work from you hands and left the flat. He returned two minutes later. 

“Done,” he stated. “Now, help me with this case! Come along Y/N!” He fled the flat. You groaned but knew you couldn’t argue with him so you grabbed your coat and followed. You didn’t get to finish your decorating but at least you had managed to get Sherlock to help you. Well, somewhat.

anonymous asked:

"You know you don't need to go to magic school to become a muggle police officer," the sorting hat tells Greg. "I know, but I promised my mum I'd go so I could learn spells to protect myself on the job," Greg explains, "and save people who deserve it." "So Hufflepuff or Gryffindor?" The hat asks him. "Which do you think will get me the attention of that cute boy you just put in Ravenclaw?" Greg replies. "GRYFFINDOR!" The hat shouts. "Thank you," Greg whispers.


anonymous asked:

[Leaves a whole cake for Mycroft] Indulge yourself, Mr Holmes. You deserve it.

The message, quite unlike the
work-related ( and exceptionally
demanding ) notes usually left
for him, is picked up with curious
fingers. The lid of the box is lifted
gently - almost warily, for anonymous
surprises delivered to his office are
rarely enjoyable - and its content
examined with appropriate caution.
Gradually, distrust begins to morph
into confusion, astonishment, and
lastly, tentative wonder at the unlikely
existence of a present where a threat
has been expected. 

            —There is a smile.