sherlock and his violin

Tipsy - Request

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 attention.

“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 them upstairs.

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Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight

It took twenty minutes to lull Rosie back into a sound sleep.  She was drowsy from the medicine, which helped, but she was clearly still feeling the effects of the fever, and the first couple of times John tried to lay her back down she woke back up with a miserable cry.  Honestly, John thought as he held her close and walked her around the room, she might as well be Sherlock’s daughter if her appalling timing was anything to go by.

He was torn between feeling grateful and regretful at her interruption.  He had still been able to feel Sherlock’s warmth clinging to him as he’d climbed the stairs to get her, but it had dissipated more and more every second like steam rising from the surface of a pond on a cold day, lovely and impossible to hold on to.  But maybe it was better this way; maybe they needed a few moments to cool off, to map out this new territory before they lost themselves in it.

He sighed and pressed his lips to Rosie’s head, hushing her with soothing words.  She turned her head into his shoulder, sniffling, and let her eyes close, one fist clutching at the worn collar of his t-shirt.  Music drifted up through the floorboards, the delicate notes of Sherlock’s violin wending their way through the flat.  

John smiled; he recognized the tune.  He didn’t know the name of it, but it was what Sherlock always played when Rosie couldn’t sleep.  He’d been meaning to ask if it was one of Sherlock’s own compositions because it resembled a lullaby, but it wasn’t one John had ever heard before.  The thought alone made John ache to return downstairs and finish what they’d started.

Rosie’s breathing slowly evened out, deep and steady, as Sherlock’s music drifted around them, and John gently lowered her back down into her crib; she sighed and curled up around her blanket but didn’t wake.  John held onto the edge of the crib and watched her a moment longer, strangely nervous all of a sudden.  Which was ridiculous, he thought, since he knew that the only thing awaiting him downstairs was what he’d always wanted.

But perhaps that was just it.  He and Sherlock had never been able to get to this place before; there had always been something standing between them, death and marriage and chaos keeping them apart.  And now that he was here, now that this new life was his to take…he was afraid he wouldn’t know how to keep it.

He shut his eyes, breathing in and out, attempting to calm the rapid beating of his heart.  When he was sure he wasn’t going to lose it, he pushed away from Rosie’s crib and took the stairs with slow, even steps.

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haihaihaihaihaihaihaihaihai  asked:

Regarding the soundtrack for S4, I've noticed a new motif that originated in TST, a sombre violin piece that begins at 1:13 on track 6 'Running Away', used for the scene where John reads the letter Mary wrote about running away. So naturally I assumed this was Mary's theme, until today when I heard it again in TLD (track 7 of the TLD soundtrack 'No Charges' at 0:45), but slowed down. The scene in TLD is where John hits Sherlock, so it has nothing to do with Mary. What may we deduce of this?

Hi Lovely! 

Here’s “Running Away”:

And here’s “No Charges”

What struck me first of all, on Running Away, WAS THE GODDAMNED VIOLIN. A lot of us speculate that Mary’s letter is ACTUALLY Sherlock’s letter that he wanted to write to John when he left him at TRF. Alright, stay with me here for a second: Sherlock writes his “love songs” on violin, and they’re always melancholy and ALWAYS for John (sorry, but Irene’s Theme is FOR JOHN); I think this is ACTUALLY meant to represent Sherlock’s character and his pining for John, his apology for leaving him. It’s also tightly intermingled with hints of John’s theme sped up in it as well.

Then, in No Charges, you are correct – it’s DOES bear a terribly striking resemblance to Running Away, just played an octave or semi-octave down or on a different scale. Which causes it to sound SADDER. Because now Sherlock feels like he is getting what he deserves for leaving John, doomed to a life of infinite sadness and loneliness. Technically, it’s also relating to Mary since they are discussing Mary in that scene, but yes, I do honestly believe anything played by the violin in ANY of the soundtracks are a reflection of Sherlock’s feelings.

God I actually cried writing this. I hadn’t had the chance yet to listen to S4′s soundtrack, so I’m glad I got to for this. 

If you’re interested, there’s interesting meta about the entirety of the S4 music here by @holmesianscholar!

Sherlock and The Social Dots

I keep seeing people continue to fight over Sherlock and the meaning of Eurus’ tests so I wanted to write a little thing on it.  I’m doing this with a wrist brace on and heinous fibro-turd pain, so forgive any misspellings.  

The way I have personally absorbed Sherlock and the meaning of Eurus’s tests is that it’s about Sherlock as an empty person.  He is an incomplete picture until he begins connecting the dots that are his social connections and even more importantly, his emotions.  Let’s look at his relationships one by one and I’ll explain.

Dot 1: Greg Lestrade

  Lestrade represents respect for authority.  In fact, he is the only real authority figure in the series.  He’s Sherlock’s ‘boss’ in a way.  Bosses need people they employ to be reliable, respectful, and trustworthy.  Sherlock treating his boss/mentor like crap, making fun of his intelligence and skirting around him at every chance he gets is terribly disrespectful.  Sherlock is childish and arrogant and disregards Lestrade in most cases, even refusing to acknowledge his name.  We’ve all had those bosses when we were young that we didn’t respect, so we act like spoiled brats about it even though those people probably have way more experience than we do.  They have earned their position via the rout of hard work and being reliable and respectful.  By the end of the series, however, Sherlock shows us he has resolved the issue of his respect for Lestrade by politely asking him, by name, a first for the entire series, to please take care of his brother.  Sherlock is no longer a bratty child and he has connected the social dot of respect.

Dot 2: John Watson

John represents friendship, pure and simple.  John is literally the “replacement” for Victor, Sherlock’s best friend who was killed when he was very, very little. That left Sherlock as the empty shell that we see at the start of the series.  The loss of his friend at such a young age meant that he essentially shut down the part of him that he felt could even have friends.  He rejected the idea of personal connections with other people entirely, so that he wouldn’t suffer loss again.  John, through all their trials and tragedies, has now healed that wound for Sherlock.  Even more, John as Sherlock’s friend, has helped him connect all the other dots.  He walked with him step by step to do it.  Without John’s companionship, Sherlock would still be empty.  John’s maturity helped Sherlock grow up and be the man he was supposed to be, had he not suffered such a terribly traumatic event in his youth.

One other thing John represents is family, brotherhood to be specific.  Mycroft was very cold to Sherlock in their youth, even though it’s obvious it wasn’t always that way.  In the family videos we are shown, Sherlock absolutely loves his brother.  It isn’t until later, after Victor, that he feels so alone.  It’s obvious Sherlock loved Victor just like a brother, like the brother he really needed but was taken from him.  Sherlock says John is “family” in TFP, and he means it.  It also shows just how much emotion Sherlock has.  His love is that strong. His friend was his brother, a part of his own blood, even if they wren’t born as brothers.

Dot 3: Mrs. Hudson

Mrs Hudson represents a parent’s love.  It’s clear that Sherlock has a very strained relationship with his parents. He doesn’t hate them, but he doesn’t appear to believe that they care for him.  They’re not around when he is still basically a child in a grown man’s body.  He has cut them off in his mind.  Maybe they weren’t there for him in the past so he continues to believe they’re not there for him now.  Meanwhile, Mrs. Hudson dotes on Sherlock, brings him tea and food and generally ‘takes care’ of him.  She’s kind but not a pushover.  She’s also led a life that is about as tumultuous as you can get, which I think appeals to Sherlock.  He always surrounds himself with people who aren’t “regular” people.  Mrs. Hudson holds enough action and adventure in her life that she appeals to Sherlock, and she is also loving and sweet to boot.  Mrs. Hudson is the connected parental dot for Sherlock.

Dot 4: Irene Adler

Irene Adler represents sexuality.  What’s even better is that Irene represents fluid sexuality, and more importantly, the rejection of labels.  Regardless of how everyone has interpreted this, when you get down to the simplicity of it, it is simply about rejection of boxing one’s self in.  Sherlock’s box was his own making, his image as the “higher power” that Irene pointed out.  Irene’s own box was her sexuality.  Both of these people had discovered during the episode that their boxes weren’t taped shut all the way.  There was wiggle room.  Back to the sexuality part, Irene awakened Sherlock sexually.  The entirety of ASIB was loaded with sexuality, from Sherlock being naked and looking extraordinarily dashing, to the very naked Irene appearing to completely disrupt his logical thinking power.  It’s as close to canon as one can get that Sherlock did sleep with Irene after Karachi (judging by Eurus’s reaction to his violin song for her).  Sex and intimacy was something Sherlock had very much refrained from in his life and Irene connected that dot for him.  

Dot 5: Molly Hooper

Molly represents authentic love, or “romantic entanglement” as Sherlock puts it.  Everything about Molly and Sherlock’s interaction falls in line with how everyday romantic relationships blossom.  They began just like kids, with Molly having a crush and Sherlock being a jerk to her, ignoring her, or thwarting her attempts to date other men. As they grow together, they begin to close the gap between them.  Molly earns Sherlock’s complete trust, which was monumentally difficult for her to do considering Sherlock’s fear of connecting with people too closely.  Molly loves Sherlock through his best times and his worst times, unconditionally, even though he doesn’t appear to return her feelings.  From small things we’re shown, however, it feels as if Sherlock does feel something for Molly, but he has compartmentalized it and buried it as deep as he can underground out of fear.  Eurus’s test is what forced Sherlock to dig up that box, that box he’d put his heart in and covered it underneath the earth.  Eurus forces that box open, and connects the dot of romantic love for Sherlock.

Dot 6: Mary Watson

Mary represents, I think, coming to terms with one’s self, and the different shades of the self.  She represents acceptance.  Mary connected with and accepted Sherlock instantly because they were the same.  They both came from dangerous lives, they are both morally gray, and they both have a need to be accepted for who they are, the good and the bad.  Mary was in many ways, a reflection of Sherlock’s own duality.  I think Mary made him question things about himself (no not sexually), and I think she also taught him how much he is worth as a person.  She showed him that even though you are this person you’ve constructed out of your own pain, you don’t have to live just as that person.  You can have anything you desire and still be you.  You can live with shades of yourself, and those around you who truly love you will accept you as that.  They will love you for the good that you are, and forgive you for the bad that you are.  Mary connected the dots of acceptance for Sherlock.

Dot 7: Jim Moriarty

Jim represented fear.  He represented who Sherlock would have been, had he not had some form of love and connection in his life.  He was a madman, a true sociopath.  He showed Sherlock what it really would be like if he was who he said he was. We learn very quickly, however, what Moriarty already knew.  Sherlock can never be like him because he does have a huge capacity for love.  He’s hidden it, denied it, but it is there.  Anywhere Moriarty appeared, it caused great fear in Sherlock.  Even after his death, Moriarty was in Sherlock’s mind, chained up in a padded room like a some kind of caged monster.  As much as Sherlock tried to be like him, he really feared becoming that.  He also feared that Moriarty would be the undoing of his friends and family, forever a threat to their lives.  Moriarty was an endless threat to Sherlock, an endless fear of madness and murder.  Jim connected the dot of fear, true fear, for Sherlock.

Dot 8: Mycroft Holmes

I admit this one’s tough. I feel Mycroft represents weakness.  For all the power Mycroft wields in the government, he’s very fearful of being out in the world.  He keeps people as distant as he can manage and still be a part of  functioning society.  He also did a terrible thing and locked up his little sister and lied to his family about it because he feared confronting it.  All along in the series, we see Mycroft chastise Sherlock for things like having friends, being close to people, tangling with psychopaths, etc.  Mycroft is a very soft, fearful person, which makes his nickname The Ice Man sort of ironic.  Its not that he doesn’t care, he’s just far too soft to care.  We see his softness demonstrated with Sherlock, time and time again.  He cares so much for his little brother and fears so much for him that he constantly keeps watch on him.  Mycroft also tried to help Sherlock by proxy, using John as a means to help Sherlock heal his wounds.  In the end, Sherlock comes to realize his brother isn’t a bad person, and that he loves him deeply.  In fact, he loves his little brother enough to die for him so that he won’t be left like he was as a child, without his best friend.  I think Mycroft regrets being as weak as he is, because he didn’t do more to help his siblings. It just required too much care, and he wasn’t able to fulfill that.  In the end, it is Sherlock who is the stronger of them, and he is stronger because of his connected dots.  The last dot is connect by Mycroft, and that is Sherlock understanding that he is capable of protecting the weak, that he is stronger thanks to his mind, heart, and soul now being complete.

That’s about all.  I only included the major characters here, the ones we see almost every episode.  I’ve already talked a bit about how Eurus forces Sherlock to confront trauma, so she represents that last little bit which Sherlock needs to connect everything together.  She wasn’t a dot, so much as the one who helped him see the entire picture he’d made.  Also, Rosie helps Sherlock in her own way, as Sherlock now has this capacity to care for the smallest of people: children.  Rosie is a teeny, tiny, adorable dot.

I mostly wrote this because I had wanted to for a while, but also because some people are still arguing about the I Love You scene.  They’re missing the forest in favor of the leaves.  The bigger picture is pretty clear on what everyone’s purposes were in the show, and how they affected Sherlock as a man.  To become a great man, he needed to be a complete man.  All these connected dots make him that man.  

So. After a large discussion @usny, we have decided that John would absolutely sad wank, crying in the shower while wanking over Sherlock and his unrequited feelings, BUT SHERLOCK would just cry, play the violin in his pajamas in front of the window while sporting a massive erection that everyone can plainly see, refusing to sad wank or hide it because he doesn’t notice how obvious his erection is to the people around him. The passersby outside shield their eyes. Mycroft enters the flat, takes one look and goes, “Oh for God’s sake!” before leaving unnoticed.

Truce. Sherlock/Moriarty.

Requests: 1) Could you write a Moriarty x reader x Sherlock smut?? Where they’re both so focused on pleasing the reader..😉; and 2)  Hello Lupin! Happy Sunday! Could I possibly request a threesome between the reader, Moriarty and Sherlock please? Reader is with Moriarty & he finds out she has a thing for Sherlock & he sets it up and it’s just smutty goodness & thank you so much in advance if you write this. 

Triggers: Smut. Threesome.

Word Count: 2335

Enjoy ;D

Originally posted by wherethewisheslive

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John wakes and feels tears on his face. His heart is pounding but he doesn’t quite know why- he can’t remember the specifics of the nightmare, he can only remember the vague feeling of running, of danger coming and him being unable to stop it.

He briefly wonders if this is the only reason he has woken but then he hears Rosie’s cries through the baby monitor. Sherlock stirs next to him and makes a deep “Hmmm?” noise, hovering between deep sleep and the beginnings of waking up.

John quickly reaches across and turns the baby monitor off. It’s not fair, it’s not fair on Sherlock.

He slips out of bed and goes to her. She is red faced with crying, little hands making little stubborn fists. John picks her up and she squirms. “Come on, Rosie, it’s okay,” he whispers, but he knows he doesn’t sound at all convincing. Pathetic.

She’s still hiccuping with the force of her tiny cries. John doesn’t know what to do. He carries her through to the living room, stands in front of his arm chair and tries to rock her.

But he knows nothing he’s doing is working- he can’t even soothe her with words now, his breathing is still all shallow and wrong, and she’s picking up on that, she can feel his chest heaving and John knows, God he knows, he’s just making everything worse, like al-

He feels Rosie being taken out of his arms. John inhales and gasps before noticing- it’s Sherlock, of course, standing in front of him. Beautiful, warm and safe and sleepy Sherlock.

“John,” Sherlock says. He tucks Rosie into his exposed shoulder, cupping her head gently with his hand. “John, it’s alright. Sit down.”

John feels like he can’t breathe. “John,” Sherlock repeats. His voice is soft and low and so incredibly thoughtful. “You can sit down, it’s okay.”

John doesn’t so much as sit down as collapse into his chair. Sherlock walks away with Rosie and John can hear him soothing her in the distance: “Hush, now. I know, I know, enough of that now, my darling girl. Hush. Hush. Ssh…”

John keeps breathing. He doesn’t know how much time passes, he’s only aware of Sherlock suddenly crouching down in front of him.

“That’s her drifted off again,” Sherlock says. His smile is so wide and genuine that the guilt pierces John all the more.

“Christ, I’m-Sher-I’m sorry. I just seem to m-make things worse.”

Sherlock shakes his head. Patient. God, how John loves him. “You know that’s not true, John. Besides-” He starts to grin a little- “- you got her the last two nights before I even woke up. It was my turn.”

John tries to laugh, but his breathing still feels all strange and wrong. Sherlock stands up. “Do you want- I could make some tea? Or water?”

“N-no. It’s okay, Sherlock, you go back to bed. I’ll just sit here, I’ll be fine in a minute.”

John closes his eyes, breathes in and out. He hears Sherlock’s footsteps fade away. Good. The man needs his rest.

But then, then come the oh so quiet notes of Sherlock’s violin. John opens his eyes and smiles. Sherlock is standing by the window, looking out into the night. He plays slowly and carefully, and John focusses on his breathing, relishing it becoming deep and even.

By the time John realises exactly what Sherlock is doing, he’s almost nodded off. The notes are soft and so slow, and John allows himself to follow them and…and he doesn’t know when his eyes were getting too heavy, but…and have they closed?…yes, he supposes they must…and his head, he can feel it moving forward down to his chest, and that’s fine…that’s…

A hand on his knee. John’s head slowly comes back up, his eyes open just enough to see Sherlock looking at him with the fondest smile.

“Come on, my good man, to bed with you,” he says.

John nods. It sounds like the best idea Sherlock’s ever had. He follows Sherlock as if wallowing through a heavy cloud- not inconvenient, it’s just everything seems so…slow…

He feels sleep pulling, he’s ready to be pulled under. He turns to Sherlock, half surprised that they’re back in bed. “Mmm, thanks Sher-” He yawns and Sherlock pulls him close, and John can’t keep his eyes open any longer. “Love you,” he manages.

He feels Sherlock press a kiss to his hair. He’s sinking down, down into the bed, his body so wonderfully heavy…

“Hush, now,” Sherlock says. “I love you, too.”

And John finally lets himself sleep.

Do You Miss Me (at all) 2 (Sherlock x reader)

A/N: HERE IT IS SORRY IT TOOK LONGER THAN SUPPOSED TO BUT HEY HERE IT IS!! Hope the gif shows (other vice I’ll fix it next week) Here, for you who asked @foureyedsiopao @presidentmaggie @emilypkuzu @kissed-by-white-wolf @awkwardlyfiona @eliselulu23 @libsybum @silvermisst @fandomlover03 @kpafb-love (sorry for the tags, I took awfully long to fix them)

Chapter one

You were standing by the window, the view led to the quiet street. Only a car or two passing by in every fifteen minutes. It was unordinary for your corners to be so peaceful. You had just come from the shower, your hair still moist but not dripping water over your shoulders. You had a robe on, the right side sliding down your shoulder and you didn’t bother to pull it up. You weren’t paying close attention to the traffic or the people passing by your house with their umbrellas hold high above their heads, shielding from getting wet.

The day had been bright, the sky cloudy, hiding the sun that tried peaking through the fog. It had rained softly, not being able to wet you completely as you came home from work/school that day. You had suspected that morning that you probably shouldn’t go by bike, but did it anyways.

The second you got home you went and took a shower for your hair had tangled in the wind and rain as you rode home as fast as you could. You had got sweaty and had to change clothes, putting the ones you had worn earlier that day to the laundry. You didn’t feel like dressing up, knowing you only wanted to stay home, make something to eat and sit by the window, watching tv or going through internet on your computer or phone.

It had been four days now since you had seen Sherlock and that day was the one when you broke up with him. Or you had broken up. What ever. The memory still hurt you, your chest tightening as your mind went through the events and you shook your head, retreating from the window. You went and sat on a chair next to your kitchen table, your hands on the table, your fingers intwined. You found yourself wondering had you done the right decision. Had you ever even been meant to date the great detective in the first place?

You sighed. Your fingers fiddling over each other and you let your gaze fall on the table. Your phone was there, close to your reach but you fought against checking had you got any new messages or missed calls. You had kept it mute as you knew John and Mrs. Hudson would at least be the ones calling after you, but you weren’t on the mood to talk with them. You had witnessed Sherlock trying to reach you twice the day after your break up, but you weren’t ready to call back to him. You figured he had already given up, or wanting to just apologize for waisting your time, but leave it be.

You got up to check your fridge. You had nothing particular on mind what you would cook and to be fair, your fridge was usually empty and narrowed your possibilities of making anything too fancy. Your fingers wrap around the handle and open the door to witness the already familiar sight. There was a half empty ketchup bottle, butter, potatoes and some orange juice. You would have to go shopping. You slammed the door of your fridge and groaned in frustration to the thought of leaving your apartment. You had hoped you could just spend the rest of the day,

You stomped to your closet, muttering and growling at the thought of having to get dressed. You didn’t dry your hair, only combing it so it wouldn’t be all over your face and got dressed. You decided to put something comfy yet descent on so you wouldn’t look as bad as you felt. You already had your hair looking like a bird’s nest, or so you thought, and wearing a hoody and sweat pants would only make you stand out from the crowd. And not in a good way. A pair of black leggings, a long shirt that reminded more of a dress and a warm, long coat. You had decided to go by foot, probably just get some take away, not in the mood of cooking, taking with you your wallet and phone that you shoved in your coat’s pockets. You didn’t bother carrying umbrella with you. You wouldn’t go too far from your house. Just in case you still ended up putting water proofed shoes on and wearing a scarf you could pull over your head if it’d start raining cats and dogs. On your way to the closest coffee shop you started longing for something else. You didn’t feel like going to buy a coffee, bread and some muffins from the near coffee shop so you let yourself pass the boutique, walking further away from your comfort zone. Your home street. 

Sherlock stood close to the window with the view of the street in his living room. He had stood there for fifteen minutes now in silence, but it wasn’t anything he’d never done before. Sherlock had John as his company and even if the both men were there in silence it wasn’t bothering them. Quite the opposite actually, John enjoyed peacefully sitting on his chair as Sherlock kept to himself, doing and thinking what ever he would. John had, for Sherlock’s sake, stopped talking about you after the break which he had heard of. John had been informed of this by Mrs. Hudson and just trying to get a confirmation Sherlock was hard enough but he didn’t stop there. He kept pestering him by telling him why he should call you back, try to make up with you and questioning him why you had broken up in the first place to which he answered that it had been hundred precent your idea. To this John had admitted that maybe you had done them both a favor as it was clear that Sherlock wasn’t up to it. To this Sherlock reacted in a way which was both childish and stupid. He stopped talking. 

It had taken Sherlock only a day to get over what John had said to him, but still he kept quiet, only greeting John and answering if he asked anything. John on the other hand had come up with a solution of not bringing your name up in their two to three lined conversations. He knew he had in some level hurt Sherlock by what he had said and also knew he wouldn’t be up to discuss of you with him. For now at least. 

Sherlock let his eyes wander over the street. His hawk like eyes studying every passing by human while he deduced them from afar. He kept himself occupied all the while until his eyes fixed up on a person, person he knew. It had been too long for his liking since the last time you had been near and now that he finally saw you again he couldn’t stop himself from admiring how you looked. Of course he saw your wet hair, but it was nothing. You looked stunning by just being there. By only existing it was enough to make Sherlock’s mind race and there he understood, the realization hitting him like a lightning. He missed you more than he had known or let out. He needed to talk to you. Sherlock’s eyes had met yours. You had stopped to gaze up at his window, curiosity taking over you as you had tried not to make any eye contact with the house of your ex boyfriend’s. Your eyes went wide as you spotted Sherlock on the window, staring back at you intensively. He eyed you in a way that made you feel uncomfortable. It was too intense and it made you feel vulnerable. 

“John, didn’t you say you were going for a walk today?” Sherlock didn’t let his eyes leave your form. You had been walking slowly enough for him to set everything ready. John lifted his eyes from the news paper he had been reading. His eyebrows furrowed he looked at his best friend’s back that was facing him. “No. I never said that.” He folded the paper and put it on the table next to him. “Oh right. You were supposed to go buy groceries.” Sherlock tried to act as if he really had heard John say that, but really he was just letting out the lines that appeared in his head. “Now off you go, take my card with you. It’s on the table.” He hurried his shorter friend and took his violin to his hands and before John could even think of protesting he started playing. 

Muttering, John got up, took the card and went to get his jacket. He was about to head down the stairs when Sherlock stopped playing to say, “Oh and no need to hurry back. Take your time. Something like an hour?” It sounded more of a question than an order. It wasn’t a question for John though, but to Sherlock himself. “A one hour?” John snapped. “Right. Three is more like it.” Sherlock nodded to himself, lifting the violin to his shoulder again and said, “Thank you, John.” and started playing again. 

John left the apartment in rage, thinking of being away over three hours just to bully Sherlock even if he wouldn’t even notice him being gone. When Sherlock heard the door slam close he put the violin away, his eyes still on you. 

You had been trying to avoid his stare for awhile, but not managing to keep walking. You were thinking of backing away, going back home and hiding under your blanket. You knew you were stronger than this, but the demanding state he had given you made you feel awkward and, for some reason, hurt. 

You stood on the other side of the street, opposite of the 221B apartment when you saw John exit the building you had been avoiding by your eyes. He looked pissed. As if he had fought with Sherlock and you were sure he had. He pulled at his coat, a frown on his face as he took the steps down from the doorway. He looked around and when his eyes met yours he smiled warmly. You couldn’t but smile back. A laugh that you couldn’t hear left John’s mouth and he shook his head. Now he understood why Sherlock had been so determined by kicking him out. 

John approached you on the other side of the street, he hugged you, still smiling. “Hello, (Y/n).” He said while his eyes took in your form. “Hey.” You said almost shyly. “So, what brings you here?” He supported his weight on his right leg, crossing his arms as he grinned at you, suggestively. “Just shopping. Thought of getting some fast food.” You kept the conversation clear, but couldn’t help it from getting awkward and making yourself seem distant. You hadn’t seen John in awhile too, and ignoring his calls made you feel guilty. The smile on John’s face vanished. “You’re not here to see Sherlock?” The sound of his name made your heart skip a beat. “No.” You said and looked away. 

Your eyes wondered to the window, taking a glance of Sherlock who impatiently tapped his foot to the floor, still staring at you. “You need to talk to him.” John tried to convince you, he sounded a bit desperate. “I’m not ready to see him.” You almost angrily answered, looking at John under your eyelashes. The sudden change of your tone made John unfold his crossed arms from over his chest. He looked at you with soft eyes. “He wants to talk to you, (Y/n). He kicked me out just so he could be alone with you.” He told you. You hesitated. You didn’t think you would be ready to face Sherlock or did you want to. Then again you knew you would need to if Sherlock had decided it to be necessary. 

“I don’t know, John.” You whispered. You looked away, your mind was drifting back to the day you left Sherlock, but before you got too deep your phone vibrated in your pocket. 



Your eyes widened at the rude text. You looked up to see Sherlock stuffing his phone to his pocket and his eyes to fix on you. “Then again I don’t think I have a choice.” You said and showed the message to John. “Guess you better hurry.” John said and waved you goodbye. He wished you luck and you knew you would need it. You see John walking to the direction where you came from, with a sigh you gaze up again and see Sherlock with an arched eyebrow. You wanted to snap at him and yell, “Alright I’m coming!!” But you would only embarrass yourself since he couldn’t hear you, so you settle for glaring at him and stomping inside the house. 

You get up the stairs, slightly surprised by Mrs. Hudson not peeking from her apartment to see who it is. She was probably busy or out. Sherlock was still standing by the window, but instead his eyes fixed out side he was turned towards you. His hands in his pockets, an unreadable expression on his face. “Took you long enough.” He ended up saying, his eyes fixed on the floor. 

You wanted to hit him or facepalm yourself. “That’s what the staring was about?” You groaned. “You tried to invite me in? I can’t read your mind, Sherlock.” You two stood in silence until Sherlock made eye contact with you. He cleared his throat to get your attention which he had lost for a second. “So how are you?” You couldn’t help but feel like being slapped in the face. “I’m good…” You answered, not sure was it a lie or a truth. “So, did you solve the case?” 

“I didn’t invite you in so we could discuss about the case.” Sherlock groaned. 

“You might not but ever considered I want to know?” You argued with a strong but calm tone. “Did you solve it?” You asked. 

“Yes, I did.” Sherlock muttered which made you curious. You eyed him playfully, him giving you a glare, hinting ‘Don’t you dare’ but it only encouraged you. So you asked, “How?” Sherlock tried to find the wall next to the fire place more interesting than you and your words, but you waited patiently until he sighed, “I waited for another murder…” “Would you look at that.” You chuckled. “Don’t say ‘I told you so’!” Sherlock pointed at you. “I wasn’t going to.” You put your hands on your hips. “It’s just nice to hear you’ve solved it. It was really getting to you.” Your voice was soft and shy by now. 

“Why are you always so understanding?” Sherlock sighed. “Sometimes it’s a blessing sometimes it’s a curse. I tend to follow decisions I make that only please others.” You had to admit, it pained you. Maybe you were sometimes just so shy to tell how you felt and what you wanted? Or you didn’t think you deserved to be heard? “You ever do anything for yourself?” You didn’t know the answer to that. Then you spotted an expression on Sherlock’s face, he looked at you, worried and bothered. The next question made your heart ache. “Is that why you broke up with me?” 

“It seemed to be the best solution.” You looked away. You were about to start crying and didn’t want him to see. You couldn’t break now. “Just tell me why I’m here. You invited me.” You stressed the word invited. “You didn’t answer my calls.” Sherlock said. “I wasn’t ready.” You admitted. In shame you looked away. “And if you had something important you could’ve texted.” “Would’ve you answered?” He asked and took a step closer. “No. I wouldn’t.” He knew you would say that. 

“Listen, I’m…” Sherlock’s voice died down. He was now right in front of you. You could touch him if you just moved your hands that had fallen to your sides. “You don’t have to say anything, Sherlock. It just wasn’t meant to be.” You were struggling to keep the tears in. “I don’t believe that.” And with that said he leaned closer, his hands on both sides of your neck, holding you gently. He kissed you, and you didn’t pull away. You let his soft lips collide with yours, your hands reaching for the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. 

When Sherlock pulled away he kept close, his forehead touching yours. His eyes were looking at you in a gentle way, he was still holding you. “I missed you, (Y/n).” He whispered. “And I think I need to apologize for what I said and I understand why you left, but if there is any chance for us to try again-” 

“I missed you too, Sherlock.” You smile and lean in to kiss him, this time more passionately. “How long is John going to be away?” 

Sherlock looked away, as if he was trying to remember but shrugged, “I might have told him to be away for three hours.” You hit Sherlock playfully on the shoulder. He laughs and pulls you to him, his hands wrapped around your waist. “You thought convincing me would take three hours?” You giggle, your nose touching Sherlock’s who was about to kiss you again. “No, but what happens next may take a bit longer.” He smirks wickedly. You want to slap him again but he decides to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself closer to him. (I hope this doesn’t suck!!!)

Secrets - Sherlock Version

Requested by anon:  Any Pairing: Reader x ?. I’ve got an idea where (Y/N) is hiding something and acting strange but when her boyfriend questions her about it, she avoids answering. This continues until he accuses her of cheating and during their argument she blurts out she’s pregnant (or something).

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Word count: 1,006

Warnings: None.

A/N: I was so close to just 1000 words…


Originally posted by cumbersnitchflabberbatch

Sherlock was staring at the window, violin in hand, immerse in his own thoughts. He was no longer playing, and the movement in him was minimal. Anyone with poor view would’ve thought he was some kind of statue.

“Sherlock.” (Y/N) spoke as she entered the flat. Sherlock looked at her intensely, noticing the details one by one.

“Grocery shopping, rainy, tired, hormonal, new haircut, less makeup, back pain, swollen feet, new manicure, cheerful, keeping a secret.” Sherlock’s mind spoke.

“Thank you, mister for helping your girlfriend to carry the bags all the way up.” (Y/N) spoke exaggerating her tone. Sherlock chuckled slightly and left the violin before walking over to her and hugged her by the back.

“Sorry.” He whispered in her ear and left a kiss on her temple.

“I can’t ever stay mad at you, can I?” She inquired playfully. Sherlock chuckled once more and breathed in her scent like she was used to, except this time he smelled something out of place.

Anaesthetics, but she didn’t have an appointment at the dentist. Bit of male cologne. Which man does she know that can smell like so? John, but he was with Mary all day long, perhaps that doctor friend of her.” Sherlock thought.

“How’s Pete?” Sherlock inquired, pulling away to help her get everything in place.

“He’s good, planning a holiday trip with his kids, why?” (Y/N) replied listlessly. She was used to Sherlock pulling tricks like so, and although it still impressed her she liked to act oblivious just to put him off.

“Is he married?” Sherlock continued, ignoring her question.

“Yes, twenty years together.” (Y/N) answered.

“It would be a shame if he cheated her after so long.” Sherlock commented.

“Thankfully, Pete is a good man.” (Y/N) said.

Sherlock nodded and continued to observe her from time to time, when she wasn’t aware of it.

She bought loads of snacks this time. Extra comfort food and too much fruit. Oven pizza, doughnuts, cake.” Sherlock listed on his mind, “Strange walk, maybe something is keeping her from moving properly but… Please don’t think of that, focus, what else do you see? Baggy clothing, perhaps from the plus-size shop. It’s too big for her, why would she buy such thing?”

“Sherlock.” She called, “You are staring.”

“My apologies.” He said, “You look lovely today, that shirt looks good on you.”

“Thank you, dear.” She smiled and walked closer to him to leave a kiss on his plump lips.

She was wearing lipstick this morning, but there isn’t any now. Just a sly glimpse of what there used to be. Her breath… She was chewing mint gum on her way here, why would she want to hide her breath? Maybe because Pete smokes often. I have shared a cigar with him before.”

“Stop trying to deduce my day, please.” She begged softly as she pulled away.

“I’m not…” She lifted an eyebrow knowingly, “Apologies.”

“What’s wrong?” She asked softly.

“I want you to be very honest with me, please.” He begged, she nodded, “Why did you go to Pete’s office this morning?”

“How do you know I went to his office this morning?” Sherlock sighed heavily.

“Do you really need me to explain?” She nodded, “You smell like hospital and his cologne is impregnated in your clothes, but it’s not a smell strong enough to have been recent which means you went this morning, before going to buy groceries. What I don’t know is why?”

“Think, detective.” She dared, “Why would a woman go visit a gynaecologist?”

“Check-up, but your last appointment was three months ago and a healthy woman like you should go every six months.” Sherlock replied quickly.

“Why would a woman like me break a pattern like that?” (Y/N) continued.

“I really don’t want to think of it.” Sherlock confessed, looking down at the floor.

“What do you mean?”

“You know how many women fall for their doctors?” Sherlock inquired raspily without looking up. (Y/N) took her time to process his words, and once she did she let out a loud laugh.

“You really don’t trust me, do you?” She inquired half angry, half mockingly. “I’m not cheating on you, Sherlock.”

“Then why would you break the pattern?” Sherlock asked, he was exasperated.

“Maybe because something in my life broke my own pattern.” (Y/N) replied.

“Like what?” Sherlock begged, but before she could reply her phone rang.

“Deduce it, Mr. Holmes.” She ordered, and took the call, walking outside.

Think. What patterns does she have? Eating patterns… No, he’s a gynaecologist. Which feminine patterns does she have? No infections, that’s for sure. No trouble with her hormones, at least not important ones. When was the last time she ovulated?” Sherlock rushed to their room, digging on her drawers to find the little note pad where she wrote down her dates. “Nothing for two and a half months.”

Sherlock ran back to the kitchen at the same time (Y/N) returned from her phone call.

“Is it true?” He asked.

“True that I’m cheating or…?” Sherlock shook his head, walking closer to grab her by the shoulders.

“There are only a few reasons why a woman’s menstrual cycle would suddenly stop, and you haven’t taken any pill to bring it back and… There’s only one option left.” He stuttered and (Y/N) noticed his trembling body. She was holding her because he needed support or else he’d fall to the floor.

“Just ask, solve the mystery.” (Y/N) encouraged.

“You’re pregnant.” He whispered.

“I wanted to let you know through some kind of game… You know, like the ones we do to look for clues all over the flat…” She confessed shyly.

“I did clued for looks.” Sherlock stuttered and (Y/N) giggled softly.

“Are you okay with… this? Because I’m keeping the baby.” She asked.

“Of course I am.” Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows, “And of course you’re keeping it… We are keeping it.” Before she could say anything else Sherlock kissed her hesitantly. He was scared but he was also excited for the upcoming gift.

Keep reading

quiet nights in at baker street, rain tapping against the windows and lulling the sitting room into a soft sleepy hideway. john taps away at his laptop while sherlock plays the violin, the clack of keys in a comforting soft staccato against the long fluid notes of songs john recognises but can’t name. to him they sound like rainy day song and thinking many thoughts song and i think he’s in love with me song. when sherlock finishes, drawing out one last long, low note that sounds like we are two hands and two hearts and one soul in two halves and i am happy you are here, john closes his laptop, stands, cups sherlock’s jaw in one hand and his elbow in the other, bringing him close, and kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him, silhouetted in the window as the rain falls on. 

When Sherlock is feeling down, he’ll play his violin for hours, attacking it with the bow, his fingers moving so fast they’re only a blur. 

And then after awhile, he’ll abruptly stop, returning the instrument to its place on his desk, and flop back onto the couch with a sigh. 

John knows these signs very well. He’ll enter the room and pad quietly over to where Sherlock lies, bend down, and look at him upside down, directly in the eyes, until Sherlock can’t stop himself from chuckling a little.

Then John will gently lift his detective into a sitting position, pat him on the shoulder, bring in some tea from the kitchen for the two of them, and spread a fuzzy blanket over him. He’ll place the tea on the coffee table and sit next to Sherlock on the couch, raising the blanket for a second so he can slip under it, and then he’ll kiss Sherlock softly on the nose and wrap an arm around him.

Sherlock will reach under the blanket for John’s other hand and take it, intertwining their fingers. He’ll lean his head on John’s shoulder and close his eyes, the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

They’ll sit like that for a long time.

I’m so sorry for the lack of updates. I just moved back to my hometown, which was… weird. I was not busy. Actually I was anything but. The problem is I haven’t adjust to the lifestyle here and couldn’t find it in me to post anything.
But here it is. Sherlock and his violin in 221B. I found these wonderful screenshots somewhere on tumblr (my gratitude to anyone who did it, I’m so sorry for not remembering). I’m also trying to paint more loosely and improve my colors a bit more.
There will be more SH fanarts to come, maybe Molly next? :“)

Title: Sleep With Me

Pairing: Sherlolly

Word Count: 1880

Rating: K/G

Summary: When Sherlock offered the sleepy pathologist his bed he really hadn’t intended on joining her…

[On Ao3] [On FF.Net]

An amused smirk twitched at one corner of Sherlock’s lips as he watched Molly fail in her attempt to stifle a yawn.

“Why don’t you just stop fighting it and go to sleep?”

“’m fine,” Molly mumbled around another uncontainable yawn.

“I’m not Rosie, you know,” Sherlock snapped mildly. “I’m not an infant. You do not have to keep an eye on me every second.”

Molly caught her bottom lip between her teeth, either in contemplation or to bite back a retort, Sherlock wasn’t entirely sure.

“Well, maybe… Maybe I will just kip here for a bit.” She put aside the book she had been reading and stretched out on the sofa, wriggling around for a moment to find a comfortable position.

“You can use my bed,” Sherlock offered, distractedly plucking at the strings of his violin. “You’ll be much more comfortable.”

Molly’s head popped up, her eyes slightly wide. “W-what about you?”

Sherlock huffed. “I highly doubt I will be doing any sleeping tonight.”

“Oh. Then maybe I should stay up and keep you company,” Molly purposed, looking unsure about leaving Sherlock on his own even if she would just be in the next room.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sherlock dismissed. “There’s no need for the both of us to lose sleep. Especially when you’re tired and I’m not. I’ll be fine.”

Molly sighed. “Okay. If you’re certain.”

“I am.”

Molly hauled herself up from the sofa and crossed the room. “Don’t hesitate to wake me if you feel any urges.”

Sherlock arched his brows at her.

“Oh you know what I mean,” Molly huffed, rolling her eyes, trying to appear exasperated, but the touch of pink tinting the tips of her ears gave away her embarrassment.

Sherlock smiled. “Yes. Will do, Molly. Goodnight.”

Molly sighed. “Night, Sherlock.”

Keep reading



Walking in on Sherlock composing a piece on his violin and he’s so zoned into it that he doesn’t realise you’re there.

••• Requested by Anon •••

Music drifted down the stairs of the apartment with little effort; the sound of the violin soft and gentle as it swirled through your head. It made you want to dance and sing, despite its sorrowful tune.

You practically flew up the stairs of John and Sherlock’s shared apartment, exchanging a cheerful grin with Mrs Hudson on your way up before entering the small living room. Upon entry, you found Sherlock staring out the open window as he played on.

To your left you spotted John Watson, pressing his pointer finger to his lips as to tell you to keep quiet. Nodding in understanding, you crept over to where he stood admiring Sherlock from the kitchen.

“I haven’t heard him play in ages.” John murmured. 

“Same here.”