sherlock bbc au

An Saol Idir Linn

An Saol Iidr Linn playlist-

Chapter 7

“I hate this show” you whined sitting perched up on the couch on one lazy Saturday afternoon with Greg. He was mindlessly flicking through the channels trying to pick something for you both to watch.

Two months had passed since you showed your true self to him and since then you and Greg had got on like a house on fire. Greg would sometimes forget that you were dead but it was purely unintentional, he got on so well with you that you, in his eyes, were very much alive.

He glanced over and let out a sigh “You pick then” he told you while handing over the remote just as the doorbell rang and he went to get it. Greg’s eyes widened when he opened the door and found Molly on the other side with a exquisitely wrapped box and a balloon.

“Uh….hey?” Greg raised a confused brow at Molly and her eyebrows scrunched a little before letting out a groan of realisation.

“She didn’t tell you did she?”

“Tell me what?” Greg asked before looking up to the balloon with the words ‘happy birthday’ on it “She didn’t, God I didn’t get her anything!”.

Molly waved her hand and walked in “I’m not surprised she didn’t tell you I had to figure it out myself from the death certificate last year,” Molly walked into where you were sitting still flicking through the channels “Happy birthday Y/N!”

You let out an embarrassed groan and put your head into your hands with a huge grin on your face “Molly! I told you I don’t age!” You giggled and Molly rolled her eyes, placing down her present and walking over to give you a hug. Greg watched the two of you with a small smile before making his way over just as you broke away from the hug.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Greg asked placing his hands on your shoulders as you shrugged.

“I don’t really celebrate it anymore, I don’t age or anything but Molly insists” you sent your friend a smile. Molly grabbed your present and handed it to you. You thanked her and unwrapped the elaborately decorated gift “Molly…” You trailed off, lost for words “It’s beautiful” you smiled and took out the photo frame that had a photo of you both and a necklace attached to it with the words 'best friends’ inscribed on it with another photo of the two of you inside. “Thank you” you extended an arm out for a hug and she happily accepted before helping you to put on the necklace.

“Sorry I’ve got to dash,” she glanced at her watch “There’s some reports that need to be finished off but I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Course! I’ll be over around noon” you gave her one final hug and a kiss on the cheek as a thanks before she left.

You felt Greg’s hand grab onto your waist, your throat involuntary hitched at the sudden contact “You should have told me” he whispered in your ear and you turned your head back slightly to look at him only to feel a whirlwind of emotions from being to close to his face.

“I didn’t think it mattered…” You quietly trailed off, swallowing hard and trying your best not to break eye contact to look at his lips.

“You matter” Greg smiled and leaned forward to press a kiss on your ice cold cheek “Happy birthday Y/N”. Your eyes closed from the contact and a tinge of warmth spread through your body from the contact.

That was until you pretty much ruined the mood.

You rushed to the sink and began to cough violently, coughing up some of the water that resided inside you. Greg was in a state of panic but this was normality for you. From time to time you’d have a coughing fit and cough up the murky bath water.

“It’s okay,” you reassured Greg as he soothingly rubbed your back. You stood up straight with a trembling smile “Happens all the time” you sighed out. Greg was gripping onto your upper arms, gently rubbing them with his thumbs. His face was full of concern and his eyes connected with yours. You both stayed silent for a moment before you opened your mouth to whisper out “I want to show you something”.

Greg followed you as you made your way to a small cupboard that stored some of Greg’s jackets “I’ll need a boost,” you asked him as you stood under the hatch that lead up to the attic “Just throw me up, I’ll fade away and go through,” you smiled and Greg smirked, he was still adapting to this. He gripped onto your waist and you felt a new warmth spread through your body. He tossed you up and you disappeared, slipping right through the ceiling to the attic where you landed with a thump.

“You okay?” Greg asked with a hint of worry laced in his voice.

“Yeah!” You called back and Greg let out a huff as you dusted yourself off and grabbed what you were looking for. You stood by the hatch for the attic and opened it finding Greg looking up with a smile “If you have more stuff you can put it up here now, there’s a few of my things up here in the back corner,” you told him before jumping through the opening, Greg made an attempt to catch you but it didn’t end well.

You landed on top of him and pained groaned echoed around the two of you before light laugher replaced those groans. Only then did you realise how intimate this moment was. You quickly got off of him and nervously cleared your throat. Helping him up you both made your way to the kitchen dining table to show him the album you had under your arm. “What’s this?” He asked with a small smile.

“My life…” You whispered, keeping your eyes fixated on the leather bound photo album. Greg’s smile fell from his face as his eyes shifted from looking at you to looking at the album. You sighed with a smile and opened the album “This is me with my parents,” you looked up at Greg who’s focus was on the photo “That’s at our old house, we moved about two years after that photo was taken. I was probably about four or five at the time”

“You look adorable in your pyjamas” he laughed and you playfully rolled your eyes, nudging his arm slightly with your elbow.

“Stop!” You whined with a grin and flicked over the page to a photo of you at ten years old standing on the top of giants causeway with a bright blue jacket and garish yellow wellies.

“Where was that?” Greg asked as a large grin gashed your face.

“The giants causeway in Ireland. God, I used to love going over there with my mum and dad” Greg watched as your face brightened at the memories “I hope I can go back someday”.

The sharp snapping noise of the photo album shutting made him jump, breaking his train of thought “You should get some sleep Greg, you look exhausted” you stood up with Greg and he placed his hands on your shoulders, bringing you forward to press a kiss against your freezing cold forehead.

“Happy birthday Y/N”

Tags: (let me know if you’d like to be tagged/untagged!)

@adorablebadger @musingsofophelia @damnitman-jamlocked-inthetardis @daydreamer0307 @emeliethetimelady @cutie1365 @princesspeach212 @imayjustbejamesmoriarty @holmes-maev @rikkachloechan @lock-sherlock @katie27hp @wcsteland @itsintothegreatbeyondstuff @daynaan

Imagine your OTP
  • Person A: Kill them with kindness.
  • Person B: No.
  • Person A: Kill them with kindness.
  • Person B: Stop.
  • Person A: Kill them with-

Omg guys. But soulmate au where you have the first words your soulmate ever speaks to you on your skin but you don’t have anything on your wrist and so you live your whole life with this feeling of being alone but then one day you meet someone and you say something really stupid and they just stand there in shock but they can’t explain why and you assume it’s because what you said offended them and you start to apologize but they shake their head and scramble to lift the sleeve of their shirt and there on their wrist are the words you just fucking said and you start to cry because you have to tell this person that it must be a coincidence because you don’t have a soulmate and you lift up your sleeve to show that there’s nothing there and they grab your face and smile so big and reach into their pocket to pull out a note they must have carried around for a long time because society demands because there on that paper are the words “I’m mute”

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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Curious Man - (Sherlock x reader)

Imagine: Meeting Sherlock at a store while he waits for Watson to buy a gift for Mary.

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Word count: 579

Warnings: None.

A/N: I wanted to write this for the longest time and now I finally did it. It’s just a small drabble because I’m still not in shape to write a proper Sherlock fanfiction. Yet, I hope you like it.

Originally posted by dracomafloy

“Beautiful choice, very fashionable if I may say so.” A male voice interrupted you.

You were doing your early Christmas shopping, a tradition you had started the first year you moved out of your parent’s house. Basically, you would buy all kinds of gifts for yourself before the prices got up.

“Thank you, sir.” You replied with a smile as you looked to the man that had spoken.

He was tall and slim, dark locks framing his pale face and deep blue eyes analysing you.

“I’m sure your fiancé will like it.” He continued. You furrowed your eyebrows.

It was common for people to inquire that you had a boyfriend, but this man was being too specific.

“I’m afraid I don’t have a fiancé.” You giggled. The man let out a breathy sigh.

“Then why are you wearing an engagement ring?” He asked. You looked down to your hand, which in fact had an engagement ring. “Don’t be ashamed of him. It is in fact an old engagement ring, probably his mother’s ring. I can see that it looks quite unused in spite of the age of it, so I’m guessing you got recently engaged.”

You smiled in amusement. The man seemed to be a pretty smart guy, yet he was wrong.

“I’ve told you: I’m not engaged.” The blue-eyed man furrowed, not willing to believe your words.

“Come again?” He asked.

“I said: you’re wrong.” You replied. The man looked too dumbfounded not to be funny, and hell, it took you an eye and half of the other not to laugh at his face.

“How can I be wrong? It is an engagement ring, and it is on your hand in the right finger. It’s old, and yet it looks clean because you haven’t worn it much.” You nodded.

“It is in fact an engagement ring, and I am in fact wearing it correctly. It is old, true, but it looks clean because I only wear it on occasions.” The man was truly messed up.

“So you only wear it on occasions because…” Before he could make a suggestion of you being a cheater to your fiancé or a single lady wearing a fake ring to keep men away, you interrupted.

“It was my mother’s engagement ring,” you spoke, “She gave it to me a few years ago. I’m not engaged and I only wear it every now and then because I don’t want people to think I’m already taken.”

“There’s always something…” The man whispered to himself.

“Sorry?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Nothing, never mind.” He shook the thought away with a hand gesture. “So, mind telling me why you don’t want people to think you’re taken?”

“You are a very curious man, aren’t you?” You laughed, not answering to his question.

“I am, in fact.” He responded, puffing his chest out and coking his eyebrow proudly.

“May I ask why you are so concerned about my relationship status?” You asked, smirking.

“I happen to find you very pleasing to the eye and, now, I also find you very interesting.” He answered, taking good care of his words; he sounded like he was afraid to say something wrong, yet somehow he also sounded confident.

“My name’s…”

“(Y/N).” He finished. You gasped what kind of man was he?


“You’re wearing a bracelet with your name on it.” He simply replied.

“What a strange man you are, Mr…” He smirked at your words.

“Holmes,” He spoke, “Sherlock Holmes.”


Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade movie but instead of indiana jones and his dad its john and sherlock

pls consider: adrenaline junkie archaeologist treasure hunter Dr Watson and bookish dorky medieval literature professor Holmes who gets begrudgingly roped into John’s adventures who save the holy grail from the nazis and fall in love

On Edge - Request

Requested by anon:  Can you make a heated sherlock imagine where he hasn’t had a case in a while but hasn’t been able to go to the drug dens or smoke because of Y/N so he takes out his frustration on her ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (doesn’t have to be smut but it could be real HEATED)

Summary: Sherlock has no cases and John forbid him to smoke. (Y/N) continues to mock him about it, without telling him where his cigarettes are, which leads Sherlock to find other ways to take out his frustration and, at the same time, showing her what it’s like to be on edge.

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Warnings: Smut - edging, fingering, teasing -, dominant!Sherlock

Word count: 2,447

A/N: This is the longest piece of smut I’ve written and it’s not even smut like so, wow. I hope you like this!


Originally posted by iamcumberlocked

Sherlock stomped from one side to the other of the flat.  He was frantically looking for that tiny carton box, hidden somewhere inside that messy labyrinth he had unconsciously created. She was sitting on the sofa, knowing exactly what he was doing but pretending to ignore it, although Sherlock had noticed that sly smirk formed on her red lips.

Not a case, not a single one, and that was his curse. He had saved everyone and gotten to be a big and famous detective, but what was the price of fame? Boredom, that was.

“I need them.” Sherlock begged. His back was turned to her, but he knew exactly how big and curved that mischievous grin on her face was.

“No.” She replied.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Sherlock finally turned to see her.

Her legs were crossed, one over the other, and her feet were pointing at him. The black high heels matched the black pencil skirt that failed to hide the soft skin from her thighs. Her hands were holding one of his old books, and her arms rested lazily over one of the arm-holders. A messy strand of hair had fell over her face, framing it so delicately it made Sherlock get distracted for a few milliseconds.

“John told me you were annoying when you were bored.” She said, “But I have to say it: You are fascinating.”

“I’m even better when I’m smoking.” Sherlock snapped. He lifted his chin, trying to look like the intimidating man from the newspapers rather than an anxious boy.

“Those things will kill you one day.” She leaned back on the couch, allowing her head to fall back on the pillow. Sherlock observed said movement as if it had been performed in slow motion.

How the lose strand bounced over her nose before falling back to the side. The way her eyes shut after her head touched the soft fabric, and that slight breeze of air her lips expelled. The way her chest rose up a bit after, inhaling once more. And her feet, one of them – the one from the leg crossed on top – still pointing at him. How her delicate hands left the book over her lap, calling his attention to focus yet again on her skin.

He was driving him insane.

Keep reading

Probably at some point during a case:
  • Anderson: So you think the murderer is his wife..
  • Sherlock: Yes
  • Anderson: Oh, come on! There's a gun in his hand! It'obvious! He's killed himself!
  • Sherlock: Shh!
  • Sherlock: Did you hear that?
  • Anderson: What?
  • Sherlock: The sound of the fuck I give about the bullshits you say.