sherlock tries to give him a kiss on the cheek

Anchor

Requested

Here’s the song

*Sherlock-centric

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Sherlock stepped up behind you. You made no move, no indication that you heard his arrival or felt his presence.

“Is there a reason you haven’t been to Baker street this week?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to reply to a text?”

“I did reply.”

“Ah, yes, how could I forget your elegant response of a single letter. I did not realize that we had been having a discussion about potassium.”

“What do you want, Sherlock?”

Sherlock stepped around the bench hoping you would look up. But your gaze remained on the pond before you. “I was hoping to gain some sort of insight as to your new attitude.”

“Sherlock, I really don’t want to have this conversation right now.”

“I do.”

You bit your lip before turning to Sherlock. “You want to talk about what’s going on? Why don’t you deduce what’s happening?”

“I’ve tried. But I think I’m missing a few key pieces of information.”

“Mmhmm.”

Sherlock sat next to you, staring out over the pond. “I can tell you’re upset. With the nature of your hostile attitude, I can only assume I am the cause of your anger.”

“So far, so good,” you said sarcastically.

“You haven’t been to Baker street since last Thursday. The events of that evening were relatively simple. You came over after work. We went to dinner. We went back to Baker street. You left around ten. I have heard little from you since.”

“You’ve got the big picture down, Sherlock. Now it’s time to look at the details.”

“Please, elaborate.”

You reached down and grabbed Sherlock’s hand, slipping your fingers in between his. His hand was stiff and heavy in yours, his fingers straight. You stared down at your hands before glaring up at him.

“See?”

“I…”

“You’re cold, Sherlock.”

“The natural temperature of a human is–”

“Emotionally!” You pulled your hand from his. “Sherlock, I’m all for moving slowly. Really, I am. But… I like you so much, Sherlock, and sometimes I want to hold your hand or give you a small kiss but you deny my attentions.”

Sherlock thought back. He did remember that you’d tried to slip your hand into his before, tried to kiss his cheek. He’d let you—after all, that was a typical human behavior. And he didn’t mind it… of all the people he knew, he was willing to experience those things with you.

Sherlock had to admit your hands were soft and small in his, delicate. Your lips were soft as well. And when you were that close to him, he could clearly smell your perfume, a delightful scent.

“I apologize, Y/N. I did not realize…”

“It’s fine, Sherlock.”

The two of you sat there for a few minutes with only the sound of the ducks filling the silence.

“I have to go, Sherlock,” you finally said, standing.

But you didn’t get very far.

Sherlock reached out and grabbed your hand, freezing you on the spot.

“Sherlock, what are you doing?”

Sherlock stood, stepping towards you, but never letting go of your hand. “This is what you want, correct?”

“Sherlock, I don’t want to force you to–”

“You’re not.”

You turned, looking up at him. “What do you mean?”

“I… want to make you happy.”

“But that doesn’t mean making yourself uncomfortable.”

Sherlock looked down at your clasped hands. “This… is not uncomfortable.”

You looked up at him, a smile on your face. “You promise?”

“I would never lie to you, Y/N.”

The two of you left the park, headed for Baker street. There, the two of you spent the evening on the couch, you curled into Sherlock’s side. Over the next few weeks, hand holding became a normal thing for the two of you (and Sherlock even surprised you a few times by pressing light kisses to your cheeks or forehead).

Sherlock realized that when he was with you, you anchored him. Yes, he was the smartest man in London. Yes, he hated having to spend time with ‘normal’ humans (with the exception of you and John and Mrs. Hudson). 

But… he needed you in his life.

it is a loud sunday morning at 221b, all laughter and shouting and causing a ruckus, wrestling and tickling one another, staticy music spilling out of an ancient radio set by one of the windows, a rare morning of sunlight, mrs hudson bustling in with a tea tray and scones with jam and giggling when sherlock lays a big kiss onto her cheek so that she goes back downstairs with a smile, the both of them yelling crossword clues and answers across the flat in turns as sherlock pokes around an experiment in the kitchen and john lounges lazily on the sofa, where sherlock finds him to give him a kiss and a tickle, john teasing sherlock pretending to be asleep but then grabbing the belt of his dressing gown and tugging him back to the sofa when he tries to fluff off in an obviously false huff of wayward curls and soft pyjamas, pulling him down, kissing him soundly, licking the indignant giggle out of his mouth

anonymous asked:

Hi! Could you do 12, 27, and 15 with Moriarty?

Reader x Moriarty

12. “Take my pants off!”

15. “Stop deflecting my cuddles!”

27. “You’re drunk.”

“Jim?” You called out, opening the door to the flat you two shared. “Jim?”

“Darling! You’re home!” You heard Jim yell and hop off of the couch, running over to you.

You looked down at your boyfriend trying to pick you up. When he kept missing and laughing, you sighed. “Jim, you’re drunk.”

“And you’re beautiful.” He grinned.

“How much have you had to drink?” You asked him, helping him stand up. When Jim was standing up mostly on his own, your eyes drifted down to the pants he was wearing. They looked familiar. “Jim,” You said slowly, “Are those my pants?”

Jim looked at you and giggled. “I’m not not wearing your pants.”

“Take my pants off!” You half-yelled, chasing your drunk boyfriend down the hall. “Jim! Give me back my pants!”

As soon as Jim collapsed on the bed, you took your pants off of him and gave him a pair of his sweatpants to put on. You sighed as Jim looked up at you with puppy dog eyes and a small pout.

“I like those pants.” He told you.

“Only because you’re drunk.” You told him before adding, “Besides these pants are way better. And comfier.”

You left Jim alone with his sweatpants and took your jeans back to your shared bedroom, putting them on a high shelf until he sobered up. When you were positive that they were well hidden, you walked back into the living room to find Jim pouting on the couch.

You grabbed a blanket and draped it over both of you, hoping to distract Jim long enough to sober him up. “Let’s watch tv, or a movie.”

“Yeah, okay, fine.” He mumbled.

You tried to cuddle into his side but he moved away. You sighed. “Jim, I’m sorry. Are you still mad at me?”

When he didn’t respond, you tried to cuddle with him again. You frowned. “Stop deflecting my cuddles!”

“Give me back my pants!” Jim told you.

“They’re my pants!” You argued, turning away from Jim.

You felt Jim’s arms wrap around your waist and pull you into his chest. “Will you still cuddle with me?”

You turned around and looked at Jim’s puppy dog eyes before cuddling further into Jim’s chest. “Of course.”

“And can I have the pants back?” He asked in a whisper.

You laughed lightly and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “We’ll talk about it when you’re sober.”

Originally posted by thekillersboy-blog

A Challenge; Sherlock x Reader

Requested by Anon: Could you write a Sherlock x reader where they are dating and Sherlock all of a sudden is being very flirty and nice to reader for some reasons and reader isn’t sure why sorry if it’s vague but I don’t mind what happens :) xxx you are such a good write

Sorry it’s so short! I’m really sorry!! I’m glad you think I’m a good writer, it always is encouraging!!


You stood in the Baker Street kitchen, which was currently a lab, trying to make a cup of tea around Sherlock’s dirty experiments. “Sherlock! Can you come clean up this god forsaken mess you made?” you shouted at him.

Sherlock got up and trudged to the kitchen to see you currently contaminating his decomposition experiment. “What are you trying to do anyway?” Sherlock said as he walked over and took over whatever you were making.

“All I ask of you is a cup of tea,” you said, wrapping your hands around his waist from behind him while laying your head on his back.

“Ask and you shall receive,” Sherlock told you as he turned around to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Anything else?”

You sent him a weird look before replying that you didn’t and walked over to Sherlock’s chair, basking in his scent. Sherlock eventually entered the room again and brought you over a warm cup of tea, placing a loving kiss on your cheek. “You’re being considerably kind today.”

“I’m just acting like I normally do,” Sherlock tried to convince you. You rolled your eyes before sipping your tea quietly while Sherlock moved to mess with John’s laptop. “Do you need anything?”

You looked up from your tea and moved to place the back of your hand on his forehead. “Do I need to call John? Are you getting sick?”

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous,” he assured, swatting away your hand. You wrapped your arms around him yet again, watching him as he worked. “I love you,” Sherlock said, turning around and kissing you softly.

“Why are you so flirty and kind today?”

“Maybe I just love you?” Sherlock suggested.

You rolled your eyes, yet again. “Prove it.”

Sherlock stopped what he was doing to pull your firmly on his lap. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe.”

John brought one of his dates back home, knowing Sherlock would be at the Yard (he owed Greg a pint or two). However, when the cab pulled up at 221B Baker Street, the lights were on and the most terrible violin screeching noises travelled through the open window. He tried to explain to his date it was his flatmate and that he would stop, but the screeching was so dreadful, she got back in the cab after giving him a kiss on the cheek and a promise to call as soon as she got home for a rain check.

John furiously threw open the front door and was ready to barge up the stairs, demanding to know what Sherlock was thinking and what the hell he was doing home when he realised the screeching was replaced with the most beautifully played Bach John had ever heard.

John spend the next fifteen minutes just standing on the stairs, listening with a stupid grin on his face.

She never called back

John didn’t notice. 

tarale43  asked:

Thank you for the meta, it really fits fromt hat perspective. total respect, but could you explain the kiss on the cheek thing? That's the part I don't understand why

[This is a follow on from tarale43’s previous Q about Molly, which I attempted to answer here.]

No? It’s a perfectly fitting action, it seems to me. Sherlock has been terrible to Molly, and he’s only just begun to understand what he’s been putting her through. He’s suddenly very sensitive to it, since, as I said, he’s hurting from being rejected himself.

In spite of being engaged, Molly still wants Sherlock, and he knows it. He tries to fit her into his world, but it doesn’t work out. For once, he’s sorry that he can’t give her what she wants, and he doesn’t want to make her feel the way he feels. So while he does reject her again because he has to, he’s much more kindly about it this time. 

He’s grateful for what she’s done for him, and what she’s endured because of him. He kisses her on the cheek because he’s both grateful for her actions and repentant for his own. He knows viscerally how much pain he’s caused her, and in that moment, for this and other reasons, he’s sorry that he’s a terrible human being. Molly never deserved to be treated the way he treated her, and neither did John. Sherlock’s very, very sorry.