sherlockbbc fanfiction

3

Hey guys! *w*  
It’s been a while  I hope you’re all alright!

My sister catched a a really bad cold so I decided to do a scene redraw from one of her Johnlock fan fictions! I couldn’t stop changing the perspectives.. so I drew more ^^ I can only recommend her fics they’re always so beautifully written ;w; so for all my german followers/watchers you should really check her stories out!   www.fanfiktion.de/u/Misheruu

I really loved how she wrote this scene.. Sherlock and John going to the sea and John finds out that it’s the first time for Sherlock to be this close ;w; I don’t want to give away to much.. you should really read it c: It play’s after s1 and is full of fluff and stuff <33 www.fanfiktion.de/s/5812336a00…

Connection Chap Two

Originally posted by cucumberbatch-of-cookies

Originally posted by bbcsherlockimagines

Connection.  Read Chap One here.

Sherlock x reader

Summary: an American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.

Word Count: 4084

Your name: submit What is this?

Your office never seemed quite so quiet when you were at your desk alone, but seated in the chair across from a silent Sherlock was therapeutic in and of itself. The clock was running and his hour winding down, he sat with his fingers steepled and the tips resting against his chin with his eyes focusing on something in a distance you couldn’t see.

You had grown used to his trips into his mind over the last couple of months and knew when talking was pointless as he sorted things out. At first, you weren’t sure what to do as every sound in the surrounding area boomed and echoed around the room and yet, Sherlock remained undisturbed. You slowly came to enjoy it, the quiet time with him around was nice. The office noises on the floor fell away and you got a chance to clear your mind and just breathe. Sometimes you watched him, his face relaxed with a twitch in his cheek or brow every now and then. It had a soothing feel like watching water cascading down a fall or those little rock water features.

“He risked his life for me. I mean it wouldn’t have worked but he thought it would.”

You tilted your head wondering if he was actually talking to you or merely murmuring. His gaze was still far off. “He likes you. You have a friend, Sherlock. I’d say that’s pretty interesting. He’s a really good writer too.”

He frowned then his gaze sought yours. “No.” He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, “no, no, no.”

“What?”

“You’re one of them.”

“You’ll have to give me more to go on.”

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A voice in the darkness

Sherlock x reader

Note: and here is another one x) I am on fire xD I wrote this one yesterday before bed time from the suggestion of the lovely @prettyxlittlexwriter who beta-read it for me once again this morning. I tried something different this time since it’s supposed to happen when Sherlock get shot in HLV, you’ll see, several lines were taken from the scene, if anyone want them identified, just tell me :) Once again my computer is being an annoying little… so it chose not to work this morning, I’ll edit this as soon as I’ll have borrowed one (which actually shouldnt even take that long) additional thanks to the few who answered my question about Redbeard, I really needed to know his breed so yeah, thanks guys :D

With that I shut up and leave you to enjoy this :)


‘’Come on, it’s me. It’s me, come on! Come on!“
The dog ran to his master, barking happily as the sound of the alarm filled the air.
“Good boy, clever boy!”
The man lovingly pet his Irish Setter, fighting the panic menacing to take him over.
“Hello Redbeard. They’re putting me down too now,” he mumbled, as the canine tried affectionately to lick his face. “It’s no fun, is it, Redbeard?”

The soft sound of footsteps, somewhat still possible to hear with all the noise, had him turned around to face his friend.

“Y/N…” he tried to get back on his feet but failed miserably, wincing in pain. She knelt down beside him.

“Don’t try to get up, it will only make things worse.”

The sound of the alarm kept ringing louder and louder, his heart racing, fighting for his life.

“What do I do?” whispered Sherlock, panic filling his eyes.
“Breath,” she said calmly, taking his hands “It’s going to hurt, but I need you to stay focus. I’ll be right here, don’t worry.”

“Y/N, I-” he groaned in pain “… I won’t make it…”
“No, you will Sherlock! As long as I’m alive, I will not let you die!”
“You’re not even real, just a construct of my mind to-” he stopped in mid-sentence, gasping for air, crying out in pain as he fell against Y/N.

She held him in her arms, whispering to him in a soft and appeasing voice, getting through him in a way that only she knew how, as he kept groaning in intense pain.

“I might not be the real one, but I won’t let you down Holmes.”

He tried to answer her, to tell her it was probably too late even if the ambulance had already been there but everything went dark around him.

————————–~☆☆☆~——————————-

“Mrs Hudson will cry.
And Mummy and Daddy will cry.
And the Woman will cry and John and Y/N will cry buckets and buckets…
It’s them I worry about the most.
And that wife…
You’re letting them down Sherlock.
And John Watson is definitely in danger.”

He suddenly opened his eyes, groaning. No one would hurt his friend, not under his watch. Pushing himself up off the ground, he screamed in pain as he got up.

“Oh, you’re not getting better, are you?”

Now back on his feet, fighting the pain and the temptation to go back to the void for once and for all. Against the padded walls of the room, breath shallow.

“Was it something that I said, uh?”

To the door, screaming and then out as his archnemesis screamed his name, trying to lure him back into the nothingness.

A stairway, the exit was up there, he could feel it. Gripping the banister with all the strength he had left, groaning, then dragging his own self up to the next stair. Gritting his teeth, extending his hand once again and gripping another one to his surprise. It was Y/N.

“I told you I wouldn’t let you down Holmes.”

He wasn’t alone anymore.

She pulled him up to the next flight of stairs. Placing a hand on his back, half pushing him, she helped him to grip the banister once again.

A second hand on his is back, a bigger one, a man’s hand.

“Alright Sherlock we can do this.” John.

He had friends on whom he could count.

Pushing on his back to the next flight again, closer and closer to the top, getting stronger and stronger every step. Another hand, frailer, older, Mrs Hudson’s, and the larger one of Lestrade.

And he would never let them down again.

Higher and higher to the top of the stairs, closer than ever from the exit. One more step… Stumbling on the last one, he was about to fall down but a powerful hand gripped him by his shirt before he did, and pulled him up.

“Watch your step, brother mine.” Mycroft. ‘’It would be a shame if you were to have to do it once again, wouldn’t it?’’


————————–~☆☆☆~——————————-


He opened weakly his eyes, only to be blinded by the light over the operation table, as doctors were running around everywhere in the room, trying desperately to keep him alive. He closed his eyes once again, knowing he was safe now.


He did it.

Connection Twenty Three

Originally posted by cutterpillow92

Originally posted by sh-e-r-locked

Connection.  Read Chap One here. Two. Three Four.  Five. Six. Seven. Eight.  Nine.  Ten.  Eleven.  Twelve.  Thirteen.  Fourteen.  Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.  Eighteen.  Nineteen.  Twenty.   Twenty One.   Twenty Two.

Sherlock x reader

Summary: an American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.

Word Count: 4178

A/N: ***possible spoilers with the new episode of Sherlock.*** A few lines borrowed from The Lying Detective in BOLD at the end of this part. If you haven’t seen the most recent episode, the last part of this chapter will be a spoiler. 


Your name: submit What is this?

It was on the plane to London that you got your first solid lead. You were reading the newspaper when Vic sat down after her third walkabout of the plane. You chalked it up to habit but didn’t discourage it either.

“Whatcha reading?” Her Irish accent was completely gone once she stepped into the airport and it still sounded weird.

You threw a glance at her as you replied. “Some big shot hunter. I’ll never understand men who think it’s a sport to hunt animals with high-powered weapons.”

She looked closer at the picture and scoffed, “that sonofabitch doesn’t stick to animals. He’s got some balls going public.” She skimmed some of the article, “he published a book? Jesus, he’s got someone with power backing him to show his face like that.”

You studied her. “Why?”

“Because that grade A asshat is a sniper for hire. Animals are not his only game. We were on him for a while after he got dismissed from this semi-secret group of the British military, the first Bangalore Pioneers. He was up to some nasty shit but they didn’t have any evidence to charge. That’s kind of the whole problem with secret groups. He went underground and lost his tails, no easy feat considering the two agents that were following him. Last time we had eyes on him, I should’ve taken the shot but Mycroft was insistent.”

“Mycroft?”

Her brow furrowed then she cursed under her breath, “his power issues are fucking legendary.” She stabbed the picture of the man smiling above the dead lion. “He was the sniper watching John that day at St. Bart’s.”

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Connection Chap Six

Originally posted by dreamer-of-wildfire

*Pic found on google*

Connection.  Read Chap One here. Chap Two. Chap Three. Chap Four. Chap Five.

Sherlock x reader

Summary: an American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.

Word count:2929

Chapter Six

*Lines borrowed from the episode The Reichenbach Fall in BOLD.*


You were careful after Moriarty showed up in the flat and you noticed Sherlock was as well. The sitting room had been stained somehow. You barely spent any time in there and avoided walking through it at all. John had noticed and you could tell that he thought you were afraid of Moriarty and kept away from that room because of him. Sherlock had noticed but didn’t mention it. Your spontaneous distractions didn’t happen often, but you never allowed it to happen anywhere near the sitting room. Mycroft’s words would whisper in your head and you knew it would only make matters worse. Caring is not an advantage.

You sat in the kitchen staring into a cup of tea feeling a storm bearing down all around. You were just waiting for the first crack of lightning. Your phone buzzed on the table and you jumped then cursed under your breath. Glancing down, you saw Mycroft’s name flash on the screen with an attachment. You opened it and a video clip played. It was silent but you could practically hear the little girl’s scream. Another text came through with a single word, a coded message that simply meant go. It was the first flash of lightning and you only had to count until the thunder shook the windows now.

You closed your eyes, thinking back to two nights ago and how differently the night was playing out. Mycroft’s words had been driving you insane that night too. His arrogance always drove you up a wall but the way he had infected his brother’s mind had bothered you even more that night as you sat on Sherlock’s bed mulling it all over.

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Connection Chap Twelve

*^Google search^*

Originally posted by gatissed


Connection.  Read Chap One here. Chap Two. Chap Three. Chap Four. Chap Five. Chap Six.Chap Seven. Chap Eight. Chap Nine. Chap Ten. Chap Eleven.


Sherlock x reader

Summary: an American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.

Word count: 4480

Some lines borrowed from The sign of three in BOLD



It was quiet in the bedroom when you woke. You stretched while scanning the room and both the other side of the bed and the crib were empty. You slid off the bed and pulled your over-sized sweater on then strolled down the hall into the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson was sitting at the table and Will’s booster seat was on the chair next to her along with a messy plate with bits of leftover pancake but no Will. She turned in her seat and smiled. You questioned her silently with a glance at Will’s chair and she pointed to the sitting room.

You walked to the doorway and heat bloomed in your chest. Sherlock was in his chair clearly working a case out in his head and Will was sitting indian style in John’s chair mimicking him right down to the steepled fingers. You turned back to Mrs. Hudson with a grin and whispered, “how long have they been like that?”

“About ten minutes or so. It’s adorable. I don’t know how Will does it.” She tilted her head down and her brow rose, ‘I want a picture.”

You couldn’t argue with her and rushed back to the bedroom for your phone. You walked quietly into the room to get the right angle to capture both of them and hoped Will wouldn’t move. Mrs. Hudson was right, this was adorable. You took a few shots just in case then walked back into the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson put a cup of coffee on the table then looked at the pictures with you. “I want a copy.”

“Of course.”

She glanced back at the sitting room. “They’re getting along quite well. I never thought I’d see the day, Sherlock a daddy.”

You put your phone down and picked up your coffee gazing through the doorway at Sherlock. “I did. I knew it wouldn’t be easy but… I had a feeling he’d be good with Will.” You pictured your father running around the back yard with you and sitting down at his easel as he taught you primary colors and the importance of brush strokes.

“Your parents would’ve been so proud of you.” Mrs. Hudson’s smile was warm and her gaze soft but then something caused you to look closer. She turned looking at Sherlock but you could still make out the smirk and the crinkle at the corner of her eye. “I don’t know how they’d feel about your choice in men, though.”

You chuckled, “you love him. Don’t even try to pretend.”

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Connection Twenty Four

Originally posted by merindab

Originally posted by constantlyfreemaned

Originally posted by rosegoldsherlock

Connection.  Read Chap One here. Two. Three Four.  Five. Six. Seven. Eight.  Nine.  Ten.  Eleven.  Twelve.  Thirteen.  Fourteen.  Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.  Eighteen.  Nineteen.  Twenty.   Twenty One.   Twenty Two. Twenty Three.

Sherlock x reader

Summary: an American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.

Word Count: 4500

Your name: submit What is this?

You were sitting in front of the third building on Vic’s list and quickly losing to Will’s boredom. It didn’t help that you had been stuck in the car all day. Planes were interesting but sitting in a car was apparently where Will drew the line. You were planning on taking Will back to the safe house when Vic finally spotted some movement.

“I’ve got something. We need a closer look. What do you think Will? You want to stretch your legs?”

“Yes!” Will hollered but you glared at Vic.

“He can’t go near…”

Vic turned around with a grin and a quirked brow, “do you honestly believe I’d ever put him in harm’s way?”

“No.”

“There’s a coffee shop up there and you or I can take him in there while the other sits on that bench out front. Perfect view without drawing attention.” She pulled on her jacket with a wink at Taylor, “see you at the meet point, super fan.” Then she slipped out the passenger door with Will following right behind slinging on his backpack.

You jumped out of the car and ran around to catch up with them strolling up the sidewalk. You stopped in front of the coffee shop getting an odd flashback to Germany. It was nothing like that small shop yet the feeling wouldn’t dissipate. Vic walked inside with Will and you figured you were taking the first bench warming.

You sat down and lifted your phone. It was a common enough occurrence, someone reading or playing something on a phone that it was actually terrifying how easy it was to open your camera and zoom in on the building across the street. There was more than enough movement but no one that really stood out.

Twenty minutes later, Vic and Will walked out and Vic played up the friendly banter of an old friend. You glanced at your phone as you stood and something caught your eye. A woman with dark brown hair pulled back in a severe bun had stopped at the gate in front of the building and you could swear she was looking at you. You turned to get a better look and that tingling at the base of your skull stood those little hairs on end. The woman flashed recognition and smiled, she knew you but you had no idea who she was. You hit the small shutter button a couple times hoping you got a good shot before she turned and walked off. You glanced down and noticed in the last picture what you hadn’t in real time, Moran was standing right behind her.

“We need to go.” You tapped a few buttons and sent the picture to Vic’s phone. “This woman saw me, she knows me and I have no clue who she is.”

Vic pulled out her phone, “okay, give me a second.” You felt exposed and wanted to move immediately but you knew Vic had a handle on this much better than you did. “Got her.”

“What?” You turned and looked at her phone. She had a facial recognition program open with not only the picture but a keyword filter of Moran. This app wasn’t something that just everyone could get but you wanted it now.

“Elizabeth Moran, Sebastian’s little sister. A Chemist and talented hacker apparently. It’s weird, I didn’t know he had a sister. I’ll try to follow her, you get to the meet point and Taylor will take you back to the safe house. I’ll see if I can track where she’s going then check in with Mycroft.” You nodded as she jogged off then you took Will’s hand and turned back the way you came.

You strolled along the sidewalk looking just like the rest of the people taking in the shops on either side of the street but all you saw was that woman’s face. The way she had looked at you, the surprise and yet… happy. You couldn’t understand it and it was… haunting. You didn’t mean to but you were distracted and if it wasn’t for that creepy crawly feeling up your spine and the tingling at the base of your skull yet again, you might have missed him. Someone was watching you.

The first street sign you came across was only a block away from your meet point and then you spotted Taylor’s cab at the next corner. Something wasn’t right. Taylor specifically said he would not be parked but idling and he’d pull around the corner once he spotted you, but the cab wasn’t even running. You followed your instincts that Taylor was not an option and stopped by the first store front with a clean window. You caught the man who blended in without a single thing to make him memorable in the reflection while searching for something in your bag. He paused instead of closing in on you or continuing his path.

“Will, remember what I told you about the sun and moon?”

He glanced around with a subtlety that was almost an art form before looking up at you, “so high we can all see it?”

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Connection Chap Twenty Two

Originally posted by anessenceofautumn

Originally posted by mycroftslittlebrother

Connection.  Read Chap One here. Two. Three Four.  Five. Six. Seven. Eight.  Nine.  Ten.  Eleven.  Twelve.  Thirteen.  Fourteen.  Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.  Eighteen.  Nineteen.  Twenty.   Twenty One.

Sherlock x reader

Summary: an American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.

Word Count: 3964


Your name: submit What is this?

It was dark on your small front porch, barely a sliver of moon visible through the swift clouds charging for the east. You sat on the top step with a blanket draped over your legs, a coffee mug half full of brandy within reach beside you, and a flickering candle on the other side. The picture of your parents sitting on top of the London newspaper in your lap felt heavy but you still weren’t quite ready to face it yet.

Will was sound asleep in his bed where you left him after holding him longer than usual because of that very newspaper but it wasn’t really the newspaper that called for your toughest armor. The article about another unidentified boy unread yet haunting you since you saw it earlier and shoved it in your bag where it stayed until twenty minutes ago when you pulled yourself from Will’s bed and gathered the things you had with you now. With a glance at your watch, you amended that thought, twenty-one minutes.

You listened for a moment leaning back toward the front door you had open just enough but the house was quiet just like the neighborhood that seemed uncommonly silent. You glanced at the candle and pushed it a little farther away to make sure you didn’t end up catching on fire because, at this point, it would be the way things seemed to be going.

Your gaze dropped to the picture of your parents that you grabbed on your way out the door because you wanted them with you. In the picture, your parents had their arms around you smiling brightly into the camera. It was your high school graduation and your future was bright. Just a small town girl with determination and big dreams. You wondered what your parents would think of the decisions you made that lead you here.

You lifted the mug to your lips and took a few sips savoring the heat that flared as the alcohol burned its way down. Wrapping both hands around the mug, you closed your eyes and pictured your mother.

It wasn’t always easy for them either, especially during the trial. You could remember your mom sitting across from you at the small checkered table in the kitchen with your hands wrapped around the cup of hot chocolate. The steam rising and your mother smiling, trying to make everything seem okay even though stress and worry still pulled at her brow. She never wanted you to see it and even though you didn’t understand it at the time, you knew there was something off. Your father had been the most weighed down and you knew now that he felt responsible for the burden on your family. He always hugged you a little tighter and a little longer during those days. You remembered the paralyzing fear you didn’t understand when you would hear them whispering in their room and your father crying. You would never be able to rid yourself of those memories even though they had fogged slightly over the years.

Your mother had been the strongest person you ever knew but those months during the investigation and trial, she was a superhero. You longed to talk to her again and ask her how she did it. You had tried to learn so much from them and yet when they were taken so brutally, there was still so much you had left to ask.

You placed the picture on the porch next to you and smiled as you brushed your fingers down the glass. “I wish I was more like you every day, mama.”

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Connection Twenty Six

Originally posted by fireshinigami

Originally posted by merindab

Connection.  Read Chap One here. Two. Three Four.  Five. Six. Seven. Eight.  Nine.  Ten.  Eleven.  Twelve.  Thirteen.  Fourteen.  Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.  Eighteen.  Nineteen.  Twenty.   Twenty One.   Twenty Two.   Twenty Three.   Twenty Four.   Twenty Five.

Sherlock x reader

Summary: an American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.

Word Count: 3243

**Possible spoilers for Series Four: The Final Problem**


Your name: submit What is this?

Moran was good. Even in the urban area, he had military training that helped him disappear and stay hidden. And with Moriarty’s network funds, who knew what kind of money he had for resources. After two weeks of work, it didn’t seem possible to track him with any reliability. You were beginning to think you were lucky spotting him that day with Vic or maybe he was just being more careful. You didn’t have time to let him slip away over and over. You needed to bring the game to him before someone else died.

Even with your head down tracking Moran, you had caught the news of the bomb on Baker Street. The remains of 221B weren’t as bad as it could be but it was enough to make its point. Will and Rosie were off with Mr. and Mrs. Holmes on a last minute vacation and it was the only thing that allowed you to breathe. With the kids out of reach, that left only the adults to get this over with and it wasn’t getting done as fast as you hoped.

You closed your eyes and rubbed them gently. The hours of staring through binoculars and watching different buildings was definitely getting to you. This was never your type of work but it had to be now. Mycroft was doing his part while everyone else thought he was in critical condition at an unspecified hospital, Sherlock and John were probably recovered enough by now to be back at it, and Vic was working her angle on Moran’s business. But Moran had become just as much of a ghost as the three men you hoped to hell knew what they were doing.  

You couldn’t get Eurus’s flash of recognition at the sight of you out of your head. It didn’t look like she mentioned it to Moran but she could have messaged him once she got in the car she sped off in. Did he actually see you and send his men after you or did she? Either way, they came after you. They had more than enough chances to kill you but that wasn’t the plan like the tranquilizer Eurus shot into John’s chest when she could have killed him. There was a much bigger game than to simply kill you in the streets, they needed you alive to be handed over to Moran or Eurus.

You snapped your eyes open and stared at the house you’d been watching for the better part of the day and wondered if maybe you were going about this all wrong. You didn’t have to find him, you could let him find you. Break into one of his houses, they would certainly have surveillance, and present an undeniable option. Plan b was always a reliable backup.

You turned on your mobile and called Vic. A couple of beeps notified you of messages as you waited for her to answer. You were just about to pull the phone away to look when her harried voice broke through. “Y/n?”

“What is it?”

“We’ve been trying to get a hold of you since yesterday!”

“I told you I was tracking…”

“Mycroft, John, and Sherlock are gone and I can give you one bet where they’ve headed.”

You shoved the key into the ignition. “Do you think Mycroft was right, that she wouldn’t hurt either of them?”

“How the hell could anyone say for sure? The girl was locked up when she was a child! It’s been decades since he’s really talked to her and he let fucking Moriarty in to have a chat. Listen, that backup plan we talked about the other night, after some actual sleep I have a few concerns…”

“Do you think Moran is working with her?”

“That’s the problem, I think they are and if this has so much to do with her brothers, if Moriarty set this up, I’m a little worried about why she’s working with Moran.”

“What if he’s the best chance we’ve got?”  

“Radio silence on their end and it’s impossible to get a line to Sherrinford without Mycroft. So, this whole plan has a few holes. How much sleep have you gotten? You should come in and once we hear from Mycroft…”

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Connection Chap Nine

Originally posted by caffeinerebelqueen

Originally posted by mycroftslittlebrother

Connection.  Read Chap One here. Chap Two. Chap Three. Chap Four. Chap Five. Chap Six. Chap Seven. Chap Eight.

Sherlock x reader

Summary: an American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.

Word count: 3391

Chapter Nine


Your name: submit What is this?

Sherlock stood across the street from his old flat leaning against a building watching the upper windows of 221B for any sign of movement. He felt ridiculous. He should just walk across and through the door but after John’s reaction last night, he was nervous. Sherlock Holmes had dismantled Moriarty’s organization in two years and yet he was nervous about walking into a building but it wasn’t the address he was worried about.

Y/n never reacted the way he thought she would, she always kept him on his toes, but John and Mary were hiding something last night and it had to do with her.  He wondered if Moriarty had gotten to her, had done something even though his plan worked flawlessly. Mycroft had never mentioned anything happening to her, in fact, everything that he heard about her was good. Had his brother hidden something because he predicted irrational behavior? He’d never done anything of the like before but she had been different. John knew that. Mary noticed that. Mycroft certainly would have figured that out.

He wasn’t used to the feeling wreaking havoc inside him. He ached to see her and yet afraid she would turn him away. No, not quite. What was he afraid of? He never feared things he could control. Ah, but then the only time he did feel a deep stabbing fear was when it involved her. She couldn’t be controlled or always predicted. She was his puzzle.

He closed his eyes slipping back to the memory he so often visited during the last two years.

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Connection Chap Thirteen

Originally posted by hannabellecter

Originally posted by beingacactusandstuff

Connection.  Read Chap One here. Chap Two. Chap Three. Chap Four. Chap Five. Chap Six.Chap Seven. Chap Eight. Chap Nine. Chap Ten. Chap Eleven. Chap Twelve.

Sherlock x reader

Summary: an American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.

Word count: 4157

Some lines borrowed from The sign of three in BOLD


Will sat on your lap finger painting the dessert plate with the sauce he didn’t eat. His actual coloring book and crayons beside the plate forgotten. You were seated in between Greg and Mrs. Hudson talking quietly with a slight knot in your stomach. You had never been more thankful for Greg Lestrade than you had been today. You fit in more with him by your side because people expected to see a man beside a woman with a child and had you been alone, there would have been a lot more speculation and questions.

Of course, the twinge in your stomach had nothing to do with how people could look at your son but the nerves you could see in Sherlock’s stiff movements and tense smiles. You caught his glances a few times as the time for his speech drew closer and you gave him an encouraging smile but it didn’t seem to soften the pinch in his brow.

A glass clinked and a man stood announcing the best man. Sherlock stood fluidly and buttoned his suit jacket. He started off fine but then the silence was deafening as he faltered, losing his place. Your stomach clenched again as you tried to catch his gaze.

“Dadylock!” Will clapped and you turned him in your lap shushing him quietly.

Greg chuckled, “no poppycock.”

A few rolls of laughter broke out around your table and Sherlock finally met your gaze. His small smirk did nothing to hide his nerves and you took an exaggerated breath then watched him do the same before John whispered something. He smiled and picked up the cards on the table and continued on.

Greg met your eye and winked. You lipped thank you before you both focused back on Sherlock. His speech was going well until he finished the stag night story and continued on with the ghost date case.

“Oh god, not the mayfly man. I told him that was a bad idea.” You tilted your head down and watched Will color the tablecloth instead of his book.

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I don’t want to die

Sherlock x reader

Note: So I wrote this on the night right after the airing of the episode, almost a month ago, then I felt my end wasn’t good enough, so on @prettyxlittlexwriter​‘s suggestion, I tried to lenghten it a bit. And that’s how it got from a 4 pages and 1521 words to 8 pages and 2723 words. So yeah… And I worked a lot on it, that’s also why it took me so long to post it, but now here we are! As usual, thanks to @prettyxlittlexwriter​ for beta-reading it, otherwise it would be exploding with basic mistakes I keep making for some reasons and she helped me A) to find where to lead it when I lengthened it and B) to find how to end it correctly (if none of you have guessed by now, I suck at finding the right way to en something x( )

Anyway, I’ve got to say Spoiler alert for the two first episodes of season four (The six Tatchers and The lying detective) especially for the second one, so don’t read if you want to avoid any spoilers.

Now, time to enjoy!


“Tell me how you feel.”

“I… feel scared.” his voice was barely above a whisper.

The other man scoffed, taking off his right cufflink, slowly rolling up his sleeve, clearly enjoying the moment.

“Be more specific, you only get to do this thing once.” he chuckled softly, a sadistic smile creeping to his lips.

“I’m… scared of dying…” answered his victim, furrowing his eyebrows, seemingly confused.

His killer took of the left cufflink, rolling up his second sleeve. The tension was almost tangible in the air.


“STOP IT!” his friend violently pushed him against the wall. “STOP! IT! NOW!” anger filled his voice. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WAKE UP!” he slapped him across his face, earning a surprised groan from him.

Without even waiting for his answer, he punched him so hard the man fell on the ground, nose bloodied, probably broken. And he punched again, and again and again, unleashing his rage, stress and all the other toxic emotions he had bottled up lately against his friend, who only looked at him with surprise, groaning in pain with each new hit.

Another punch and then he kicked him and kicked him before the staff of the hospital entered hurriedly in the room, alerted by the screams of horror Smith’s daughter had let out a bit earlier; and stopped him, grabbing him by his shoulders and pulling him away.


“You wanted this, uh?” he asked.

“I have… reasons…” answered the other man, in a husky voice, blue-grays fixed on the wall in front of him.


“Let him do what he want, he’s entitled. I killed his wife.” the injured man muttered sadly, his stormy eyes full of pain.

“Yes you did.” he answered harshly.

And without any more words, he left the room, his once best friend still on the ground, a hurt look on his face.


“But, you don’t actually want to die.”

The sadistic pleasure the man gained from the moment showed in his tone.

“No.” answered the murdered, without any hesitation.


He just arrived on the crime scene when she showed up with governmental accreditation, passing through the tape directly to the body laying on the ground. He glanced back at her as she leaned on the opposite side.

“You?” he exclaimed, slightly surprised by her presence. “I’d thought your recent near-death experience at the hands of a serial killer would have scared you away from crime scenes for the rest of your life.”

“And I thought I’d catch him for good but I didn’t and yet here I am, quibbling around a dead body with a weirdo.”


He blinked, trying to chase away this ghost from his past.

“Good.” chuckled the first one, still rolling his sleeve, a big smile on his lips. “Say that for me. Say it.”


It was early when he showed up to Scotland Yard, this time, with a case he had resolved within the night, but someone else was there before him.

“You, again. How?” he asked furrowing his brows.

“I might not be as keen on deduction as you but I’m far from stupid and I’ve got my way around in the darkside of London.” she replied.

He scoffed.

“I’m surprised you didn’t got actually murdered this time.


“I don’t want to die.” the victim answered firmly, eyes fixed on his tormentor.


“Well you’ve just killed a man.”

“Yes.” cut him his new flatmate.

An awkward silence fell for a few seconds.

“That’s true isn’t it?” added he, looking around the street, hoping no one had heard them. “But he wasn’t a very nice man.” he justified himself.

“No, no he wasn’t, was he?”  nodded the detective.

“Frankly a bloody awful cabbie.” answered the doctor.

The other one chuckled, eyes glistening with sincere joy.

“That’s true, he was a bad cabbie. You should’ve seen the route he took us to get there.” he jokingly added, as they crossed the police tape.

“Stop it!” giggled his new found friend. “It’s a crime scene we can’t giggle! Stop it.”


“Again.” asked the entrepreneur.

“I don’t… want to die…” reiterated the dying detective, eyes tearing up.


“So how long have you known her?”

They were sitting at a table in a small bistro, waiting. For what, they weren’t sure why themselves but still waiting nonetheless, chitchatting, simply enjoying the moment

“Ten years, more or less.” he answered, pausing before he explained. “I saved her life and she decided to become the bane of mine ever since.” he told his friend. “She’s annoying, but smart when she wants to, so my brother hired her to follow me around-”

“Keep an eye on you, actually. Make sure you don’t make too much of a mess around London.” she cut him off, appearing from nowhere and sitting beside his companion.

“Like a babysitter.” giggled John.

His friend simply chose to ignore his comment, blue-grays full of irritation as she laughed softly.

“Like a babysitter” she agreed, slightly smirking.


Again. He was haunted by them, memories of better times. He tried to focus his attention onto the man trying to kill him.


She stormed out of the house, angrier than ever before.

“Sherlock Holmes what have you done this time?!”

“Drugged the punch.” bluntly replied the man as she reached him.

“You did what?! Oh you bastar-”

She didn’t even had time to reply, falling weakly to the ground as he caught her in his arms before she hit the it and carried her inside his parent’s house.

“I swear I will kill you…” she muttered sleepily, cradled in his arms.

“Sure Y/N, sure…” he smiled to himself.


One more. Always her. Why did she had to torment him? Why couldn’t she let him be for once?

“Once more, for luck.” whispered the serial killer, enjoying the feeling of power filling him as the detective’s eyes filled with remorse and tears.


“I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T STOP IT NOW I’LL LEAVE YOU HERE!” yelled the woman he loved, eyes full of anger.

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND Y/N!” Sherlock roared. “AND YOU WON’T, BECAUSE YOU DON’T KNOW HOW IT IS TO NEVER BE ABLE TO STOP, TO NEVER HAVE A MOMENT OF PEACE IN YOUR MIND, TO BE TRYING EVERYTHING YOU CAN TO HELP PEOPLE AROUND AND STILL GET REJECTED BY THEM, TO FEEL POWERLESS AS YOU WATCH YOUR LOVED ONE DYING AND SUFFERING FOR YOU. YOU DON’T KNOW THIS AND YOU’LL NEVER DO!” he motioned angrily towards the syringe. “AND THIS IS MY ONLY WAY OUT OF THIS!”

She looked at him for a second, shocked by his sudden outburst.


He fixed his gaze on the ceiling.


“You’re right. I don’t.” her voice was now calmer than ever before. “But I can’t just stand here and watch you destroy yourself…” She walked to the door of his flat and turned to Billy. “ I can’t believe you’re letting him do that, I thought…  I thought…Well anyway I was wrong!” She turned back to Sherlock. “And you, don’t come to me unless you’re done for good with that.”

And with those harsh words, she left, slamming the door behind her.


“I don’t want to die…” his voice broke at mid-sentence, a single tear escaping his eyes, full of regrets.

Of course he didn’t wanted to, not without apologizing to them one last time, not without holding her in his arms for a last moment.

His killer pressed a button on one of the machines beside his hospital bed.

“I don’t…”


She smiled at him, her eyes glistening of joy. He held her against him in a tight embrace, chin resting upon her head, her scent filling the air, her presence awaking all his senses.


“…don’t want to die” begged the broken man, nearly sobbing.


“I love you Holmes.”


Smith leaned over him, enjoying his despair.”Awfully…” he whispered.

All this time she had been his anchor, the only person who could calm him with a simple look, the only real constant in his life for the last fifteen years. And now that panic filled his stomach, he wished with all his heart she could have been there. If he was to die, he would rather have it in her comforting presence than alone with a serial killer.



She held him in her arms, whispering to him in a soft and appeasing voice, getting through him in a way that only she knew how, as he kept groaning in intense pain.


He looked beside him, almost wishing he was still high enough to hallucinate her, sitting on the chair, holding his hand in a calming gesture.

But he wasn’t, and she wasn’t there either.

“… here it comes.” warned the other man, rising up and increasing the dosage to a lethal dose.


“Save John Watson, Sherlock.” pleaded his now dead friend, eyes locked with his own through the screen. “Save him.”


He didn’t wanted to die but he had to. For the sake of his friend. For the sake of those he loved.


“You can’t save John because he won’t let you. He won’t allow himself. The only way to save John, is to make him save you.”


“So tell me, why are we doing this? To what do I hold the pleasure?” asked Smith, walking to the opposite side of the bed.

“I wanted to hear your confession. I needed to know I was right.” answered Sherlock, in an hoarse voice.

“Why do you need to die?” further enquired the other one.

“The mortuary. Your favorite room.” The detective paused for a second. “You talk to the death, you make your confessions to them.”

Culverton Smith sniffed and turned to the wooden chair at the end of the bed, shaking his head as he sat there.

“Why do you do it?” asked the other one.

“Why do I kill?” repeated Smith, asking the question to himself. “It’s not about hatred or revenge, I’m not a dark person. Killing human beings…” he stopped at mid-sentence, uncontrollably laughing,  “It just makes me… incredibly happy.”

The man rose from his seat, still laughing, and slowly walked to the head of the hospital bed, taking his time, explaining his reasons.

“You know how you feel when you see a dead people? Pretending to be dead and it’s just… a look that people like to have.” he shook his head slightly, voice barely above a whisper, each of the men with his eyes fixed in the other one’s.


A body layed in a pool of blood, he was one of the first on the crime scene, Scotland Yard barely arriving. He kneeled beside the dead. Woman, blond, emerald eyes locked to the ceiling, empty of any spark of life. Tiny marks on her wristband, she was wearing a bracelet, probably stolen by her assaulter. Knife wound on her torso, clothes bestially torn apart, laceration on her pale skin, probably made by fingernails. Young.

Really young.


“That’s not what dead people look like. Dead people look like things. I like to make people into things, then you can own them.” he explained, eyes glistening with excitation as he rose up.

He marked a pause.

“You know what, I’m getting a little impatient.”

He pressed a button on the hospital bed, lowering its angle and stared at his victim with anticipation for an instant. He then proceeded to slowly walk to the right side of the bed, as Sherlock trailed him with his grey eyes, getting more and more tired by each passing second, the poisonous saline’s dosage filling his veins.

The killer adjusted his plastic gloves and leaned a bit, towering above the man.


She sank like a rock. She had always been scared of deep water, she had never learnt how to swim and now, it was going to kill her. He heard John screaming his name as he hit the surface rather hardly. The freezing temperature of Thames river in this winter night piercing his skin as he reached to her and grab her arm, pulling her up to him. Holding her tightly, he swam to the surface, his lungs screaming for fresh air.

Reaching it, he dragged her unconscious body to the shore, praying he had caught her in time, checking for a sign, any sign, she was still breathing.

“Come on Y/N…” he mumbled, trying to revive her. “Please… Breath Don’t do this to me… Please!”

The time seemed completely stopped until she finally cough, gasping loudly for air, coughing the polluted water out of her lungs.

“Sherlock…” she cried, shivering the cold air, clutching to him as if he was her lifeline in the middle of her panic attack, struggling to breath.

“It’s alright Y/N, I’m here…” he said, in a soothing voice, holding her against him, in an attempt to calm and warm her up, as John ran to them from the bridge. “Shh… it’s okay, everything will be fine…”

“Take a deep breath… it’s over now.”


“Take a deep breath if you want.” whispered the cold blooded killer, before he placed his right hand on the man’s mouth, pinching his nose with the left one, successfully blocking any access to oxygen.

He gasped panic filling his eyes, hands weakly gripping his killer’s, in hope of freeing himself.

“Murder is a very difficult addiction to manage. People don’t realize how much work goes into it.” explained Smith, a smile plastered on his face, painfully choking him. “You have to be careful, maybe if you’re rich or famous… and loved… it’s amazing what people are prepared to ignore!”


“John!”

Their panicked screams filled the air as they rushed to the huge bonfire. The crowd stared at them, completely shocked, while they kept screaming his name, trying to free him from the fire.

“Help!” his called echoed through them, barely audible with the crackling sound of burning wood and the horrified screams from the crowd.

“John!”

They kept throwing away the burning planks and branches, burning the skin of their hands, crying his name until their voices broke, coughing in the smoke. He was in panic, his best friend was going to burn alive in front of his eyes because of him.

“John!”

The fire was bigger and bigger as they dug deeper into the burning pile, heart racing, praying to reach him in time.

After a long and agonizing minute, they finally pulled him out of the bonfire, breathless, right before it collapsed on itself. If they had be there one mere second later, he would have been killed.


The injured was trying to free himself but to no avail, everything around him getting blurrier, his head spinning with the lack of oxygen. He wanted to scream, call for help, do something but he simply couldn’t, the saline in his veins weakening and killing him.

“There’s always someone desperate who’s about to know my sins. But there’s no one to suspect it when I do it here, it’s easier to suspect something else. I just have to ration myself to select the right. Heart. To stop.”

Sherlock slowly stopped fighting, powerless, the world darkening around him, he could hear the soft and insidious whispers of death calling to him. His eyes were closing themselves as he was resigning himself, giving up in the fight. But the entrepreneur didn’t wanted the fun to be over so soon.

“Maintain eye contact! Maintain eye contact!” he ordered him, whispering.

The constant beeping of the machines beside him was now erratic, faster than before, his heart struggling to beat without the needed oxygen while his killer repeated his mantra again and again.

“Maintain eye contact.”

Beep.

“Maintain eye contact.”

Beep.

“Maintain eye contact.”

Beep.

“Maintain.”

Beep.

“Eye.”

Beep.

“Contact.”

Everything was blurry, his voice distant, the beeping faster, but barely audible, his heart now the only thing left to hear, its beating covering everything else. Smith kept muttering to the dying man, who was now deaf to the world. Sherlock wanted to scream, call for help, but his forces were leaving him for good.

“Y/N.”

Beep.

“John”

Beep.

“Mary…”

Beep.

“I’m sorry.”

Beep.

“I failed you.”

He couldn’t fight anymore. He was dying. The game was over… And in his last instants, his thought were focussed on them.

His friends.

Beep.

His family.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

BANG

There was shouting and commotion, but none of it mattered now. They had come for him, and he was alive.

Connection Chap Fourteen

Originally posted by astropoe

Originally posted by imaginemycroftholmes

Originally posted by notmydate

Connection.  Read Chap One here. Two. Three  Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.

Sherlock x reader

Summary: an American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.

Word count: 4911

Some lines borrowed from His last vow in BOLD

Your name: submit What is this?


It had been a long night and Will was still having trouble sleeping. You prayed that he didn’t have the flu as you danced him around the sitting room singing softly to calm him. He started to fall asleep then the coughing started again and he clung to you as the whimpering began.

You swayed as you walked into the bathroom, turned on the hot water in the shower, and closed the door. The spray of the water against the tub made your eyes feel even heavier as you sat on the toilet and waited for the steam to fill the room. You picked up the song as Will whimpered again.

Your head started to nod as the warm steam enveloped you and Will’s breathing eased. Will’s weight lightened and you jerked awake clutching him to your chest. You met Sherlock’s gaze and he whispered, “it’s okay. I’ve got him.”

You shook your head but your eyelids kept getting heavier, “no. You haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours working that case. Besides this isn’t as bad as the flu he got last year.”

He touched your chin and you forced your eyes open. “I just slept for seven hours. I’m in much better condition than you are.”

You glanced down at his wrinkled shirt that he had passed out in. “I’m fine.” He chuckled and you looked up at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Do you give Mycroft this much trouble?”

You grimaced. “Mycroft’s my boss, you’re not. Shouldn’t you be off working your lead?”

He smirked as he leaned down and slipped his arms around Will, lifting him easily now that you had released your hold. “Did you give John this much trouble when he wanted to help you?”

Keep reading

Connection Chap Ten

Originally posted by bbcsherlockimagines

Originally posted by quietgirlsreadthemostsmut

Originally posted by sherlockjw

Connection.  Read Chap One here. Chap Two. Chap Three. Chap Four. Chap Five. Chap Six.Chap Seven. Chap Eight. Chap Nine.

Sherlock x reader

Summary: an American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.

Word count: 4666

Chapter Ten

Your name: submit What is this?


It wasn’t until after your final meeting that the shock from this morning came back to you. You were walking back to your office when you veered off and headed toward the elevator. The five-minute journey felt like forever but you finally made it to Mycroft’s office and strode past his assistant and through his door before she could take her eyes off her phone.

“Ah, Y/n. I’d like to say how unexpected but… well.” He smiled as he closed the file he was reading.

“Sorry, sir.” Anthea was holding the door waiting for Mycroft’s direction.

“Go.” You spat at the same time Mycroft commanded lazily.

“You could have said something! It wasn’t just Moriarty’s network you were worried about finding out, was it?” You strode to his desk and flattened your hands on the soft cherry wood. “You didn’t want him finding out.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes, “my little brother is not one for sentiment. Why would I worry?”

“Then why all the hush stuff? You told me it was for our protection! Come off it! You were worried that he would try to come back!” You kept your voice down but the steel was clear in your tone.

“He had a job to do, not just because we needed it done but because he needed it done. My brother has a soft spot for you and Watson. He has a fondness for friends that are only a liability and if you are put in danger that puts him in danger.”

“Wow. I didn’t know you cared.” You spat as you pushed off the desk.

Keep reading

Day 3

Sherlock x reader


Note: And here’s day 3 of @prettyxlittlexwriter (whom I have to thank for all her help on this one) Sherlock VDay challenge! This time I’m back to my usual Sherlock x Reader with the prompt :  “I guess this makes you my Valentine.”  I had quite a lot of fun to write it x) I also have to thanks Kevin, whom does not have a tumblr, for the wonderful plot idea.

If anyone of you wants to read more of these, or try the challenge with us, check for the tag #Sherlock VDay Challenge. There will be every kind of fics, from inserts to ships, both from 2 lists, a general one and a smutty one.

Enjoy!

“Sherlock, you’re completely missing the point!”

“Psh, I can’t miss the point of something pointless John!”

The two men were sitting at Speedy’s, eating dinner (well actually, John was eating dinner and Sherlock simply waiting there with him since he wasn’t hungry) and, as usual, arguing about sentiment.

“Pointless?! Valentine’s day is the day we celebrate love all around the world, and unless you live as a hermit, you can’t ignore it.” Argued his friend.

“Yes I can. That’s what I’ve done my whole life and that’s what I’m planning to do for the rest of it.”

“All I’m saying is: it’s not a day you’re supposed to spend alone.”

“Oh John… People are boring, love is a nuisance for a detective like me and the whole purpose of Valentine’s day is to make money. How could you even be expecting me to do something?” his friend scoffed, shaking his head.

John sighed and went back to his dinner, trying to find a way to explain his point to his friend, but failing to find any valid argument. After a few minutes in complete and utterly awkward silence as Sherlock stared at the people in the restaurant, something came to his mind.

Something childish, unlike him, but what appeared to be his only chance to get his friend to see someone the 14th.

“I dare you to ask out the next person to walk in.” he said.

“What.” Sherlock gave him a surprised look.

“I. Dare. You. To. Ask. Out. The. Next. Bloody. Person. To. Walk. In.” repeated the doctor, insisting on each word.

“This is completely stupid why would I-”

“Because it’s a dare, Sherlock, and that’s how dares work.”

Sherlock stared at him, trying to decipher whether his friend was being serious or not. The door opened and entered an oh-so-familiar woman, who walked directly to the counter.

“That’s your cue Sherlock.”

The man turned to his friend and shook his head.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“It’s Y/N!”

“That makes one more reason to ask her out, you’d rather not go with a random stranger would you?”

The other man groaned loudly and the door opened again, as a huge, stereotypical biker came in.

“Or you could go and ask him out.” Added John, motioning to the robust man.

“Or I could also simply choose to walk out of here instead.”

“Then I would ask both out for you and that, you can be sure will make you look like a coward.”

The detective shot him a death glare with his icy blue eyes and rose up, walking to the counter, where the two customers were waiting. He gulped and looked at the two of them, facing a hard choice. Would he rather be killed by an outraged Y/N or a cat-loving biker? He glanced at the door then to his friend. He didn’t really have a choice now did he… Sighing, he approached the biker, clearing his throat.

“Excuse me sir, please don’t read too much into this, you see my friend here dared me to ask you to be my valentine ” he tried, unsure.

“What?” the imposing man turned to him. “Do I look like a fairy to you?!”

Sherlock swallowed nervously. This was not going to end well.

“No sir, I’m sorry it’s just that my friend-”

“Yeah, your friend thought it would be funny eh? Well it won’t be as much when you’ll be in a hospital bed. I don’t like it when people make fun of me…”

And with that he punched Sherlock right on the face, knocking him on the ground, as the whole restaurant turned to them in shock. John was as white as a ghost, Y/N turned to the two men behind her wide eyed and the cashier let out a small yelp. The biker took Sherlock by the collar and tackled him against the counter, punching him several other times as the detective tried to get out of his grip and some customers to separate them. Kneeing his opponent in the right place, he pushed him away and rose his guard for the next blow, which came faster than he’d thought. The two men fell on the ground, still fighting, rolling over one another as everyone else was trying to stop them. At the tenth blow on his head, Sherlock lost consciousness.

——————————~☆☆☆~——————————–

The constant beeping of hospital’s instrument woke him up. He stared at the white ceiling for a moment, trying to recall how exactly he ended up there when Y/N’s voice answered his question.

“Fighting with a biker at Speedy’s? Sherlock, even for you this is a new level of stupid.” Sarcastically stated the woman, sitting on a chair beside him. “John was here about an hour ago. He wanted to apologize to you and cancel his date but I convinced him to do otherwise, you were the one to choose the biker after all.” She paused, “Am I really that of a terrible choice?”

He tried to chuckle a bit but only succeeded in wincing in pain.

“Yeah don’t move, you’ve got a concussion. Usually you shouldn’t have any visitors, but I’ve got my way around hospitals…. Why on Earth did John dare you to do this?”

“I said Valentine’s day was pointless, love a nuisance and people boring when he tried to convince me to spend the evening with someone.”

“And look where it got you now… Stuck in an hospital bed with only me for company.” She joked. “John did found a way to get you a date though…” she added, after a small pause. “Well considering an hospital is far from being the most romantic setting we could have wished for…”

“So I guess this makes you my Valentine then?”

“We could say so.” She chuckled.

He gave her a smile.

“Maybe it’s not as much of a bad thing as it sounds…” she added, “On the other hand, next year, try not to be in hospital this time…”

Connection Thirty Two

Originally posted by athingwithpeas

Originally posted by imaginemycroftholmes

Originally posted by rainingooblah


Connection.  Read Chap One here. Two. Three Four.  Five. Six. Seven. Eight.  Nine.  Ten.  Eleven.  Twelve.  Thirteen.  Fourteen.  Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.  Eighteen.  Nineteen.  Twenty.   Twenty One.   Twenty Two.   Twenty Three.   Twenty Four.   Twenty Five.   Twenty Six.   Twenty Seven. Twenty Eight.   Twenty Nine.   Thirty.   Thirty One.

Sherlock x reader

An American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.

Word Count: 3686


The sun was still high when you finally zipped up your suitcase and glanced around the recovery room that had been your home for the last four weeks of your eight-week stay at the hospital. Mycroft had pushed it but you had to admit the recovery process had probably been easier here with the weekly visits with Dr. Gregson and the daily physical therapy with Courtney in the same building. Now that all the fractures had completely healed and your tendons, ligaments, and muscles were on their way, you could possibly tackle the stairs with the cane without too much pain.

You turned at the rap at the door and smiled at John standing in the doorway with his old cane.

“Your ride is here. Are you excited or terrified?” He walked over with a look around the room. “It’s like no one was living here.” You eyed him as he handed you the cane then stuck his hand inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a DVD inside a clear sleeve. “I think this is for you.” He cleared his throat as you took the disc and looked at it, “she left two for us. This arrived yesterday and… I’ve had to stop myself from watching it more than a few times.”

It was a plain white DVD with Godmother scrawled in black sharpie. You looked up at John, “She?”

“Mary.”

Your gaze dropped to the disc again and you ran your fingers over her writing. “How do you know it’s for me?”

“Because of something she said once or twice.” He pulled your laptop out of its bag and placed it on the table. He started it up then turned to go, “I’ll just wait…”

You grasped his wrist and pleaded, “please stay.”

He glanced at the laptop before meeting your gaze, “you’re sure?” You nodded then released him. He picked up the second chair and carried it over next to the one in front of the laptop.

You sat down, loaded the DVD, hit auto play, and waited not quite sure what to expect but all you could hear were those cruel words you threw at her that Christmas that felt so long ago. We all have demons, Amanda. The pained look on her face that you had evoked because you knew her deepest weakness. What kind of person lashes out with something that was given in confidence, words shared only because she felt safe enough to open up to you? If only you could take it all back.

Mary’s face filled the screen just as you were about to slap the laptop shut and you gasped. John grabbed your hand and you turned it over then entwined your fingers with his. “Please don’t leave,” you whispered and John replied with a squeeze of your hand.

“Y/n.” Her smile reached her eyes, “I’m sure this is probably a shock to you or well, maybe not, you always were so intuitive when it came to behavior.” She sighed, “there are so many things I wanted to say to you that I didn’t get the chance to but you’ve probably heard them all before so I’m going to use this to tell you what you didn’t hear.”

Keep reading

Connection Thirty Three

Originally posted by sherlockspeare

Originally posted by sherlock5countdown


Connection.  Read Chap One here. Two. Three Four.  Five. Six. Seven. Eight.  Nine.  Ten.  Eleven.  Twelve.  Thirteen.  Fourteen.  Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.  Eighteen.  Nineteen.  Twenty.   Twenty One.   Twenty Two.   Twenty Three.   Twenty Four.   Twenty Five.   Twenty Six.   Twenty Seven. Twenty Eight.   Twenty Nine.   Thirty.   Thirty One.  Thirty Two.

Sherlock x reader

An American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.

Word Count: 4678

Lyrics from Ray LaMontagne’s, “You Are The Best Thing” in Bold.

Christmas dinner was going to be the biggest affair in years and you were exiled to the Holmes’ den, not allowed to lift another finger to help. Your bones were completely healed and healed correctly no less with no need for extra surgeries yet Mrs. Holmes and Mrs. Hudson had ganged up against you forcing you out like you were an invalid. Just because you grimaced over tweaking your ankle just a bit, that’s all it was. The twinges were to be expected, it didn’t mean that you had to stop everything and go lay down.

You were a goddamn adult, fully functioning now, you didn’t even need the cane except for occurrences that were becoming more and more rare. They were massaging their lower backs for christ sakes! Mrs. Hudson even smoked a friggin’ joint outside to soothe her hip but you were sidelined over a damn misstep! You sat on the couch and stared into the fire as your blood tried to match its heat.

A quiet mumble from that small lovely voice completely drowned it all out. John stepped through the doorway and Rosie’s face lit up. “Mim!”

She wiggled in John’s arms until he placed her on the floor then her small legs devoured the floor between you. John realized too late that she would jump into your lap but you had already braced for impact and caught her easily. Her arms wrapped around your middle and she snuggled into your chest. Every irritable thought, every nagging ache, everything but the small person clinging to you washed away.

Rosie had been guarded when you met her and became even more so outside of the hospital but you understood after the things she already had to deal with during the first year of her life. She regarded you cautiously every day during those first two weeks when John would bring her by Mycroft’s house to visit and even when you watched her while he was off with Sherlock. But slowly, she began to open up and it was all because of Will. Her connection with your son helped her see you as someone other than a stranger. Ultimately, it was Will and his bond with you that brought around the little girl who now hugged you every chance she got and bloomed like a flower in front of you.

That first time that she snuggled into you was one of those moments you would never forget.

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