Requested by anon: Sherlock x reader. Sherlock knew about her abusive ex boyfriend. But when he showed up minutes before Sherlock arriving home. The sound of skin hitting skin was enough to make Sherlocks blood boil. & anon: I’d like to request a fic on how she was in are abusive relationship and how she started to date sherlock
Hidden Word is Jealousy by anon
Pair: Sherlock x reader
Word count: 3.232
Warnings: Abusive Relationship, Violence (Psychological, physical and emotional), trigger warning.
A/N: First of all thank you to my gorgeous beta Anna for helping me with this one. Love you!
Second of all, just like I’ve said before: Abusive relationships are NOT HEALTHY. I know they can be intimidating, I know you may think you love them, I know, I know, I know, I’ve seen violence from the front row and let me tell you one thing: If they do not respect you, if they harm you in any way (physically, psychologically o emotionally), if they don’t give you your place, not only as their partner but as a human being, they do not deserve you. You are strong, beautiful and deserve so much better… Don’t ever think otherwise. So, if you are in an abusive relationship, don’t be afraid and go ask for help.
As always, if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.
Lock the doors, turn the lights off, and pretend to be asleep. Her nightly routine had become a nightmare, which she was unable to escape.
I hope this is ok and if you did this already you can ignore it. i wonder if you can do a one shot where mycroft and his wife have been married for 5~ years and you both dont want children (his fear of having an Eurus and you think you are unable to have children). you find out youre pregnant and youre both stunned at the news. all fluff just two people surprised.
“Honey...Honey, can you come up here” you call a bit stressed as the fifth pregnancy test came back positive.
Honestly you had no idea how to feel about this.
From the start you and Mycroft had been mutually against the idea of having any kids in fear of producing another Eurus and you-well, you weren’t even sure you could have kids with years of less than regular periods.
“Our relationship can survive without the addition of children,” Mycroft had stated quite pointedly when Mummy heard that she would not be expecting any grandchildren after returning from the honeymoon, “We have each other and that is more than enough to keep us happy.”
Of course Mummy didn’t take too kindly to that if the screeching on the other end of the phone was anything to go by but when it was finally announced that Sherlock had proposed to Molly her attentions were (thankfully) redirected.
Mummy now likes to call and complain at odd hours to the pair of you on just how long its taking Molly and Sherlock to get details pounded out for the wedding and how she’ll be dead by the time she’ll see her baby boy as a groom.
As you could hear your husband’s steps lumbering up the staircase you feel panicked wondering how he will take this.
Mycroft was a God when it came to small children to which no one save Sherlock could argue (and only because he was jealous) with given on how many times that Rosie and her friends just gravitate toward him.
Sure, Sherlock may try to distract them with experiments and excitement but in the end Rosie and her gaggle of friends will always be at Mycroft’s heel; asking him questions while hanging on his every word.
And it didn’t even stop there-any time you would be out and about whether it was for crown or just groceries Mycroft seemed to entrance small children of all ages.
Most would wander up to him and stare affectionately, others might be as bold to pull on a pant leg to demand attention and one had the gall to attempt to follow him throughout the stroll babbling all while the pair of you were shopping for a dinner party.
Anyone with a pair of eyes could see Mycroft melt when a child took interest in him and it made you fall more in love with him by the second to witness it and depressed all the same.
For all that Mycroft claimed that he was fine with a life without becoming a father was mainly due to Eurus you were near certain that it was due to your infertility.
Oh and how you ready to choke down any pill, take several injections or even “borrow” a body to give Mycroft a child-its not like you couldn’t afford it but Mycroft turned it down.
“I will not have you stress your body needlessly for something we don’t necessarily need to make us happy,” Mycroft had stated quietly which opened up a whole lot of painful discussions on what you each wanted in life and crying but it had been a productive talk.
There had been mentions of adopting and even getting a whole shelter full of pets but as the year went by nothing changed.
The pair of you were still without children and Sherlock’s wedding planning was making more headway than you.
By all accounts this should make Mycroft happy, hell, even you should be happy but then there’s that underlying fear-those horrible kernels of evil that keep you from basking in the glow of the previously thought impossibility.
Your hips are too narrow to carry a child to full term…how are you go to deliver a baby especially if it turns out to be two?
What if they turn out like Eurus? What if they turn out worse than Eurus?
Who even says you’ll survive the pregnancy?
It was horrible miniature hurricane swirling in your mind as Mycroft finally entered bathroom and took in the scene.
Oh Lord, that doesn’t sound positive you think and wish that you at least had some of that earlier morning sickness to keep you from talking.
Finding that your throat too thick to talk you simply nod and hold onto the toilet bowel like a life line. Looking at him doesn’t make you feel less sick as he bends to become eye level with you on the tile.
“For how long?” he asks his voice although displaying concern and wonderment.
Clearly he must not take to the news too badly but then again the rush to purge your stomach has returned as if summoned by your silent plea and gives no time to speak.
Mycroft being the thoughtful husband that he is quick to grab your hair as you expel what little you’ve kept in your belly from brunch and soothe you as you heave.
“There, there ______, just let it all out and I’ll fetch you a glass,” he croons as the retching becomes all there is left.
Grabbing the cup from the sink he’s quick to fill it in order to help rid the taste of bile from your mouth and there again with his embrace to help ease the tremors from the aftermath.
He doesn’t speak for a while as holding you on the bathroom floor, just swaying slight to make you feel less sick and running his fingers through your hair. It makes you feel at ease and sleepy.
“Do you want it?”
You swear that by all that is holy you did not mean to say that. It was if God himself took over your mouth and forced you to say it against your will and even the sound of that phrase sounded foreign to your own ears.
Feeling his arms stiffen around you pull away to look at your husband of five years. “I mean, I want it if you want it-the baby I mean,” you struggle to find some part of you that doesn’t sound frantic, “I see how you are with kids and I want that-with you but not if it makes you unhappy. Because I am happy. With you-I just want you to be happier-”
“Would this child make you happy ____?”
It takes only minimal thinking what with all the instances of Mycroft cuddling children and wishing they were your own to blurt out, “yes.”
“Now would you still want the child if it turns out like Eurus?”
Now that takes a bit more time as you search for an answer. There’s no true way of knowing if any child will turn out like that of the youngest Holmes anymore if they’ll turn out to be a genius like Mycroft.
A coin toss.
Just one big guess game of what ifs.
Would the pain be worth the pleasure of having a child?
Will the work put into raising one be worth the risk of raising a criminal?
Was this worth it?
“Yes, yes Mycroft I would still want this child,” you state solidly as you lock eyes with him, “Just like our marriage; for better or worse.”
Tears are forming in Mycroft’s eyes as he brings you into a hug. “Then parents we shall be.”
The moment is magical and fluffy that you can’t imagine the spell being broken until the answering machine downstairs starts ringing and the the box beeps.
“Mikey. MIKEY, its your mother sweetheart and you need to go down to your brother’s flat and see what’s taking them so long to pick out a venue! I won’t be around forever! MIKEY! I know you’re home darling, pick up the phone!”
“Do you want to tell her or should I,” Mycroft asks with a chuckle as Mummy continues to rabble on the answering machine with her demands to be answered.
“I think I’ll let her son do the honors since I’m in such a delicate condition,” you say wetly caught between wanting to still cry and laugh.
“Then I shall,” Mycroft says softly before pressing a kiss to your temple and then jogging out of the bathroom to catch the phone in the bedroom.