John: Well, this could be very nice. Very nice indeed. Sherlock: Yes. Yes, I think so. My thoughts precisely. So I went straight ahead and moved in. John: Soon as we get all this rubbish cleaned out- Oh.
“And thus we solved the mystery of the sinister house called The Copper Beeches. Mr. Rucastle survived, but was always a broken man, kept solely alive by the care of his devoted wife. They still live with their servants, who probably know so much of Rucastle’s past that he finds it difficult to part from them. Mr. Fowler and Miss Rucastle were married, by special license, and he now holds a government position in the island of Mauritius. Miss Hunter is now a head of a private school in Walsall, where I gather she has met with considerable success.”
Requested by anon: - Can you make a fic where the reader and Sherlock argue so the reader leaves Baker Street for a while. While she’s gone Sherlock is having flashbacks of her and their time together. He puts his emotions into composing a song for her on his violin to play it when she returns. With just a lot of fluff please!! & anon: Could you do something where you call Sherlock a freak in the heat of an argument and he’s really hurt by it :( because you’re the only one who never called him that (John also, but for dramatic purposes yanno)
Pairing: Sherlock x reader.
Word count: 1.776
Warnings: Sad Sherlock, Sad (Y/N).
A/N: I have never written the words “I love you” so many times in one fanfic before this… Also, I’m soooo tired right now that there are probably loads of mistakes. Sorry about that.
How foolish had he been by acting
like that, by talking to her like that. She had been the only person ever not
to call him like that, the only person in the world to understand him and now
that was over.
She had called him a freak, and she
had done so because he had called her a lot of things he wouldn’t dare to
repeat out loud ever again. It was in the heat of an argument, a very silly
argument – but Sherlock always took such things seriously.
It was a dumb argument. Sherlock didn’t
even remember why it started, but he knew that it escalated slowly until it
exploded and she left. She had stomped out the room furiously, shutting the
door and running down the rainy street without caring to grab an umbrella
As a thank you for the wonderful comfort fluffs, I wanted to share with you a few completely pointless notions I had about cuddles with Mycroft (bedroom cuddles aside)
On the nights when it works out that you’re both home at more or less the same time, you sit side by side on the sofa and lean against each other; maybe wrapped up together in a blanket or sipping tea, watching the fire or the tv or just each other. Holding his hand in your lap, playing idly with his long fingers while his free hand traces swirls and circles up and down your arm. Passing the night in comfortable quiet, just being close to each other.
And then some nights you have to drag your sorry carcass home because the day was just brutal and it’s all you can do to collapse on the couch. You don’t know when Mycroft will be there but he knows the kind of day you had. You didn’t tell him but he’s Mycroft and he knows. So when he gets home it’s with take out but he doesn’t bother with the food just yet. Instead he finds you on the sofa, maybe asleep, maybe waiting for him. He doesn’t speak, just offers you a reassuring smile. Mycroft catches both your ankles in one hand and lifts your legs, seating himself in their place and draping your them across his lap so that he can lean over and lie against you and put his arms around you and just reassure you with his proximity. And it doesn’t take long for the stress and the frustration and the anxiety to just melt away.
Then there are the nights when Anthea notifies you that Mycroft is having a day from Hell. (As soon as you and Mycroft got together you realized Anthea would be invaluable as an ally and have since entered into a mutually beneficial partnership) You get to work as soon as you get the word: making sure the house is neat and comfortable, preparing a meal he’s particularly fond of that won’t mess up his diet. And when he finally makes it home you can tell he’s exhausted no matter how he tries to hide it. You take his jacket and his briefcase and his umbrella and put them away and when you come back you find him sprawled on the sofa. You gently coax him up enough to sit down with his head in your lap, one hand threading gently through his hair while the other rubs soothing circles up and down his back. After a little while he visibly relaxes and you can feel him smiling against your skin, pressing warm but tired kisses into your thigh. The two of you might just stay there all night long, and if you do it’ll still be a perfect evening.
33. “What did I do in a past life to deserve this?”
“Mycroft, it’s three am.” You seethed, standing in the middle of 221b in your robe. Moments ago, Mycroft was brought up to the apartment you shared with John and Sherlock by a very angry Mrs. Hudson.
“This is important.” He told the three of you.
“But did you really have to disrupt Mrs. Hudson?” John asked.
“I knew Sherlock wouldn’t answer the door.” Mycroft shrugged.
Sherlock rubbed his temples in frustration. “What did I do in a past life to deserve this?”
“You probably didn’t answer your door.” Mycroft retorted.
“Please,” Sherlock scoffed. “I must’ve been Jack the Ripper at least.”
“Just tell us what you need and then get out.” John cut in.
“Someone stole a watch.” Mycroft informed us.
“A watch?” You raised an eyebrow. “You woke us up at three am for a bloody watch? Just buy a new one!”
“It was the queen’s watch.” Mycroft added, as if it was supposed to mean something important.
“I’m sure the queen has enough money to buy a new watch.” Sherlock stood up, walking to the door. “Now, if that’s all.”
“The point is that someone was able to get passed her security to steal the watch.” Mycroft continued.
“No the point is that you’ve been waiting for an excuse to come and see Y/N. But I’d like to remind you that it’s three am. Now kindly get out of our apartment.” Sherlock held the door open.
“What?” You asked in disbelief.
Sherlock groaned. “I’m always amazed at your stupidity.”
“Sherlock!” John raised his voice. “Apologize.”
“It’s just that Y/N should’ve been able to deduce this.” Sherlock shrugged. “That’s all.”
“It’s three am, Sherlock.” You seethed. “I’m not making any deductions at three am.”
“Well you should’ve we might all be back in bed now if you did.” Sherlock looked over at Mycroft. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so red before. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Y/N happens to like you too. I mean, God knows why, but she does. She’ll call you tomorrow.”
“You will?” Mycroft asked you.
“Yeah, I will.” You smiled.
“Good, now bloody get out, Romeo.” Sherlock all but shoved Mycroft out.
Sherlock closed the door behind him and sighed.
“That wasn’t very nice, Sherlock.” John crossed his arms.
“We’ll talk about this when I wake up undisturbed.” Sherlock dismissed him, slamming the door to his room.
“Right well,” John looked over at you. “I’m glad everything worked out between you and Mycroft. I think he’ll make you happy, and he’s definitely the more sensible Holmes.”
“I heard that.” Sherlock yelled.
“Goodnight, Y/N.” John told you before disappearing in his room.
“Goodnight, John.” You smiled and walked back to your room, excited to call Mycroft tomorrow.
curiously holding a
bag of groceries in his arms. You were huddled behind a sitting chair in
Sherlock’s flat, just barely peeking your eyes over the side to glance at
Sherlock standing frozen by the fire place. “Hiding.” John sighed
shifting his weight as he stood in the door way. “And why are you doing
You shot him a quick
glance before returning your eyes to Sherlock. "He got frustrated with a
case and started shooting at the wall, he gave no warning though and I was
sitting on the couch underneath.” You explained nodding your head to the
new bullet holes. John sighed loudly, entering the flat and shuffling to the
kitchen with his bags. “I’m surprised Mrs. Hudson hadn’t come up here to
yell at him.” He called as cupboards slammed shut. “She’s been out
all day, otherwise she would’ve.” You replied leaning your head onto the
seat beside you.
Mary's speech in Sherlock's mind.... an EMP interpretation
As a big fan of EMP, I’m still convinced we haven’t left Sherlock’s mind yet! This would mean that all of S4 takes place in Sherlock’s mind and belongs to his inner journey to become the man he wants to be!!
From this point of view the only remaining way to read this series is a symbolic and metaphoric one! This includes many many thoughts and ideas!! Many of them already pointed out by brilliant people!!! But for now I want to have a look at the final speech of Mary at the end of TFP inspired by this post of @gosherlocked!!!
I know this is a stiff subject, but still, I just want to share my thoughts…. So go on under the cut if you like to read a different and much more positive interpretation of Mary’s final words…