❤︎ Suggestive Content | Sherlock takes you on a 'date'
Sherlock carried you into 221b and gently placed you onto his bed. You murmur at him sleepily, confused. “Why am I in your bed?”
“Because I have a TV in my room. ‘The Sound of Music’ or ‘My Fair Lady’?” He replied, grabbing some pyjamas from the clean washing pile.
“Mhm, ‘The Sound of Music’.”
“Yeah? Do you want the pink pyjamas or the green ones?”
“Either please…”
He puts the green ones away and put the pink ones on the bed. He shoves his coat off and unbuttons his shirt, walking so he’s standing right in front of you.
“Do you want help to get changed?”
“Mhm? Sure. You’ve seen me naked before.”
“I didn’t plan on walking into you while changing.”
“You didn’t turn back immediately either, you were ‘inquiring about the washing basket’, which you never look at by the way.”
“I was checking it was your washing.” He says quietly, convincing himself.
“Why are you pampering me?”
“We’re still on our ‘date’, remember?”
You giggle, “Our ‘date’, hm?”
“Oh yes, and I believe that my girl should be pampered while she’s so sleepy.”
“I was wondering why you were letting me watch a musical.”
“I can cope with two hours of Austrian children singing if it makes you happy.” He smiles. He pulls your bottoms off, gently rubbing your leg afterwards. “You’ve built some muscle here…”
“It’s all of the running you’ve been making me do.”
“You love the running.”
“I do….”
He slides your pyjama trousers up.
“Is this what a boyfriend would actually do?” He asked suddenly.
You smile, ruffling his hair. “You’ve already promoted yourself to ‘boyfriend’ already? I thought this was still the ‘first date’.”
“You’re in my bed, which is already a successful ending to a date. I don’t see why you wouldn’t want me as your boyfriend.” He teases, unbuttoning her shirt.
“You arrogant git.” You laugh, playfully kicking at him.
He lets a giggle leave his lips as you playfully kick him. “That’s not a very nice thing to call your boyfriend.”
“Then what should I be calling you?”
Sherlock pauses for a second. “What do people call each other?”
“Well, things like ‘baby’, ‘darling’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘honeybee’.”
“I like the last one best.”
“I thought you would, honeybee.”
His hands pause for a moment, but then he continues.
“Sit up for me a moment.”
He guides her to sit up, helping her undo the claps of her bra. He pulls the bra off from her, revealing her breasts. She immediately cups her chests, covering her body. Sherlock smiles softly. “I won’t look if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t mind, you’ve seen worse.”
“I haven’t seen better than this though.” He whispers.
You barely caught his words, but they cause your face to flush.
“Do you want to wear a vest? Or…” His eyes try not to dart down.
“Can I stay like this? I feel warm.”
“Of course.”
He grabs the TV remote and lays down next to you. He finds ‘The Sound of Music’ and presses play. You instinctively curl up next to him, playing along with the ‘date’. To your surprise Sherlock wraps a hand around your bare back.
“You really don’t mind me being shirtless?”
“No. Should I?”
“Not if you don’t mind, I’m just surprised.”
He kisses your forehead in response, smirking as your eyes widened.
❤︎ Suggestive Content | Sherlock takes you on a ‘date’
| Part 2 |
You were supposed to be on a case focused on investigating the murder of a business man around Victoria Station. Fortunately (and to Sherlock’s dismay) it soon because apparent that there was no murder and Anderson had stolen Lestrade’s phone. You were watching him pace around the pavement in front of the creaking bench you were sitting on.
“Dammit, bloody Anderson.” Sherlock groaned, collapsing down next to you, frustration clear on his face. “Lestrade is such an idiot for letting that moron get a hold of his phone, I mean he’s a bloody policeman for God’s sake how could he let his guard down?” He looked to you and notices that you look exhausted, he had woken you up early for this case. “Are you alright?”
You hum, nodding. “Yeah, sorry, just tired. Didn’t sleep great last night.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t you hear next door partying? I think some university students have moved into Mrs Turner’s place.”
“I didn’t get back until 4 in the morning, I must have missed it.”
“Oh? Was that a real case?” You smirked.
He huffs out some laughter and leans against the back of the bench. “Yes, it was.” He looks over to you again, his brow furrowed.
“What’s wrong, Sherl?”
“Just want to ensure you’re alright.”
“I’m fine, just tired, maybe a bit hungry.”
He stands up and pats his pocket. “Let’s go.”
You nod and follow him, a little dazed out. “Where?”
“There’s a café down the road, I know the owner. He was a suspect in a hit and run but I managed to prove he was innocent.”
“A café? Are you taking me on a date?”
He stopped in his tracks. “A date?”
“Sherlock, I’m teasing you.”
But you had forgotten that this is Sherlock Holmes, and considering how bored he was he was completely ready to embarrass you. “No, you said this is a date. So, this is a date.”
You were confused but you found Sherlock’s stubbornness endearing, so you grabbed his hand, “Alright then, a date.”
He smirks and takes you down the street.
You arrive at a beautiful café, decorated with a variety of plants and posters advertising ‘Sip ‘n Paint Sessions’. Sherlock squeezes your hand with a small smile on his face.
“The owner, Thomas, will like you. He loves artsy people.”
“Yeah? You come here often?”
“Not really, I occasionally pick up a tea but I haven’t painted any of the pottery before.”
They entered the café and were immediately encompassed by the smell of coffee beans and cinnamon. The man who runs the café immediately smiles as he sees Sherlock.
He was a tall man with white hair which grew around the circumference of his head, it was fluffy like the feathers of an owl. He had a large smile as he left the counter to approach the couple.
“Ah! Mr Sherlock Holmes! It’s wonderful to see you again! And you’ve brought a friend?”
“Yes, this is Y/N, we’re on a date.”
He gasps in response, “A date? Well, I am honoured. Please follow me.”
He takes you both over to a gorgeous table decorated with mini pottery wheels, paint brushes, vibrant glazes and tools. At first Sherlock looks quite out of his depth, but once he notices your smile he feels reassured that this will be enjoyable.
"I'll bring over a menu, some clay and then I'll leave you love birds to it." Thomas says kindly, a small glint in his eye as he looks to Sherlock. His moustache sits proudly on the bridge of his lip, its curls waving goodbye with the air rushing out of his nostrils as he grins.
You and Sherlock take your respective seats and after choosing a drink each you begin to work on your clay. You had an idea of what you wanted to create: a mug decorated with bees (something you knew Sherlock would appreciate), you were trying to keep what you were making a secret from him.
"Y/N, what are you doing?" He spoke up suddenly, suspicious.
You grinned. "Hiding it from you, you can't see until it's done."
"Oh? Hiding things from your 'date' doesn't normally go too well, but I suppose I'll allow it this time." He smirks, using his left hand to hide his own design from you. His expression is one of intense concentration as he works the clay on the wheel. You can’t help but watch how his fingers work, so gentle yet so firm. He catches you looking and looks confused. “Am I doing it wrong?”
“No, don’t stop.” You reply immediately. "You're doing a great job."
"Thank you, if I could see yours I would agree." He teased.
About half an hour later Thomas wanders back over to speak to you both, he smiles as he looks at both designs.
"Ah! What lovely mugs you both have done! Once you're finished put them on the counter and I'll deal with the rest. Sherlock, I imagine I can text you once they're both fired and you'll bring yourselves straight back?"
"Yes of course, especially if the date goes well." He playfully nudges your foot from under the table with his own, causing you to roll your eyes and smile.
"Wonderful! I'll get a tray for them."
Once you're both satisfied with your creations Sherlock carefully carries them to the counter. Thomas smiles at him again. "I should say, your date seems like a lovely woman. How long have you known each other?"
"When I was looking for flatmates a few months back, John's friend Mike recommended him to me, and Y/N sort of appeared afterwards thanks to Lestrade's influence. Both of them have had a hard time leaving."
"Oh, how lovely!"
They both notice as you sleepily slump forward a little, still tired from the party that kept you up all night.
Sherlock sighs quietly, concerned. "Sometimes I think I miss out on important things around me."
Thomas looked surprised, "What do you mean?"
"I didn't hear the party last night because I was out on a case, it kept her up all night and I dragged her out this morning when we didn't even end up having a case to go to."
"Why don't you take her home? Take her to bed, help her settle, maybe watch a film?"
"She's been wanting to watch 'The Sound of Music' or 'My Fair Lady'."
"Both are wonderful choices, very attractive male characters. You don't have competition, do you?" He jokes, putting the clay mugs on a shelf behind him.
"Oh please, Captain Von Trapp and Freddy Eynsford-Hill have nothing-"
"Oh you know their names, hm? Sounds to me like you've been doing some research."
"It's irrelevent."
He leans onto the table and speaks softly. "Sherlock. Take the girl home. get her favourite pyjamas laid out for her, curl up next to her, and stomach enough of a romantic musical until she falls asleep in your arms."
"Should I order food?
"Brilliant idea. Now, I'll get these fired today and I'll let you know when they're done."
"Thank you, Thomas."
He nods kindly, watching as Sherlock helped you to get up.
★ SFW I After a troubling night at a party you find him watching you from across the ballroom
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .★⋆.
The sunlight filters through the yellowed-blinds, highlighting the eyelashes that are resting on Sherlock’s face. He begins to stir slowly, instinctively wrapping his arms tighter around whatever he’s hugging. It takes him a few minutes to finally stir, and when he does he realises who’s next to him.
Sherlock immediately checks your pulse, checking that you’d fallen asleep bedsides him intentionally and that Daniel Cleverly hasn’t gotten to you while he had drifted off to sleep. He was supposed to protect you, dammit, not falling asleep next to you and leaving you completely vulnerable. If Cleverly had broken in would he have even noticed? He gets up and rushes into the en-suite.
It’s when he looked down at himself when he realised that the night spent next to you had clearly rejuvenated him too well. Fuck, what is he going to do?
You began to stir once you realised that Sherlock’s scent had grown distant. “Mmm…Sherlock…?” You sleepily mumbled, lifting the blanket off of yourself and padding over to the en-suite.
“Y/N? Don’t come in!” He called out.
“Why not? Are you alright?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Get yourself dressed, I’ll ask Mrs Hudson to bring up breakfast for you.”
“And yourself?”
That makes him pause. He does eventually speak again, “Yes…And for myself.”
You smile.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .★⋆.
After breakfast you and sherlock sit down on the chairs by the fireplace. He’s quiet, his hands pressed together.
“Sherlock, what are you doing?”
“Thinking.”
“About the case?
“Of course. So we’re aware that Cleverly is murdering women that he’s dating, it’s just a matter of catching him as I’ve already secured some evidence, there’s one thing that’s confusing me.”
“The fact that I’m still alive?”
“Yes. Why hasn’t he killed you?”
You think for a moment, “Could I have been a cover for him?”
Sherlock jolts up with a grin. “That’s it! How didn’t I see this before?” He walks over to you, “He wanted you a cover, you must have been someone he felt he could easily walk over-“
“Okay! Okay! Geez.”
“Oh please, your lack of complaining stopped you from getting murdered. Maybe you should live here with me, set an example for John.” He smirks.
You blush a little, thinking about spending every day with Sherlock like you did last night. “Did you sleep okay last night?”
“I did. Thank you for encouraging me to sleep.”
“That’s okay, it was quite nice having someone to actually cuddle.”
“Why did you stay with him for so long if he didn’t show you any affection?”
“I just kept waiting for him to change, sometimes he would be kinder, other days he would insult me. I didn’t really have the money to find a new place, and honestly if we hadn’t met I would’ve slept on the sofa at my friend’s house last night.”
“You don’t have anywhere to go?”
“Well, I do, but-“
“I’ve already said you will be staying here until the investigation is over, but I’ll have Mrs Hudson prepare the room in the basement to make it a bedroom for you if you like. You can live here, John won’t mind.”
“But Sherlock, we’ve just met, you don’t know anything about me.”
“I know almost everything about you and your lifestyle habits, I’ve seen you on the CCTV.”
“Every time you say that it still sounds creepy.”
“You’ve already dated a murderer, I’d say I’m an improvement.”
He tasks you with sitting down on the sofa and scrolling through John’s blog to ‘gathering information on his behaviour’ while Sherlock works on the actual case. What you didn’t realise is that he would be standing inbetween your legs to put evidence together on the ‘clue board’.
“Do you want me to move?”
“No.”
“What if you fall?”
“I won’t fall.”
Jusg as he says that he falls on top of you. He catches himself, your body now inbetween his, like he’s crawling over you. He stops for a moment, just staring. You blush. “Are you okay?”
“I should be asking you that. I could have gotten you hurt again.”
“Again? What do you mean?”
Sherlock sighs and sits up. “Last night I planned to stay awake and watch you to ensure Cleverly wouldn’t try to silence you.”
“Oh…”
“Yes, and then I was an idiot and fell asleep.”
“But you were still with me.”
“If anything happened to you it would have been my fault.” He stated.
You thought for a moment, looking into his lake-coloured eyes. “How long were you watching me before the party? How long did you suspect he was doing this?”
“About two months.”
“Why? Why didn’t you step in?”
“I didn’t want to put you in danger, if he knew I was investigating there was too big of a chance of him hurting you.”
“But he already wasn’t? There was barely chance of him doing anything.”
“Even a small chance that he would hurt you is already too big to risk.” He said quietly, if you weren’t sitting so close to him you wouldn’t have heard it.
You’re not sure how to reply to him, so you shuffle closer and smile. You hold out a hand for him, wondering if he’ll take it. After a few moments he does.
“Thank you for looking out for me.”
“It’s my job.”
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .★⋆.
Sorry this chapter was a little shorter then I planned I’ve been distracted by my drafts lmao
★ SFW | After a troubling night at a party you find him watching you from across the ballroom
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .★⋆.
“You’re bleeding, why are you bleeding?”
“He came for me first, I knew I had to come and find you.” He looks over her body, her wrists and knees are bruised, your beautiful dress covered in tear marks. He’s bleeding from his lip and nose, his cheeks turning purple from where he’s been punched. “What did he do to you?”
“He just pinned me against the wall and insulted me, I kicked him in the crotch and rushed off to find you.”
“You’re coming home with me, you’re not leaving until the investigation is over and I know that bastard is in prison.”
You nod, completely in shock by everything. You take a napkin from your purse and try to wipe the blood from his face, but he gently captures your wrist.
“Don’t worry about me.” He takes the napkin from your hands and instead wipes the tears which are stagnated in the corner of your eyes. “There we go…”
You knew going home with a man who was practically a stranger was an awful idea, but when the other side of that spectrum is going to the home where your murderous ex-boyfriend knows you live it suddenly seemed like a great idea.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .★⋆.
You’ve just arrived at his address: 221b Baker Street. It was a lovely flat not too far from the tube station and Wetherspoons. He takes you upstairs to the living room, where his landlady - Mrs Hudson seems to be cooking in his kitchen.
“Oh Sherlock, all of these eyes around the place make the room look dreary- Oh good heavens!” She immediately noticed Sherlock was bleeding and that he had company. “John’s busy, is he?” She says, teasing him while she goes off to find a first aid kit. When she comes back she sits you both down on the sofa, pouring you a glass of water each. “Would you care to explain to me why you’ve dragged this poor woman to this flat before you’ve cleaned up the place? I’m not your housekeeper, Sherlock.”
“She’s in danger.” He replied gruffly, holding a tissue to his nose.
You reply to him, “My ex-boyfriend punched him in the face.”
“Oh! Sherlock, is this the girl you’ve been concerned about? Y/N?” Mrs Hudson asked.
Your eyes widen, ‘he’s been concerned about me?’ “What do you mean, Mrs Hudson?”
“Sherlock’s been going on about this case for weeks, some man going around and murdering his ex-girlfriends.”
“You’re telling me Daniel is a serial killer?”
“Not very ‘Cleverly’ of him, is it?” Sherlock murmurs, removing the tissue from his face.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner? What if he tried to kill me?”
“We’ve been tracking you for weeks, cameras have been recording every move you make. We had to check you weren’t in on it.”
“Of course I’m not!”
“No, he’s left you out of it. He probably thought you’d have the sense to tell the police, or discover the more sensible option of finding me. He hasn’t told any of his string of partners, but he hasn’t ensured they’ve been disposed of.”
“Why couldn’t you save any of them? Why just me?”
“Scotland Yard is full of people that wouldn’t believe you if you told them that the sky is blue. I tried to intervene myself but I ended up in a cell for two days because of it.” He runs a hand through his hair as he pulls a cigarette out from his pocket. “Want one?”
“No, thank you. I’m just bewildered by all of this…I thought he loved me and now I’m finding out he’s a serial cheater.”
“And a murderer.”
“Yeah…”
“All red flags really.” He starts unbuttoning his shirt with no hesitation.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking my shirt off. Are you also blind or just colourblind?” That comment earned him a look from Mrs Hudson, not that he cared, not when a case was this interesting. “Mrs Hudson, would you be able to find our guest a change of clothes.”
“Oh, dear, don’t force her to wear one of my old rags, why don’t you let her borrow something from your wardrobe.” She gives you a wink and walks out. “I’ll bring you up some tea!”
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .★⋆.
Now it’s just you and Sherlock in the living room together, alone. You can’t help but glance over his shirtless body. It’s riddled with scars and bruises, freakishly pale and the perfect combination of muscle and lankiness - God, he was definitely your type “I wish we met under different circumstances.” You murmured.
His eyes soften, he stands in front of you and tilts your chin up. “I’m just happy you haven’t been murdered yet., even if it means how we’ve met is a bit unorthodox.”
He goes into his bedroom and pulls out a large grey hoodie, one he clearly wears on his off days. “Here, if you get too cold help yourself to any blanket. As for sleeping arrangements you can take my bed.”
“Where will you sleep?”
“I don’t need to sleep, I need to work.”
“You don’t sleep?”
“I might for an hour or two but most days no.”
You get up and stand in front of him. “Who takes care of you, Sherlock?”
He looks like he’s been taken completely off-guard by this question. “Well, I take care of myself, I’m a 27 year old man, I-“
“You’re a detective, right? You care about other people for a living, if you didn’t you wouldn’t be so concerned about the murders going on. You said it yourself that your brother thinks you’ve got the brain of a philosopher and he doesn’t understand why you bother being a detective. But it’s because you care about people and you want to keep them safe; even if it comes at your own expense.”
This causes him to look at you in a different light. After a few moments he leans forward and kisses your forehead again. Then, in complete silence, goes downstairs to Mrs Hudson.
It was strange, sure, but in a charming way. You used this opportunity to get changed out of your dress and ballet pumps and slip into Sherlock’s hoodie. It smelt just like him, a mixture of cigarettes, sandalwood cologne and his sweat. You didn’t mind it though, it was a comfort to have him nearby considering everything going on.
You can’t hear him talking to Mrs Hudson downstairs, but his voice sounds watery like he’s on the verge of tears.
“Y/N, they said that I care for people.”
“Of course you do, love. Why has that gotten you all upset? Sit down, dearie.”
He sits down, hands on his face. “Why do they see me like this? Anyone from the yard would say the same thing about me being a ‘psychopath’.”
“Sherlock, you’re not a psychopath, or a sociopath, I’d argue that your problem is that you care too much about others and you create the idea that you’re a ‘sociopath’ to distance yourself from the pain of forming bonds.”
He looks to Mrs Hudson like he’s a genius, which she is. “You’re not just my housekeeper,”
“I’ve never been your housekeeper.”
He grabs both mugs of tea, “Let me take these up.”
“Of course dear, and show Y/N some love, will you? Finding out your boyfriend is a cheater and a murderer will do something to you.”
“Yeah…Thanks, Mrs Hudson.”
“Anytime, dear, now hurry along, don’t keep your girlfriend waiting.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Oh please, I remember when you were watching her on the CCTV cameras and said she was ‘interesting, intelligent, and kind.”
“You heard that?”
“You’re not as quiet as you think. Now, go on! She’ll be getting thirsty.”
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .★⋆.
After your tea you found yourself drifting off to sleep, exhausted after what had been an unusual day. Sherlock was on his laptop beside you, watching you try to settle.
“Sherlock…?” You ask, looking to the figure sitting next to her in the bed, his face illuminated by the blue light emanating from the screen.
“Yeah?”
“Can you try to sleep? I don’t like the idea of you being awake constantly.” He nods and leaves the room, probably to sleep on the sofa. It’s not long before he wanders in to check on you. “Sherlock…”
“What’s wrong?”
“Why don’t you just sleep next to me? That way you won’t be worried about what’s going on.”
It was a logical choice.
And that’s how Sherlock ended up fast asleep, cuddled against your chest. He was drooling slightly against his pillow, the perfect image of someone who has been needing to sleep a full night for years. You can’t help but stroke his curls as he sleeps, enjoying having someone give you affection. As you press a kiss to his forehead he subconsciously leans into it.
“He’s lonely, isn’t he?” You ask yourself. “Not anymore.” You say softly, smiling down at him before you drift off to sleep.
★ SFW | After a troubling night at a party you find him watching you from across the ballroom
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .★⋆.
He guides you into a quiet hallway away from the crowds, then pins you against the wall with his hands on his shoulders. You gasp, panicked.
“What are you-?”
“Shh, I need to know if you’ve what you know about Daniel Cleverly.”
What? That was your ex, why does he need to know about him? “What? Why?”
“He’s under investigation right now for a murder.”
“A murder? Sure he’s an asshole, but murder?”
“Everyone has the potential to kill, why do you think he doesn’t?”
“Well he was quite nice for the first few weeks, and then he just got…quieter. He never hugged or kissed me, never touched me, he stayed out late often. I had a feeling he was cheating on me but I just didn’t want to believe it…Not to mention all of the shouting and arguing. Maybe he does have the potential, he was arrested a couple of times for beating some people up at the pub.”
“So he’s exhibited violent behaviour in the past?”
“Towards strangers when he’s drunk, yes.”
Sherlock gently lets go of you, “I need you to cooperate with the investigation.”
“Okay, Mr Holmes.”
“Call me Sherlock.” He peered into the crowd of guests, “I want to get close to him, and for some reason he’s insistent on staying in the middle of the dance floor.”
“Probably trying to keep that poor woman distracted from all of his shitty behaviour.”
He raised an eyebrow at you, “Normally someone would be angry if they found out their ex boyfriend had been cheating on them since December, I mean it is September now.”
“She said herself that he told her that we broke up months ago.” His gaze on you is one of curiosity, then he extends a hand to you. His palm is calloused with tiny indents on his fingertips from where he had been pressing down on the strings of an instrument, not to mention the slight red mark on his chin. “You play violin?”
His eyes practically sparkle once you say that, “Yes. I do.” He smirks, he holds your hand more firmly. “Now you’re no longer playing the part of Mrs Cleverly, would you like to play the part of Mrs Holmes for me tonight?”
You grip his hand more firmly, the chance to get back at your ex and ensure justice for the victim of a murder? Why not. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t.”
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .★⋆.
Now, it’s clear that this idea sounded perfect in Sherlock’s head, the only problem being it was obvious this man had no idea how to be romantic. He guided your hand, which in itself was wonderful, but it was the little things that gave away the fact that ruined the illusion. He was awkward, adorably awkward.
“If we dance I won’t have to think.” He mutters to himself, guiding you to the dance floor.
“I think you need someone to show you the ropes.” You teased.
“Oh? And how would you do that?”
You wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss his cheek, “You need to be more…playful.”
“Is this what your ex boyfriend did?”
“Mhm, no. Maybe that’s why I’m doing it to you…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-“
He puts a hand on the small of your back. “Don’t. This needs to be convincing. I want you to convince myself and everyone that you’re madly in love with me.”
“Y-you included?”
“If you can convince me then it should be obvious to everyone.”
Your pulse speeds up, this man, this handsome, intelligent man, was encouraging you to love him. ‘Oh God, am I rebounding?’ To make matters worse he says;
“Show me the love you wanted your ex-boyfriend to give you.”
It’s at that instantly you kiss his cheek again and take him into the middle of the dance floor. A slow song begins to play, the lights shifting to a moody pink and the speckles of light shining from the disco ball decorate the figures in the dark. You put your hands up his biceps and guide his hands to the small of your back. You can see his brow has slightly tensed from his nerves. “Do you not like dancing?” You asked him quietly.
His voice was soft when he relied, “I actually quite like dancing. I used to do ballet as a child constantly. However I’ve never danced with a partner before.”
You smile, “We can take our time with it. If you want to stop just say.”
He nods, then he leans forward to kiss your forehead, an action which takes you by surprise. “I kiss Mrs Hudson on the forehead when she’s anxious, I can tell you’re anxious because you’re trembling.”
“Who’s Mrs Hudson?”
“Mine and John’s landlady. She’s an older woman, very kind, perhaps too kind occasionally. I wish she’d rip Mycroft a new one…”
You giggle.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .★⋆.
Sherlock and you spend the evening watching over Daniel’s behaviour. You occasionally share more information about yourselves during quieter periods. You learn about Sherlock’s flatmate, John, his brother the aforementioned Mycroft, Lestrade, who Sherlock considers his boss, and two idiots named Donovan and Anderson.
At one point you head to the bathroom to redo your makeup, as you enter the stall you feel some arms wrap around your waist. You smile, “Sherlock-“
“What are you doing with that bastard?” The voice replies, that’s not Sherlock. You know that voice, it’s grating to hear it again, all of the memories and pain resurface.
“Daniel, let go of me!”
He pins you to the wall aggressively, using his legs to trap you. “What does that bastard know? What is he telling people?”
“Get off! Let go! Sherlock-!”
He gags you with a napkin, causing you to choke slightly. His grip on you grows tighter. “You stupid bitch, you couldn’t help yourself could you? Getting back at me, getting your ‘justice’. Look where it’s gotten you!” He slams your head into the wall, causing you to yelp in pain. “Where’s your detective now? Maybe he’s off cheating on you too.”
You have tears down your face, your head hurts like hell. After struggling against him for a few minutes you finally find an opening to knee him in the crotch. You rush off as fast as you can, your head spinning. One you get down the hallway you find Sherlock, beaten and bleeding, rushing towards you. He wraps his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead. “We’re leaving. You’re coming home with me.”
★ SFW | After a troubling night at a party you find him watching you from across the ballroom
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .★⋆.
You’d shown up to the party despite the fact you were only originally planning to go to accompany your boyfriend, but since he had broken up with you only hours ago you decided that the free alcohol would be in more of your favour tonight. You had wiped the mascara from your eyes as it bled onto your flushed and tear stained skin more times then you would like to admit, but the black stain of a failed relationship still stood strong.
You walked into the ballroom and headed towards the table of refreshments, pouring yourself a glass of wine and heading to the corner. Your ex boyfriend is dancing with another woman alongside the curtains, and you can tell he’s obviously seen you from the smirk across his face. You roll your eyes and looking around the other patrons, most of them middle aged men dressed in suits, but then you spotted another man who was staring straight back at you.
He was tall with dark curly hair, his face quite distinctive. He was wearing a suit like every other man here but for whatever reason it just looked…better on him. He noticed you looking at him, be raised an eyebrow at you. You turn away, but a few minutes later you feel a hand tapping your shoulder.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .★⋆.
Part of you hopes it him, you turn to look and find that it’s one of the women who was dancing with your ex. Not only that but the handsome gentleman has vanished.
The woman prods at your chest, the smell of alcohol lingering on her breath. You hadn’t even had a sip of wine yet, you couldn’t deal with this. “I heard you cheated on Daniel.”
“What? Who told you that?”
“He did. I’m his girlfriend.”
“You know we only broke up a few hours ago right?”
She huffs, “He said you’d try and say that. He already told me that you broke up months ago.”
You wanted to be angry at her, but you were more concerned than anything else. Daniel was an asshole and not worth anyone’s time. “Listen, I really don’t think that you should-“
“That I should date him? What? Are you jealous?”
“No? I’m not jealous-“
“Well you should be! Why don’t you go hang out with that otter-looking guy - he’s weird like you, keeps walking around and asking people questions about some murder.”
“Otter looking guy?”
You turn to where she’s pointing and sure enough it’s that handsome gentleman from before. Right now he was speaking to an older couple by the punch bowl, the man in the couple looked quite confused as he pointed out that his wife’s blood smelt sugary, possibly being a sign of diabetes which she should get checked out. The woman on the other hand was glad that someone had told her it wasn’t the menopause.
You discretely walk closer, just so you can hear his accent. It’s a calming English one, one you could definitely get used to hearing.
“Yes, you should get that checked out. If you notice that your urine is smelling differently that could also be a sign-“
“My Goodness, it has! I told my doctor something was wrong and they told me it was nothing!”
“I only know one doctor who isn’t completely useless, let me put you into contact with him and I’ll see that he ensures someone will listen to you.”
“Thank you, Sir.” She said, handing over her phone so he could add John’s number.
“Call me Sherlock Holmes.”
Sherlock? That’s a strange name. Not necessarily a bad one though, it’s kind of cute. Your head is so lost in the clouds that you don’t notice when he turns around to face you.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .★⋆.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Are you alright?”
You jump out of your skin, “Bloody Hell! Sorry!”
“It’s alright, I don’t plan on hurting you. I wanted to ask why you were staring at me.”
“Was I? Oh, I just happened to overhear your conversation about the woman’s diabetes and was interested how you figured that out.”
“And it had nothing to do with the fact that your boyfriend left you this morning and is now dating a woman immediately afterwards?”
“How did you-“
“He’s been dating her for months, at least since December. Look at the necklace she’s wearing. Expensive, ridiculously so. Not to mention the matching earrings, likely newer because they have more of a shine to them. Did he get you a Christmas present?”
“He celebrates Christmas so he said he would, he got me a box of chocolates.”
“Heroes?”
“Yeah…How?”
“You’ve got one of the wrappers sticking out of your pocket. Your hormones likely wanted a pick-me-up.”
You should feel incredibly uncomfortable right now, this stranger is deducing everything about you without even knowing your name. But it doesn’t. You feel seen, completely understood. “I’m Y/N L/N.”
He nods, “Sherlock Holmes.” He bows politely and holds out his arm like a gentleman should.
You take it, “Where are you taking me?”
“Well, you’re not intoxicated and you have no friends waiting around for you.”
“So, what does that mean? Are you wanting to hook up?”
“What? No. There’s much bigger things going on here.”
“What? What do you mean? It’s just a party.”
“That’s what they want you to think. Come with me, Y/N.”
★ Suggestive Content | Sherlock decides that he's the only one qualified to help you find the right bra size.
I started writing this in the middle of the night so sorry for any spelling mistakes or anything that doesn’t make sense x
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .★⋆.
Sherlock had noticed your discomfort, but in all honesty it was obvious to everyone with eyes. The way you fidgeted with your straps, how your clothes never sat comfortably against your chest, it was clear you were uncomfortable in your bra. One day he was tired of seeing you visibly in discomfort, so he ransacked Mrs Hudson's sewing kit and approached you with a fabric tape measure.
"Sherlock, what are you doing?" You asked him, putting your phone down with confusion plastered over your face.
"You're in discomfort, I'm going to fix it."
“Discomfort?”
“You’ve been fiddling with your bra for weeks, it’s as irritating for you as it is for me.”
“Oh! Uh, yeah I guess I have. I was going to book an appointment at M&S or something, get my size double checked.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“What? Sherl, you don’t have to. You can’t even stomach the underwear aisle when I force you to come into Primark with me.”
“That’s because there’s *other people* in Primark.”
“And not in M&S?”
“There would just be you, myself and perhaps an assistant to check the fit isolated in the changing cubical.”
You sigh, he did have a point, not to mention how awkward you felt about going alone. “I hate when you have a good point.”
“I’ll pay for the bra.” He added, a small smirk on his face. You couldn’t argue with that.
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .★⋆.
You arrived at M&S five minutes before your appointment time, giving Sherlock enough time to inspect the lingerie around like it was a crime scene.
“These colours are dreadful.” He murmured, looking at a neon green bralette. “I imagine you will be picking a nicer colour than that.”
“No one’s going to see it anyway, the colour doesn’t matter.”
“Nonsense, if you get into an accident and are taken to hospital or if you need CPR-“
“Sherlock.” You laugh, bumping his arm with yours. “It’s fine.”
That’s when you’re approached by the assistant, a polite smile sitting on her lips. She takes you into the cubicle. “Will your boyfriend be overseeing this?” She teases, clearly she’s seen something about Sherlock before, probably from John’s blogs.
“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.”
Sherlock raises an eyebrow, “I would like to supervise though, she gets quite anxious, not to mention she had a fainting spell not too long ago.”
You raise an eyebrow, wondering where he conjured that lie up from. The assistant smiles sweetly and measures you, Sherlock sits on the bench and watches silently. Once she figures out some numbers she leaves behind the curtain to fetch you some bras to try on. It’s at this moment Sherlock speaks up.
“Why didn’t you mention that your bra was uncomfortable?”
“I just didn’t really think about it, and besides boob sizes change constantly, so unless they make a bra that can change with my body then I’ll just have to cope with poorly fitting bras.”
“You shouldn’t have to. I don’t like seeing you uncomfortable.” He says quietly, his curls covering his eyes. It’s at this point you realised sherlock had been processing this whole situation differently to the average person.
You sit next to him, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not like I was in pain or anything, I’m okay.” You offer your arm to him, he takes it. He leans into your chest and allows you to hug him, in this moment he’s a large, shaggy dog seeking affection.
“I’m not making you upset by being here, am I?” He whispered.
“No, you’re not. I promise. I’m enjoying your company.”
He smiles weakly and kisses your forehead, just like he always does.
It’s not long before the assistant returns. “Okay, I found these - I’ll step outside while you try them on.”
You nod and she does exactly that. Sherlock inspects the bras. “She’s picked out some…pleasing colours.” He said, eyeing up the dark purple in particular. He picks up the one which he’s clearly decided is his favourite and holds it up to you cautiously. “I think this would look…good.”
You smiles, undoing your bra from underneath your top, keeping your changing as discrete as possible. As you’re struggling to get your arms through the straps he holds a hand out.
“Just take your T-shirt off, much easier.”
“I didn’t think you’d want to see me shirtless.”
“I’ve seen plenty of corpses shirtless, there’s nothing arousing about mounds of flesh on women’s chests.”
You roll your eyes with a smile on your face, listening to his advice and taking your top off. “Happy?”
“Yes. Let me help you adjust the straps, there’s a gap there.” He stands up and gently puts his hand on your shoulder to hold you as he adjusts your bra. The elastic accidentally snaps out of his hand and you gasp, which causes Sherlock to start apologising. “Shit, I’m sorry. It slipped out of my hand.”
You could feel his hand trembling as it sat on your shoulder, ‘god, is he nervous?’
Once the bra sat on your breasts perfectly you could see a small sparkle in Sherlock’s eye. Oh, so maybe there is something arousing about mounds of flesh. You decide to tease him, “So, what do you think?”
“It’s fine.” He says a little bit too quickly. At this point you notice his eyes never leave your breasts. “Perhaps I should step outside.”
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ .★⋆.
After a few more minutes of having the assistant check the size and finding matching underwear you and Sherlock leave M&S with a small tote bag in tow. Oddly enough, Sherlock had insisted he should carry it, his excuse being that your arms were likely sore from being suffocated by bra straps for too long. He was surprisingly quiet
Once you arrive back at Baker Street you can tell there’s tension in his shoulders. He ends up speaking after peering into the canvas bag again. “Can you try it on again?”
“What? The bra?”
“The purple one. The matching set you picked up. With the flower lace.”
“Sure…Can I ask why?” You knew why, you just wanted to tease him.
He takes a moment to think of a reasonable excuse. “Um, I just want to double check that the straps function correctly.” There was an undertone of desperation in his voice.
You smirk while grabbing the bag. “Alright then, you stay here.”
You purposefully sway your ass more noticeably as you walk into your bedroom. You get changed into the purple lingerie set and spray some perfume on, the one he always comments on. After that you purposefully walk into the living room with sultry steps and batted eyelashes. “Sherlock?”
He turns around from the window, clearly trying to focus on anything else but the sight of you in the lingerie. It’s clear he’s annoyed with himself that he finds you so attractive in what he considers to be ‘just clothes’. “Ah, yes. They fit…well.” He clears his throat.
You smile, “Can you help me adjust the straps again?”
He walks forward and he adjusts the straps for you, his hands trembling. “Is that better?”
“Why are your hands shaking?” You ask softly.
“Likely a symptom of withdrawal-“
“Sherlock…”
He sighs, then leans his head into the crook of your neck. His chin is now resting on top of your strap. “It’s just…I really like the purple.” He finally admits quietly, subtly sniffing your perfume. “Mhm, you’re wearing that perfume again…”
“Thought you might like it.” Your hand comes up to stroke his hair, causing him to practically purr on your shoulder. “You know, if you like the lingerie you can say.”
“I like you in the lingerie…”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm…” He presses a gentle kiss to your neck, wrapping his arms around his waist. It’s at this point you can feel something poking into your lower back, you raise an eyebrow at him with a smile on your face. “Withdrawal issues.”
“Sherlock, you’re allowed to find things attractive…”
He pauses for a moment, thinking back to everything Mycroft had told him about sentiment being a weakness. His hands wrap around your waist tighter, “I…I like you.”
You smile, kissing his cheek, and in response he kisses the top of your head. “I know, I like you too.”
“I should have a shower.”
“A cold one?”
He rolls his eyes and smiles, giving you a small squeeze before rushing off into the bathroom.
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