Summary: You come home to your husband Sherlock after having been away for two years and now, you have to meet everyone who don’t know you exist.
Author: Maddy @laterthantherabbit
Words: 1600
Characters/Relationships: Sherlock x male!reader
Warnings: none that I can think of. Sexual innuendoes and suggestions I spose
Request: Can I make a Sherlock x male!reader request and they’re married (that is why Sherlock is so unfazed by other people) anyway, he just shows up one day and people are clueless as to how Sherlock snatched up such a gentlemen and why they’ve never met him before (except mycroft and mrs Hudson ofc) Thanks~🎉
- anonymous
Author’s Notes: Wow this is late. And short. So sorry guys. I’ve decided to do Molly’s part in two cause it fits better. I’ve said it before that requests are getting there and they are. I’ve taken this semester off uni to try and sort out myself and my life and writing seems to help immensely so I’m going to try and do more of that. Sorry to everyone who’s been waiting on this forever, i didn’t mean to have such a long hiatus but im back. Thanks to you all.
- Maddy
John quickly got used to your presence in 221B, however as your promise of ‘strange things’ became more than just a jest, he began to rent out 221C for himself so the two of you could have your reign on the flat in peace. It was a few days later when your existence was again a surprise due to a case Lestrade called Sherlock about the week off he had gotten.
“I think this’ll be a seven, at least. We’ll have to go to Bart’s first and examine the body before going to the crime scene.” Sherlock was already flouncing around the flat, mind racing a mile an hour as he thought of the possibilities of this case. John was reading the paper in his chair at 221B while you were at work with the university, cataloguing and finalising the research you had conducted in Antarctica.
“Anything strange with this one?” John flipped the page with a rustle, the words barely capturing his attention now.
“Decapitation with no murder weapon at the scene. Truly a work of a mastermind. I wonder If Y/N will come later?” Sherlock had gotten his phone out and was in the midst of texting you when John registered Sherlock’s comment.
“Y/N does cases with you?” He turned his head over his chair, the paper forgotten, to converse with Sherlock.
“Only when he can. Most of the time his work gets in the way and he can only visit me during a case at the morgue or the scene if it’s close by before having to leave again. His superiors ensure that he rarely he has the time to work on cases with me.” John saw Sherlock’s shoulders tense momentarily.
“So Molly knows about Y/N then?” The tension returned tenfold.
“Uh, no. She doesn’t.”
“Then how-” Before John could continue, a tone sounded from Sherlock’s phone and he brightened once again. “He said he’ll come to the morgue. What are you still sitting for? We have to go!” Pocketing his phone, Sherlock donned his coat and bounded down the stairs. John, as confused as he was at that moment, smiled to himself at knowing that it wasn’t just the case that was putting Sherlock in his light mood.
Molly greeted the two at the morgue, Sherlock ignoring her as usual and heading straight to the body with a gleeful spring in his step and John scowling at his usual flippant acknowledgement of her, though now he knew why. “How was your week Sherlock?” Molly had a lovestruck look on her face, her eyes sparkling and her mouth upturned at the corners in hope. Sherlock hummed, looking closely at the severed neck of the victim, poking and prodding at it with tweezers. She looked down at her feet and turned to make small talk with John when there was a knock at the door. Molly was about to see who it was when Sherlock spoke over the head.
“You know you don’t have to knock Y/N.” You poked your head through the door, seeing the three people in the room.
“It’s called being polite Sherl. And speaking of polite…” You walked over to Molly and stuck out your hand, “I’m Y/N.” Robotically, Molly grasped your hand and shook it in greeting, her face plastered and stuck with a confused expression.
“Mo-Molly. Um, who-”
“Y/N, come look at this. What do you make of it?”
“Sherlock, what did I just say about being polite?” You walked over, mouthing an apology over your shoulder to Molly as you bent over to look at the head as Sherlock bounced his ideas off you. Molly’s mouth gaped as she saw you and Sherlock working together. Standing next to John, she nudged his arm to get his attention.
“Um, who is that?” Sighing, John crossed his arm, wondering why Sherlock always left the hard conversations with him.
“That is Y/N Y/L/N. Sherlock’s-” He cleared his throat and mumbled, “-husband.”
“Husband!” Molly looked between the two of you and John with her eyes wide and her mouth gaping further. Tears began to sting her eyes, in both frustration and regret as she marched over to Sherlock and demanded he answer her. “How did I not know about this? Why didn’t you tell me? You knew how I felt and you just… Why Sherlock? You… you…”
Sherlock sighed dejectedly and you looked at Molly, confused for a moment before remembering the exclusive nature the knowledge of your relationship was. “Oh jeez Sherlock.” Your brows turned down at the corners and you tried to put a hand on Molly’s shoulder to comfort her, only for it to be slapped away without hesitation.
“I don’t need your pity.” Her jaw was clenched as she stalked out of the lab, wiping away tears hastily behind the closing doors. You rubbed the back of your neck to relieve the tension that had gathered there.
“You sure know how to handle people don’t ya Sherl. You led her on?”
“I would hardly call it leading her on.” He barely spared you a glance as he moved onto searching the rest of the body, the hands especially. You heard John scoff behind you, pacing a hole into the floor.
“Wouldn’t call it that. I’ve seen you deliberately flirt with her in order to use the lab here after hours.”
“Have you now?” Your arms crossed over your chest and you heard your teeth grind. Even knowing that it wouldn’t have gone anywhere didn’t mean your buttons weren’t pushed. The man in question rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh, disappointed in having his examination cut short by feelings.
“You know I keep my vows Y/N. I just needed to use the lab once-” His eyes shot a glare to John, who seemed just a touch too proud for throwing him under the bus, “For a case of utmost importance. Everything else was derived from Molly’s own fantastical musings. Now, if that’s settled-”
“Oh but it isn’t. You need to say something to her. The poor thing’s just had her heart broken.” You glanced over your shoulder to the door she had used and sighed lightly. You could hear Sherlock muttering under his breath about ‘sentiment’ and whatnot as he moped past your body and yet still, his coat vanished from the hook on the wall and he made his way to the women’s bathroom where Molly was no doubt sewing the pieces of her heart back together.
The second hand on the clock above ticked away in the silent room, an uncomfortable pressure coming down on both you and John, the only two left after the dispute. You both sat in the stools, waiting for the two to return but as the seconds turned into one minute, then two, you broke the overbearing silence with a single phrase.
“He’s fucked it up, hasn’t he?” A hysterical shriek from the hallway answered your question and the two of you leapt into action as damage control. The door to the lady’s bathroom was slightly opened and you groaned at the simple stupidity of the man you had married. You ducked your head into the room, eyes closed (it was only proper after all) and hissed at the man you had briefly seen. “Get your arse out of there Sherlock! What the hell are you thinking?” John muttered an apology to Molly and you and he, once outside with the door shut, hung your heads at a scuffling Sherlock.
“Bit not good?” You were puzzled by the phrase but John’s reply of ‘a bit, yeah’, had you settled.
“You can’t just waltz in on her, you have to be gentle.”
“I was waiting for hours but she wouldn’t come out!” He seemed perturbed by the notion that the person he had hurt didn’t want to see him. John rubbed a hand down his face and you tidied Sherlock’s ruffled hair from the short outburst.
“Stop being dramatic. It was less than a minute. Did you even try calling her out here before going in?” His silence was your answer. “Thought as much. We’ll give her some space, try and settle things later.”
“I still don’t see why I should need to.” Sherlock left in the opposite direction of the morgue, obviously having had his fill of examining the corpse.
“Cause it’s the right thing to do.” John’s sense of justice and right and wrong was cemented by the tone he had used, and you couldn’t have agreed more.
“Well, why can’t one of you do it then?”
“Well John’s hardly the cause of this and I’m basically a stranger. Leaving you.” Sherlock ended the conversation with a huff and, once back outside, he hailed a cab, opening the door for you and John to step in. You didn’t enter, explaining that the university needed you back. “We’ll talk about this later. Bye John.” He waved and said he’d text you the details of the case in case Sherlock became too engrossed. Sherlock went to enter and close the door, but you took his hand, squeezing it and giving him a small smile, your eyes trying to convey that you weren’t mad at him specifically. His hand squeezed yours back and you relaxed to see that he understood you. The cab sped off into the dizzying London traffic, leaving you to your own devices.
You had a woman to console and a working relationship to fix.
Once you get this you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly, and send it to 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable). SPREAD POSITIVITY! 💜💜💜
aww <3 this is such a neat tag game :D
five things i like about myself:
1) insightful of my own emotions
2) can draw
3) can math
4) content with how i look, whether i get chubbier or thinner
Summary: After Greg asks about the relationship between you and Sherlock one day, an idea to mess with the entire New Scotland Yard comes to Sherlock’s mind.
Author: Maddy @laterthantherabbit
Words: 2210
Characters/Relationships: Sherlock x platonic!reader, lil bit o’ Greg x reader
Warnings: None I think
Request: Can you do a request where Sherlock and Y/N are best friends, where she gets to see a side of him where he laughs until he cries and he shows his emotions to her sometimes, but they’re only best friends. She loves to pull pranks on people constantly, especially cruel pranks on Sally and Anderson for everything they say to Sherlock, but she does play pranks on everyone, and sometimes Sherlock even joins in. And one day, maybe because of something Sally or Anderson said to Sherlock about dating or whatever or because of something else or whatever, Sherlock and Y/N decide to make everyone think they’re dating, and she gets overly dramatic at crime scenes to annoy people there which she finds hilarious and Sherlock not only allows it he finds it funny as well, and he even goes out of his way to show her affection to make it look convincing, and Scotland Yard and Sherlock’s fans go into a craze about this and even Molly gets really jealous??? And it’s just super sweet and funny??? And can you add in prompts “THERE’S SO MUCH BLOOD” and “Huh. And I thought /I/ was dramatic.” (Srry can't remember the prompt numbers!) thanks!!!! Also, could Maddy write this?? If not that's okay
- @anonymous-requests
Author’s Notes: So this is one of the requests I had in progress. I kinda used this as a warmup piece to get back into the feel of writing. It was super fun to do and I really enjoyed writing it. Thanks so much to the anon who sent it! I couldn’t figure out how to get Molly’s jealousy to fit so i instead focused on other women at the Yard instead. Hope that suits!
Also, not sure if it would confuse anyone but glad-wrap here is what we call cling-film or cling wrap so glad-wrapping something is covering it in whole lot of cling wrap. And again, Sherlock may be a bit OOC. I should really watch it again. Also, dialogue heavy so there’s that.
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Prompts: 11. “THERE’S SO MUCH BLOOD.”
19. “Huh. And I thought I was dramatic.”
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“THERE’S SO MUCH BLOOD!” You heard Donovan’s scream as you entered the homicide division of The Yard, keeping your face as straight as you could when you saw how perfectly your prank had been executed. Sally stood over her desk, the top drawer open where you had placed a bag of ‘blood’ which has burst once she opened the drawer. The ‘blood’ had splashed and stained her blouse and had begun to drip onto the floor where it was caught by a well placed piece of tarp. Sherlock came in behind you and leaned down to whisper in your ear as Sally began to order the new officer in her division to help clean the red goo, the beginnings of a not-so-rare smile appearing on his face.
“Just what did they done this time Y/N?”
“Oh nothing much, they were just getting a bit too comfortable is all.” He chuckled low in his throat as he walked past the mess towards Lestrade’s office for his newest case, Sally glaring at his back as he went. You began to follow when she forced herself in front of you, causing you to stop and step in the blood that had dripped onto the floor.
“I know this was you, just like I know that it was you who glad-wrapped Anderson’s car last week. Don’t think this won’t have consequences.” She sneered and leaned into your personal space. “I am going to make your life very hard if you keep this up.”
You smiled sweetly and stepped around her bloodied figure. “I just don’t know what you mean to imply Sergeant. I was with Sherlock all morning and I didn’t come to the Yard at all last week, now if you would excuse me.” You smile and winked at her before turning to Greg’s office, chuckling at hearing Sally grumble to herself and kick her desk and then complaining as the fake blood spilled onto the ground. “Huh. And I thought I was dramatic.”
“You are dramatic.” Sherlock was looking down at a file Greg had given him and you could see his mind working behind his eyes. You brought your hand to your forehead and swooned, faking death.
“You wound me Sherlock! How can I, your most trusted friend, ever be the dramatic person you speak of?” He only sighed, a smile on his face as he flipped the pages over to some crime photos. Greg, who was behind him looking over his shoulder, came to your side and nudged your shoulder, bringing you back to the real world. He motioned his head towards the door, prompting you to follow as he spoke to Sherlock.
“We’re just going to grab a coffee Sherlock. Do you want anything?” Sherlock didn’t reply, to engrossed in the case. You giggled and followed Greg out to the break room where he put the kettle onto boil, leaning on the countertop. “So…”
“Is this about Sally? Cause I didn’t do anything.”
“What? No it’s… what did you do Y/N?”
“Nothing.” You smiled innocently, making Greg shake his head with affection. A comfortable silence came between you as the water boiled. He scratched the back of his neck and cleared his throat, a faint blush coming to his cheeks when he managed to stammer out the question on his mind.
“You and Sherlock are… well, close no?”
“I ‘spose. He’s one of my best friends.” You leaned onto the doorframe and crossed your arms.
“And that’s all?”
“Yeah? What’s going on Greg?”
“It’s just, you seem to bring out a different side of him. Not like when he’s with John. I just thought that there was something, well, not more but… ah, what I’m trying to say is um…”
“Are we together?” You cocked your eyebrow as the water finished boiling, giving Greg the opportunity to hide his flustered face from yours which was beginning to blossom into a brilliant smile. “Did you think Sherlock and I were together Greg?”
“Well I wasn’t the only one!” You laughed and came to help him make the coffee, nudging his side and you grabbed a mug.
“I don’t see it.”
“What do you mean? Pretty much the entire Yard has heard rumours that you two are together!” You shrugged and filled your cup with the hot water, the smell of cheap, instant coffee scenting the air.
“Does the idea of us together disappoint you Gregory? Were you jealous perhaps?” He spluttered as he took a test sip of his beverage, trying to say something as you laughed and went back to check on Sherlock, the conversation playing on repeat through your mind.
“Do you see us being together Sherlock?” You were lying along the couch, throwing a ball into the air and catching it while Sherlock fiddled with something vulgar in the kitchen. It was the day after yours and Greg’s conversation. You heard Sherlock’s tinkering stop for a second as he processed your question, resuming as he answered.
“If you mean romantically then no, I don’t.” His movement stopped again and he leaned back to look at you. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s nothing, just Greg-”
“Who?”
“Lestrade told me that the whole Yard thinks we’re a couple and I just can’t see it. It’s been bugging me since yesterday.” He hummed and you stood from the couch, coming into the kitchen and lying on Sherlock’s back as he worked, your nose scrunching up as the smell hit you. “What the hell is that?”
“Kidney. He’s got a thing for you, you know.”
“Who? Greg?” He hummed again in confirmation and added something to the kidney that made it fizz weirdly.
“Well one, that’s gross-” You pointed to the now discolouring organ, “-and two, ya think? Hmmm, maybe.” You thought of what your relationship was with the DI for a bit until Sherlock moved back just so to jostle you from your position, sending you to the ground with a slight thump. “Oww, thanks for that Sherl.” You heard him begin to laugh and you gasped, appalled. “You did that on purpose!”
“Not my fault you weren’t paying attention.”
“To what, your kidney? No thanks.” You stood and brushed the dust off your thighs.
“No, not the kidney, what I just said.”
“And that was?” He sighed and you retook your position along his back, your chin resting atop his mop of hair.
“I said why don’t we have some fun with this?”
“With what?”
“You really have a very tiny attention span, don’t you?”
“It’s a gift.” You flourished your hand into the air as Sherlock repeated his idea for an awesome prank to you; getting the whole Yard to believe wholeheartedly that you two were an item. He felt your smile grow with each word and when he was finished, you were positively beaming.
“That sounds brilliant but on one condition.”
“We tell Graham beforehand.”
“It’s Greg and we tell him- hey, how’d you know what I was going to say?”
“I-”
“Deduced it, yeah yeah.” You straightened up and ruffled his hair at which Sherlock squawked indignantly at. Making your way back into the living room, you called over your shoulder, beginning to text the plan to Greg. “So when are we doing this?” Referring back to his kidney, Sherlock told you that he should have the results he needs by the end of the day so the plan was set for tomorrow when you’d go back to the Yard to give those results to Greg. Sending the text, you sat back onto the couch and smirked to yourself. “Perfect.”
After having concluded that it was the sister-in-law who committed the murder, you and Sherlock began to execute your prank. The first step was making it look like you two were together. Because you were both pretty affectionate with one another, you settled for something that would be subtle: simple hand holding. You even added a little swing into your arms much to Sherlock’s dismay. As soon as you stepped out of the cab, your hands conjoined, you saw some of the officers point and stare at your hands. Sherlock had to stop and give you a quick hug to hide your face which was about to burst into laughter. “Y/N you’re going to ruin this!”
“Just give me a second I-this is just too easy.” You giggled a bit into his coat and steadied your breath. When you emerged from your little cocoon, you saw that half of the officers in the foyer had stopped blatantly and were fixated on you and Sherlock, some were even rushing off to tell the upper floors and there was a pair in the corner exchanging cash. The main thing that stood out to you was the aura of jealousy coming from nearly every woman in the room. Their faces were marred into scowls and their eyes flashed with anger when you made contact with theirs “Look at everyone! They’re so jealous. Oh my god Sher- they even made bets! I didn’t think that they were this invested.” You giggled at your pun and Sherlock groaned.
“Oh please that was horrible. Come on, the sooner we get this to Lestrade the faster we can get to the morgue.” Sherlock practically dragged you to the elevator, standing at the doors waiting for the lift to descend. As you stood there you heard people whispering about you two as they passed, saying things like “he doesn’t deserve her” and “told you so”. When the doors opened and the gawking people left, a few bumping shoulders with you purposefully, you got a brilliant idea to rub it into their faces further.
“Lean down.” You whispered.
“What? Why?” Sherlock had a questioning look on his face but he leaned down to your level just the same, allowing you the perfect opportunity to peck him on the temple. Upon doing so, you heard many exclamations and shouts from the people in the foyer, a heap coming from the group of women that were eying you in the corner, chaos ensuing just as the doors closed. You leaned back and triumphantly smiled as Sherlock stood again, laughing along with you. “You are evil Y/N.”
“Yeah but wasn’t it worth it?” You laughed and shook your head. “They’re so easy to tease, I couldn’t help myself!” You were chuckling as the elevator stopped at Greg’s floor and you strolled out, clutching your belly with one hand and dragging Sherlock along with the other. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face as the department stared at the two of you all the way to Greg’s office. In the sanctuary of the room, you let go of Sherlock and sat on the ground, catching your breath and easing the stitch in your side from your contained laughter. Sherlock was looking down at you perplexed yet amused and Greg just looked worried.
“Is she okay?” Greg knelt down beside you and had his arm on your shoulder, preventing you from toppling over as you shook with laughter.
“She’s fine. Here’s the file, it has everything you need in it. I would be leaving now but it would seem she needs a moment.”
“J-just...haha… hang on a tick. You should- should’ve seen them Greg. Down below.” You took deep breaths, calming yourself somewhat enough to stand again. “It was like we were aliens.” Greg rubbed your arm once more before he stepped back abruptly. You smiled fondly at him. “Thanks Greg.”
“No- no problem!” He blushed as you squeezed his arm in thanks before you left, pausing at the door as you contemplated your next move.
“I’ll be back again soon to grab a coffee, okay?” You grabbed Sherlock’s hand again and took off without waiting for an answer, your own face turning red as Sherlock now began to chuckle.
“Smooth.”
“Shut up.” You were both chuckling to yourselves when Sally and Anderson stepped into your path, their faces both matching with disgust.
“I see the rumours about the freak and his pet are true.” Sally scoffed and crossed her arms as Anderson fake gagged. “What’s so funny Y/N? Nothing to say?” You looked up to Sherlock and saw his eyes sparkle with mirth as you composed yourself.
“Oh no, we were just about to head out for our date. Nothing says love like a disembowelled corpse. I’m even going to present the heart to Sherly as a symbol for my undying love for him. Come on Sherl!” You pushed yourself between them as Sherlock’s facade cracked and his deep laughter filled the room alongside yours. You could hear Sally and Anderson yelling for you two to explain yourself to them as you re-entered the elevator and you saw them approaching just as the doors closed on their faces. You had tears streaming down your face as the building erupted into a cacophony of bewilderment and astonishment. “This has just been too perfect.” You smiled up at Sherlock from your hunched posture and saw him looking down at you with a childlike smile plastered on his face.
“It was, wasn’t it?” He laughed with you for a floor or two and then his face turned deadly serious. “But Y/N?”
Title: Man and Machine - Part 1: Tony’s Invitation
Summary: Your new life in Baker Street has been challenging, exhausting, exciting and satisfying. It has been little over a year since you have moved away from your brother Tony and after becoming part of the duo that is John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. You hadn’t expected their worlds to collide so quickly however, with Christmas fast approaching, you find yourself caught up in the whirlwind that will be the Avengers Christmas, featuring two British best friends, one obnoxious boyfriend and one protective older brother. Merry Christmas?
Author: Maddy @laterthantherabbit
Words: 2220
Characters/Relationships: Sherlock x reader, Tony Stark x sister!reader, John Watson x platonic!reader
Warnings: Nada
Request: Hey it’s me again Haha so I was hoping if I could request that reader is Tony Stark’s Daughter (or maybe sister would work better for you?) and she manages to drag her boyfriend coughSherlockcough to America during a holiday to meet him(?) that was my idea and I know it’s a really weird and specific niche of fic but if you guys are comfortable with it ik you’re the best ones to pull it off
- anonymous
A/N: Hey anon, thanks for this request! I love it heaps! I’ve decided to write this with the reader as Tony’s sister just cause of the ages and stuff. I’ve also added in a few more Avengers cause they’re always fun. The Accords exist but all the drama that had happened and the split has been resolved, so everyone’s together in the new compound. Also this is after Sherlock’s fall but he and John made up and are still working cases together. Season 4 didn’t happen in this universe.
I’ve also decided to write this in multiple parts as well just cause I feel like I’m doing some major info dumping here that I don’t want to try and put it all together into one. Hope it’s what you were expecting!
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Being Tony Stark’s younger, introverted sister was both a blessing and a curse when living in New York City, especially after he gained countless enemies over the near decade of being Iron Man. After the Battle of New York and the events of The Mandarin, you had decided to move to London, away from any business your brother was involved with, into a quieter, more stable lifestyle.
It was more peaceful in England and though there were some people who recognised you as Y/N Stark, they were more polite about your personal space and kept their distance better than those in NYC. Life was quaint, as Tony had described it when you showed him pictures of the small apartment you were going to be renting in Baker Street from a nice old lady. Mrs. Hudson if you remembered correctly. You commuted from 221C to the law firm you worked at via the tube daily, preferring that over any eccentric cars Tony would have bought you. You met up with Mrs. Hudson frequently, finding solace in the woman when your cases were getting to your head; she always knew how to help in the drug-related cases somehow.
The most exciting part about your move however were your neighbours, John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. You didn’t meet them until your third day in London, as your hours required you to leave early and work late. You had always heard the occasional violin upstairs, sometimes loud arguing between the two men at the early hours of the morning. Their theatrics amused you even if they didn’t know you knew of their various exploits and adventures through Mrs. Hudson’s stories and John’s blog, kindly provided by Mrs. Hudson herself. When you finally met the men on one of your afternoon’s off with Mrs. Hudson, your amusement towards them grew tenfold.
John was grumbling to Sherlock about running off by himself again from the front of the building to the dining table in Mrs. Hudson’s kitchen, ignorant of your presence at the end of the table. You chuckled quietly over your tea as he walked in ahead of Sherlock, looking at the ground and flopping into the chair at the other end of the table, his head in his hand and his elbow in the table. Sherlock came in next arguing against whatever John had just said, stopping abruptly when he saw you sipping tea at Mrs. Hudson’s table. John looked up at the sudden silence and blushed a little at having not noticed you in the room.
From there, your life became far more interesting. John became a close friend, one of your best. He was always one to listen to your problems at work, letting you whinge on his shoulder as he read a book or watched crap telly.
Sherlock on the other hand became one of the most important people in your life. At first, he was his abrasive and obnoxious self yet he had always left the light on for you when you came back to the building especially late and you began to notice that he’d play soft music at these times, helping you sleep before the next monstrosity of a day. After a couple of weeks, you’d find little post-it notes on some of your work, suggesting at evidence you should use and even pointing out parts that would change the game immensely. You knew who it was immediately.
John managed to get Sherlock to face his feelings for you when he saw him drape a blanket over your exhausted figure which had collapsed on the couch of 221B, a smile that could only be of adoration on his face. It took some time, but eventually, he worked up the courage to open up his heart to you and from there, your life was perfect. Until the first Christmas away from Tony approached.
—————————————————————-
You were sitting cross-legged on the ground of 221B, your back against the couch and mounds of paper strewn across the floor in front of you, different coloured highlighter and post-it notes dotting the white in a code that only you and Sherlock could really understand. You were alone at the moment, John having gone to work and Sherlock having gone out to examine something with Molly. You had the day off from work, only to have to catch up on a heap at home. You attention remained fixated on the papers in front of you as you heard someone’s footsteps on the staircase outside, the door creak and the person shake out their coat from the rain outside.
“Hello Y/N. How’s the case coming?” Sherlock spoke as he stripped on his way to his bedroom, coming back out a moment later in his pyjamas and blue dressing gown. “Y/N?”
“Hm? Oh it’s dismal, as always.” You chucked the pen you held onto the words with frustration, lying your head back onto the couch cushions as you scrubbed the tiredness from your eyes. “This one’s hopeless. God dammit.” You kept your eyes shut, letting them rest as Sherlock flopped onto the part behind you. He began to stroke your hair out of habit as he let his other hand drape across his own eyes.
“It’ll work out. You always make it do.” You hummed in appreciation as he continued.
“Only with your help. I can’t remember how many times you’ve helped me.”
“True.” You smiled and brought your hand up to playfully swat at his chest. You heard him gasp at your antic and felt him shift as he brought his fist to his chest. “Rude.”
“Rude yourself.” You sighed and opened your eyes, lifting your head to continue with your work only to have it brought back to it’s resting place by Sherlock’s hand on your forehead. “Sherlock. I really need to get this done, I don’t have time.”
“I’ll help later. You need to rest anyway.”
“You shouldn’t be helping at all. These are confidential documents. In fact, everything I do is confidential. I should’ve stopped you right away.” Your bickering was pointless as you settled your head back and let Sherlock fiddle with your hair.
“Mycroft can sort anything out if we’re caught. Don’t worry.”
“How horrid.” You both laughed, the domesticity of the room making you sleepy. You dozed until John came in a couple of hours later, letters in his hand, one nearly double the size of the rest.
“I see you two are cozy. I brought your mail up as well Y/N. It’s mostly junk except this one.” He handed you the giant, off-white letter, the outside rimmed with a thick gold border, a thinner one next to it in hot-rod red, before he made his way into the kitchen to make tea. You knew who it was from immediately and your sleepy body sprung upright immediately as you worked on opening the letter. Sherlock, who had managed to catch some sleep with you, was jolted by your movements, making him grumble and turn to the back of the couch.
“It’s from Tony!” You heard John chuckle to himself as he emerged from the kitchen while the jug boiled.
“I kinda guessed that. I thought he usually called?”
“He does but you know Tony. Always going that extra mile for the wow factor.” You smiled as you lifted the flap of the quality envelope, your address written in Tony’s messy handwriting, a contrast against the pristine paper. Inside was a thin black screen branded with the Stark name. When you lifted the rectangle, it flickered and came to life, scanning your fingerprints where they were at the edges, projecting the Stark image above the tablet when it was flat, as it was in your hands.
“That’s a bit much isn’t it?” John had made his tea while you were pulling out the device. His face was a mixture of confusion and awe towards the advanced piece of technology. “And he sent that through the post? Would’ve thought it would break.”
“It’s probably stronger than that mug you’ve got there.” You smirked at John as he scowled and sat in his chair, preferring to read the paper. The scanning completed and, after confirming that you were you, the face of your brother appeared in the holographic image.
“Y/N?” Holo-Tony called through the screen. He was in his engineer clothes of a singlet and grease stains, as you had dubbed them, and he was leaning in with his head tilted showing the left side more. You could see his workshop and suits behind him.
“Tony! How’ve you been?” You stood from your place when you realised this was a phone call of sorts, moving to Sherlock’s room to have some privacy.
“Splendid. Never been better. How’s the Traveling Utility for Removed Dumbasses working?” He had leaned back to fiddle with something out of screen though you could still clearly see the smirk on his face as your face dropped, unimpressed.
“Seriously, TURD? It’s like you’re still five.”
“Well I had to find some new way to insult you. You should be grateful I made that thing just for you.” He was looking smugly at you through the screen as the smile that had disappeared flickered back onto your face.
“You dork.”
“You love me.”
“Yeah yeah. Anyways what’s up? That can’t be the only reason you made this thing?” You sat on Sherlock’s bed and rested the tablet at one end so you could lay down on your stomach, nothing behind you except a blank wall.
“Course not. You know what the date is?” He had gone back to looking down at something and you could see his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration.
“Um, the twenty-fifth?”
“Of?”
“November?”
“Exactly! And where are you?”
“England. Tony what has this got to do with anything?” He dropped his hands loudly on the desk and looked into the screen with a gobsmacked face.
“Christmas! The Big Stark Christmas and now the Big Avengers Christmas! We are planning the best Christmas ever and that can’t begin until you’re here so pack your bags sis, you are coming home!” He spun in a circle on his chair as holographic fireworks surrounded him on screen in the vibrant colours of Christmas. You giggled at his theatrics and shook your head.
“Tony, I can’t. I have so much work here and-”
“Nope.” He waggled his finger at you and picked up what he was working on, one of his thrusters, “It’s already been sorted. I got you the whole month off and am sending a jet over tomorrow so you can come here and celebrate. Meet the newbies. Maybe meet someone.” He wiggled his eyes suggestively and you blushed, hiding your face in your arms.
“Uhh, well, about that-”
“I’m just joking Y/N.” He began tightening a screw in his thruster, not registering the direction you were heading with. “Anyways what I’m saying is that you have no choice really. You’re coming here for Christmas whether you like it or not. So?” His eyes flicked to the screen and you saw how hopeful they looked. You sighed and smirked at your brother.
“Well after all the trouble you’ve been through, of course I’ll be there. Tomorrow the jet was coming you said?” His eyes crinkled at the sides and his mouth widened in a brilliant smile.
“Yes it is! I’ve got stuff to do but I will see you soon!” He leaned in to hang up but you waved your hands at the screen and spat out syllables in objection.
“Wait! Wait, stop!”
“What?” Tony looked confused at you and slightly worried as you fiddled with your sleeve and said you were going to bring some friends if they agreed. “Is that all?” He relaxed against his chair and smiled softly. “Course they can come, the more the merrier! I’ll need a name to do a background check so, who are they?”
“Uh, John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.” You thought you saw recognition flicker across his features however, it disappeared as quickly as it had come, replaced with his previous relaxed face as he asked FRIDAY to remind him to run a background check on the two.
“No worries Y/N. I’ll see you soon yeah?”
Your tense face and body loosened and you smiled into the screen, saying you’ll text if they agree to come. “I can’t wait. Bye T.” He smiled back then the screen went dark, leaving you reeling as you realised that you were about to introduce your boyfriend and new best friend to some of the most powerful people in the world as well as your brother.
On the other side of the world, Tony sat in his workshop, a dark screen in front of him and his mind racing. “FRIDAY?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Don’t worry about that background check and bring up everything I have on those two people.” A moment later, a mass of virtual newspaper clippings and information appeared in front of Tony. John’s service in Afghanistan, Sherlock’s rehabilitation, their work on a multitude of cases, John’s blog, Sherlock’s fall. Anything and everything that was related to the two men was at Tony’s fingertips and a steely expression was on his face. “She just had to meet a Holmes, didn’t she?”
Summary: Sherlock reassures the reader after they have been experiencing less than pleasant interactions within the Yard.
Author: Maddy @laterthantherabbit
Words: 1050
Warnings: I don’t think so.
Request: Can u please do a reader x Sherlock where the reader is a Muslim, wears a headscarf and is British Bengali. Sorry that’s super specific but I never see anything like that. Also your writing skills are awesome. Thanks soooo muxh if u can do it and I absolutely understand if u cant. Thnx xx
- anonymous
A/N: I am so sorry this one took me so long to write. I hope I have done this request justice. I did do a little research but if there are any inaccuracies, I am sorry. Please tell me if anything needs to be changed due to any of my misunderstandings. And once again, Sherlock is way ooc in this but it’s sweet I think. I hope you guys like this!
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The rich smell of curry, naan and fish wafted throughout the flat in Baker Street as you sat in the kitchen next to Sherlock’s microscope and experiments. You watched Sherlock as he methodically paced from the fireplace to kitchen and back again, ranting on about something that happened in his last case. You hmm’d and ahh’d in the appropriate places, not really listening to what he was saying but not wanting him to know that. So far it was working and you could continue eating last night’s leftovers in relative peace until the footsteps and baritone voice stopped suddenly. Fork halfway to your mouth, you looked up at Sherlock with your mouth wide and cheeks beginning to darken, not making contact with his face but instead looking just past it into the living room.
“Did you hear me just now Y/N?” You saw his eyes questioning you as his hands were resting on his hips. You lowered your mouthful and eyes, clearing your throat before answering.
“Um, you may have to repeat yourself.”
“You know I hate that.” He sighed and sat himself down heavily into the cold wood of the chair opposite you. You shrugged and ate the mouthful, talking back after swallowing.
“Yes well, you’re just gonna have to now aren’t ya?” He glared and you smirked, continuing to eat your food as he huffed and sighed. Your relationship with Sherlock was playful at best. You hadn’t figured out what it was like at it’s worst and you didn’t care to find out. Chewing and swallowing your food, you now listened as Sherlock summarised his rant into a single breath. He was frustrated with Donovan and Anderson for ruining a crime scene he had needed access to which resulted in his current case becoming exponentially harder.
“You don’t understand how frustrating they are Y/N. The whole Yard in fact.” He continued to talk as you grimaced at the last comment. Sherlock had no idea but you did know how some people at the Yard could get on other’s nerves, especially when you walked in and were the only person wearing a headscarf. You always knew that there would be some people in England who would judge you on your appearance alone, and others who would treat you more harshly than other people due to that.
Your sudden change of attitude was not lost on Sherlock when he saw your brows turn down at the corners and your hands movements stop. With your appetite gone, you sighed, mumbled your thanks to Allah and tasting the salt. You stood and wrapped up your food and set it in the fridge for later. “Y/N?” Your head whipped around to Sherlock, a fake smiling coming onto your features quickly but you could already see that he had realised your change in mood.
“It’s nothing Sherl. I’m fine.”
“You’re lying and you know it. After I mentioned the Yard your whole demeanor changed. What’s happened?”
“It’s nothing really Sherlock, let it go. What are you going to do about your case?” You worried a bit of your scarf between your fingers; a nervous habit of yours and you saw Sherlock’s eyes flick between your fingertips and your eyes, which darted away at his scrutinising gaze.
“Changing the subject won’t make the problem go away Y/N. What has the Yard said to you? That you didn’t deserve to be there with me? With them?” Your hands dropped and your eyes met his as Sherlock hit the nail on the head.
“How’d you know?” His eyes turned down at the corners and he stood from his chair to come stand before you. He wrapped his arms around you shorter body as you did the same to him, the embrace grounding you before your emotions took over.
“I haven’t exactly been immune to their scrutiny either Y/N. Turns out hardly anyone appreciates having their job done for them, especially by me. You know what Donovan and Anderson are like.” You scoffed and chuckled weakly into his chest and he began to move his hand soothingly up and down your back.
“Yeah I know. It’s just… frustrating and honestly a little scary when they get more aggressive; all in my space and-” Sherlock’s movements stopped and he let you go, placing his hands on your shoulders and crouching down a little to look you directly in his eyes. You saw that their concerned gaze had morphed into a stone cold glare; serious and calculating. You hadn’t realised that he didn’t know of the ‘more aggressive’ side of the abuse you faced.
“Who was this?” You hesitated for a moment before warily telling him that there were a group officers that worked in a different division from Lestrade’s who frequently went out of their way to remind you of your ‘worthlessness’.
You saw Sherlock’s eyes flick as if looking through something before he kissed you forehead and stood straight again, walking out without another moment's notice, calling someone on his phone yet who, you didn’t know. You were confused and worried about what he was doing but he returned less than a minute later. He approached you again and once more wrapped his arms around your waist, his grip tighter and more tense than before.
“If anyone ever, and I mean ever, calls you anything other than perfect, you need to tell me Y/N.”
“Oka-”
“Please.” You felt him tremble slightly in your own hug and you could tell that it was out of anger. “Just… promise me. I want to know that you're safe wherever you go so please… promise?” Your eyes stung with the tears that had come with Sherlock’s own request and wavering voice. They dripped onto his shirt as you nodded and replied.
“I promise.” The tension in his body left and he slouched against you though his arms never loosened their grip.
The next time that you had gone to the Yard with Sherlock, the officers were nowhere in sight. You took Sherlock’s hand and tugged on it so he leant down a little, enough so that you could whisper in his ear. “Thank you.” His mouth quirked up at the side and he turned his hand so he could kiss yours.
Hey. I thought I’d post this to let you know where I’m at in my life and writing and such. At the moment, I’m on holiday with my family and the place we’re at has no wifi and I’ve got limited mobile data (a tragedy I know). This is why I haven’t been posting as much as I would have liked but nevertheless, I am writing while I’m here and when I’m back home, I’m hoping to get another chapter of the requests I’m doing posted as well as a stand alone request.
I’d also like for you to know that we here know that the masterlist link in our bio is being dodgy. If you’re looking for the List, searching masterlist in our blog should make it appear in the first few posts there. I’ll also be fixing this ASAP and I’d like to say sorry to those it’s been a pain for. Sorry guys.
Anyways, I hope y’all are having a wonderful week and thank you so much for following us. Thanks guys!!! ❤️❤️
Summary: You come home from months away climbing Mount Everest and Sherlock tells you just how much he as missed you.
Author: Maddy @laterthantherabbit
Words: 1770
Characters/Relationships: Sherlock x reader
Warnings: None
Author’s Notes: I am sorry that this isn’t a request. I’m having a bit of writer's block at the moment so I thought I would just try writing something random to get back in the flow. This idea was a result of that so… yeah. It’s not the best but it’s fluffy enough. Hope you guys enjoy this though.
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“Sherlock! Get your arse out of that bedroom and come say hello to me!” You set your duffel bag and backpack loudly on the floor as you heard the quick shuffling of Sherlock’s feet from down the hall. John was sitting in his chair and you saw his plain face adopt a smirk when he also heard Sherlock. When he reached the living room, his hair a mess and dressing gown barely covering his bare shoulders, his face grew bright and he enveloped you in a tight hug, twirling you around on the spot as you giggled and returned the embrace.
“Y/N, you’re back!” He kissed your cheek and stopped spinning you, though his arms remained around your body as yours did to his.
“Yes I’m back and I see you’ve missed me. Hello John.”
“Hi Y/N. How was Everest?” You moved your arms and made your way to the kitchen to prepare tea for the boys and coffee for yourself, Sherlock draped over your back and not moving an inch as you puttered about the kitchen. “No tea for me thanks Y/N. I need to leave soon.”
“Aw that’s a shame.” You put the extra cup away with difficulty as Sherlock refused to move his arms for you. He merely grunted and prompted you about Everest. “Oh yeah, it was amazing! Nepal was beautiful and the Himalayas... God they were extraordinary! You should’ve seen them.” You smiled to yourself as you recalled your recent expedition to the mountain range. You had been gone from London for just over four months, trekking through the snow and rock of the Himalayas to climb Mount Everest. You had been preparing for this journey as a professional climber for over a year and now that it was finished, you felt exhausted but complete, a sense of achievement having filled you from the moment you had reached the summit.
Sherlock nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck as the kettle whistled and you filled the mugs, chuckling at Sherlock’s affection for you as you tapped his hands so you could carry your cup to the living room as Sherlock followed with his own. “You took pictures right?” John looked up at you as you sat on Sherlock’s feet, his legs outstretched on the couch.
“Heaps but really, nothing will compare to being there.”
“I bet. What are you thinking of climbing next?” John’s question caused Sherlock to tense up and you turned to see him wide-eyed and nearly pouting at you. You chuckled and set you cup aside to lay down on Sherlock’s legs, your head resting comfortably on his stomach as your legs dangled off the edge.
“I’m thinking of climbing Kilimanjaro though I’m not leaving again anytime soon, don’t worry Sherlock.” He visibly relaxed, slouching into the cushions of the couch and playing with your hair with one hand as he sipped tea with the other.
“Good. You’re not allowed to leave me for at least another six months. These past two have been horrible enough. Donovan and Anderson-”
“Oh please, I just got back. Let’s keep the mood light for at least another ten minutes.”
“You don’t understand, they’ve been painful as usual but it’s no fun annoying them when you’re not there!” He huffed and put his empty cup on the ground, shuffling himself down the couch so your head was comfortable on his chest and he could rest his cheek on top of your hair. “You don’t understand my pain Y/N-”
“I think I get the point Sher-”
“Stop interrupting me whilst I’m interrupting you. You really don’t.” You rolled your eyes as John prepared himself for his shift at the surgery. You waved him goodbye, promising to show him your pictures when he came back as Sherlock wrapped his arms around you once more, murmuring about the suffering he had been through these past few months. When the door shut behind John you sighed and closed your eyes, the exhaustion of your time away catching up on you. “Y/N? Are you listening?”
“Yeah yeah, just...” you yawned deeply and tried to nuzzle your face into his chest further, “Just keep talking Sher.”
“You can’t fall asleep on me now, you just got here.” You yawned and twisted your body so you could similarly wrap your hands around Sherlock.
“I told you I’m not leaving again for some time, but I’m tired. Really tired actually, and I’m gonna nap right here so keep talking?” You placed your chin on Sherlock’s chest to better see his face. He looked as if he were about to argue against you again but he relented and sighed, moving your head with one of his hands so that your cheek rested on his body once more. You could hear his slow heartbeat through the thin fabric of his dressing gown as he languidly began to thread his fingers through your hair.
“Fine, if only for you to fall asleep halfway through.” He breathed deeply and spoke quietly about the experiments you had missed, something about a diseased gallbladder and callouses. You smiled into his chest as it rumbled lightly with his voice. You fell quickly into a dreamless sleep but Sherlock never stopped talking. It had been too long since he could talk freely without any scrutinising from John or the Yard. He slowly tapered off his musings after about two hours. He twisted his head slightly to look at your peaceful face, a small smile there as he chuckled lightly. He looked back up at the ceiling once more and began to talk more for his own benefit than for you.
“I have missed you Y/N. Not just as a friend but... It’s been lonely here without you. Sure, I have John and Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade but when you had left, there was always something missing from my day. I found myself to be missing your smile, your energy, just your presence even. I would sometimes find myself asking for your opinion, only for you to not be there.
“Did you know that you help me focus, help me forget about the temptations that call for me every day. I had forgotten how much you had helped me, you have no idea how much I have needed you over these few months. Please, don’t go again.” He sniffled a little and surprised himself when a tear of his fell on top of your head. He raised one of his hands and gently brushed his cheek, finding that there was a trail of tears there. He huffed out a breath and smiled to himself.
“You see what you do to me? I need you so much Y/N and you don’t even realise.” He tightened his grip around you and sniffled again. “Please don’t go. Don’t leave again. I can’t bear it. These months were horrific, and not because of the Yard. I thought… I thought you weren’t coming back.
“I couldn’t focus clearly on anything because I couldn’t stop seeing you not coming home. I saw you stuck there, not knowing how to come back.” He sobbed and closed his eyes, his lashes wet with remaining tears and his breath shaky as emotions he hadn’t fully realised emerged from himself. “Don’t go. Never again, please.” So caught up in his mind he was, he didn’t realise you had awoken during his epiphany.
As you felt his own tears trail from his face onto your hair, you felt your own well up in your eyes. You reached your hand out to stroke his cheek, which jolted him from his mind, his breath became short and even more unsteady as he moved himself away to sit up, seeing your shiny eyes and quivering closed-mouth smile clearly as you moved closer and straddled his thighs. “Y/N I…”
“You mean that?” Your question was thick with unshed tears and just as unsure as Sherlock had become. He looked between your bodies at his hands as he tried to form his thoughts into words.
“I… I’m sorry Y/N. I never meant to say those things. They just-”
“So they’re not true?” He whipped his head up quickly to look into your eyes, they had become sadder as he had spoken and his heart felt heavy at knowing he had caused any doubt within you.
“No. No they’re are. True, that is.” His cheeks became red and he looked down once more, missing the brilliant smile that swept across your features. You lifted his head with a finger on his chin and his eyes remained fixed downwards until they couldn’t look down anymore. He caught sight of your joyous face and his breath hitched, hope blossoming in his body.
“That’s good, ‘cause I’ve missed you too.” You closed the little distance between the two of you and slotted your lips against his, closing your eyes as Sherlock’s widened. He was brought back to moment when you moved your lips slightly and brought your body impossibly closer to his. He closed his own eyes and began to move his lips against yours, your own feeling soft and perfect. You smiled as he began to reciprocate the kiss which only caused him to smile against you in return, the kiss broken in the most perfect of ways.
You opened your eyes to see his jade coloured stare, his eyes brighter than they had ever appeared. You pecked his lips once more, your hands resting on his cheeks and your thumbs brushing away any stray tears that fell. He sighed and leaned into your palms and you rested your forehead against his. He looked expectantly into your eyes and you smiled affectionately at him, lying back down on his chest and bringing him back down beside you on the couch in 221B. You closed your eyes once more and traced nonsensical patterns on Sherlock’s chest. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon Sherl. Not unless you’re there with me.” You felt him press his lip on your head again and hum briefly at you.
“Thank you Y/N.” You rubbed your cheek against his chest and breathed in deeply, letting out your breath slowly into the quiet flat. It was silent for some time and you felt yourself drifting back into sleep.
“Talk to me again?” You smiled as his chest moved with his deep chuckle. His arms tightened around your body and he moved his head slightly to kiss your forehead.
“Of course.” You rested against him and smiled as you fell once more into sleep with the aid of his voice.
Title: Solace
Summary: You believe you are slowly losing your mind in your shared flat with Sherlock. So much so, that you only see one way out...
Author: Maddy @laterthantherabbit
Words: 2330
Characters/Relationships: Sherlock x fem!reader
Warnings: Vivid descriptions of mental health issues and psychotic episodes. Suicidal thoughts, blood, self harm, mental instability
Request: Hay^^ Could you write a Sherlockxreader about them being in a relationship but the reader tries to commit suicide because of her schizophrenia? And how Sherlock tries to help her?
- anonymous
Author's Notes: I’ve decided to change this slightly and make it that the reader doesn’t know they have schizophrenia and their symptoms become progressively worse until they become suicidal.
I was not wholly satisfied with my writing in this but I feel like I wrote this with the request in mind. I hope you guys like this as well and I am really sorry that it has taken me so long to get out another fic. My life is really draining me right now and I’m having a hard time getting myself t write. Thankyou all so much for putting up with my slack.
Also, I am not an expert nor have I experienced any of the symptoms I describe nor have I experienced mental issues such as this. I just wanted to make that clear and that if you are ever in need of someone to talk to, everyone here on this blog is willing to talk to you if you want, though if you are in need of professional aid, please seek out that help. Everyone and myself want you all to be the best and happiest you can be. Thank guys.
Sherlock had noticed you had become increasingly quiet over the past few months. Your usual bubbly personality and bright smiles had become less so, even though there wasn’t any apparent cause for your melancholy. It worried him sick. He knew of the crippling effects of depression and anxiety, how his mind would eat away at him, how it coaxed him into multiple relapses before Mycroft got him into rehabilitation, before Lestrade gave him an opportunity to use his mind and before you came and showed him what it meant to live. Now he was watching the person he loved lock herself away in her body just as he had done.
It had been four months, and though your changes would have been missed by anyone else, Sherlock saw how you had stopped becoming excited at the mention of your favourites books and movies, how you had become less talkative, though before you could have outspoken Sherlock and all the Yard. You were a shell of the person you had been, and Sherlock had tried his hardest to bring you back out of your mental prison.
“Y/N?” You were sitting in John’s chair, scrolling through your phone without seeing your feed. You hummed in response, not even addressing Sherlock with a warm smile like you used too.
He sighed and picked himself up from his chair, making his way to the kitchen to make tea for the both of you. Bringing two steaming cups back into the living room, placing yours on the table beside you, he once again tried to get you to communicate. “Y/N, darling, is anything wrong?”
“Hm?” You looked up from your phone and glanced at Sherlock, shrugging your shoulders and picking up your tea, taking a sip and licking your lips.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I s’pose. Nothing’s wrong so everything is good, yes?” You took another sip and placed the cup back, giving Sherlock a small smile that was nothing in comparison to how you used to smile. Sherlock furrowed his brow and took a confused sip of his own tea as you picked up your phone again, but put it back down without looking at it again, your cryptic response rattling around inside his head.
“You’re sure there’s nothing to tell-”
“I’m fine Sherlock really.” You widened your smile and sipped at your tea until it was finished. Smacking your lips, you stood and patted Sherlock on the shoulder before going to the kitchen to wash your cup. Sherlock watched you from his seat, his heart beating fast when he heard you murmuring nonsense to yourself as the sink filled with water.
You sighed and looked into the mirror, examining your face by sticking out your tongue and grinning to look at your teeth. You had been watching your face for a few minutes now and you could feel that something was off, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Shrugging to yourself, you prepared your toothbrush and smiled one last time at yourself before brushing your teeth, giggling a little when the foam began to dribble a little.
You heard the front door open then shut again, followed by Sherlock’s heavy set footsteps. You spat out the foam and called out, though you didn’t hear a reply. You poked your head out of the bathroom and looked down the hallway. “Sherlock?”
He grunted in reply and you smiled when you heard the television being turned on. You turned back to the mirror and watched yourself talk. “What’s on the telly Sherl? Better not be one of your crime doccos again.” You chuckled to yourself when you heard a muffled voice answer you. “Good. You know I love them as much as you but even I can’t watch one every weekend.” You went back to brushing your teeth when you heard the door again.
Spitting out the paste and drying your mouth, you went into the living room, expecting to see John entering the flat however it was just Sherlock wiping water from his face and beginning to take off his coat his coat, his hair was soaking. You furrowed your brow and stopped, watching him take off his outwear. You glanced out the open window and saw that the rain was beating heavily on the window panes, the view blurry from the water. You hadn’t realised it had been raining all day. You turned back to Sherlock, seeing him taking off his scarf now.
“What are you doing?” He jumped at your voice, having not heard you enter the room over the rain and turned to you, a small smile on his face as this had been the first time you had initiated conversation in a week.
“I’m taking off my scarf Y/N. I thought that would have been obvious.”
“But, you’ve been here for a while now. I thought John had just come in.” Sherlock looked around the room and his smile dropped a little.
“I’ve only just come back from the case I got today.” He hung up his coat and gave you a peck on the cheek, bringing his face back to hover across from yours. “John went to see his sister for the weekend, don’t you recall?”
“Oh yeah. But then who turned on the telly to crap telly just now?” You looked over to where the television sat, its screen black and the remote sitting on the table, unmoved since the morning. You looked back at Sherlock with your face scrunched a little in your confusion. “I swear it was just going. I heard it.” You looked up into his eyes, his face now neutral at hearing you speak. He swallowed and rubbed your arms.
“I’m sure it was nothing. I’m going to have a shower. You want Chinese for dinner?” His eyes seemed to be pleading with yours, so you smiled gently and nodded your head.
“Yeah, that sounds nice. I’ll order it.” You turned and left Sherlock’s embrace. When you left his sight, he deflated and scrubbed his hands over his face. He dropped his arms and looked towards the kitchen, where he could hear you speaking on the phone. Sighing, he went to the bathroom, his eyes shutting when he heard the click of the door. It must’ve just been the rain playing tricks on you.
It wasn’t until after another three months when Sherlock fully realised the extent of your changed behaviour, and the fragility of your mind. You had become mute to the world, hardly smiling except when to be polite and barely talking to anyone.
What worried Sherlock the most however was the fact that you began talking to no-one. You would have conversations that made no sense to the air and you seemed to hear things that no-one else could, sometimes asking Sherlock if he heard the dog whine, or the man yell on the street.
He saw however that you didn’t always tell him of what you heard, and preferred to keep them to yourself. What he didn’t see was how this was breaking you from the inside. After the first few times you heard something and told Sherlock, you were met with confused looks and calm, slow words. You didn’t want to be comforted, you wanted to be believed.
You became shut off from the world, paranoid that people would stay and judge you for what you said or heard. The sounds became clearer after that first day and now they were indistinguishable from the world around you. You grew more and more frightened everyday, questioning every sound and every person’s intentions.
You could’ve sworn that the first time was an accident. You distinctly remember that you were cutting vegetables mindlessly when the blade slipped and cut a small gash in the flesh of your left thumb. You didn’t register the pain that emanated from the cut. The world only you could hear muted a little and the sounds faded until the blood beaded and clotted the cut. You shook your head as the sounds returned in full force, dropping the knife with a loud clatter that caused Sherlock to run in from the living room to see you with your hands on your temples, blood smeared on your face where the thumb had brushed.
He mended your cut and consoled you, hugging you softly and murmuring into your ear until you calmed and the sounds were briefly replaced by his voice. When your head had cleared you remembered the sweet silence that had came with the small cut and you became greedy, wanting that quiet again.
You knew it was a bit not good to want to hurt yourself but it was the only way the sounds went away for a bit. You only ever did it when no-one was in the flat. Then you would lock yourself in the bathroom and chase the silence. After each of your ‘sessions’ you cried until your eyes were raw and until the sounds reappeared. You made sure Sherlock never found out.
Though what was there that Sherlock couldn’t possibly deduce? It was shortly after you had begun when Sherlock saw the signs. You wore long sleeved shirts at all times, pulled at your sleeves to cover your hands and wrists, scratched at the healing scars. When he realised what you had been doing, his heart broke and he tried to talk to you, however you wouldn’t talk back. He stayed with you constantly, telling you he loved you and that he was here to help.
He and John scheduled regular appointments with psychologists and John’s therapist. You lied through your teeth and told them that it was helping, but how could they believe you weren’t okay if they couldn’t hear the things you heard. Sirens, wails and screams sometimes penetrated through the mundane sounds in your mind and there was the tipping point in your strength.
You couldn’t go on like this anymore. On one of the days where Sherlock was watching over you and the sounds were too unbearable, you locked yourself in the bathroom for one last time, Sherlock at the door pleading to let you in. You felt tears stream down your empty face as you searched through the cabinets, trying anything that would give you any bit of quiet. You could hear Sherlock’s quiet knocking and pleading turn into banging and emotional yelling. You heard the tears in his voice as the people only you heard grew louder along with him.
You searched for the razors, but of course Sherlock and John had taken them away. The medication was gone too, even the shower curtain. There was nothing there that could make the voices go away. You looked into the mirror and saw yourself. Your broken self. As you heard Sherlock begin to pick at the lock, your face morphed into rage as you screamed at your image. The mirror shattered as you punched at your face repeatedly, your knuckles becoming bloodied as pieces fell into the sink, blood dripping onto the white porcelain beside them until a large corner of the glass clattered loudly in the room.
You glared at the multiple faces in the broken mirror as you gripped the shard in your bloody hand, the edges stinging and voices dimming as you rose it to your forearm. As the door swung open, you brought the shard down hard onto your smooth skin, a long gash from wrist to elbow. You watched the blood seep quickly out of the cut and trickle onto the tiles below as the voices receded and the world became quiet. You succumbed to the weightless feeling and fell to your knees, hearing Sherlock yell for you and wrap his arms around your body as you slipped into unconsciousness.
He stayed by your side for the days that they kept you in the hospital, the gentle monotonous beep of the heart monitor by your side a constant reminder of what you had tried to do to yourself. The cut wasn’t as deep as you had intended but paired with your already diminished health, the blood that you had lost during the time it took for the ambulance to arrive at Baker Street had sent you into shock and you had needed to be given bags of fluid and blood as soon as you had arrived at the hospital.
Sherlock stayed perched in the hard plastic chair by the side of your bed for two days before your eyes fluttered open to the blinding white light of the fluorescent hospital lights. You looked around your surroundings to meet Sherlock’s eyes, the dried tear stains on his cheeks and the redness in the white of his eyes evidence of his breakdown after the event. You tried to speak but the dryness in your throat prevented you from beginning. He had already prepared a glass of water for you to drink, which you sipped shakily before silence fell onto the room heavily. It was sometime before you could bring yourself to speak again. You fiddled with the blanket in your lap, not wanting to look into Sherlock’s eyes.
“Sherlock I -”
“Why?” Your lip quivered and tears blurred your vision as you told him of what you had been living through alone, of the voices that taunted you day and night which only left with pain. He sat silently and listened until you could no longer talk through the lump in your throat.
“I - I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t…” You head was buried in your hands when Sherlock moved from his chair to kneel by your side, cradling your shaking body within his arms.
“I wish you had told me earlier Y/N. I could’ve helped sooner. We all want to help, you didn’t have to hide this.” You cried into your palms as he stroked your back through the sobs. You may not be okay now, but with him by your side, you didn’t have to be alone anymore.
