#sherlock bcc

[orion-lake]

SEASON 3 EPISODE 1 | THE EMPTY HEARSE (2/2)

[black-deaths-babygirl]

John quite literally references Sherlock having Asperger’s, is it canon that he has autism in BBC sherlock?

[fandom-imagination-ss]

Imagine: Texting Sherlock cause your bored at work and he finds it amusing so he decideds too tease you about it

Y/N: Sher I’m so bored!! Nothing is happening here!

Sherlock: why are you contacting me?

y/N: because as my lover, my roommate and your one day future wife you have the responsibility of making me Not bored when i’m this bored!! You signed up for this sher

Sherlock: When did I sign up for all that?

Y/N: Easily the day you said “I can’t live without you idioit” Hence it’s your responsibility now. Sorry don’t make the rules

Sherlock grinned seeing the Text messages as he got a cheeky idea as he sent a picture of his wick grin on his face. As he sent it he quickly texted

Sherlock: I can easily distract you

Looking at the text messages you shifted up from your chair cursing at yourself oh No! Getting up you dashed too the bathroom calling your fiancé before he does anything too extreme. Sherlock teasing you at work. AKA Sexting is NOT Good! Sherlock is Way tooGood at it. And you can’t do that!

Sherlock answered instantly .

“Hello sweetheart”

“Sher Don’t’ do it!”

“but it is my responsibility too make sure you aren’t bored”

You could hear the Smuginess from his voice.

‘No! That’s not- you-Don’t do it Sherlock the last time was-“

“oh I love the results from the last time.”

The last time he sent you sexy text it wasn’t just One it was a Full on written story of everything he wanted too do too you with you, too you, On you. Everything humanity possible and the thughts were mind blowing. So much that you ended up Sneaking out of work and kept Sherlock in bed until he fullfilled every thing he promised. You loved it. But not today! Today you had a important meeting and you can’t sneak out.

“Yes- I did too but we can’t- “

“Can’t is such a harsh word… those I imagine you are in the bathroom- I have a few things I imagine we could do in there.”

“Oh my god your awful good bye!’ You laughed hanging up as you went back too your desk sitting down going back too work when your phone dinged.

Looking down seeing handcuffs on your pillow as you sighed. Oh Great! He will NOT stop now. And you loved it.

[vanchlo]

anybody else ever get the random urge to rewatch Sherlock for the 6th time or is that just me

[fanicheaven]

Imagine...

...Going on a cafe date with Sherlock.

[random-princess-drabbles]

Play for Me (Sherlock x Wife!Reader) - Just 2 Sociopaths Series

Summary: Set before Sherlock and Y/N were married. Sherlock discovers that Y/N plays the piano and he asks her to play. 

Song: “Sogno D’Amore” by Franz Liszt 

“I’ll see what I can do for you,” the elder Holmes stated, as he escorted them to wait outside his office, “I’ll make a few calls.” Sherlock and Y/N walked out of the office and wandered the halls of Mycroft Holmes house, better said mansion. It had only been 8 months since they had met each other, and Y/N was starting to rub off on Sherlock. They spent most of their days together working on Y/N’s case and protection. Taking down an entire organization took time, and will.

The pair remained in silence, both thinking about their own ideas. Sherlock stared at the girl as they walked aimlessly, waiting for Mycroft to finish his calls. He couldn’t understand why he continued to work with her, or on her case. Granted, it was an interesting one. Dismantling an entire criminal organization was not something you do every day. But he could have done it without her, couldn’t he? Why keep the girl around? He, somewhat, enjoyed her company… She wasn’t boring is what he meant.

How could she be? She was an assassin trying to destroy the organization she came from, she was an artificially made psychopath and killer. Y/N held an amazing mask of sanity, but he could see how mentally deranged she could become. She was of high intelligence, and she was witty. Even though he knew so much about her, there was still so much he didn’t know. She held a past that was extremely interesting and Sherlock couldn’t resist the enigma that consisted of Y/N L/N.

And he understood her. And she him. At least that’s what Y/N thought. She too was immersed in thoughts regarding the consulting detective. Her face showed passive thoughts, but inside she was screaming. How could he have wormed his way to her… heart? If she even had one. She was raised to eliminate emotions for others, but he still made her pulse quicken and her breath stop. How did he do this?

They found themselves entering a drawing room, beautiful like the rest of the house but Y/N only saw one thing. The piano. It was an antique red cedar grand piano, and Y/N itched to touch it. Sherlock could see right through her. “Play.” He demanded, making her stare at him in confusion, how could he know? “What if I told you that I don’t?” Sherlock scoffed at her attempt to contradict him. But in reality, Y/N didn’t want to show any vulnerability in front of the man, and music would do just that. “I would call you a liar, and a bad one at that.”

“Why do you assume that I play the piano?” She said, trying to dance around the subject longer, walking around the detective to sit at the bench, simply staring at the keys. “The callouses on your fingers are distinctive, and you don’t get those from shooting people.” He added to his comment by approaching her, taking her hand, showing her the spots on her own fingers. She took her hand away from him and placed in under her legs, she remarked with a slight scowl, “I do more than shoot people.”

“No matter, those marking are instrumental. Now they could be from any instrument, but those are in a distinct place. Not string instrument, as I am familiar with those,” he said showing his own fingers to her. “Now they could be wood instruments, but I eliminated them.” Sherlock said, sitting himself on the bench beside her, his face coming closer to hers, as if analyzing her completely. She felt exposed and maintained an emotionless face, and simply asked “Why?”

He continued to look at her dead in the eye, neither losing eye contact. “The way you immediately glanced at it when we entered the room. Now that means that a piano has an important significance in your life, either you play it or someone you love does. Now, I conclude that you play it because the longer we stay here the longer you glance at it longingly, your fingers are itching to touch the keys. Now, play.”

Y/N stayed there, emotionless. Neither breaking eye contact, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of breaking her façade. Though she had to admit that he was right on all counts, she hadn’t even noticed her glances to the piano, they were obviously instinctual. “Dear God, that was hot,” she whispered, still keeping her eyes to his. “Was it?” he whispered back, not giving away the elevated pulse he felt. He noticed the dilation in her pupils, causing him to hold his breath. “Very much so.”

Sherlock was the one to end their staring contest as he nodded to the piano, asking her to play once more. “Fine, I’ll play.” She rolled her eyes, hiding her fear, as she found a way to avoid playing her emotions. The familiar tune of Fur Elise flowed through the piano, and although it was beautiful Sherlock grunted in disapproval. “No, not Fur Elise. An idiot can play it. Play your heart.” This caused Y/N to stiffen, he had read right through her.

“I don’t have one.”

“Neither do I.”

They stared at each other for a while, again trying to read each other’s thoughts. “Fine.” She played her heart and Sherlock listened. It was of yearning and admiration but a distinct undertone of heartbreak and need. Sherlock stared at her in awe as her fingers glided across the keys, eyes closed but playing every note perfectly. Sherlock asked for her heart and she bore it, right there on the piano.

“Sogno d’amore. Song of Love.” He stated once she finished the piece. She nodded, suddenly feeling vulnerable and raw. “Beautiful.” Her eyes darted to his at his words. She felt the sincerity in it, making her smile slightly. “Thank you.” They stayed in silence, as Y/N touched the keys and Sherlock took the time to place the memory in his mind palace, in her room. “Sherlock – “she turned to him, but was quickly interrupted.

“I have the files,” Mycroft said, entering the room, “you both can leave me alone now, thank you.” Sherlock was still staring at her, as Y/N stood up, walking to Mycroft with her façade intact. In that moment the self-proclaimed high functioning sociopath realized that he was irrevocably in love with Y/N L/N.

Masterlist of the series and more 

[gunjounoyoru]

Another fanart of Sherlock I drew in 2016.

[mxsinistir]

Dangerous Woman (pt.1)

Pairing: Eurus Holmes x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are Jim Moriarty's younger sister, aka the most dangerous women in London, and while on a mission with Sebastian Moran, you're captured by Mycroft and sent to Sherrinford, where you meet the other most dangerous women. This takes place right before The Reichenbach Fall.

Warnings: N/A, maybe language?

This is also on my Quotev w/ the rest of my Eurus one-shots: https://www.quotev.com/story/11117878/Eurus-Holmes-One-Shots/4

       "Sebbyyyyyy," You dragged out your words with a smirk, your arms around the shoulder of the man you were walking with. The sniper rolled his eyes. "I'm bored,"        "We are literally going to kill a Government agent in two minutes," The blond scoffed around the cigarette on cold-chapped his lips. "[y/n], how are you already bored?"

       "Because some MI6 Idiot doesn't interest me," You mused, your voice dipping through a range of strange pitches and octaves. "I have an idea, let's go kill Mycroft Holmes." You clicked your tongue, your lips close to his ears.

       You were odd, to say the least, but just as dangerous as your counterpart. Some days, you were cold and merciless; an ice woman. Times like this, you were childish and irritable. It was a role of the dice, but that wasn't what destroyed those who crossed your path. It was your skill set.

       You had the brains of your dear brother, James Moriarty, as well as his connections. But right now, you were on the way to kill somebody with Sebastian Moran. You didn't need a sniper, nor friends - you were your own asset.

       "We talked about this," Sebastian started. He'd lived with you and Jim ever since the game with Sherlock had started. By now, Sebastian wasn't as easily manipulated. That was good - it was painfully simple when he'd first moved in.

       "Then let's burn him," You sang. Ever since the game had been set afoot, Moriarty was bent on mirroring the Consulting Detective. Himself being Sherlock, obviously, with Sebastian being hired as John. You were (against your will) assigned Mycroft Holmes as your "angelic" counterpart.

       The sibling equal for the other to bounce their plans off of. The fisherman in a sea of goldfish. Seeing straight through the water with the ability to pluck any of them out of the ocean with a flick of a line. Well, that's what Sherlock was supposed to assume.

       Mycroft wasn't really necessary to Sherlock's story, at least not in Jim's eyes. No more so than Molly Hooper or Greg Lestrade. Important and character building, but Jim didn't bother filling his life with mirror images of them. No, you'd only been called back after your brother's little visit to a place called Sherrinford.

       Because you, in your own way, was the secret sister that Sherlock didn't yet realize existed. The clever girl alone on the plane, trying to reach out for an older brother's validation. When you'd first infiltrated the Parliament to work close to the eldest Holmes brother, you'd heard about Sherrinford and Eurus. You'd asked Mycroft, as no one else seemed to know anything more than her name.

       "Run, [Y/N]!" Sebastian's voice slashed through the air, the heavy rooftop wind carrying it through London. Your teeth chattering, your heart pounding. You'd left your sniper and your sniper rifle to be found by Mycroft and his Government. succour that moment, all that mattered to you was making it out alive.

       "That's her," You heard Mycroft's voice sail over the speaker. "Get [Y/n] Moriarty!" And so they did. By the time you'd texted your brother, you were already on your face on the rooftop, being stripped of your belongings - telephone included - and being thrown blindly into the helicopter.

       "Just a simple shot," One of the MI6 men said, putting a needle into the hollow above your collarbone. You weren't sure what it was at first, but you quickly realized that your deductions were becoming fuzzy, and all you remained aware of up until your final consciousness moments was Mycroft Holmes, standing smugly in the corner of the same helicopter, speaking many words - only one that you could fully comprehend.

       Sherrinford.

***

       The floor was cold, the air was cold, you were cold. The white nightdress they'd given you was impractically thin and impossible to warm yourself with. The slippers were plain uncomfortable, but taking them off hadn't helped your temperature by any means.

       "Mycroft," You sang through the glass, drumming your fingertips against the wall madly, "You can't possibly think you'll keep me here for very long, do you?"

       "This isn't just another prison you can walk out of," Mycroft said, sounding awfully proud of himself. "I'm afraid that you'll never see the light of day again, Miss Moriarty." You could only laugh lightly to yourself. Oh, you'd misjudged him; Mycroft really was funny!

       "Yes, I'll send you a postcard from Eastern Europe when I get around to escaping." You mused. Mycroft, despite being obviously unsettled, kept his composure and muttered something to the guards before turning on his heel to leave. "Tell me, Mycroft." You sang, "Does Sherlock know about the dirty little secret you're keeping?"

       Any normal person would turn around, but you should have known that Mycroft wasn't a regular. He'd dealt with taunts before - anyone who worked in Politics would have. So you'd have to try harder, obviously. You sucked in a breath and started to speak in a low whisper that resonates through the cold walls and cold air and turned the ice man's bones crystalline.

       "Oh, I am lost, oh who will find me?" You smirked. He turned, a look of horror struck across his face. "Deep down below that old beach tree. Oh, help succor me-"

       "Stop it!" Mycroft hissed, "Stop it right now!"        

       "Now the east wind blows. Sixteen by six, and under we go." The words fell gracefully off your tongue. Another thing that Eurus had told James when he'd come to Sherrinford in person.

       "You will never meet Eurus Holmes. Never in a million years."        You would have waited that long if you had to.

***

       "Compare us," Eurus whispered to her guard, and like clockwork, he walked out in search of you. You, who Eurus was eager to meet and compare to your elder brother.

       You were brought in wearing a straight jacket, set in the cell across from her, smiling like you had nothing to fear. Because in truth, you didn't. Even if Sebastian was dead or worse, you had others you would run to your beck-and-call. You brother could send them, in fact, he probably had sent out his assassins hours ago to find you.

       "Leave," Eurus said, noticing the barely-noticable look of confusion that struck your face. But your surprise was more obvious when the guards turned on their heel and promptly left you alone.

       Left you alone with the second most dangerous woman in the world.

       "I'm almost disappointed," You clicked your tongue expressively, pulling your arms and joints in all sorts of ways to remove yourself from the straight jacket as you had done a thousand times before. "Your big brother really thought so highly of this place." You pouted.

       "Prisons don't do contain people like us," Eurus said, her voice ethereal upon your ears. "Do they? Not for long and not well."        "Oh, I should hope not," You took a daring them to the glass, stepping a foot past the line, "So why is the genius woman still in her glass bowl made for a goldfish?"

       Eurus smiled, "Put your hand to the glass and find out." You hated orders. Hated them from your brother, from Sebastian. But for Eurus, you would take them with a smile, because the game she was offering to play was simply too fun not to play.

       With a cheeky smile, you stepping right to the glass and outreached your fingers. But instead of glass, you found Eurus' soft, unexposed hands. Your own fingertips must have felt like sandpaper to such uncalloused hands.

       "There's no glass to touch," You said with amazement, "You can walk in and out of here at will and the guards are all too stupidly loyal to stop you."

       "I do better from here," She said, "I can control whoever I want from my little glass cell that Mycroft thinks is so impossible to shatter.

      "Well, then there's no reason for me to stay." You decided, "If I were in the cell across from yours, Jim would really be putting all his eggs in one basket. I, however, prefer to get things done from the outside world." You sang,        

       "[Y/n]!" A voice hissed at the entrance. You turned to see Sebastian walking towards you, disguised as an officer and ready to shoot whoever was in the corridor. He looked stupidly stunned to find that both women were standing casually on either side of the non-existent glass and talking about life.

       "Seb, please don't interrupt me while I'm trying to talk to a clever person." You criticized, and your sniper simply bit his tongue and guarded the door, muttering something into his transceiver about having found you and Eurus.

       "Will you be back?" Eurus asked. You smiled,        

       "Oh, I'm sure." You said, clasping your hands behind your back as you walked towards Sebastian, "Cheerio, Eurus; don't be too bad while I'm gone."

       You weren't quite sure, but as far as you were informed, you were inclined to believe that you'd just found a dangerous new friend.